#little planner's helping me more than we both thought

[whosname]

[Id. Salarymen au pen sketch of graphic designer Hijikata, face in hands, pulling his hair in desperation. Someone out of panel says, "Please use the brand colours, logo and product shot." Hijikata answers, "HOW?! You didn't bother to send a brandbook logo OR product shot." End id.]

Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental vol. 2.

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Ao3

[Warning for references to sexual situations towards the end, but there is nothing explicit]

-

“So now do I get to know where we’re going?”

“What part of ‘it’s a surprise’ are you having trouble grasping?”

“The part where we’re driving around in the suburbs in your van on a Saturday night,” Steve shoots a pointed look at Eddie, not without amusement. “I feel like we’re going to end up at some high school party drinking rocket fuel out of Solo cups while you deal out of one of the back bedrooms.”

“Shit, yeah, let’s relive those glory days,” Eddie says drily, then smacks the steering wheel with one palm in emphasis. “No! I am taking you somewhere much better. And we’re almost there, so stop trying to interrogate me. We both know I crack like an egg under pressure.”

Steve holds both his hands up in front of him, brows raised, the very picture of innocence, as though he hasn’t been trying to pump Eddie for information since he picked him up at his house some fifteen minutes ago.

And Eddie really does want it to be a surprise – he thinks he did pretty well, planning this whole thing out. The effort, at first, had simply been placed on coming up with something he’d thought Steve would like—something surprising and romantic and thoughtful—but the further he’d gotten into it, the more he’d found himself enjoying it, too. He’s never actually been on a proper date, much less planned one, and finding all the little touches that would make this one perfect has actually been fun. Eddie’s looking forward to it.

He only hopes his work will pay off.

He navigates the van around one more turn, past a few more unremarkable cookie cutter houses, and pulls to a stop in front of the barrier rail of a dead-end street, entirely ignoring the raised-eyebrow look of intense curiosity that Steve is sending his way.

The thing about Midwestern suburbia is that it sprawls. There are rambling neighborhoods upon rambling neighborhoods, all with kitschy names like “Maple Ridge” and “Eagle Pointe,” and the city planners seem to forget half of what they’ve built as soon as it’s up. Apart from making things confusing to navigate (Oakview Street runs through three different residential areas, for instance, stopping and picking up again at different points throughout town), it’s created isolated pockets of parks and playgrounds, set aside behind back streets and largely unknown to anyone more than a block away – unless they happen to be restless explorers, like Eddie.

“So… are we gonna hang out here tonight?” Steve asks, glancing around at the neighborhood falling into the darkness of the rapidly encroaching dusk.

“Yes, Steve, we’re gonna have a picnic in my van on the back end of Washington Drive,” Eddie drawls.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t tell me where we were going.” Steve shrugs, smirking over at Eddie. “I figured maybe you were embarrassed.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes his door open. “C’mon, Harrington, we’re almost there.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Steve says, though he obediently gets out of the van and rounds to the back, where Eddie is digging for his supplies.

“Well, now it’s an even smaller almost,” Eddie says.

He pulls his backpack from the back of the van, followed by an insulated bag he’d bummed off of Oliver and the tiny cooler that Wayne takes with him when he goes fishing, draping it all over himself like an awkward sort of packmule and waving Steve off when he tries—twice—to reach for one of the bags to help.

“Okay, fine,” Steve finally says, shaking his head. “Lead the way, Mr. Park Ranger.”

“Thank you,” Eddie sniffs, gesturing for Steve to follow him off the street and onto a narrow dirt path that cuts through the thin strip of woods in front of them.

It’s barely a minute’s walk before the path spits them out into a tiny clearing housing a minuscule park. Eddie disregards the neglected jungle gym and the decrepit grill and zeroes in on the reason he’d brought them out here: the gazebo.

“So I’m gonna need just a little more faith from you,” he tells Steve, “and you need to turn around for about a minute.”

The expression on Steve’s face is a familiar one, recognizable even in the fading light as “deciding whether or not to make the bitchy comment,” but finally he simply shrugs and turns around.

“Sure, why not,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie shakes his head, biting down on a smile as he bounds up the two steps into the little gazebo and sets his load down. The thing is in surprisingly good condition, all told; the structure is solid, the picnic table inside is relatively clean, and there is a minimal number of dicks and swearwords graffitied around the inside (barely noticeable in the dark, even!). Glancing back to make sure Steve is still facing away, Eddie makes quick work of unpacking his bags.

The candles come out first, a whole slew of the inexpensive white ones that come in jars, picked up from the dollar store, and he dots them around the gazebo railings and across the picnic table, lighting them with the cigarette lighter from his pocket until the space is warm and glowing. The insulated bag is next, providing two foil-wrapped plates of spaghetti that is—thank you, Oliver—still warm. Last is the cooler, which provides two beers. He’s just pulling napkins and forks from his backpack when he hears Steve calling out from where he’s left him standing.

“I’m pretty sure it’s been more than a minute.”

“You’re so impatient,” Eddie shoots back, taking the steps at a leap and jogging back across the grass to Steve. “But I’m done, anyway, so you can turn around.”

Steve does so, his focus going first to Eddie, before his attention is caught by the glow of the gazebo behind him. Eddie can see his eyes go wide in the candlelight, startled first, and then pleased, accompanied by a slow-growing smile.

“Eddie, this is…” he leaves off with a tiny laugh, like he doesn’t quite have a word for it, but whatever he thinks it is, it’s good.

Eddie shrugs. “I know we can’t exactly go out to a restaurant and have a real date, but I promised you candlelight,” he says. “I’m afraid the violinist was booked, though.”

Shaking his head, Steve lets out another little laugh, and then takes a step towards the gazebo and glances back at Eddie.

“C’mon, yeah, let’s eat. Can’t have everything getting cold!” Eddie gestures Steve up the steps and waves his arm grandly towards one of the plates. “I’d pull your chair out for you, but it appears to be attached to the table.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Steve says, swinging one leg over the bench, then the other, and settling himself down. He waits for Eddie to follow suit before picking up his fork and then – just staring down at his plate for a moment. “Is this…” he starts uncertainly.

“It’s the spaghetti sauce you showed me how to make,” Eddie fills in. “Since you were convinced I’d perish trying to subsist on frozen pizza if you weren’t there to force meals on me.”

Eddie hadn’t done much cooking prior to befriending Steve; he could boil water and scramble an egg, but his ability and interest had mostly ended there. Then Steve had come along, earnestly (and transparently) bringing “leftovers” to the trailer to share with Eddie and Wayne, before he progressively took over their kitchen. Absolutely no one had had any complaints about this arrangement, though Steve had insisted on teaching Eddie how to make a few basic staples for himself – among which had been spaghetti sauce.

For a long moment, Steve says nothing, continuing to stare at his plate, brows furrowed.

“…and I haven’t,” Eddie says, trying to break the silence. “Perished, that is. In your absence. Obviously. Not that– not that I think you were really worrying about that, I just mean I’ve been making some of the stuff you showed me. Is all.”

“I’m just… kind of surprised you remembered, I guess,” Steve says, glancing up at Eddie, expression unreadable in the flickering light around them. “I wasn’t sure if you were actually interested or if you were just humoring me, when I showed you all that stuff.”

“I still have all the recipes you have me,” Eddie says – and he does: a small stack of notecards that Steve had stolen from Robin and covered in his surprisingly neat handwriting, detailing things like when to add butter to this and how much garlic to add to that, which has a permanent home in a drawer in Eddie’s kitchen.

“Oh,” Steve says, and nothing more.

“But don’t leave me in suspense, tell me how I did,” Eddie insists, attempting to push past the awkwardness he’d brought upon them while simultaneously shoving his mouth full of pasta in order to keep from pulling out any new touchy topics.

Steve twirls up a forkful of spaghetti and brings it to his mouth, spending a long moment chewing thoughtfully.

“Well?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods and swallows. “I mean, I’ve had better,” he says with a shrug, and Eddie experiences a moment of genuine distress before he spots the smirk tugging at Steve’s lips.

Eddie kicks at him under the table and Steve laughs, and Eddie can’t help but join him.

“Don’t be shy, baby, tell me how you really feel,” Eddie drawls, and Steve snickers again.

“Trust me, I will,” he says. But then: “It’s good, Eddie. You did good.”

Knocked off balance by the casual sincerity, Eddie goes quiet, and they eat for a few minutes in silence.

“So,” Eddie finally says, “I’m sure this is a great shock to you, but I’ve never actually done this before.”

Steve glances up at him. “Eaten spaghetti in a gazebo?” he asks, so dry that even Eddie’s not quite sure if he’s being sarcastic.

“The dating thing,” Eddie clarifies, instead of trying to figure it out. “What exactly are you supposed to do on a first date?”

Something about Steve’s expression goes off again – that same, weird, false look he’d had the other day that Eddie hadn’t been able to ferret out the source of. He’s about to ask what’s wrong when Steve shrugs, taking a quick pull from his beer.

“I guess it’s usually the getting-to-know-you stuff. Favorite movie, what kind of music you listen to, hobbies – that sort of thing,” he says.

“Huh.” Eddie screws his mouth to the side, thinking it over. “Seems… kinda boring. But, if you insist!” He leans forward on the table, resting his chin in his hands and batting his eyelashes at Steve. “So, tell me about yourself, handsome.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s not like that’s what you have to do. I’m pretty sure dates are just supposed to be… you know, being with someone you like. Putting aside time just to do something with them,” he says. “Doesn’t matter what it is, you have a good time because you’re doing it together.”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly, his humor fading beneath a bright flare of fondness. “That– that sounds better, yeah.”

“I think so, too,” Steve says, smiling across the table at Eddie.

“Well, then.” Eddie takes a chance and slowly slides his hand forwards until it’s resting over Steve’s on top of the table, inwardly doing a little dance when Steve remains relaxed beneath his touch. “Under those parameters, do you think we’re having a successful first date?”

And that’s when Steve pulls back, drawing his hand from beneath Eddie’s and averting his gaze, shrugging shoulders that have gone tense. “Sure, yeah.” He glances back up and offers a smile that’s trying very hard to be sincere but is underscored by something Eddie still can’t put his finger on. “Seriously, this is really nice, Eddie.”

“What am I saying?” Eddie asks.

“What?” Steve’s brows draw together in confusion.

“I keep saying something that’s upsetting you and I can’t– like, I can’t figure out what it is,” Eddie admits. “But I don’t want to keep doing it.”

“I’m not upset,” Steve says, bristling slightly under the skeptical look Eddie sends him. “I’m not. I’m– it’s stupid, alright? I’m fine.”

“It’s not stupid,” Eddie says, and Steve scoffs.

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Well then tell me.”

Frowning, Steve looks back down at his plate, pushing the last few strands of spaghetti around with his fork. “It’s – seriously, it’s dumb. Like, I know that, alright? It’s just that you keep calling this our first date and I guess… I thought of something else as our first date. That’s all.”

Oh, fuck.

Eddie is an idiot. Fuck.

Of course Steve thinks of something else as their first date. He’d thought they were dating, so of course he’d thought of their outings as dates. Dinners, the movies, aimless walks around town – time set aside to be with someone you like, to just do something together. And here Eddie is again, shoving how little he’d thought of those times in Steve’s face.

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and Steve shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I told you, I know it’s ridiculous–”

“It’s not.”

“–and I don’t have to get all hung up over it. It wasn’t even a date if we didn’t both think of it that way, right? So we can just look at this as– like, take two.”

Eddie purses his lips. “Even if we didn’t both think of it as a date, it was important to you.”

Steve shrugs and then, steady and deliberate, puts his hand over Eddie’s, curling his fingers around Eddie’s palm. “Well, tonight can be important to both of us,” he says, offering Eddie a small smile. “And I don’t want to ruin it. I really am having a good time.”

The only reason Eddie can imagine that he would be even remotely this lucky is if the universe is trying to make up for the debacle that was last spring (but then again, seen in the reverse, he can’t imagine why the universe would be inflicting him on Steve; he’ll have to keep thinking on that one). And on the one hand, he’s determined not to waste this opportunity – neither Steve’s good will nor his second chance. But on the other hand–

He can’t not ask.

Shifting his hand a little so he can wrap his fingers around Steve’s, Eddie takes a breath and bites the bullet. “Okay, but what… were you thinking of as our first date?”

For a long minute, Steve says nothing, and Eddie tries not to panic, tries not to assume that he’s just ruined everything by admitting he doesn’t even know which instance Steve is talking about, and mostly fails. But then Steve takes a breath and shakes his head.

“It’s… kinda stu–”

“Don’t say it,” Eddie cuts in sharply, warning, before he can stop himself. “I’m sure it’s not. Tell me about it.”

Steve shoots Eddie a chagrined kind of smile before turning his eyes to the surface of the table. “It was at the diner,” he says, and Eddie only just holds himself back from asking which time, because they’ve gone to the tiny diner off the side of the road near Forest Hills together more times than he can count; it’s within walking distance of Eddie’s place, and it tends to be their go-to when they want to go out but have no particular destination in mind. “It was that first night. The first time we kissed.”

It hits Eddie like a jab to the sternum that Steve chooses to phrase it that way: the first time they kissed. Because if Eddie remembers one thing for certain, it’s that the first night they kissed had also been the first night they’d had sex – and yet it’s the kiss that Steve focuses on. It’s the kiss that had been important to him.

“I guess there wasn’t anything that special about that night. Nothing different. We just had fun,” Steve says quietly. “Pretty sure we drove everyone else crazy fighting over the jukebox, especially since most of the songs in there suck, anyway, and you were telling me about what happened during your last game and you tried to draw it on a napkin with ketchup and a toothpick, which… did not turn out well, and you kept stealing fries off my plate–”

“Because you kept dipping them in your milkshake and I was telling you that it was gross!” Eddie remembers.

“Of course, that part stands out to you,” Steve grouses, though there’s a bit of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Hey, you made a believer out of me. Fries and vanilla shake, I have to admit it’s good,” Eddie says, and Steve’s smile grows a little more.

“But, yeah, like I said, it wasn’t… special, I guess, I just remember thinking that I wanted to do that with you all the time. I wanted to do everything with you all the time, whatever it was,” Steve says. “And then when we were back in your room, sitting on your bed, you were looking at me like– I thought you wanted to–”

“I did,” Eddie says quickly. “I wanted to kiss you. I wanted you to kiss me. I don’t know, I was – kinda turned around about it, but I knew I was glad that you did it first, because I was too chickenshit to ever do it myself.”

Eddie remembers this part clearly; something had seemed different about Steve when they’d gotten back from the diner. There had been something softer and lighter about him that had made Eddie want to reach out and touch – an urge he wasn’t unfamiliar with. He is, after all, queer as hell, and—though he feels like an ass for phrasing it this way, now—Steve is really hot. Of course he’d had thoughts about Steve before; he just tended to ignore them, because they were friends, and the thought that anything more could happen between them seemed outlandish.

But then Steve had leaned in and kissed him.

The first one had been close-mouthed and soft, almost tentative, sweet, but ensuing kisses had been deeper, more wanton, and before Eddie had quite registered the shift, Steve was in his lap and his tongue was practically down Steve’s throat and he’d thought – well, maybe there could be a little more between them. Maybe things didn’t have to change all that much.

He'd rolled with it, and then he’d rolled them over, and then he’d helped Steve get rid of his shirt and he’d ditched his own, and then he’d begun the process of learning how to wring as many sweet, pleasured noises as possible out of Steve.

Now, back at the picnic table in the fluttering light of nearly a dozen cheap candles, Steve is looking at Eddie oddly, like he’s not quite sure what to make of him.

“Well… since I had kind of been looking at that night as when we, uh– got together, I just – yeah, made sense to me. First date.” Steve shrugs.

A frown pulls across Eddie’s face, and he fights to keep it at bay, so he doesn’t give Steve the wrong impression – he’s not upset with Steve, he’s just upset. He’s upset that he can’t look at that night the same way Steve had – that he hadn’t experienced it the same way. He wishes he had; that he’d let himself consider what it might be like not if he and Steve could be friends and have sex, but if he and Steve could be more than that.

He squeezes Steve’s fingers, still wrapped in his own, and catches Steve’s eye when he looks up. “You know… I mean, I know that not all of the time we spent together has the same significance for me that it did for you, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t important to me,” Eddie says, and maybe it’s all he can say for himself, but at least it’s true. “I love spending time with you. Even when I’m complaining, I’m doing it with joy.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow at him. “With joy?”

“Yep. Entirely joyful complaining,” Eddie says seriously.

“Well, you do like complaining.” Steve smirks.

“I sure the fuck do. It’s what makes us such a good pair,” Eddie replies, and Steve laughs.

They talk for a while longer after that, lighter and easier than before, but eventually it gets too chilly to reasonably keep sitting around. They’d been blessed with unusually mild weather that night, but late October is still late October, and the temperature has dropped since the sun’s gone down.

They work together to blow out all the candles before they end up dropping them in a nearby garbage can once they realize that the wax is still liquid and Eddie can’t put them back in his bag (“Okay, I thought of almost everything,” Eddie insists as he produces a flashlight to light their way back to the van). Eddie turns up the heat before pulling back out into the road, and they take the drive back to Steve’s house in contented silence.

Eddie parks and turns the van off once they’re in the driveway, and Steve watches with curiosity as Eddie gets out with him, but says nothing as they walk up to the front door together.

“Well,” Eddie says once they reach the porch, “I had a great time tonight. D’you think I can see you again?”

Steve blinks at him, doing almost a doubletake as he looks from Eddie to his door and then back again.

“Do you– You don’t want to come in?” Steve asks, a little bewildered.

“Oh, no, I very much do,” Eddie assures him. “But this is take two, right? And I said I was gonna do it right, and that means no sex until the third date. At least I’m pretty sure that’s the rule.”

Steve laughs, but quickly quiets when all Eddie does is smile at him. “You’re serious,” he says, a bit flat with disbelief.

“Completely.” Eddie nods. “I’m romancing you, remember?”

There’s another moment of quiet stillness from Steve before a slow, delighted grin begins to grow on his face. “Well, in that case…” he says, “I had a great time, too.” He leans in and pecks a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips, short and almost shy. “Call me.”

And then he’s gone, the front door closing behind him before Eddie can even register what’s happened.

Eddie barely even remembers getting back into the van, but if he had to guess, he’d say he probably floated there.

It should be ridiculous – he’s had Steve’s mouth on pretty much every part of him, he’s had Steve on top of him and underneath him and crying out his name and begging him for more, he’s had Steve naked and sated and curled around him, and yet it’s one short kiss that nearly short-circuits him.

It should be ridiculous, but Eddie thinks it might actually be the best thing in the world.

Part 8

-

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[seancekitsch]

I'd be really interested in seeing what you'd come up with for the Wedding Planner au with either Lucifer or Blitz!

hehe i chose the less toxic dad for this!! reader is a succubus

“Really CharChar? A wedding planner from Lust?”Lucifer is exasperated as he comes down the stairs to the main lobby of the hotel, barely taking notice of his surroundings, “I mean, is that really the angle you want for your wedding?”

“Actually Your Highness,” you stop him before the rant can go any farther, and he looks up at you in shock at the new voice. Sheepishly, he greets you. Probably not a great first impression from him, but he’s royal, and you’ve been having to give this spiel to a lot of clients regardless of nobility.

“Since my boss and his paramour have gone public, they’ve decided to blend the whole love and lust thing. A man like yourself must know that often the two go hand in hand, right?” Maybe you’re laying it on a little thick, but oh well. You aren’t lying, he is handsome.

“I, well— yes, but,” He turns to Charlie, “Are you sure you want a succubus planning the whole thing? Not that guy the Goetia get every time?”

If Charlie sensed what he was getting at, she didn’t make any comment.

“Vaggie and I have already done several planning meetings with Y/n and we think she’s the best fit! She has all these beautiful plans, and she hand makes everything just like you!”

Lucifer perks up at that, and you bask in the pride. Your craft is important to you, something the king in hell has in common.

“Well that’s lovely! Never mind what I was thinking earlier,” there’s a bravado in Lucifer’s tone, and true excitement for the first time you’ve seen.

“I hope my being a succubus doesn’t taint our working relationship,” you say, both voicing insecurity and a warning to him.

“No, no,” he waves it off dismissively, “Anyone with Charlie’s approval certainly has mine.”

“Good! Because I want you working closely with Y/n to make all the decor! Put that workshop to good use!” Charlie’s voice is loud and over excited, but that’s to be expected of a bride-to-be.

“Hear that?” you tease him, a sly smile and a wink sent the King of Hell’s way, “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“I look forward to working with you, Y/n,” Lucifer says, ignoring the blush rising across his face.

The weeks leading up to the wedding move by in relative bliss. Drives to and from Lust and Pride while blasting music in the truck, long nights in Lucifer’s workshop where you not so subtly tease him, impromptu sleepovers with the couple at the hotel while going over plans and coming up with ways to go even bigger and bolder. Charlie and Vaggie are near perfect clients: a clear vision but up to being surprised, flexible and understanding, and extremely receptive to updates and changes in plans. You could not have gotten luckier. And your working buddy in all of this, Lucifer. Despite the bumpy start, you could not be getting along better. It seems insane to you that someone would leave a man so sweet and passionate. The pure desire to create that flows from him, the excitement he gets from making something tangible, the urge to help. Dare you say it, it’s more delicious than most forms of lust. You cannot help yourself when your thoughts drift to him, especially on long nights making decor for the ceremony and the entire hotel for the reception. It also helps that he’s very easy on the eyes.

I really need to give Ozzie a gift basket or something for letting me take this account, you think to yourself while using the side of your nail to wipe a little excess paint from one of the name placards for a reception table. You hold it up to Lucifer to inspect the finished piece, a smirk on your lips as he lights up with excitement.

“This looks amazing! Who’s is this?” he asks, fingers ghosting over it, careful not to muddy wet paint.

“Can’t you tell?” you ask, teasing him. There’s a beautiful golden crown and apple red swirls along the edges.

“Gee, let me think,” he pauses, pursing his lips, “Is it for the handsomest king in all of Hell?”

You laugh, and snatch back the placard.

“Careful, don’t let my boss hear that you’re gunning for his unofficial title,” you joke back, winking at Lucifer as you set his placard down with the others.

“Well it’s a good thing he isn’t here then, right babe?”

Both of your jaws drop in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected himself to let the words leave his mouth, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to flirt so openly. But you recover easily, it’s your nature.

“Oh, and why is that, Lucifer?” No Sir, no titles, just his name.

“Because…” he trails off, looks anywhere but you in the room, and then it happens.

His lips are on yours in a moment, his hands immediately reaching to cup the back of your head and pull you closer. Lust rolls off of him in waves, and you gladly swim among his tides. Your lips part to welcome his, to slot together two parts fitting perfectly as one. Lucifer’s tongue follows quickly, lapping at your lower lip then delving between them skillfully. He moans when your nails start to dig into his back, holding him flush against you.

And just as soon as it begins, it ends.

Lucifer pulls himself from your grasp, reaching for your hands to push them away from him. He tears himself apart as if burned; as if your kiss were venom from a snake.

“I- I- I’m sorry. This was wrong,” he stutters, wiping at his mouth.

“Excuse me?” you ask, genuinely incredulous. He was so into this, into you. How…? Why…?

“I mean, not you! It’s just I shouldn’t be with someone like—“

No, no you don’t believe it.

“Someone like me?” you ask, “Or a succubus?”

Lucifer stops his stuttering, a guilty look flashes across his eyes. Shame.

“That’s not what I—“

“It was,” you interrupt him, “It was what you meant. I get it.”

Lucifer stumbles over words, trying to save himself. But it’s no use, any fire between the two of you is ice now. The worst part is that you should have seen it coming, the rest of the royals aren’t like your boss.

You get up from where you were sat, gathering your finished work together into bags or boxes to load into your truck. Most everyone will be asleep by now, so no matter how hasty the exit there won’t be questions. You load everything, ignoring the protests and the help from the man, the pleading for you to stay.

“No, no, routes back to lust should be all clear at this hour, no thank you,” you insist, but you hadn’t been listening to him anyway. Even if he regrets it, it doesn’t matter. He had shown his true colors.

A gloved hand stops you at the door, turns you back towards him. Lucifer’s eyes are glassy, wild with what you would recognize as fear.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” you say, tone cold and as unfeeling as you can try to make it, “Everything will be perfect for your daughter’s wedding. You didn’t fuck it up for her if you were worried about that. I need to go.”

He doesn’t stop you from leaving.

You drive frantically in your work truck to the hotel, coffee sloshing in your travel mug in the cup holder, a sore substitute for sleep, of which you’re now on hour 40 of not having. And you know better, of course you do, but everything has to be perfect. Being down a pair of magical hands for the last week was a major hindrance, but it was also maybe your own doing. Lucifer had called; once a day for the past week. Had you answered, he would have probably helped you finish all of the decorations in record time, but pride stopped you from letting you pick up. After everything; how dare he? King or not, you’re not going to take that treatment. Asmodeus sets a high standard of treatment, he respects his employees as people regardless of status. Stupid me, you think, that the treatment you’re used to you’d come to expect. But really, it hurts a little that you were dumb enough to think Lucifer might be different. That your shared passions and clear attraction to one another could mean something and he wouldn’t be superficial enough to look down upon beings of his own creation.

Stupid, you think again, and banish the thoughts from your mind as you get cut off on pentagram freeway.

Cursing, you take that as your sign to pay attention to the road instead of your growing nerves and petty hurt.

The rest of the drive is smoother, your focus on the glittering lopsided hotel on the top of the hill.

You throw your truck into a lurch, skidding to a halt at the service entrance where already the happy couple is waiting.

“Ladies!” you shout out of the window, “I have everything we need in the back, hair and make up comes in twenty, photog in forty, they’re all my people and everything is going to go off with out a hitch!”

And true to your word, it does mostly. Make up takes double time on Charlie because the moment she’s shown a mirror she bursts into happy tears. And then they both need a touch up after their first look’s photoshoot. But you work quickly: by the time everyone is set up, you have the ballroom decorated, the balcony picture ready, the lobby transformed into a hellish dream venue.

“Hey,” Vaggie’s voice pulls you from your concentration on a centerpiece.

“Bride, I need you to get out of sight line immediately!” you command, acutely aware of what guests could and couldn’t see.

She groans and she steps back, farther into the ballroom.

“Look, I just wanted to ask if you’ve heard from Lucifer. Charlie’s freaking out because they’re scheduled for a family portrait soon,” she explains, and you see red.

“He lives here, does he not?”

“He’s not answering calls and she’s paranoid about leaving our ready room.”

You nod. You don’t blame Charlie. It’s their day and you promised everything would work out.

Your finishing touches are abandoned as you find yourself outside that big red and gold door again, this time without hot angry tears blurring your lashes. You knock on the door, frustrated and without rhythm.

��Your highness?” you call, and then louder, “Your highness! You’re needed for portraits with your daughter. Don’t make me spell out how bad this will be if you let her d—“

The door swings open before you can finish, and the face of a sullen man is revealed.

“We haven’t had a family portrait since…” his voice is barely a whisper, “I didn’t expect you.”

“I’m here for your daughter,” you sigh, and begin to walk down the hallway, moving faster only after you hear his footsteps fall in line.

The wedding ends up being perfect, musical vows from the two happy brides, what seems like an ocean of tears, enchanted flower petals flowing through the air, and all on schedule.

At the end of the ceremony you nod at Alastor and Niffty, your two points of contact with running the hotel side of this event, and they get the party started as hosts rather than employees.

This is always your favorite part of a wedding, the part where all the moving cogs fall in line. The vows are said, the toasts are made, the meals are eaten. All that’s left is to party. And thankfully, that’s all going smoothly, with Ozzie’s new tech programming the lights and music so it’s completely automated, and premade drinks on tap so the resident bartender can have a night off with his beau. Everything is perfect and the sleepless nights have proven fruitful, as evident by the two new happy brides swinging each other around on the dance floor.

You grip your cup to your chest, the heat of your pride contrasted by the icy cold of your drink. Songs drift from one to another as you sway in the shadows, fully enjoying the party but refusing to join in. It’s not your place, not until Charlie and Vaggie request you to lead them to their final photoshoot of the night, a “Just Married” pajama party.

You run through the timeline again in your head as you start to move your hips a little more to the music.

“Would you care to dance?”

The voice breaks you out of your thoughts, but you don’t even need to turn to know who it is. It’s the only voice that’s been in your head the past two weeks besides Ozzie and your own.

“I would, but I’m sure I’ll be left when you suddenly remember I’m a succubus decide I’m improper,” venom drips through your voice, and you turn away from his presence, clutching your drink hard enough that if these were glass, you’d shatter it.

What you miss, however, is the crestfallen look on his face as you move to a new spot to observe. You eye the lighting, flashes of signature blues and purples with spotlights intermittently finding couples in their groove. Your favorite of the personal touches you put on a wedding, one that from the look of it, Charlie is enamored with. You kept this a surprise from her, and now she keeps screaming in delight whenever she and her new wife, or any of their friends, get highlighted on the floor.

And had Lucifer not pissed you off, you would have actually liked to dance; The newlyweds are so cute they’re bringing out the sap in you.

“Do you need me to take that?” Niffty, who had refused your offer to take a night off for the occasion, sways tipsily as she gestures up at your glass.

“No thank you, Niff. I’m not done,” you tell her.

“Well, you’ll wish I took it later,” she slurs, with a knowing voice; one you almost don’t doubt. The sinner is crazy, but surprisingly safe at reading people. You only raise your eyebrows at her as she scurries away.

You hold the rim of the cup to your lips, not drinking. It’s merely a prop, something to look busy with so no one else comes to speak to you. It’s their party, and as much as you like these clients, you cannot wait to go back to Lust and gush about your exclusive knowledge of the infamous hotel, just leaving out the embarrassing part of somehow reading Lucifer’s feelings so wrong. You’ll get over it, if not through being a workaholic then by one of the clubs your boss manages. At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself while embroidering table cloths and arranging flowers and soldering their wedding arch together.

But not even a song goes by before Lucifer is back. Royalty, they never take the hint.

“I really need to talk to you,” he insists, “Please.”

“And if I say no again? Will you command me, Your Highness?”

His shoulders sag, as if defeated.

“I guess I would deserve that,” he pauses for a moment, gathers himself and straightens up, “But whether you talk or not, I’m going to say I’m sorry. I was nervous, and I hurt you. You don’t deserve that, no matter what you are. You aren’t wrong, I was.”

You turn towards him, eyebrow raised and urging him to continue. You don’t want to admit it, but this is working on you. He’s too cute; and honestly an apology is not what you expected from him. Maybe he is more than you thought he was.

“I shouldn’t have stopped kissing you, and I shouldn’t have made you feel less than. If I could, I’d like to make it up to you,” his voice starts to waver, and you decide to make him squirm a little more.

“And how exactly would you make it up to me?”

He steps forward, the bravado you’re used to coming back. Maybe this is a little mean, but there is some saying about hell and women scorned.

“I’d offer you a dance, and I’d be a perfect gentleman about it and if all went well and I don’t screw up again, I’ll try to ask you on a date,” Lucifer is now visibly nervous, his hands picking at the hem of his jacket.

“You wouldn’t try to kiss me again?” you tease, pouting your lips at him.

“Would you—“ he stops himself, “Would you even want that?”

You roll your eyes at him playfully and — dammit, Niffty was right, you want to get rid of this glass.

“Only one way to find out, hmm?”

He doesn’t hesitate, his lips immediately enveloping your own; a firm and meaningful kiss. An apology, a missed opportunity, making up for lost time. You and he both know you could have been doing this for a week now.

And that’s why you don’t hesitate to kiss back, clumsily fumbling the glass down on a table behind you before you grab at his lapels. The fabric balls easily in your fists as you kiss Lucifer eagerly, before dragging him onto the dance floor to join the others.

[temnurus]

More Wangxian Faves: Post-Canon & Canon Divergent

This list was made to honor the request in the notes on my WWX recs post from @100percentserenity for some more fics featuring Wei Ying set in canon or canon divergent fics. Now, not all of these are strictly from his POV, but they all feature him at his quick-witted, charming, & hopelessly oblivious best. Canon divergent can be a pretty wide category, so do keep that in mind if you see a rec & think, "This isn't very canonical.." Haha. There are two repeats from my first Wangxian rec list, but they fit the ask & are both excellent & worth mentioning twice! Now, in no particular order, may I recommend:

Far Away You Are by cqlorphan (E, 17,358)

Thoughts: I absolutely loved the idea of the esteemed Hanguan-jun being this not-so-secret purveyor of comfort hugs & heartache advice. Wei Ying’s shock upon finding this out was so funny I couldn’t help but laugh, & my amusement only intensified when he made the scary Yiling Laozu face while asking who broke Lan Zhan’s heart, only to be told it was him who’d done so. I wanted to hug all the Juniors myself. They’re all so very precious. This was a lovely story where very little hurt in the end, & sometimes that’s just nice after the gut punch that canon gives us.

my age has never made me wise by idrilka (E, 63,439)

Thoughts: I absolutely loved this. It was pretty CQL (The Untamed) compliant & told the post-canon story of Wei Ying wandering alone as a rogue cultivator after the events of the show. Of course he was pining after his zhiji the entire time, so when he heard gossip that the Chief Cultivator might be married by summer's end it nearly undid him. The angst was excruciating, but One Brain Cell WWX Strikes Again fics somehow always manage to be fun at the same time. I've read several post-canon, wandering Wei Ying stories, & this one was particularly good.

Not What We May Be by brooklinegirl (E, 29,222)

Thoughts: I love Wei Ying’s cleverness in this. He’s his usual irreverent, chaotic, charming self, & I never get tired of how wonderfully his mind works. The odd phenomenon occurring in the town he’s staying in was an interesting mystery to solve, & I had to laugh when Lan Zhan arrived with the usual Lan Juniors ensemble in tow. Watching them all work together to figure out how to fix the issue while also dealing with the healthy side helping of oblivious Wei Ying & searing sexual tension between him & Lan Zhan was a fun treat.

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl (E, 36,934)

Thoughts: Wei Ying proposing to Lan Zhan to get him out of an arranged marriage he didn’t want is so something he’d do. There is no character more quintessentially chaotic good than Wei Ying. You can’t change my mind. The practice kissing was a lovely regular feature from this author, & my particular favorite thing in this fic was Nie Huaisang’s cameo as their pseudo wedding planner with his classic meddling while insisting he’s useless shenanigans. This was super cute. I liked it a lot.

love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360,042)

Thoughts: This was an example of a cool MDZS-specific trope I hadn't seen before, & in it Wei Ying, the infamous Yiling Patriarch, was a cultivator who had achieved immortality (aka, he's OP as fuck but in a fun way). The great sects enlisted his help to win the Sunshot Campaign, & what did he demand in return? Lan Zhan's hand in marriage, of course! It was a fantastic slow burn in which poor Lan Zhan suffered the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband. An amazing & complex plot, chock-full of angsty goodness.

Birthday Party by waffles_4_breakfast (E, 100,123)

Thoughts: I loved the idea that Wei Ying would actually get to attend Jin Ling's one month celebration, but I was, of course, still concerned about the continued danger he'd be in. This fic nicely showcased Wei Ying's sharp wit, charm, & ever-present sass. I also loved his dramatics when it came to his interactions with Lan Zhan (and in general, of course, haha), but their sweetness together was ultimately my favorite thing about them. The continued threat to Wei Ying's life & all the plotting surrounding it was interesting, but the best things about this fic were the characters & their bonds with each other.

Fentao-laoshi's Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures by occultings (E, 31,775)

Thoughts: This was set during the Cloud Recesses Study Arc, & it was so, so good. The sexual tension between them was just simmering the entire time, & the idea of them “practicing for marriage” on each other was fucking hilarious. Their banter was top notch, & I absolutely loved Lan Zhan’s nearly overwhelming desperation for Wei Ying, not to mention Wei Ying’s bullshit getting him in over his head (as usual, but this time in a fun way, haha). The feelings were actually very sweet, too. I enjoyed this a lot.

wide enough and wild by impossibletruths (E, 64,120)

Thoughts: I love the tag “Noping Out Of Society With Your Boyfriend And Your 50 Wen Refugees: The Novel”. It made me laugh before I’d even started the fic. While this was set during the time period in which Wei Ying frees the Wen refugees, they didn’t end up in Yiling this time. I won’t get too specific, but they still ended up rebuilding their own little settlement & farming to survive, basically. Lan Zhan found them & decided to stay. The slow burn was so good, & I loved the pining in particular. I cried a couple of times in this. It really was just that good.

your problem as a mountain. by cupofwater (E, 30,989)

Thoughts: It was so cute to see the difference between Wei Ying’s & Nie Huaisang’s fantasies, & Wei Ying’s turning out to be more vanilla & romantic in nature absolutely cracked me up. I nearly hurt myself laughing when Nie Mingjue sent Lan Zhan some of the letters by mistake, & I was delighted by Lan Zhan’s reaction. I won’t spoil it, but the smut was lovely & despite the misunderstanding our boys definitely both got their happy ending, haha.

The Vermilion Ribbon by Unforth (E, 233,368)

Thoughts: This sat on my Marked For Later list on AO3 for the longest time, & I really did myself a disservice by not reading it sooner. It was absolutely fantastic. The world-building, pacing, & intricate plot were all brilliantly done, & Wei Ying being in the Wen clan was nothing like I imagined it was going to be in this. Instead of his core family being the Jiangs, we get Wen Qing in Jiang Yanli’s role & Wen Ning in Jiang Cheng’s. Now I’ll warn you that this got super heavy in some places, so mind those tags & take care of yourselves. Nothing was graphic enough that I had to stop reading, but it didn’t shy away from the serious subject matter it covered either. The whole fic was a real emotional roller coaster, & I can’t recommend it highly enough.

[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 debaucherous 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. 

[ladylooch]

Loving & Leaving - Part 6

Visit the series page here.

A/N: The ending we all deserve 😭 Thank you so much for your love and support on this one. Writing these two was so fun and I secretly never want it to end. I did a quick lil poll on Saturday and you guys want to see more! So, there will be more at some point, probably sprinkled in with other requests. Or if you have an idea for me, send it over when requests open again!

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, swearing, breastfeeding.

As an event planner, and a bride, I’m throughly impressed with how our wedding has turned out.

When Timo suggested on Day 2 of Lio’s life that we get married before the season, I looked at him like he was crazy. But then, Rhea came to visit us in the hospital. I casually mentioned the possibility of a small, September wedding to her. My best friend’s eyes began to sparkle.

“Just say go and I’ll get it together.” She held her hands in front of her face like she was pleading with me.

Timo said go before I could stop him.

The reality of it all coming together was better than if I had two years to plan it. Rhea and I called in favor after favor from our contacts. Our beloved vendors showed up in droves, offering their services despite the quickness to create a perfect day for us. The biggest surprise was the availability of the Storchen in Zurich. Their gorgeous banquet room easily houses the 75 people who are here to celebrate our nuptials. It’s a smaller group because of the timing, which is tine with us. Timo and I would have been fine just us and Lio. 

I’m grabbing another glass of champagne at the bar, taking the opportunity to appreciate our work. It really has been the best day. From getting ready, to the first look and our written vows, even when Lio spit up on Timo’s jacket and he had to go without for the ceremony. It was all perfect. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

“Here you are. Congratulations, Emma!” Marc, the bar manager, cheers me with a wink.

“Thank you. For everything today.” 

“Only for you. We are going to miss you.”

“I’ll be back.” I nod earnestly.

And I will be. While Rhea is running our business in Switzerland, I’ll be launching it in New Jersey. I’m both excited and terrified at the prospect of going international with the little business I formulated out of college. Timo keeps assuring me there is no way I can fail. Not when we are together.

My lips twist up at the thought. I turn, leaning back against the bar and seeing my husband across the room in conversation with Nico and Philipp Kurashev. He looks so damn good tonight. I can barely wait to have him. He’s standing next to the wall of windows, sipping a drink and listening to Nico speak. A chuckle shakes his shoulders. His gaze lifts, scanning the people until his blue eyes rest on me. He scans along my body, smiling bigger in recognition of my look. He tosses me a wink. 

But there is no more game to play. We’ve already caught each other for life.

He moves back into conversation with my brother, adding something that makes both Nico and Phillipp laugh. I bite my lip, deciding I’m done not being the center of his attention. My brown eyes feast on my husband as I approach the three men. Timo laughs loudly and then takes a long pull from his whiskey. As he lowers the glass, his blue gaze finds me closer than before. Timo steps through the circle, completely uninterested in the conversation now that I’m within touching distance.

“Mrs. Meier.” It’s more than a greeting. The tone of his voice is ecstatic as his lips find mine. I sigh, melting briefly into his chest. One of his hands slides down my side to my ass, resting there confidently. 

“Your wife needs help.” I breath out when we pull apart.

“With?”

“Getting out of this dress.” His eyes deepen before scanning down my body. 

“Lead the way.” 

I slide my hand into his and we begin to walk from the room together. Soon, we are out of the event space and alone in the hall. Timo takes the opportunity to put his lips against my neck. I suck my cheeks in, nibbling briefly before an unstoppable moan falls from my mouth. I stop in front of the bridal suite, hand on the knob, tilting my head more to the side as his lips explore further. His tongue dips into the crook of my neck.

“Open the door.” He murmurs around his kisses. I do as I’m told so we can walk in together. Once the door is shut, he begins tugging at his tie. “You need help with something else besides this dress?” I bite my lip, nodding enthusiastically.

“There are rules to this though.” I say, watching him while trying to keep my desire at bay a little longer. “You need to undo the buttons completely. No ripping.” His eyes narrow slightly but he nods.

“Turn.” He demands as he approaches. I do so and sweep the curled tendrils of my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. “Remember last time I took a dress off of you?” He presses his mouth to the meaty part of my neck, sinking his teeth in there for a moment.

“Yes, we have a six week old as a daily reminder.” Goosebumps break out onto my skin as I feel Timo’s fingers on the first button. I close my eyes and focus on deep breaths to take the edge off. I want him. Every part of him. Every inch of his skin on mine until the ache I have for him settles into something more bearable. The fabric begins to separate as he works a few more buttons loose. He stops for a moment, leaning forward and placing his lips against the indents bruising my skin. 

“Mmm.” I hum. Timo stills. 

“Baby.” His voice is a low, warning of a growl. “Let me rip this off you. I will buy you a new one.” My eyes open and meet his in the vanity mirror in front of us. He looks like a man possessed- blue eyes molten, tight jaw, nostrils flared. I shake my head because I can’t say the word no when he is looking at me like that. He sucks his cheeks in and pushes out a heavy exhale before continuing. 

His fingers move faster, more careless with each slice of skin exposed to him. Finally, the last button releases and the fabric loosens around my upper body. Timo’s hands slide around, finding my wet folds, brushing each of his fingers against them. I lean back into his chest as he stokes me. His jaw brushes my temple as I feel him pulling steady breaths into his lungs. My eyes open and I watch us together in the mirror. The grip of desire tugs at me from deep within and I pant when he grinds his hips into me. Even through the fabric of my dress, I can feel how hard he is.

“How are you going to fuck your wife for the first time?” I ask into the mirror. He grins as he nibbles against the side of my throat. His fingers stretch my folds open to forcefully press into my clit with his middle finger. My knees buckle, shoving my ass into his hard length.

“Exactly how she likes it.” He says against my wet skin. “Fast… and deep… until she can’t speak.”

With that, I pull my arms from the straps of my dress and turn. Timo wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me up so the dress falls completely to the ground.  He sets me down immediately. I begin tugging at his belt, needing him as quickly as possible. Timo watches me with those same hungry eyes as I pull him from his pants and slide my lips against the plumped head. I only get a few licks and sucks before he is pulling me off of him, guiding me to lean against the back of the couch. He shoves his pants the rest of the way down so they settle around his ankles. Then his hands are on my hips, roughly pulling me back to him. His plumped head bumps against my entrance before he eases me down. My fingers curl into fists at how tightly he fills me. 

“You okay?” He groans, aware that we haven’t had sex much since Lio was born. Sure, it’s a little uncomfortable, but I don’t care about that. The pain I need him to ease right now is a tight coil in my abdomen, begging for release. My manicured nails dig deeply into my palms as I assure him I’m fine and plead him to move.

“Fuck. My wife feels incredible.” He praises. He leans over me and begins to fuck me exactly like he told me he would. I reach back, shoving his white shirt away so our bodies can connect fully with no barriers. 

“T, I’ve been needing you like this all day” I cry. I feel his chest rumble with agreement along with a breathy kiss on my neck. “Just like that.” I encourage him as each thrust fills me completely. I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, then turn to wetly kiss his mouth.

“I can tell. You’re so wet.” He pulls out less and less each time until I feel the coil intensify to the point I can’t breathe. His balls slap me hard with each intense thrust. My mouth fades away from his as I feel the release begin. It crashes into me, rushing through my veins, tightening my nipples and making my husband groan deep in his chest. His grip on my hips is powerful as I feel his warm cum coat my walls. He pushes out a strangled breath, resting his forehead against my back. For a few moments, only our heavy breathing fills the room. Finally, Timo raises his head, placing kisses along my back where the divots are still present from my dress.

I stand to my full height and turn to drape my arms around his shoulders. He slides his arms around me, hands pressing me tightly to him. I lay my cheek against his chest. We sway gently, holding one another intimately after the best day of our lives.

“That was spectacular.” I murmur to him.

“That was just round one, baby.” He smooths my hair delicately as he talks.

“Good. Because I have something for you later that you’ll like.” I smile coyly, thinking of the bridal lingerie I purchased for us.

“We don’t… need to go back right? We can just leave and head to bed.”

“No.” I narrow my eyes at him, pulling away. “Plus, some things are worth the wait.”

“I hate waiting to have you.” He teasingly snarls his lip at me. I shrug my shoulders which makes my breasts dance against the buttons of his shirt. My nipples tighten into large points. Timo pouts, knowing they’re off limits. I chuckle lightly, stepping away from him. He immediately reaches for my hand, tugging me back into his chest. His ocean eyes drink me in- sparkling eyes, pink cheeks, and smudged lip paint from his kisses. The smile he gives me has my knees weak. “How am I lucky enough to have you forever?”

“I was just wondering the same thing.” I lean forward and give him a sweet, sincere kiss. His hand travels down, grabbing a fistful of my bare butt. “Love you, T. For the rest of my life.” We stare at each other for another few moments before a knock sounds at the door. Timo turns so my naked body is shielded by his.

“Hey! Meiers! It’s cake time!” I hear Rhea’s voice come through the door. “Quit fucking and get out here!” She doesn’t even give us a chance to respond before she is off down the hallway again, laughter following her steps.

“I think our reputation has caught up with us.” I press a final kiss to his lips before crossing the room for my reception dress. It’s ivory fabric that drapes to mid calf. The A line cut gives way to sleeves that drape along my biceps for an off the shoulder look. I slide into it then turn to my husband for him to zip me up. I rearrange my diamond necklace and kick off my heels to slide into sparkling, pink sneakers. I turn to Timo for his approval. 

“Perfect.” I nod in appreciation, then walk across the room to retouch my lipstick.

In the meantime, Timo redresses in his pants. He works the buttons of his shirt down so it isn’t tight against his throat anymore. He sheds his tie and rolls up his sleeves to expose his tan forearms. I pause from replacing the cap on my lipstick as he finishes the last roll of his shirt. Our eyes meet in the mirror again and we share a familiar smile.

“Ready, Mrs. Meier?” He reaches a hand out for me- the hand I get to hold for the remaining decades in my life. I click the cap into place and nod.

“Ready, Mr. Meier.” We both giggle then begin a leisurely walk to rejoin our party.

_ _ _

Our honeymoon is set to begin in under an hour, but Timo and I are struggling to get out of bed after our late night.

I’m feeding Lio, ghosting my fingers over his nose at each one of his suckles. Timo is scrolling through our reservations for Italy, making sure everything is in order before we leave. We picked Italy because it’s nostalgic for both of us. We have spent numerous family vacations there growing up, plus we didn’t want to be too far away from Lio for our first time away.

“Do you need anything?” Timo asks me, looking at Lio, surprised at seeing him still actively eating. He’s definitely in a growing stage.

“No, we are okay.” I assure him. I take my hand off Lio’s face, lacing my fingers with Timo’s left hand. I bring it to my face, kissing along his fingers while he checks the last reservation.

“Okay, I think we are all set.. whenever he is done.” As Timo says that, Lio releases, moving his face away.

“Magic!” I grin at my husband, handing Lio over.

Timo begins to pace the room with our son, exclaiming excitedly at every burp that works out of his little body. When he is done, they both return to the bed next to me. We soak in every little noise and expression on our baby’s face. A few bubbles of drool collect on his lips as he wiggles awkwardly around in my arms. Timo reaches out to wipe the the spit from Lio’s chin. My eyes catch the silver wedding ring around his finger. I turn to him, pressing my lips to his cheek. He works his lips over to mine, gliding his tongue along the seam of my mouth.

“Mmm, just like I thought last night. You taste better as my wife.” He murmurs. I wrinkle my nose in appreciation. Rounds 2 and 3 were pretty damn good.

“Maybe we can change our plans and take him with us?” I question, searching his blue eyes as a crease appears between his brows. 

“No. I don’t want to share you. Not even with the world’s cutest baby.” As if on cue, Lio blows spit bubbles, shoving his tongue out at us.

“He doesn’t want us to leave.” I giggle, bringing him up to my face to kiss his cheek.

“How we gonna give him a sibling if he’s in the room with us the whole time?”

“Shut your beautiful mouth. I am not doing that again right now.”

Timo’s laughter fills our room as I pant in exasperation.

“Next year?”

“Maybe.” I respond, brushing Lio’s brown locks off his forehead. His eyes close at my touch, snuggling deeper into my propped thighs.

“We need to go soon.” Timo reminds me.

“Five more minutes, daddy.” He nods, as I manuever my head into his lap. As he strokes his fingers through my hair, he lays his head against the headboard, eyes closing. We are quiet together, listening to Lio’s sweet noises as he begins to fall asleep sucking on his hand. “Thank you.” I break the silence, pressing a kiss to Timo’s abdomen. “For all the planned and unplanned parts of our life.”

“Not sure any of this was really planned.” He responds without opening his eyes. 

“Maybe not. But I dreamed of it… with you.” His eyes pop open to look down at me. “Two summers ago. On the dock at Nico’s house when he was in Milan. That’s when I fell in love with you.” His smile stretches his lips apart. “Yeah, I know. I suck for not admitting that sooner.” 

“No, I.. I knew, Em. That was when you started touching me different. And holding my hand in the car and laying with me for hours in bed, long after you should have kicked me out.”

“I didn’t like watching you leave much after that. It was a peek at our life together. And I liked it.”

“Me too. It’s why I started getting so frustrated with you.”

“How about I make it up to you for the next 60 years?” He sucks in a deep breath, looking at the ceiling like he’s really contemplating. I scoop Lio up to my face to press feathery kisses along his soft head while I wait. Timo watches me as I do this, unable to hide the joy that fills his body.

“Only because you look that beautiful holding our baby.” 

“Please, please, please, please let’s take him!” 

“No.” Timo insists. “Give him one last smooch and I’m bringing him to Auntie Liss.” I can’t just do one. So after five kisses, we leave the bed and meet Timo’s sister, Larissa, in our kitchen.

“Take him before she tries to smuggle him into the car.” Timo jokes, handing Lio to his sister. “He should be good to go for a couple of hours. Em just fed him and he’s been changed. Hopefully he will be passed out before we leave the driveway.”

“Okay! Are you ready to have some fun, bubs?” She bounces him, lightly patting his butt too. “We will be fine.” She says to where I watch across the room. I bite my lip, giving pleading eyes to my husband.

“You promised me 60 years of make up sex. And you’re paying up starting the minute we check in.”

“That is not what I said!” I widen my eyes at his sister. She shrugs.

“I don’t care what you do as long as it keep giving me these cute babies.”

“Call if you need anything or have any questions or…”

“Bye!” Timo calls as he places his hands on my hips, forcing me backwards.

“One more kiss.”

“You’re making this harder on yourself.” He chuckles.

I know he is right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to leave.

When we arrive in Italy, our hotel staff greets us with enthusiasm. They grab all of our bags, hand us each a cappuccino, and personally escort us to the honeymoon villa on the property. It’s decked out to the nines with charcuterie and snacks. The best part is a bucket of champagne chilling on the table for us along with a box of chocolate covered strawberries. Timo wiggles his eyebrows excitedly at me, grabbing the chilled bottle.

“Wanna grab some glasses, baby?” He asks me, untwisting the metal basket atop the cork.

I glance around, seeing a few wine glasses resting by the fridge.

“These will do.” I insist, setting them in front of him. He gives us both a healthy pour.

“To us. Forever.” He clinks our glasses together as I smirk. I take a big swallow of bubbles, enjoying their explosions along my tongue. “Oh this is excellent.” He nods his head, turning the bottle to look at the label again. 

As he does that, I set my glass back on the counter and reach out for the button of his shorts. He quickly turns from the bottle with curious and excited eyes. 

“You said pay up right away.” I shrug innocently.

I work his zipper down, then glide my hand into his underwear. I stroke him once, then twice, maintaining eye contact with each pass over his length. I grin when I get him to close his eyes in a long blink. He exhales gently, firming fully in my hand as I stroke my thumb along his thick vein. I lean forward, filling his mouth with my tongue. He matches my aggressive kisses, both of us sucking each others lips.

“I want you down my throat.” I tell him when I pull away. He observes with greedy eyes as I get on my knees. My hair is down, but his hands work it back from my face so he can watch his cock inch into my mouth. His jaw drops open in a strangled groan as I take him all the way back immediately. His abdominal muscles tighten under where my nose bumps into them.

“Baby.” He moans as I wrap my fingers around the base of his shaft, stroking up as my throat wraps around his tip. “Oh fuck.” He jolts as I work his balls over with my other hand. “Again.” He begs me, fingerprints pressing firmly into my neck to push himself deeper. He opens his eyes, looking down at me on my knees. “You look so good right now with my cock in your mouth.” He reaches down to put his hand in my bra, palming my breast. I release his balls to grip his wrist as a reminder my breasts are filled with milk. “I know. Just gonna hold ‘em.”

“Am I being a good wife?” I ask him, dragging my tongue along the vein from base to tip.

“The best. You were made for me, baby.” He holds my chin, sputtering as I rest him against my tongue, wiggling along the cleft of his head.

“This mouth is yours now. Take it.” I sit back on my heels, mouth dropped open, tongue out as he guides himself back in. He widens his stance a bit, then puts his hands on both sides of my head and begins to fuck my mouth. He is gentle at first, then as he gets closer, he is wild. I reach up, gripping my hand tightly along his base and rolling his balls in my hand. His fingers spread along my whole head now, watching each flicker of joy in my eyes at his moans.

“I’m close.” He warns me, but I already know. He is tight and pulsing in my hand, begging for release as he slides a bit further down my throat. I hold back my gag, relaxing my throat so he can get to where he wants to be. I wiggle my tongue along the bottom. He sputters out a grunt, then brings himself a bit out of my mouth so I can collect his cum by stoking him through. I curl my tongue in, bringing the salty ribbons together to show him my collection. Then I fold it all back, swallowing it as he watches with hooded lids.

“When is dinner?” He eventually gathers the words to speak.

“Ten minutes.”

“We need to skip it.” He insists as I tuck him back into place. I work his zipper back up, then replace his button. Besides the taste of him in my mouth, it’s like it never happened. I smile, thinking of the times that used to matter when I would suck him off in the bathroom at Nico’s house before we would return, separately, to whatever party my brother was hosting.

“I need to eat.” I respond. He reaches his hands out for me to take and pulls me to a standing position.

“How? I just fed you.” 

“Ah!” I laugh, slapping at his chest. “Let me fix my lipstick and we can head to dinner.”

“Okay, but no pasta. I want you ready to go later.”

“Do not ever tell me what I can and can’t eat.” I snap, pointing my finger at his nose. He still has a faint scar from the big playoff hit two years ago. He rolls his eyes at my exaggeration, feigning like he’s going to bite my finger off.

“You’re going to fall asleep before I can have you, huh? You’ll be like, no let’s just cuddle for a minute, then I’ll be ready.” He mocks me with a loud snore. I scoff. I do not snore. He does since his broken nose.

“Maybe.” I shrug, sauntering to my purse to grab my YSL pink lipstick. “Tell you what. If I do, you can wake me up at 2 am to fuck. Like old times.”

“Deal.” He muses, folding his hands together against my stomach. He rests his chin on my shoulder, watching me in the mirror with adoring baby blues as I stroke the pink onto my lips. “You are so beautiful.” He says against my shoulder as he drops plump kisses along my warm skin.

“It’s cause I’m in love.” I turn my face to him. He gently kisses me, then pulls away completely.

“I’m going to head to the lobby and check in with the front desk about breakfast tomorrow. I’ve got a surprise for you.” He wiggles his brows at me tauntingly. “See you in five minutes?”

“Yeah.” 

“Kay. I love you, Emma Meier.” I widen my eyes excitedly at my new name.

“I love you.” I whisper back. He sighs happily, staring at me for another few seconds, then disappears from our room.

After freshening up, I go to where Timo waits for me in the hotel lobby. His back is towards me as I come from the courtyard, admiring him. He’s wearing a white, linen button up shirt, stretched wide across his strong shoulders. His hands are in his khaki pockets, expensive Swiss watch shining in the low lighting. The sun is setting over the rolling, grassy hills in front of him as he gazes out at the Italian country side. I fold my bottom lip into my mouth, taking in the way he commands attention from the other patrons. He looks so expensive and compelling. The rest of the world wishes to know him- what’s going on behind that intense blue gaze. 

Sometimes, only I know.

As I approach, I reach out for his arm, threading my hand through to dive into his pocket. Our fingers glide together. I’m blissful as the warm metal of his ring strokes my skin.

“You waiting for someone?” I inquire to him like we are strangers. He dips his gaze to me, ignoring the spectacular beauty dancing in front of us to look only at me.

“Yeah, the love of my life.” 

“Ah, I better go then.” I move to leave, but his hand possessively holds me in place. 

“You and your fucking jokes.” He mutters against my mouth. My shoulders shake with a silent laugh lost on his tongue.

“You’ve always been mine.” I soothe his mild frustration, gliding my hands along his abdomen to hold the muscular swells of his back. “Will be in our next lifetime too.” He rests his chin on my head in a gentle hug.

“You gonna avoid me for years then too?”

“Probably. You gonna put up with that?” He teases his lips over mine, pulling me tighter to him so I can feel him rigid against my stomach.

We aren’t going to make it to dinner.

“Yeah.” It’s a breathless sigh from his mouth. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for your loving & leaving.”

[authorlaralucas]

The Writing Diaries - 06/25/2024

Inside me are two wolves: the pantser and the planner.

I'd say I tend to lean more pantser than planner, but I have to have something to work off of, or I feel like I'm running in the dark. I've found the 5 sentence method very helpful in just getting your story from point A to point B, but how much you fill in can make or break your progress.

I think you need to leave room for your story to breathe. Leaving room for flexibility allows myself to flow with the story, rather than following a ridged outline. I find it to be the best of both worlds, if you're able to give it the time.

But, as we all know, inspiration never strikes when you expect it to. If you're writing your story linearly and reach a plot point you haven't developed as much, you can find yourself struggling, staring at the keyboard impatiently.

That was me today. I hit a point that I hadn't fleshed out as much, and only got about a page worth of material. I felt like I was having to pry the story into reality, piecing together flashing images in my mind. But any progress is progress, and I'll take what I can get.

I think I pantsed when I should have planned, and the gods are now punishing me by withholding inspiration.

There's also a secret fourth option I like to call the "prayer" (no thoughts, just vibes, fueled by pure inspiration only.)

I am both fearful yet awed by these rare warriors.

__

Currently listening to: "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?" by Taylor Swift

Currently reading: "Throne of Glass" by Sarah J. Maas

Currently watching: "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes"

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word tag

Still making my way through this pile up

Thanks @aziz-reads for the tag!

My words: yearn, few, tense, bounce

Your words: bet, unique, glare, pleasure

Tagging @little-peril-stories @blind-the-winds @thepeculiarbird @andyswritings @sarahlizziewrites @jezifster @jessicagailwrites @little-mouse-gardens @buffythevampirelover @emabatis @revenantlore @fairy-tales-of-yesterday @hallowedfury or anyone who sees this

Keep reading for:

Robbie and Akash angst?? Usually they're so funny!?

Everyone is concerned about Maddie except Maddie

Ash is conflicted about making a bad decision but ultimately makes a bad decision

Akash knocks himself out (this is like the third time I've posted an excerpt from this scene)

Yearn Longed (closest synonym) - from The Secret Portal Part One (Robbie POV)

The bell rang for class to start, but I blocked it out. I hated the way people treated Akash. I turned to him. He was updating his planner for the week, but I could tell that he could hear the whispers, too. Hated them, too. As much as they upset me, I honestly couldn’t imagine how they must affect him. It wasn’t all negative. Just Jason, his buddies, and a couple of other racist and/or ableist dicks. Some were sweet to him, but not because he was a cool guy—which he totally is—but because he was different. “Special.” He was a person, like everyone else. I wasn't so pessimistic that I believed everyone was only nice to him because of his disability, but I was realistic enough to know that people just act differently around someone who was, well, different, even subconsciously. Because of this, Akash and I hadn’t made a giant friend group over the years like either of us wanted. Maybe one day. There were plenty of people who liked me—an annoying amount of people, who did the same thing they did to Akash. They had a certain idea of who I was. I supposed a lot of us did that. But a large friend group seemed awesome and was something I longed for. But despite that feeling of isolation, I didn’t care much, since I had Akash. We were both a little lonely, but being lonely together was better than being lonely alone. Wow, that was a bit of a sappy thought, I thought to myself as the bell rang. I feel like that’s something Pooh said. Jesus, I haven’t thought about Pooh in years. I tapped Akash’s desk and whispered, “We need to watch all the Winnie the Pooh movies.” “I’d love to know how your brain got to that topic. Though I agree.” I laughed to myself and turned to face our teacher as class started.

Few - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Maddie POV)

“Alright,” said Wade, holding out a hand. “Can you stand?” I grabbed his hand and he helped me to my feet. I felt a little lightheaded, but nothing really hurt anymore. I gave him a thumbs-up. The crowd that formed very awkwardly began to thin. I heard a few comments asking again if I was okay, despite me saying I was. I kept holding the thumbs up until it was just me, Sam, and Liam. “One more round?” I asked, still holding the thumbs up. “No!” Sam cried, cheeks shiny with tears. “You heard Lexi; I could have killed you!” “You didn’t.” Sam’s face scrunched up before she stalked toward the elevator. I turned to Liam. “I’m fine, though, I swear.” “Yeah, now,” Liam said firmly. His arms crossed over his chest. “Kiddo, you didn’t see yourself. You looked pretty bad. Most of your bones were probably broken based on how much Wade stitched you up. Probably some internal bleeding!” “The blood’s supposed to be inside.” Liam bit his lip like he was trying not to laugh, but he looked angry about it. He sighed, pressing his palms together and resting his forehead against the tips of his fingers. “I did this so I could see where your gaps were in my teaching. You have shifting down very well. Now, you need to assess yourself and how you’re doing. And Sam is right. You’re done for today.” “It’s not even lunch, though.” “Then the morning, but no heavy stuff after this, okay?” I ran my tongue over my braces. “Alright.” “Go take a shower,” Liam said, more gently than he usually spoke.

Tense - from The Secret Portal Part One (Ash POV)

I turned onto my left side to face the rest of the room. Rose was curled up on the floor in the fetal position. Lexi lay on her stomach, her arm dangling off the couch. Noelle was on her side, almost log-like, though her arms stretched out in front of her. Gwen, too, was on her side on the recliner across the room, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest. Their dreams, I could sense. I couldn’t say what they were about, but I could feel how they made them feel. Calm, tense, uncomfortable—I didn’t like it. But I did. Giving up trying to sleep, I sat upward, placing my feet on the floor and feeling the carpet between my toes. I felt the coin-shaped devices shift in my pocket and pulled them out. I stared at them in my palm, the dim light from electronic clocks and the kitchen being the only things allowing me to see. At least with my eyes. My finger brushed the surface of the devices. They were overall smooth, but there were ridges, all in a radial pattern around their center. I felt their power pulse into the pad of my finger, causing my body to shudder. When I’d used them earlier, they allowed me to wake everyone I accidentally knocked out. However, I wasn’t so stupid that I didn’t consider they were what made me sick in the first place. Maybe they were what was crying out to me the entire time I was in Alium. An insane thought—I was a thirty-minute walk away when I’d collapsed. Carla mentioned the power activation was likely simply because I was now in Alium. But no one else had the ease that I did. What if it was these devices? That would explain a lot. I’d felt drawn to them. I ran my thumb over them like they were my rings. My curiosity piqued. It was like they were reaching out to me, specifically. Which was ridiculous to think about an inanimate object. Jedi had seemed worried after I told him what happened. He didn’t even want to go down the corridor. Maybe it was because of these. What could he be afraid of? Me unlocking my potential? Carla told me the mind had no limit, and these devices seemed to expand the limit. Maybe I shouldn’t use them just to explore, as much fun as that sounded. But I couldn’t sleep, and these things did help me earlier. Maybe they could help me sleep. It was worth trying, at least.

Bounce - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

Gills told me I was defense. He’d understand. The real problem was Noelle. She grabbed Gills’ rock in pitch darkness. She could get me. I pulled harder on the stick. Noelle’s pull tightened, too. Smirking to myself, I let the stick go and flew upward—cutting through the air. Noelle grunted as the stick hit her with her own force. Once high enough, I shot toward the dragon, hoping to keep the momentum to pass through the dampening field and get the sphere. I knew it as soon as I passed. I lost my grip on the air and began to fall, but I latched onto the collar before doing so. Custos didn’t like that and tried to paw me off, but I managed to unclasp the sphere. “Haha!—oomph!” I celebrated until Custos did knock me off. I tried to feel when I passed the field, but the ground came fast, causing my entire body to shudder nauseously and the back of my skull to bounce off the floor, only to be hit again. I groaned. Custos apparently was too low to the ground for there to be air beneath the field. My ears rang as I felt around for the lid of the sphere and opened it the way Carmen demonstrated. “I got the feather!” I tried to say but knew I passed out before I could since it was suddenly a lot brighter. “Hey, Singh,” Gills said above me. “Did we win?” “Yeah, because you were an idiot and went right into the dampening field.” “You sound annoyed.” “Because my teammate passed out and had to be taken to the medbay. Do you know how dangerous it is to lose consciousness when you hit your head?” “But my plan worked.” “If this was real, you’d be dead.” “You’re welcome,” I grunted as I pulled myself up to a seated position.

[padfootagain]

Pirates! (VII)

Chapter 7 : The Moving Sands

Hello, lovelies! Here we go with a new chapter for this Caspian fic!

I’m sorry, I got the dates wrong on my planner, hence the little delay, I know this was supposed to come out yesterday… SORRY :/

I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Caspian x Pirate!Reader

Warnings: depictions of violence in later chapters (fight scenes… nothing too terrible), slow burn, fluff!

Summary: As ships disappear across the sea, Caspian is forced to go investigate himself. But to win against the wild uncharted waters he must cross to reach his people, he needs to bargain with pirates. And then, he finds you…

Word Count: 2282

Masterlist for the series – Caspian’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Caspian didn’t know what to think of you.

You were a riddle, and he wanted to figure out how to read right through you.

On one hand you were a pirate, with a reputation bloody enough to scare your rivals. On the other hand, you were kind to your crew. When, four days after your departure, you crossed path with a merchant ship, you didn’t attack them. You let them sail in peace.

So, what kind of person were you? Good or evil?

As Caspian pulled as hard as he could on a rope, studying carefully the movement of the sail as he maneuvered, he let his mind ponder on this question. His aching muscles and blistered palms bothered him, but he did not complain. He was used to this, the pain through his arms, the shallow breath, the warm sun shining on his wet brow. He was used to it, it was a familiar feeling, really. And it stopped him from thinking, perhaps it was the fact that his hands were occupied in a task that required instinct more than thought. He could feel the tension in the rope, peek upwards to the movement of the sail and he knew what to command to his hands before he could properly think of it.

He loosened his grip only slightly, then pulled harder, using his weight to bring the sail about. And while he watched the red fabric catch the wind, he thought of you, of your features and your voice and the way you looked at him with mischief and defiance.

“Slow down!” you commanded, your voice steady and certain, and Caspian, like the rest of your crew, maneuvered the ship to obey your order without a second thought.

From the corner of his eye, Caspian saw you moving across the bridge, waving at Sophia and silently giving her an order to place the Dawn Treader behind your ship. You would be their guide.

And he admired you, at this moment. Standing by the helm, studying the wind in silence and the shape of your sails as they expanded under the breeze. All leather and white shirt and sword and knives and a blue feather on your tricorne hat. There was something about you that drew him to you. He had noticed it already on Saint Iron, but the more time he spent with you, the more obvious it was…

“Steady on!” you ordered, voice ringing again across the murmur of the waves.

At the top of the mizzen mast, the two squirrels who watched your course silently indicated to alter course, aiming for the right. You guided your ship in that direction.

You were about to enter the Hundred Banks, that some also called the Moving Sands. A collection of tiny lands made of sand, that moved with the currents that carried the material to form and destroy the small islands. Some of them could barely be seen from the surface, still underwater, and caution was vital now.

Caspian’s eyes filled with wonder at the sight of the specks of creamy-white that erupted from the blue waves. Under the cloudless sky, some almost seemed like foam, others were large enough to be hosting the crew of both ships. A bad idea for a resting spot, though. The treacherous surface would capture your ships and you would be left stranded there, with no help in sight.

He heard you cursing under your breath, and he turned to you at the sound. He was, after all, standing on the deck, right under the higher floor of the helm.

“Bloody Narnians,” he heard you cursing as you turned around to check the position of the Dawn Treader.

“Peter! Get your arse up here!”

Your gentle mood had disappeared, and you were frowning in an annoyance that was bordering anger when Caspian hurried up the stairs.

“Yes, captain?”

“Tell your idiotic friend over there to stay behind us, if he doesn’t want to die stranded like a moron.”

You were surprised to see that he was refraining an endeared smile.

“Yes, captain.”

“Hurry, you’ve got work to do!”

He nodded, strode to the back of the ship, wrapped his hands around his mouth for his voice to be carried further upon the wind.

And you couldn’t help but turn around, look at Peter stand there, by the banister, the wind caught in his hair, the dark locks flying around his face. And he was all leather, and a large purple shirt, high boots that made your heart stutter.

You cleared your throat. After all, you needed to make him fall for you. It would allow you to get information about Narnia. Useful, even vital information, indeed.

The fact that your cheeks warmed up at the sight of the tanned skin revealed by the open buttons of Caspian’s shirt did make your mission more pleasant, there was no denying it.

“The Dawn Treader will follow,” he informed you, and indeed, the ship was already altering its course to follow yours to perfection.

“Good,” was all that you could manage as you noticed the glimmering sweat on his temples, and found the detail extremely endearing, for some strange reason.

“Can I do anything else for you, captain?”

There was this crooked smile of his again. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight…

But you shook your head, bringing yourself back to the task at hand. The purpose was to make him fall for you, not the other way around… by Aslan’s tail, you really did need to get a grip…

But how would you seduce him?

You put on a flirtation smile, tilted your head a little, your tone honeyed when you spoke again.

“Thank you, Peter.”

But you saw the small frown that flashed across his brow, the way he tensed at your tone.

You stood straighter, set your eyes on the horizon again.

“Now, get going. Try to make yourself useful.”

Too cold. You saw it in the way he gave you a short nod, in the slumping of his shoulders as if he was disappointed.

You let him walk away, focusing on the treacherous path again.

How to get under his skin, without letting him in?

The crossing of the Hundred Banks was long and tedious, slow progress made through treacherous waters. It was exhausting, for everyone in your crew, but most of all for you, as you stirred the helm without any break for most of the day and night.

When darkness fell upon the world, you ordered for two longboats to be lowered down, and a small group of your crew went ahead, using lanterns to guide you and watch out for treacherous sand you couldn’t see in the shadows of the night.

The sand now shone silver under the moonlight. You recognized the constellations above you, the long trace of purple and red that crossed them. You were still on course, despite the detours needed to safely go through these parts.

You barely noticed Charlotte walking up to you: through your exhaustion and your focus on the sky and the tiny flames up ahead, there was little your brain could notice anyway.

“You should get some rest. We have less than an hour left of night. Dawn will soon rise. You can get a few hours of sleep, I’ll handle it.”

You were too tired to argue, and agreed instead.

“Come and wake me up if anything seems off. And wake me up after we’re out of the sand.”

“Yes, captain.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Yes, I’ve slept with the first team.”

“Lucky you…”

“Come on, grumpy. Go to bed, before you become truly insufferable.”

“You’re talking to your captain!”

“I’m talking to a woman who hasn’t slept in over thirty-six hours and could fall unconscious any minute now.”

“And looks stunning doing it. You forgot that part.”

“It’s good to have dreams, apparently.”

“Shut it.”

You let her take the helm anyway, walked away with a silent thank you written in your tired smile, and headed for your cabin.

You noticed at once that Peter was up. He was watching the tiny boats ahead, leaning on the banister.

As you walked closer, you noticed that he had wrapped cloths around his palms.

“Are you hurt?”

He jumped at the sound of your voice, turned around in a jolt and you noticed at once that he spontaneously took a fighting stance, that his hand came to his hip looking for his sword. He heaved a relieved sigh as he saw you.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

There was a limited crew on the bridge now. Most were asleep, resting after an exhausting day. There was no one to hear your words, and only a handful to see the scene from afar.

You couldn’t push away the thought that Peter looked stunning like this, standing in the twin lights of the lanterns and the moon, a mix of silver and gold dancing over his features.

“Your hands,” you went on, a worried frown evident on your brow. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Oh, it is nothing. Blisters.”

You nodded.

“My hands are calloused, but working the ropes for so long under such heat is a lot, even for me,” he smiled, but you didn’t.

You shifted, from one foot to the other, uneasy.

“Come, I’ll take a look.”

“It is nothing…”

“It’s an order, Peter. I’m still your captain. Come on.”

You raised an eyebrow as he smiled, amused.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing, I just… I am not so used to being given orders, it is a nice change.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile forming on your lips.

“If you’re lucky, I’ll manhandle you too.”

He laughed, an earnest wave spreading in the space between the two of you. You liked that sound…

So, that was it. Playful. He liked it confident, but still kind. A little teasing, a little defiant, perhaps…

“I’m sure you would make it unbearably agreeable.”

You were surprised by his answer, and merely nodded towards the door leading to your cabin in response.

This time, Peter did not argue. He followed you, let you guide him towards your cabin. A simple one. A couple of lamps, a desk covered with parchments, maps, and ink. A bed. A large, locked chest. A couple of chairs.

“Sit down,” you pointed at one of the empty chairs, reached for a stool, some water and some cloth.

He obeyed, looking at the room while you settled before him. He let you take his hand in yours, unwrap the bandage he had made.

The water was cold against his hands, it made him jump, he apologized for it. He didn’t even flinch as you cleaned his wounded skin.

“Ask Amelia tomorrow, our cook. She’ll give you gloves.”

“It is nothing. Blisters come and go.”

“Your skin needs to heal. There is no need to hurt yourself.”

He noticed the way your fingers trailed across the unharmed part of his palms and fingers too, but he didn’t say anything about it. He merely stared at you, instead.

Perhaps it was because he was out of breath under your gentle touch, perhaps it was because he was underestimating you. Indeed, you recognized the patterns of callous skin on his hands. The ones owned by a warrior, holding a pommel and being highly trained.

Peter was a soldier. He was dangerous. Despite Bethy’s words, you couldn’t trust him. What if he was stronger than you in single combat?

Finally, you reached for some clean bandages, placed them around his palms.

You were surprised by his next question.

“Do you play chess?”

Before your frown, he nodded towards the set placed on a small table in a corner of your room. You couldn’t refrain a fond smile at the sight.

“I used to.”

“Not anymore?”

“I don’t have anyone to play with on this ship.”

“Really? Who did you play with, then?”

“My mother.”

You were surprised by your answer, by the fact that it was the truth and that it was natural for you to let the words out. As if you were not baring your soul, your past…

You shifted, uncomfortable. You were the one who ought to get under his skin, not the other way around…

“I apologize. I did not mean to intrude, or upset you.”

“I am not upset,” you lied, tightening the knot around his hand a little too tightly, and immediately regretting your gesture. You left it like that, though, as if it had been done on purpose.

“My father taught me to play,” Caspian spoke, his voice quiet. “A long time ago. I used… I used to play with a friend of mine who is long gone now…”

His eyes were unfocused as they stared at your board. He shook himself quickly, sadness lingering in his dark eyes for a moment longer, a tinge of melancholia that disappeared as he focused on you again.

“Thank you, for my hand.”

You cleared your throat.

“You’re welcome.”

When Caspian stood up to leave, you didn’t know what came over you exactly. Was it a plot to connect with him and seduce him? Was it earnest longing?

No matter why, the words were out before you could think them properly.

“Would you like to play? One day? When we have time?”

His features broke into a grin, and you hated yourself for the warm sensation spreading across your heart.

“I would love to, captain.”

His smile lingered on his lips as he walked away, and Caspian kind of hated himself for the warmth that was spreading through his chest at the sight of your smile.

[countrymusiclover]

44 - Mother for a Day

Part 45

Family is More than Blood

@secretdreamlandmentality

Walking up the steps of the old Gilbert house I knocked on the front door hearing it creek open and revealed Elena who had some food stains on the front of her shirt done by her own daughter. “Hey, come on in, Raelyn. I was just giving the kids a snack before you pick them up.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that though. I could have fed them when I got back to the mansion.” I stepped over the threshold and she shut the door behind me while I headed towards the kitchen.

Henrik was sitting at the table with Stefanie just shoving some chicken and fries in their mouths until he saw me. “Mommy.”

“Hi baby.” I waved to him with Elena coming around the corner with the baby bag of extra stuff for the twins. Charming and Rapunzel were asleep on the couch together. “So you’re sure that I can’t pay you and Damon more money. I feel guilty just dumping our kids on you sometimes.”

Elena shakes her head hearing the doorbell ring so she went off to answer it. “It’s no problem, Raelyn. Uh, hang on. Who could that be?”

She answered the door and to both our surprise and joy we were greeted with the sight of the familiar blonde vampire Caroline Forbes. “Surprise! I thought I’d make a quick trip back since there’s a school dance this weekend.”

“You can’t shy away from being Ms. Party planner, can you Care.” Elena joked with her best friend.

She giggled stepping inside, noticing me in the kitchen. “Raelyn, oh my gosh. How have you been since the last time we saw each other with my girls merging and almost dying?”

“I’ve gotten better. Klaus and I have finally agreed I’ll take my magic back when I choose to…thankfully I hope.” I embrace her in a hug and she recreates with an equal amount of love.

The blonde nodded seeing Henrik watching us. “Hey little Mikaelson man. Are you keeping the younger twins out of trouble?”

“Aunt Caroline, yes I am.” He smiled brightly.

Crossing my arms over my chest I eyed the vampire. “So what party did you come home for exactly?”

“I heard it’s something the high school is throwing instead of a decade dance. They are hosting a Masquerade ball type one like the Mikaelson’s hosted when Esther came back.” She exclaimed, taking my hands in hers bouncing with excitement.

I chuckled at her reaction. “So what do you want me to do with this information exactly?”

“I think you and Klaus should let the kids of our school go to their dance. They should get to go to a dance if they want to like we did.” Caroline responded brightly.

Knitting my brows at her. “You don’t think some won’t be upset if they have to hide their abilities?”

“We did it for a fun evening. It shouldn’t be us against the humans of this town.” She explains looking over at her now human best friend. Elena smiles back at her nodding her head in agreement.

Slumping my shoulders, the blonde in front of me did have a point. These kids needed to experience life with the rest of the town and not be separated from them. Otherwise all the work of teaching them to embrace who they are and control the abilities they have would all be for nothing. “I’ll talk with Nik to see what he thinks and I’ll let you know. How long are you staying in town for?”

“Just for a week. But I don’t think I should go.” Caroline sighed through tears that she wiped away. “I’ve been away from my girls for a while. I don’t want to miss more time with them when we know that the only way out of the Merge is for one of them to turn into a vampire.”

“We will figure out when to talk to them about that. For now let’s just focus on living life like normal people.” I met her gaze looking back at my son gesturing towards the front door. “Henrik, grab your bag and take it to the car. I’ll be out with your siblings in a moment.”

“Okay mommy.” Henrik took the bag from Elena after giving her a hug and went out the front door.

Moving over to the couch I picked up Rapunzel in my arms and Caroline helped with Charming. Elena waved bye to us needing to start making dinner before Damon got home. Putting one of my twins in the car seat I glanced back at her. “You should come by the school with me. Tell the students your idea.”

She clicked her tongue to protest. “Rae..”

“Plus I know your girls would like to see you.”

Caroline sent me a playful glare. “Don't pretend to know how my kids feel. In fact I bet your kids have been doing reckless stuff while you were out of the house for Valentine’s Day last week.”

“I'll believe it when I see it. Oh sorry it's Nik.” Feeling my phone vibrate I put it to my ear. “Hey what is it?”

My husband sounds almost frantic on the other side. “Rae, Missy and Ethan went to the lake house without our permission and now she wants to talk with us about turning her boyfriend.”

“Woah slow down. Are they back at the mansion?” I tried to calm him down.

He answers. “In the driveway now.”

“Okay Caroline and I are on our way now. Don't dp anything until we get there.” I hung up the phone opening the passenger front door for her. “Get in the car, Forbes.”

She gasped, not expecting this of me today. “What are you doing, Raelyn?”

“Get in the car because I am making you mother of my daughter for a day.” I said the sentence to her again seeing that she hasn't moved.

The vampire standing in front of me just blinked her eyes a couple of times. She crossed her arms over her chest glaring at me. “How did I get nominated to be your daughter’s mother for a day?”

“I made you the other godmother to my children, didn't I? Cami is away in New Orleans so it’s your job for tonight Ms. Forbes.” Placing my hand on one hip I raised a brow at her with a half glare.

Caroline gasped and then closed her mouth pausing before finally getting in the car. “Raelyn Mikaelson, I - uh fine.” Climbing in the driver's seat we drove back in the direction of the mansion with me thinking back on the day we had returned to this town and reunited with my blonde friend beside me now.

“Matt! Matt, we're coming for you!” Caroline's voice could be heard through the woods when Klaus and I vamped around following her voice.

Finally finding her I vamped forward flinging my arms around her from behind where she nearly screamed till she heard my voice. “Caroline!”

“Rae…Raelyn.” She spun around on her feet when I jumped off her back standing beside my husband, placing a hand on my pregnant belly that was beginning to be visible to the world.

Klaus smiled lovingly at her. “Hello, Caroline.”

Caroline breathed out seeing he was here with me too. “Klaus. What are you guys doing here?”

“Damon informed me that Katerina Petrova has taken a tragic turn.” Klaus answered her question by draping an arm over my shoulder. “And as you know she’ll never let me go anywhere without her.”

Caroline rolled her eyes and vamped away from him. “So you're here to gloat over her corpse to be, to delight in the closure of 500 years of revenge! Great! Now I'm even less interested.”

“Well, then perhaps you'd be more interested in talking about Tyler.” Klaus vamped in front of her holding up a hand.

Caroline paused stuttering off. “Is he… did you…”

“No. I sent him off with little more than a bruised ego. He really does hate me, poor lad. Revenge, it eats at him. I hear you two broke up.” He told her where I hit him on the arm for mentioning their break up that he was the cause of.

Caroline vamped away a second time leaving me and Klaus on our own. “Because I made him choose… me or his stupid revenge fantasy, and he chose wrong. I suggest that you learn from his mistakes and let Katherine die in peace. Dying sucks enough learn as it is. No need to rub anyone's nose in it.”

“Can I just tell her why we are here before you potentially piss her off and she says no.” I glared at him, putting my hands on my hips.

Nik sighed, sending me a half smile. “Don’t worry your head, Rae. She could never say no to you.”

“Maybe you’re right or maybe you’ll be wrong. I’d rather not let it be the second option. So I’d appreciate it if you stopped the teasing of Tyler.” I vamped off in the direction that Caroline had gone off in.

Klaus beat me to reaching her first, holding a hand up and getting in front of her before she could leave again. “Are you not even the least bit curious as to why me and Raelyn are here?”

“Klaus, what did I just say?” I snapped at the hybrid.

“You… you can't do this to me. You can't just show up and distract me while my friend is in danger.” Caroline thought for a moment remembering about her other ex boyfriend besides Tyler.

Klaus waved his finger in her face teasingly. “You know, while you've been vamping off in all the wrong directions, I heard Matt's distant and desperate screams.”

Caroline asked, looking around. “Where?”

“Don't worry, luv. I've got it covered. Trust me. He'll be quite happy with his rescuer.” Klaus smiled at her.

I clasped my hands together and giggled knowing who was going to rescue the human of the group. “You didn’t think Rebekah would miss the opportunity to return to Mystic Falls did you?”

“So the quarterback has been saved. What now?” Klaus drew out his phone seeing a text from his sister saying that she had successfully saved him.

Caroline began walking away from us and I followed after her since it was a beautiful sunny “Don't you have a dying girl to go punish for all of her sins?”

Klaus replied to her. “I do, but I won't for you.”

Caroline sent him a confused smile. “So you came all the way to Mystic Falls just to back off when I ask you to? I didn’t think I had the same control that Rae does.”

“No. I came all the way to Mystic Falls to gloat over a corpse to be, as you so poetically put it, but I will leave minus the gloating in return for one small thing.” Klaus teased her back with her own words making me snort out a laugh.

Caroline paused in her steps. “And what is that?”

“Caroline Forbes, I came back to ask you to be the other godmother to the children we will have in a few months.” I pushed myself in between the pair taking her hands in mine.

The bubbly blonde vampire didn’t verbally respond at first but rather embraced me in a tight hug. Wrapping my arms around her I smiled when she finally answered my question. “Of course I will be their other godmother.”

“See you were worried for absolutely nothing.” Klaus whispered in my ear once we had broken the embrace and I rolled my eyes at the hybrid but the smile on my face never dropped.

Entering through the front door Caroline and I were met with Ethan and Missy both sitting on the couch and Klaus was standing in front of the fireplace but no one uttered a word until I was forced to speak up first. “Somebody want to tell me what is happening or am I supposed to read your minds?”

“Raelyn, Melissa doesn’t want to talk with Ethan about turning him into a vampire until she talks with us first. I don’t entirely understand what the problem is with just turning him if he asks.” Klaus turned on his heels putting his back to the fireplace.

Missy and I spoke in unison to his response. “Because it’s a lot more complicated than he thinks it is.”

“Rae, you know the odds of him remaining human are very slim. If he just turns earlier than he can protect himself instead of always being the one who could need rescuing.” Klaus vamped in front of me and our gazes focused on the other.

I tilted my head to the side, glaring at my husband. “Nik, I understand your logic but this is our daughter’s decision.”

“She doesn’t have to be the one to turn him.” He was tempted to say that to me.

Crossing my arms I shake my head no grumbling under my breath. “He asked her to do it. That means that he trusts her to be his sire more than any other vampire in this school.”

“I don’t see the difference between whether she turns him or it is one of us.” Klaus attempted to say and I rolled my eyes not wanting this conversation to become a fight.

Luckily Caroline stepped around the two of us calling Missy’s attention towards the head mistresses office. “Missy, follow me. We can discuss this together with just the two of us if you’d be comfortable with that option.”

“That would be great, Aunt Caroline.” She got up from the couch and Ethan eyed her as she left and the office door was closed shut. Klaus glanced at me yet I had nothing to say. I was just relieved that I made her one of their godmother’s.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[andiwriteordie]

hello Andi. I am once again invading your inbox to talk about the possibilities of a Merlin AU bc I know you see the vision and it actually fits so perfectly??

Mike as Arthur

Will as Merlin

El as Gwen

Max as Morgana

Lucas as Lancelot

Dustin as Gwaine

Like?? With adjustments to the plot + character arcs and how events play out (like for example Lucas would fall in love w Max still not El but also elmax as morgwen possibilities), it fits them all so WELL especially Mike and Will as Arthur and Merlin. Even their families fit: Will growing up with a single mom in poverty who loves him, Mike growing up in wealth with a shitty asf dad that makes horrible decisions but Mike would be a much better leader than him-

anyway. Thoughts? I’m considering making a 5-10 chapter fic with 1-2 chapters per Merlin season after I finish the show but idk anyways I’m getting off track I mostly just wanted to hear ur thoughts on the concept bc I know you’re a merthur enthusiast and u have a Merlin AU wip rn 😎🫶

okay okay okay hi elli. i have thoughts on this, and it's been a while since i've thought about those thoughts but here i am today. to share with you my thoughts. some of them get a little funky weird controversial, so bear with me. (also. i say read all of this with caution if you're still watching merlin, bc i'm gonna try to not spoil too much of it, but i will be hitting on major character arcs that build throughout the show!)

the easy ones. will's merlin. mike's arthur. duh. easy peasy. all the parallels you just mentioned? perfect. literally byler as merthur works so well, and i just know modern byler would've loved this show. like mike starts watching it and gets so excited??? anyways.

i also think lucas is actually more of a mix of lancelot/gwaine, and dustin would be leon (though depending on where you are in the series, you might not have gotten to the point where leon is a more central character?). anyways, i think lucas is a mix of lancelot/gwaine because he has the same moral righteous and kindness of lancelot, but is definitely more brash like gwaine (love my boy planning to storm fucking hnl by himself lol). with dustin, leon's a very level-headed character, also arthur's second in command for later seasons with the knights, and so i think it fits with how mike and dustin are both the planners and dustin sorta steps up to help lead in mike's absence in s4!

now for the girls. so, i've gone back and forth on this, because for obvious reasons, the el/gwen parallel works because of the merlin/arthur/gwen and will/mike/el love triangle. like that's the most obvious interpretation of this. but then, as i was thinking about it (and honestly i was wandering down this rabbit hole while writing my merlin byler fic lmao), i was trying to think about where el having powers and just willel in general would fit into all of this?

so i started thinking about el/morgana, which then would um. make max/gwen. (i'll come back to that in a second, let me explain el/morgana first.) i'm just thinking about how morgana is one of the most powerful sorcerers we see in the show and how morgana and merlin are foils to each other. i think there's an episode that calls morgana the darkness to merlin's light. so like yes, merlin and arthur are two sides of the same coin and have their shared destiny, but likewise, morgana has always been that third part of their destiny (which is so fun once you explore the ancient religions and stuff this show loosely pulls inspiration from, because three is kind of a big number) in that she is connected to merlin.

so you think about willelmike, right? and obviously, el is our hero and protagonist of the show, so she's not gonna end up turning bad unlike morgana. but in the context of thinking about a merlin x st crossover, how interesting would it be if el did turn evil? because in st, we see this is a back and forth conversation el has with herself - is she the monster? is she good? or is she bad?

and i think about an el who actually did go with henry when prompted to in the lab. an el whose moral code would be shaped and manipulated by someone with an ulterior motive, someone who recognizes her power. because that, in my opinion, is what happened to morgana with morgause. morgana was terrified and alone because she had this secret which could get her killed, and morgause was the first to show that her magic could be good. so she trusted morgause and went spiraling down a path that led her to destruction because of how morgause manipulated her into thinking. i don't think morgana was ever inherently evil. i think the fear and manipulation motivated her and morphed into anger and a desire for revenge, because this poor woman was alone for so much of her story.

so, when i'm imagining a merlin x st au, i am imagining henry would take that morgause role. if we're following merlin canon, will and el never learn about each other's magic and spend their character arcs alone and motivated by fear, when they really could've found solace and love and acceptance in each other. if we're not following merlin canon, will decides not to be an idiot? and he tells el about his magic? and they become magic twins together, and look, el grew up as mike's sister essentially, so then will's basically her brother in law.

(also. the platonic elmike sibling vibes crack me up. like all the canon st jokes about how they're so family coded? that right there. merlin vibes. they're family. no dating your sister.)

anyways, so that then defaults us to having max as gwen, which i think would change her character a little bit. maybe instead of a romance between max and mike, it's more that sort of friendship that gwen and arthur do develop, because max challenges mike to be better and brings out the good parts of him - the parts that care about justice and about his people and about doing the right thing. and so mike, kind of feeling forced into having a queen because ya know. laws of the land and stuff, very tentatively asks max if she would ever consider stepping into that role because he believes she would be an excellent leader. and so that's when the engagement happens and stuff and it's for show for the people, and only like. will and max and mike and dustin know that obviously. and then through whatever circumstances, the engagement ends up called off, and unlike in merlin canon, it doesn't end up happening again, and max just becomes an advisor to mike, who remains single as a king until. ya know. magic is legalized and he marries will (not following canon lol. or he dies. and i cry again.

okay that's it! the end! :)

(does this make hopper gaius)

[dominionenterpriseservices]

Free Money Exists: Catherine Tindall of Dominion Enterprise Services

As a restaurant owner, if you have not pursued the Employee Retention Credit, you need to lock out two hours to get the analysis done for your company. Dollar for dollar is the most significant ROI activity any restaurant owner can do now if you haven’t taken advantage of the program. It’s based on headcount. If you have a decent-sized headcount, this could be a massive shot in the arm for your business. – Catherine Tindall, CPA CTC

1:05 [Josh Kopel]

Welcome to Full Comp! A show offers insight into the hospitality industry. We are featuring restaurateurs, thought leaders, and innovators. We served up on the house.

1:22 [Josh Kopel]

You could be sitting on a winning lottery ticket and not even know it. I’m talking about the Employee Retention Credit. I witnessed fellow restaurateurs receive six-digit checks by taking advantage of this extraordinary opportunity. As I’m sure you can imagine, I lack the expertise to discuss the ins and outs of the program, but I know someone who can. Her name is Catherine Tindall, and her company Dominion Enterprise Services specializes in helping restaurants get the most money from the credit with the least effort. I hope you came hungry because our old Uncle Sam is baking some bread today.

2:05 [Catherine]

I always use analogies. A bookkeeper’s your mom who knows first aid. A CPA is your general practitioner who’s going to be able to give you antibiotics. Your mom will be there with band-aids and that’s all you’ll need, those little reports. When it comes to making bigger decisions or strategizing around what’s going on in your business, a CPA can be much more helpful because they have much more professional experience and training than a bookkeeper.

2:51 [Josh Kopel]

Let’s talk about that. A CPA can do everything a bookkeeper can do, but a bookkeeper cannot do everything that a CPA can do.

3:00 [Catherine]

The other distinction is that a CPA can do things that a bookkeeper can do but do you want to pay your doctor to put on band-aids? That’s the analogy. Many people try to get their CPAs to do things that are a little too menial rather than just having a bookkeeper or having other people in place to handle certain parts of what’s going on financially. Accounting is a very broad field, and there are many pieces to it. To have me, a tax specialist, do things that a bookkeeper can do doesn’t make sense.

3:45 [Josh Kopel]

What was your path to entrepreneurship? What problem did you feel you were solving when you created Dominion?

3:52 [Catherine]

When I was in school, I originally started in medicine. I wanted what I was doing to change people’s lives and help them. I wanted to be helping people as my profession. As I went further into it, I realized that it wasn’t going to be a good fit for a number of reasons. My parents were both CPAs and had a tax practice. They told me to take an accounting course, and you can see where that ended. I enjoyed it, and I found this special thing with accounting. I enjoyed the numbers. I enjoyed the logic of it, and I really enjoy the fact that people are so intimidated by it and feel so out of control with it. And I can bridge that gap for them and use the knowledge I have to make it intelligible, especially with the tax side of things, because I’m primarily a tax planner and a tax specialist.

People are so intimidated by taxes, and it’s so expensive and painful to be able to bridge that gap and help them understand how it works. To help them reduce how much they’re paying in a way that really moves the needle for their business. I find it extremely satisfying. What pushed me to start my firm is my experiences where there’s not a lot of thought leadership that comes from accountants. They tend to be very “in the box” thinkers, very backward-looking, historically oriented, and just trying to be compliance oriented. So I found that what I wanted to do was help business owners, and I needed to start my own firm to structure the relationships in a way that we’re not just filling out forms for people. That we’re doing things that advance their business and advance their personal life forward by being able to save them cash with tax reduction strategies, that was the path there.

5:41 [Josh Kopel]

In the gap, you’re talking about. Specifically, I believe that’s the gap between bridging yesterday’s numbers and how that influences decisions today and tomorrow, right?

5:53 [Catherine]

Absolutely. There’s kind of three pieces that go into what people do in their business. You try to increase your top line through doing marketing and advertising, and things that you try to decrease your bottom line by reducing expenses. Then the third piece, which many people don’t think about, is that everything is going to flow through the tax funnel, and you’re going to pay tax. So do things to optimize how your income flows through the tax funnel to ensure you’re not paying too much in tax. For my firm, we’ve emphasized that third piece. We’re a tax planning firm mostly, and that’s the piece that many people never get around to doing because they wait until the end of the year to talk to their accountant. Or their accountant is just concerned with ensuring they’re compliant with the IRS rather than finding efficiencies and how they operate to lower how much they pay.

6:43 [Josh Kopel]

You were interested in connecting with independent restaurant owners and operators when you reached out. Why choose that niche because we’re so easy to work with?

6:52 [Catherine]

The main thing we’re up to right now is to become a specialty practice for doing the Employee Retention Credit. I do these for all sorts of industries. Still, in particular, I saw that the restaurant, especially independent operators, is just largely missing out on this credit. It’s because they fall in that weird zone, where their tax practitioner is probably really small and isn’t able to handle a lot more than just filing their returns. I’ve been coming across many of these clients whose accountants just dropped the ball and going after this credit for them, especially for restaurant owners who were so impacted by the pandemic. They have this opportunity. For many of the clients I’ve been seeing, it’s a six-figure tax credit, a six-figure check that comes back in the mail. I thought we would be a good connection because if I could just get one person to reach out to their accountant or be able to take advantage of this credit, I feel I’ve accomplished something.

7:59 [Josh Kopel]

I want to talk about tax strategy at large because, in the abstract, I don’t know how many of us know what that means. Typically tax planning starts on January 1st for payment in April, and we’re talking about last year’s taxes. What tax planning strategies do you guys use to help mitigate attack implications for independent restaurant owners and operators?

8:32 [Catherine]

The first strategy is to be proactive and consider how taxes work. You’re incurring a tax bill as you earn money because its profits will flow through that tax funnel. If you just wait until the end of the year to do anything, that money is already flowing through that funnel, and there’s not much you can do to get it back. That’s why for many people, it’s in January or February that they figure out what their tax bill was from the previous year. And they’re always in this game of catch up and what we do in the firm for our tax planning clients is we start with an onboarding. We need to look forward to where your business is going. We need to understand what you’re trying to achieve strategically with your business to ensure it’s going through the tax funnel as efficiently as possible. If somebody is going to grow to sell, that’s a very different kind of strategy than if somebody is going to grow to hand it off to a kid. If they know, they’re just going to be operating the business for 20 years, starting spidering out and getting a bunch of different businesses, or pivoting into franchising or licensing. Those are very different end games from an operation and tax planning standpoint. Overlaying a deep understanding of what’s happening in the business to how the tax code works and how we make this the most efficient path through the tax funnel. The first thing we always go after is tax credits ’cause it’s a dollar-for-dollar thing. Usually, once you start those programs, they go year after year, so there are different payroll tax credits.

There are other incentives out there that are just easy wins for the client and usually some instant cash injection. The next piece is entity structure: percentage points say you’re getting taxed at 40% effective, and we can bump that down to 25%- 30%. That’s a huge swing for a matter of just shifting or forming some entities, closing some entities, doing some elections, and filing some paperwork. You can get that stuff wrapped up in a month, and I can move your whole percentage points. We analyze what’s going on with your entities. For most people, if you structured your business more than five years ago or experienced some significant growth, that’s something that you want to have an ongoing analysis done. It’s not one of those things you wanna set it and forget because if all of your work is getting pushed through this inefficient tunnel, you’re losing percentage points. And if you’re working safely, it’s 15% more than you’re paying. How many months out of the year working for the government could have gone to you just to fill some forms? Then it just goes into maximizing deductions and ensuring that people can be as efficient as possible with things that they’re already spending money on. Suppose you’re paying family members, paying for health benefits during retirement. All those kinds of things, but those are kind of after the fact, and it all has to be in the frame of what’s the strategy? What are you trying to do as a business? And how do we get you there the most efficiently?

11:58 [Josh Kopel]

For the folks listening that is going, is this me? Am I one of these people with an issue? What are some of the red flags? What are some common mistakes you see people making when they come to you?

12:08 [Catherine]

At least the most common mistake I see on the credit side is people not taking advantage of the Employee Retention Credit. If you haven’t had that one, you need to have an analysis done for regular tax planning issues. First one’s entity structure, if you’re getting over 100K a year on your business and you’re not operating out of an entity that’s when you want to start having that kind of conversation. Do I need to change my entity structure? Another common mistake is they don’t get their legal structures set up right on the front end for liability purposes, so people will just operate under their name instead of being in something like an LLC where you’re going to have some legal separation liability. And just other things like not buttoning up their compliance work on the front end and paying people under the table. Those are the most common mistakes I see people make on the front end of the restaurant industry.

13:18 [Josh Kopel]

The federal government did this alphabet soup task when the pandemic hit, and it was just rolling out program after program. I know that there’s a massive opportunity for the Employee Retention Credit. We’re gonna dig deep into it, but I’m wondering what other opportunities did the pandemic present?

13:39 [Catherine]

Most of them now are wrapped up. People got to take advantage of things like the payroll protection program, multiple rounds of that. A lot of restaurant grants, also state and local aid that came out, and it was just tough for everybody because you had all these programs coming out. There was no guidance for tax practitioners to know how things would work, and it just turned into a crazy money grab. The one nice thing is the Employee Retention Credit is baked into the code, so it’s not like the PPP, where it’s a fund that gets exhausted if you don’t take advantage of it. We have a three-year window for it, and if you didn’t get to take advantage of a lot of those other programs, it helps increase that credit. Because one of the things that happens is if you got PPP or if you’ve got these other programs, it’ll reduce your Employee Retention Credit. The alphabet soup is a good way of putting it because they’re coming from all sorts of agencies, state and local, and federal. It was just nuts.

14:53 [Josh Kopel]

Let’s get into the Employee Retention Credit specifically. For those that don’t know, can you explain what it is?

15:01 [Catherine]

It’s a payroll tax credit. It’s a reimbursement to employers who experienced hardship during the pandemic. If your company, especially restaurant owners, had operations limited by government orders or you had revenue discrepancies. So it’s not just year-over-year revenue declines but just uneven revenues you could be eligible for the credit. I have not had a restaurant come to me that wasn’t eligible for it just because of the factors of what happened during the pandemic. ‘Cause almost everybody had some kind of operational impact through the government orders, and that’s one of the qualifying factors. It’s up to $26,000 per employee. You can imagine if you have a good headcount in your operation, above ten people, it can be a substantial credit. It depends on your headcount, but people with 15 employees get a quarter of $1,000,000 back, even on a smaller scale. It’s a check that comes back in the mail, so it’s not credited towards future years. It’s a reimbursement of the money you paid in 2020 and 2021, and it’s still available. It will start phasing out about a year from now, but it’s still available even though it’s related to tax years 2020 and 2021.

16:13 [Josh Kopel]

I want some of that. How difficult is it to get?

16:16 [Catherine]

You just have to work with a practitioner for it. One of the decision points is knowing the right person to work with. A lot of people have tried to work with their payroll providers. I don’t recommend it just because my experience with payroll providers is they have a hard enough time just doing regular payroll. Many of the cases I’ve seen with payroll providers have been under-claiming. Then on the opposite side of things, I see people trying to work with their regular CPA. Many regular CPAs don’t handle a high volume because they are complex. They interact with your payroll protection program loans and other grants and aid. They all interact with each other. I recommend people work with specialty providers. My firm is a specialty provider; we do them for other CPA firms because it’s become our specialty. Still, those are, in general, the people that you can work with for it. Also, I should warn you that there are a lot of bad actors in the space right now because we’ve got an information gap between people filing these claims and then the IRS. The IRS is still so behind from what happened during the pandemic. A couple of days ago, I was reading an article that one of the bigger players in this space for doing these credits got raided by the IRS. It’s one of those things where you just want to work with somebody that’s a licensed CPA firm. They do a good amount of them because it’s big dollar figures. I’ve got several restaurants where they’ve got a quarter of $1,000,000 back, and when it’s that much money on the line.

You’re paying for the placement. You’re not just paying for the Botox, and that’s the thing with the credit. When you work with somebody reputable, it’s an easy process for you because it’s just once we get the reports. It’s just a matter of us doing the calculations and having everything buttoned up for what the IRS wants to see.

19:20 [Josh Kopel]

How do you suss out between someone suspect and someone working in the space with integrity?

19:27 [Catherine]

For the most part, the biggest red flag is if they’re CPA firms or not. There are a lot of people out there that are just marketers for this, and then they pass the work off to two small CPAs, or they’re working with people that aren’t. I had a case come across my desk from somebody where the person doing the filing was a real estate attorney. They weren’t professional attacks, so that becomes a big red flag. The other red flag is if they’re charging contingent fees. As a CPA firm, we’re not allowed to charge a contingency fee, and if you encounter a person doing these credits and they say well, we’re gonna charge you 25% of the credit. That’s a red flag for the most part.

For the other partitioners in this space that I see, the range isn’t contingent. Still, the fee tends to be between 10 to 15% of the credit, so if you see somebody that’s kind of outside that range or they’re just sales if you feel that sales thing going on. It’s not a tax practitioner where they’re asking you a lot of questions, too, because many things interact. We’ll get your credit if they’re not asking you many questions. Just send us these two reports. You’re going to be eligible for half of $1,000,000. It’s fishy versus OK we’re gonna need some payroll reports. We’re gonna need some financial reports asking you detailed questions about your company ownership. You’ll get that feeling. If you’re being sold versus OK, this is an actual tax professional that knows what they’re doing. The other thing I see people doing wrong is anybody can have a website, a convincing marketing copy and flashy stuff, and testimonials saying we’ve filed so many claims. Still, it comes down to who’s doing the work. Who owns the company? How long have these guys been around? Are they going to be gone when the IRS comes back, or what’s the feel of this? And I’d say, for the most part, if you already have a tax professional and they can’t handle it. I loop them into the conversation. They know how taxes work. They’ll know if something feels wrong because they can talk shop to the other company that’s doing it and lean on your tax pro to say hey can you be in this conversation with me and these people for this credit because that tax Pro is going to have a good Spidey sense of no this feels off. This is very salty versus no. This is another CPA firm, and when we get into the weeds and talk shop, they pass the mustard. That’s the advice that I would give people in general.

22:01 [Josh Kopel]

For context, what does your specific process look like? When somebody reaches out and wants help. How do you help?

22:10 [Catherine]

We start with just a conversation. I do make sure that the person that we’re working with understands just the general program of how the credit works, and they don’t have any confusion about what they could be pursuing because there are some interactions that happen with things like your income taxes, so we go through all of that and then, in general, we collect the reports we do an assessment to see OK do you meet the eligibility requirements with flying colors and then if you do then how much roughly are you eligible for? And that’s something we do on the front end of the engagement. Then once we know roughly what they’re eligible for, we say, OK, this would be our fee if you want us to do the work, file the claim, and track it with the IRS. Here’s how the cash flow would work if it doesn’t make sense for you. That’s how we approach it, and once we’ve got all the reports and the client wants to engage with us, we then finish calculations, file a claim with the IRS, and then track it with the IRS, and that’s our basic process. Usually, for people, it only takes these initial conversations, but then maybe it’s a couple of hours an hour or two getting those reports together that we need to get that precise calculation done, and that’s it. It can be a couple of hours of work for 250K. That’s pretty good. It’s a pretty good ROI for anybody. That’s what we’ve seen for the restaurant owners; they tend to get really high credit amounts for this.

23:27 [Josh Kopel]

What are the eligibility requirements?

23:32 [Catherine]

There are two ways a company can be eligible. The first way is that if you have certain revenue declines, it’s different rules for the different years, so I just tell people the rule of thumb is if you have more than five employees and you experience discrepancies, so your quarters are uneven, get yourself analyzed because it’s such high potential, high dollar volumes on the table. That it’s just worth it to have yourself formally assessed on that so you can either have revenue declines, and that’s one way you can be eligible, or if you had government orders that forced you to modify your operations. That’s the other piece of it, so for restaurants, very common to reduce capacity, and it’s usually state orders or local orders. Those orders make you have to change your operations. That way, if it’s more than a 10% effect on your business during the period for which that was going on, you’ll be eligible. If you’re in a state that was restrictive during COVID, California, Massachusetts, or New York, where we weren’t allowed to operate at full capacity for the whole year, then you would be eligible for the whole year because it’s a government order. Those are the two ways that companies can be eligible, and it’s an either-or test, and in some quarters, it’ll be government orders. In other quarters then you have the revenue issues. You can be eligible through the whole duration of the pandemic for a mix of those, and that’s part of the analysis we do on the front end.

25:02 [Josh Kopel]

One of the things that hold independent restaurateurs back from participating in things is the fear of an audit.

25:11 [Catherine]

True, I should mention that part of what we do as our process is included in our engagement is that we will support the client through the audit at no additional expense just because I’ve been through them. I know how they go, the auditor comes in, they see the kind of paperwork we have, the credentials, we have a conversation with them, and they open and close the case. Because it’s just that’s the level to which we keep our documentation, and that’s the name of the game. It’s when you’re vetting out practitioners it’s for that purpose. I want the worst-case scenario to be the auditor. We get a notice from the IRS, and they must write a letter. That’s going to be the worst thing that happens, and that’s why working with somebody who’s really oriented around. OK, how are we going to get through compliance ’cause that’s really the problem, but it’s not getting the money back. It’s making sure that the IRS isn’t gonna come back later. Most restaurants passed with flying colors because the government orders were so restrictive and just the way the credits are written. I’ve never really been concerned about the restaurant owners having audit issues just because it’s so easy to document. There’s a government order from my governor that we were at 45% capacity or 75% capacity, and here it is. This is what it was, and that’s just how the credit is written. There’s no risk for the restaurateurs as long as you have your documentation in order, which we work with a good practitioner going to have. It’s good to be concerned about it, but it will not be a problem if you work with somebody reputable.

26:41 [Josh Kopel]

The years that are covered are 2020-2021.

26:47 [Catherine]

It’s still gonna be open for another year, so if you missed out on it for 2020 and 2021, we can still file those returns and go back and get it, which is great.

27:00 [Josh Kopel]

How quickly from the first phone call is it typically to get the check in the mail?

27:06 [Catherine]

The problem with the IRS is that they’re still messed up. It’s a very manual process on their end. When filing the actual returns, we must mail them to the IRS. Once we get all the documentation in place, we get claims turned around in under two weeks, but then it goes to the IRS and sits with them. Previously they were projecting that it was 9 to 12 months. The last time I talked to somebody, they reallocated personnel to that department. It’s looking more than five months, but it just depends on the size of the credit because those of a certain size have to have a second set of eyes on them from the IRS standpoint. I’d say for most people. It’s about a five-month wait.

27:49 [Josh Kopel]

I wanna talk at a high level about tax planning because this tax credit represents a massive missed opportunity, and you don’t know what you don’t know. Talk to me about tax planning in general and why you believe it’s one of the highest return investment activities you can spend your time on as an entrepreneur.

28:10 [Catherine]

The biggest reason is it’s a high ROI activity and takes little time as long as you’re intentional about doing it. You may do it a couple of hours out of the year. Still, I said earlier that by having things in an efficient entity structure, you move the needle percentage points and when you think about it, spending a couple of hours each quarter with your CPA going through, distributions, retirement contributions? breaking off separate businesses with different entities. Those kinds of questions and checking in and asking for that level of analysis to be done. It can move the needle, and getting into that practice will be helpful, especially if you haven’t done any planning. Really how you want to approach that professional is to say you need tax planning and taxes done. I will need a minimum of four meetings during the year where we’re making planning conversations and you’re running forecasts for me. That’s the service you want to ask for . A lot of people don’t realize that if you’ve just asked them to do your taxes that is all they’re going to do. And by asking for more, you’ll get more. I’d say if you’re not paying at least ten grand a year on tax planning work and that level of activity going on, you’re not getting it. Because it’s asking them to do a quadrupled if not more of the work that they’re doing just to file returns to run projections, to run calculations, and to be the quarterback of making sure that you’re operating efficiently. If you don’t plan, you’re paying 40% effectively between Social Security taxes and income taxes and state taxes, which could be well over 40% if you’re working half the year for the government. It’s right now. We’re recording this. It’s the end of Ma and you’re listening to this. You’ve been working for the government for the last five months. Just take a couple of hours to engage with somebody and say, “Hey, should I be an S corp or should my catering business be a C Corp? How should we have this setup? Should I buy my building? Those kinds of things, maybe you could have only been working for the government for the first three months out of the year instead of the first 5-6. It’s just deciding you’re gonna do it and then getting the right people to quarterback it for you where you’re not quarterbacking it.

31:22 [Josh Kopel]

It’s worth bringing up mindset because I can easily look at what you do for a living and see it as an expense. Still, at the end of the day, I would assume that your clients don’t see you as an expense. They see you as a way to make more money, not spend more money.

31:43 [Catherine]

Honestly, that’s what accounting should be as a function in your business, and that was one of the founding principles I had for my firm. I want every client I work with to be a profit center because if I’m not making them money, they’re not the right client for me. After all, I cannot use my skills to improve their business by increasing their cash flow. That’s not a good use of my ability. It’s your general practitioner putting on bandaids. It’s not that I wanna be healing people, and for a lot of business owners, they get in that mindset of bookkeeping being expensive, so I’m gonna do it myself and really, especially with the tax planning, it’s a return on investment. If you invest in it and you work with somebody who knows what they’re doing, it’s going to be a profit center for your business without you actually having to do very much. Because it’s just a matter of finding the right person, having the conversations, and having the relationship. I always say if you haven’t found that person yet, find them because it will make a really big difference.

32:45 [Josh Kopel]

At the end of every episode, I give the guests an opportunity to speak directly to the audience. You worked with so many restaurant owners and operators out there for those that haven’t had an opportunity to work with you. What advice or words of encouragement do you have for them?

33:01 [Catherine]

My biggest piece of advice for them is if you have not pursued the Employee Retention Credit. You need to really block out two hours to get that done and get the analysis done for your company. I’m a CPA firm who works for other CPA firms, so we work really nicely with other tax professionals, but I’d say go back to your tax professional, see if they can handle it and see if they’re competent. And if they can’t, you want to reach out to a specialty firm to get it done ’cause dollar for dollar that’s the biggest ROI activity that any restaurant owner can do right now. If you have a decent-sized headcount, it could be a really big shot in the arm for your business.

[latetotheadhdparty]

Aw shit. Hello void.

Well. fuck where do I even begin. Maybe a blog will help me actually work through all of the feelings and issues I’m having, and if I don’t ever remember to update again, who cares? Certainly no one on this crazy ass website.

Where am I at right now? physically, at home, avoiding something I feel I should do but don’t really want to do. I mean, part of it is the ADHD and maybe there’s some Autism mixed in there too. I dunno. anyway. I should be going to do a thing that I used to enjoy, but then expectations are put on it and all of a sudden, it’s no fun anymore. One of my cats keeps trying to interrupt my train of thought by playing with the power cord and biting the corner of the laptop screen. He’s the himbo of the family, and very soft. Back to the internal monologue. I want to enjoy things, but my sense of time is so fucked up it just. doesn’t work for most people. I never feel my age and can’t remember my age because outside of the physical breakdown, I legit don’t feel it. Timeless is usually said as a positive connotation, but that’s not my feeling on it. Maybe I’m lost in time? Dr. Russell says that you knock 30% off your actual age, and that is about where you are developmentally. That doesn’t really feel right either. In emotional maturity, I’m definitely my age. Impulse control, not so much. not quite “eat the marshmallow as soon as the researcher leaves the room” but I did buy the new Lore Olympus print book right away even though I really need to stop spending money. I guess some of this developed into where I’m at mentally, and I really intended that to be a separate paragraph.

Here we go. Mentally, I’m at what feels like an eternal falling, kinda like Alice on her way to Wonderland. No wonder I relate to that stuff so much. I have a high stress job that I’m both phenomenal and awful at. Easiest way to explain it is financial crimes investigation. So I’m really good at recognizing financial patterns that indicate someone is on some bullshit, but time is a struggle. Investigating the right amount of time to get the right amount of info and not too much or too little. (I’ve often thought of my ADHD struggles as trying to find balance, not treat symptoms to oblivion) Remembering the number of days that have passed since I decided something was bullshit is always a struggle. I try so so hard to remember what time is. I have a clock that ticks but it’s not loud enough and doesn’t have an hourly chime. I have a smart watch that yells at me on the hour, but so often it just doesn’t register. I have a planner that I do actually manage to keep up with, and i’m so proud of that, but I can’t figure out where that “something missing” out of it is. I’m just. Falling, all the time, out of time. Fuck time. I’m so mad about society’s obsession with getting everything done now and everything being done within a certain amount of time, when there’s often no good reason for it other than “oh someone might get upset”. Fuck them, let them be upset.

I’ve always known that to be happy, you must experience sadness, anger, upset, etc. Otherwise how the hell would you know what it actually means to be happy?

I’m watching myself type in the reflection of my laptop screen. Sometimes I really love parts of me. Like my hands. I wish I could do more with my hands.

My therapist reminds me that it’s not too late to do so many things, but how do i find the time to dedicate to learning them? I’m definitely part of the burnt-out-gifted-kid group that was actually a sufferer of ADHD the whole time. It’s been so frustrating. I spent years convinced it was ADHD, and now that I have a diagnosis, of course I wonder... Is it REALLY adhd, or am i just a terrible person? Bad at adulting. Ugly, too much personality and not enough shut the fuck up. or is that RSD? Fuck, I just want to know who I am. That was a surprise with diagnosis. Nothing like having an identity crisis around the time most people have a midlife crisis. maybe the midlife crisis for normal people is a midlife crisis. I never thought i’d have to deal with any of this. No one asked me in school what i wanted to be when I grew up. When i changed high schools, I no longer got asked about college plans. I got ignored. That hurt. It still hurts, and I made it through college. took twice as long and at a later age, but whatever I guess. I see now what Dr. Russell means. I’m so tired of feeling so hurt about my life. It’s not even about comparing what my life has been to what other’s lives are like. It’s about the feeling of lost potential. I know that’s going to be with me forever. Anger at not being listened too as a kid. Misdiagnosis for forever. a medical system that doesn’t care about actually solving problems. “We have to start with conservative treatment first” okay, but that’s not going to FIX the problem. “I know, but that’s what insurance requires” Why are a bunch of not-doctors making medical decisions for me. Fuck them. fuck this country full of selfish assholes. Whose idea was it to make anything related to health care a for profit venture anyway. Fuckers are fucked in the head.

Speaking of anger, I need to stay off reddit. AITA posts about asshole dads really hit home. Therapist told me I should write my dad a letter, but how do you even... that feels so weird. I guess I’ll just tack it on here. Dear Dad, fuck you for replacing me. Fuck you for taking any credit for any of my success when you’re not only the reason I have ADHD, but also the reason I struggled so much throughout life. Take your six figure income and shove it up your ass. You didn’t help me with a god damned thing throughout my life that actually mattered. You never came to my school graduations, you don’t even send me a fucking text message on my birthday asshole. I don’t care if it’s late, because oh lookit that, we have ADHD, time is an issue for us! You just never made an attempt to care, especially after you remarried and got the family you always wanted. the family you just expected me to perfectly mesh into, and made absolutely no effort to understand why I stopped coming to visit. Maybe it was because you kept moving further and further away. Maybe it’s because you never even asked how I felt about some things, like when you gave my room away because you guys wanted a den and a living room, and to do that you had to move the eldest interloper into my room. I would have said yes if you asked. It hurt because you didn’t ask. You didn’t help me with my cars when shit went wrong, except for one single occasion where you used your employee discount on a windshield and we swapped vehicles for a week. Great deal there, I went from a subcompact to a suburban. I could literally put my car in the back of that stupid monstrosity (also, don’t think I didn’t notice that as soon as y’alls were down to one kid on her way out the door, you replaced that Chevy with a Lincoln). When I got braces, you never called to ask how it was going, and didn’t pay for a dime (even though you should have, and i should have gotten braces as a teenager). Your reasoning is you weren’t going to pay for any of us kids to get braces because you couldn’t afford to do it for all of us and it wouldn’t be fair. The truth is you just didn’t want to spend your precious money on anyone but yourself. The camper, the motorcycles, the fancy vehicles, I know how much that costs, and I know you did it at the cost of literal health care for your children. Fuck you, no wonder gramma and grampa are ashamed of you. They helped every time you didn’t. They gave you opportunities to help, and to no surprise, you didn’t. The interloper that took my room always felt slighted by me being the favorite grandkid, and how dare i get so much from them. Bitch you stole my fucking dad. So yeah, Dear dad, I should call you a sperm donor instead. Because that’s all you seem to be. You didn’t help me with anything, you never offered to help me fix my house, or a car. For god sakes, I talked about restoring one of the motorcycles and that you should come help me BECAUSE I WAS TRYING TO OFFER A WAY FOR US TO BOND, not get told “well youtube has so much”. Jesus, my father in law picked up on it right away and is super excited for me to get the little motorcycle for us to spend some quality time together. My father in law is the dad i never got. Hell your brother is leaps and bounds better as a father than you ever were. God fucking damnit. Fuck you for all the hurt you’ve caused me, as well as gramma and grampa. I get they weren’t perfect parents either, but they sure as fuck didn’t deserve to feel so guilty because of your fuckups. The interlopers wanna know why I was the favorite? Guilt. Guilt is why. How’s that for a reason. While we’re piling on the guilt, how about the trauma of being named after someone who killed themselves? Thanks for that sperm donor. No wonder I hate generational names so much. My name was derived from someone who had the misfortune of having the same brain I do but before a time when men were allowed to go to therapy. Thanks for that reminder every time I think about my name, which is so out of pattern for my generation. I’m glad uncle is getting the farm and by default, everything on it. Mostly because fuck you, he deserves is. He actually tries to be a good family member. I’m glad you feel at least enough guilt you don’t want any of their money, and once they pass and I get the one thing you have I want, I’m never reaching out again. I’m so sick of being hurt by you. I’ll rewrite this letter and give it to you as a parting middle finger. You want to ever make it up to me, you reach out. Offer your time, offer to have me and hubs over for dinner, becuase that’s what i really fucking wanted all along. You were apparently too self centered to ever notice that. I know you think i’m a fucking gold digger child. joke’s on you, i’m the breadwinner and proud to be. When I have extra money, I do nice things for people just to see them smile, especially people I care about, because fuck you. I’m not you and will never be as selfish as you are. Mom talks a lot about how badly you wanted kids, to the point where I wasn’t really an accident. You have a funny way of showing it asshole.

Fuck him.

Okay, I see why my therapist recommended the letter. It’s not that I feel better, but it does feel lighter. My gramma saved my report cards, and the comments on it really drove home that the problem’s always been adhd. What’s more likely, an 8 year old with severe depression or an 8 year old with adhd and trauma. I could have been an architect. or an actuary. or an engineer. maybe i still could someday, but it’s going to take money i don’t have, since all businesses want college educated people without paying for their degree cost. Being smart with adhd sucks. I want to learn everything and do everything, but everything costs a ton of money and i can’t make my brain focus on something long enough to learn it without some kind of pressure. so all the lovely self guided courses? great, except I have no pressure to do them. FOMO eat your heart out, my ADHD whatifs blow you out of the park. If this does manage to show up for anyone, I’m not really looking for advice. If you happen to know some rich fuck looking for a pet creative, I’d love to just learn and create all day, but not at the cost of losing my house, partner, and pets. My house is my sanctuary, my partner is my rock, and my pets are my anti-depressants. My life has been filled with hurt and struggle and i’m so fucking tired all the time, but the good in my life i will absolutely hang on to.

I’m so exhausted.

[ladylooch]

Loving & Leaving- Part 4

Visit the series page here.

A/N: Now, we are seeing a shift for our little “non- lovers”. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that 😘 Thank you so much for your love and support on this one. It’s been dreamy and exciting!

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, lots of vomit talk, pregnancy, angst.

The month of December is hell on earth for event planners. Between your own personal celebrations leading up to the holidays and your client's, you never have a moment to yourself. I’ve seen the inside of my house for a maximum of two hours since I returned back from America. The other times I��ve been there its falling into a pile of exhaustion on my bed before my alarm goes off to do it all over again. My work weeks have transitioned into 70+ hours. At least I know there is light at the end of this tunnel when I return to New Jersey with my parents on Tuesday.

Then, I’ll be able to spend time with them and… hopefully Timo, depending on if I can slip away or not. Communication between the two of us has been limited the last two weeks. I’ve responded to his texts and we have shared a few brief phone calls. At least he’s understanding and supportive. It helps that his season is ramping up and requires a majority of his focus.

We send pictures and TikTok’s, but I haven’t responded to those in five days. I’ve missed every one of his FaceTime calls this week too. Despite my admitted history, I am honestly not avoiding him. The grind of the holiday season is simply catching up with me. I find myself falling asleep the moment I sit down on my couch with a glass of wine. When I’m awake, I feel so overwhelmed that even keeping up with my friends and family here is disappearing from my never ending list. I’m overwhelmed, nearing burn out and honestly, sick. So sick. The last three days, my body has seemingly rejecting all this stress with a nausea I can’t seem to shake.

Which brings me to where I am now, puking, knees quivering on the tiled bathroom floor of an event center for the third time in three days. It’s my last event before Christmas and I’ve spent more time in the bathroom tonight than anywhere else. This is a different kind of sick. It feels like my body is purging everything I put into it before I can get any sort of benefit from it. All I ate was a piece of bread, fast, while rushing back from a dessert emergency in the kitchen. I barely got the last bite down before I was sprinting back to the bathroom.

“What is wrong with me?” I moan, laying the side of my head against the stall. I move to wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. I rest my forearm into my breast and groan at the tenderness. Awareness begins to seep into my thoughts. “No. This is not happening.” I whisper to the empty bathroom.

The door swings open and I grimace, not wanting to have any of the guests of my high-end client hear me. I thought I would have some time alone with the speaking part of the program under way.

“Em, are you okay?” Rhea, my assistant and long-time friend, asks.

“Um.” I pause, pressing the back of my hand furthering into my wet lips. My stomach lurches and I vomit again. I can hear Rhea sigh outside of the stall.

“This isn’t like you.” She says what we are both thinking. I’m rarely sick. This is new. “I’ll be back.” She calls before leaving the bathroom. I sit on my knees, eyes screwed shut, spitting into the toilet. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing Timo’s FaceTime call. I can’t answer that right now. Not when I think… I won’t let myself even finish the thought.

Rhea returns, kicking a pink, pregnancy test box under the stall. The woman on the front grins joyfully. I can’t say I feel the same. I consider denying that I need one of these, but Rhea and I spoke this morning about how weird my cycle has been. I had my period a few weeks ago, but it was almost non-existent. I chalked it up to stress, except… now I’m sick.

“How do you just have one of these?” I mumble, hating that we are both on the same page. 

“At some point, these things are like strips of gum in your purse.” 

We fall quiet.

“This is a low moment for me.” I mutter, ripping the box open. “Taking a… test at a client event is so embarrassing.” I work my way to sitting on the toilet. 

“You need to be able to eliminate this.” She responds, leaning against the bathroom door. I scowl, hearing my phone vibrate against the toilet paper dispenser. I know that’s him again. So does Rhea. He has the same routine. Calls three times and leaves a message on the third. “Interesting timing. At least you'll know who’s baby it is.” I glare at the stall door as I snap the cap of the test back on.

“Can I have a minute here?” Guilt squeezes my throat at how unfriendly my tone sounds. My whole world seems up in the air right now and I just need her to stop talking. 

But the absence of Rhea’s voice makes my phone vibrating louder until it feels like it’s rattling between my ears. A ping echos in the bathroom signaling a voicemail. I grab my phone, listening to his message.

“Hey Em… uh, it’s me again. Look, I know you’re busy but I’m going to be honest this feels like you’re kinda ignoring me. Did I do something? Or… *heavy sigh* I don’t know. Can you just call me? I miss you. We play tonight, but call me.. I’ll pick up. Just… I want to know you’re okay. Bye.”

My bottom lip trembles at the sound of his voice. No. I am not okay, sitting on the floor of this bathroom, trying not to puke again at the reality of the test in my hand. Worried tears build as I sense the two minutes pass. I know the test is ready, can feel it in my shaking hands and the passing of another song from the band beyond this room.

I move my fingers and die at the distinct plus sign that greets me.

“Fuck.” I cry, throwing the test down on the floor. It bounces underneath to the next stall. My abdomen shakes with sobs and terror as I clasp my hand over my mouth. “Fuck.” I say into my palm again, quieter, listening to the classical strings float into the bathroom from the event space. The soft music is an ironic soundtrack to my whole world crashing down on top of me. I look up at the ceiling, tears crawling from the corners of my eyes. They drip into my ears as I shake against the cold floor.

What am I going to do?

How am I going to tell Timo?

A few days later, after arriving in New Jersey for Christmas, I’ve come to the, admittedly, irrational decision that maybe I just won’t. It’s been an exhausting few days that’s accompanied more nausea and tons of smell aversions. One of them is eggs which Nico is innocently frying up for breakfast.

“You want some?” He asks me as he cracks three eggs for himself.

“No.” I can barely respond without gagging.

Our parents went off on their own for a walk around the city and to grab a cup of their favorite coffee. Usually, I would join them, but my stomach has been so touch and go this morning that I didn’t think I could. Nico continues to move the eggs around and they get more fragrant. I try to switch breathing through my mouth, but the smell seems to coat my tongue. My stomach squeezes and I rush from the kitchen with my hand clasped over my mouth. Nico watches my back with confusion. I return to the kitchen wordlessly when I am done, grabbing a glass of water. Nico stares, eyebrows cocked in question.

“Not sure that motion sickness lasts for days, Em. Maybe you need to see a doctor. I can ask one of the team doctors if they can come over?” I’ve already seen a doctor to confirm my pregnancy. And the thought of getting a team official involved has my throat tightening. I come back to the counter, slowly sitting down and rubbing at the tense muscles in my neck. My gaze drifts to the dining room table, grimacing at the reminder it’s one of the places we could have conceived this baby.

I was so stupid to start us down this road. Yes, I’m on the pill. Yes, I take it regularly. No, I have no idea how this happened. When I brought it up to my doctor, she shrugged, saying no birth control options are completely guaranteed. Then she handed me the sonogram I didn’t ask for, that’s now tucked in my suitcase, buried beneath all my clothes.

I watch Nico scrape his eggs onto a plate, then sprinkle more salt and pepper onto the fluffy peaks. He’s right here in front of me, but it feels like we are a thousands of miles apart. Loneliness grips my heart, making my eyes wet as Nico comes to sit by me. The heaviness of being the only person who knows weighs on me. But, here, in his kitchen, I can feel my little brother’s safety being stable enough to take some of that weight from me. I’m going to tell him, I decide as he shuffles his eggs around, spearing a few onto his fork.

“It’s not motion sickness. I’m pregnant.” I tell Nico, who pauses with his eggs at his open mouth. The egg flies off when he exhales sharply. I bite my tongue against the vomit pressing into my esophagus.

“What?” 

“And it’s Timo’s.” I didn’t intend to tell him, but it flew out before I could stop it.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” Surprise absorbs my face now. “I know you two fuck around.” He motions at me with his fork. “Have for years. You two are awful at hiding your obsession with each other.” My mouth is slightly slack as he stabs the egg back on his fork. He stuffs it into his mouth and continues while he chews. “Never understood why you wouldn’t go all in.”

“Because I have a life in Switzerland.”

“Yeah, that’s gone now.” He swipes the air in front of me with his fork again, gesturing to the pregnancy. I narrow my eyes at his bluntness and obvious lack of empathy. “What did Timo say when you told him?” I am silent. He brings his brown eyes back to mine, squinting. “You did tell him, right?” More silence “Emma.” He snaps. 

“I just found out.” I defend myself. “Not that I really owe you an explanation.”

“Get dressed.” Nico says, pointing down the hall to my room. “You’re going to tell him now.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are. It should have been your first stop when you got here.”

“I can’t just show up at his-”

“Are you keeping his baby?” He cuts me off. A heavy inhale pulls my lips apart.

“Yes.” I say without question. It never crossed my mind to not go through with this.

“Then get downstairs.” His voice is final, like there is no reason to continue to argue further with him.

“When did you stop being my protector?” I grumble while rising to leave the counter. 

“Who says I stopped?” His stare is pointed. “Go.” His tone has softened at the obvious tears in my eyes. “I wouldn’t send you if I didn’t think it would be okay.”

I try to remember those words as I stare at Timo’s apartment door seven minutes later. I thought about texting him, but then there would be so much small talk and I can’t do that right now. I contemplate bailing, but my brother comes to mind, knowing he’s going to expect a report from the conversation when I return.

“Damn you, Nico.” I mutter as I raise my hand to knock.

I wait for a minute, maybe two, gripping the sleeves of my sweatshirt in my hands. No sound comes from the other side of the door. I think I might get off easy. I even turn to head back towards the elevator. Then the sound of the lock flipping halts me. My stomach drops out of my body, hitting the floor and flopping around in unease.

“Hey.” Timo is breathless as he opens the door. He is wearing a pair of jeans, waistband of his Calvin Klein underwear taut against his abdomen. He stands shirtless in the entry way, rubbing a towel over his hair. The brown strands flop against his forehead as he looks expectantly at me. He looks so sexy, warm and welcoming, with a gentle familiarity. “Didn’t realize you were in Jersey.” He becomes obviously tiffed, understandable since I dropped off the face of the planet… again.

“Yeah.” My voice is breaking, so I clear my throat. “I’ve been here for a couple of days.” I say, fingers twisting the cotton tighter in my palms.

“Ah.” His voice goes flat and he looks away in annoyance. “So we are back to you ignoring me?” I shake my head, dropping my eyes to the floor. I feel queasy and start shaking. I hope he can’t tell.

“Can I come in?” He pauses, dropping the towel down to his side, like he might not let me. But him and I both know that’s now how it goes with us. The smell of his cologne is strong with my heightened senses and I cough in discomfort as I walk past him.

“I’m going to get a shirt.” He disappears down the hall, coming back in a black t-shirt that hugs his body. He runs his fingers through his wet hair while looking at me. “I don’t have long. I’m… meeting a friend.” I stare at him, wondering if it’s a friend of the female variety. I really don’t have a right to ask, so I don’t. My gaze drops to the couch. “It’s just Kevin, Em. The Kings are playing the Islanders.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the island of his kitchen well across the room from me. His biceps bulge against the fabric as he studies me. “You don’t look like you came here for small talk. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant.” It’s abrupt. I know. Almost too fast for him to catch in real time, but I can’t hold it in anymore. The words are too full and tumble from my mouth in a rush. My heart shutters with each anxious beat. I bravely lift my eyes back to him.

Timo seemingly glitches. He is confused, not quite understanding, like he wants to ask me to repeat what I said. Then, I watch as the registration gradually fills his body. He begins to stand taller, eyebrows dashing up his forehead. When it clicks, his blue eyes widen in alarm.

“Mine?” He asks quietly. I try not to flinch at the question, realizing he will, logically, want a paternity test. He has assets and money and a career to protect. Funny, I thought being pregnant without a boyfriend was the most shameful thing I’ve done in my life. I think that experience is going to top it. Eventually, I nod in response as tears fill my eyes. He pushes out a loaded breath that fills my chest with discomfort. I look briefly back to his face, seeing a million emotions dash across his features, none of them actually registering.

I can’t watch him process anymore. I begin to soothe myself with internal thoughts. It doesn’t really matter what he wants from this. I’ve already made my decision. I’m only here because Nico forced me. I cross my arms over my tender chest, walking towards the windows to see the city skyline. Tears distort the buildings together. I’m collapsing under so many different emotions. It’s like I’m seeing that plus sign all over again.

A drop slides from my left eye, gradually dragging down my cheek. I reach my hand up, flicking it away. My teeth dig into my trembling lip as I sniffle. Timo’s hand comes along my upper back, wrapping around my neck and gliding me into his body.  His other hand wraps around my waist as he buries his face into my cheek. I enclose my arms around him, shoving my face into his chest and releasing my suffocating sobs into his shirt.

“I’m freaking out.” I squeak.

“I know. It’s going to be okay.” Even as his voice shakes, he is so, so gentle with me. His hands press me into his body like he wants to absorb and shield me. “What do you want to do?” He whispers into my hair. “It’s your choice.”

“I’m gonna do this… I’m keeping the baby. ” I tell him. I can feel his body deflate beneath me. For a moment, I don’t know why, but then he presses his face deeper into my hair, kissing my scalp with feathery kisses meant to soothe.

“Okay. I’m happy to hear that.”

I nod, glad that he isn’t pressuring me any which way. I don’t think I could handle his anger with me for wanting to see this through.

“Em, I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone.” I begin to tremble in his arms. He’s not even questioning further about this being ours. “Does Nico know?”

“Yeah. About everything. He is why I am here.” 

“You weren’t going to tell me?” He stiffens, pain deepens his voice which makes me feel like shit.

“I.. well yeah, but maybe when we ran into each other in July and I was 9 months pregnant.” I pull back, tilting my chin to see his face. It’s calm and measured, which helps soothe some of the turmoil in me. He reaches up for my cheeks, stroking his thumbs to collect my tears.

“July?”

“Yeah, I confirmed everything at the doctor on Monday. I’m due July 26th.”

“Off-season.” He murmurs with appreciation. “Most NHL couples plan for years to get a July birthday.” I look away with a scrunched nose at the word couple, causing a heavy sigh to drop his shoulders. “Can we agree right now that you’re going to stop fighting the way you feel about us? Please. For our kid?” He says it so casually, like he’s used to and accepted the idea of our kid. My heart grows in my chest for him.

“Becoming a mom isn’t the only thing I’m terrified of.” I confess.

“Baby, I’ve promised you since day one that I would take care of you. I’m not going to let anything hurt you, including me.” He is so sure as he speaks to me. I drop my forehead back to his chest.

“Do you really want this?” I whisper to him, even as he wraps me tighter into his arms, tears dashing down my cheeks again. “You don’t have to do this.” I pull back, reaching up to hold his face in my hands. My thumbs rippling his skin with their pressure.

“You’re all I’ve wanted for years.” He presses our lips together. I cry into his mouth, feeling overwhelmed with everything that has and will happen between us. I feel like I don’t deserve this. Not his sweetness or his understanding at our situation.

“I’m sorry.” I bubble out between sobs. He runs his hand up my back to my head, encouraging my forehead to rest against his shoulder as he rocks us gently. There’s a whole laundry list I could apologize for, but I start with the big one. “I shouldn’t have taken the condom away from you. This is all my fault.”

“Weird, I thought I was the one who came inside of you… three times.” He chuckles at the memory.

“I encouraged it.”

“We both did.” He takes his share of the blame easily from me. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” I need him to know that.

“I know, Emma. You’ve been trying to get out of loving me for years. You would never do this on purpose.” I stare at him with blurred vision, blinking so the tears fall down my cheeks. Now I can see him clearly, looking at me like he might finally get the chance to love me for the rest of our lives. I swallow hard, then let myself surrender to him for good.

“I’ve loved you for a really long time, T.” I hum, eyes brightening in earnest with my confession.

He smiles because unlike me, he already knew that.

[xaturrn]

5.17 Blog

Feeling good so far. Had free breakfast at work, trivia at work (which was so fun), and we had a health fair at work. It was perfect as I didn’t actually have a whole lot of work to do, so these activities were good for keeping me busy. The cleaning I did last night is making me excited knowing I will have enough energy to do a little more today too!

During the afternoon I’m feeling more calm - a little tired, but mostly just calm. A happy change from my usual tiredness in the afternoon. Maybe it was the midday coffee I had. Getting work done, setting up my planner, thinking about how I wanna do my after work tasks and what I wanna do to relax. I’m hoping I’ll be able to start crocheting some gifts I need for June. As I’m writing this I’m feeling very mindful. Blogging has really been helping me and I’m so glad I’m sticking to it again. It’s nice to be able to share these things in an anonymous way other than a diary. I wish I could find a good app to keep a diary like how one does with pen and paper, but everything I’ve found so far has been habit based. While I like building habits, I just want an app I can type my thoughts out on. If anyone has a suggestion please let me know. But for now, anonymous blogging on tumblr it is!

Wow I got all the chores done I wanted to do! I’m so proud of myself!! Now I’m just relaxing in bed before dinner. All I have is a lean cuisine dinner, so it’s either that or get Cane’s since it has a drive thru. Both have pros and cons. The eventful day continues! I did end up getting Cane’s, and more eventfully I matched with a guy on Hinge and we started chatting! He has reservations about my queer identities, but has been asking questions in a way that makes me feel he’d be okay with it once he knows more about my identities and me (think the awful stereotype that bisexual people are cheaters). Regardless it feels good to at least chat to someone like this and know my time will come. I just hope and pray it comes sooner than later. Now for twitch and then sleep.

[cipheramnesia]

When founding the United Eastquad Block nation, its very first organized government determined to construct a rebuke to the decadence of their most recent past. The district of arts and negotiation, organized in a kind of spiral around what was then known as the Starlight Spindle, was both the seat of power and the height of deviance. The plan was simpicity itself - the new capital would be constructed overtop the old.

Modern materials with exceptional capacity for mass production would be applied. No more carved wood or intricate metal architecture. No more chaotic, spiraling cartpath roadways. No more dark corners or secrets - the city of Aureodar was a tribute to urban design with its street grids, its wealth of housing, and simple blocks for businesses and government offices.

The demolition crew for the Starlight Spire found it first. For the longest times, the revolutionaries thought it was part of some great tower of debauchery, and it only became apparent it was something else as the demolition crew pulled down additons which had been painted and sculpted and built up for centuries, concealing the anciet civs in plain sight. The Gran Citadel was not original to the plans for Aureodar, and much of the perfect city grid had to be undone for its placement, but the original planners had foresight enough to know an important resource.

Whether the ancient civs was a building, a vessel, a weapon, or something else was never resolved. The debate was relegated to water shrine banter in the Scientific Innovation department, while their focus remained a slow excavation of functional tech from the civs and development of new tools to maintain order and conformity in the UEB. The former houses and grand architecture below Aureodar meanwhile was encased in concrete, better to act as sewer improvements and housing to the complex arrangement of power and network and system organization which ran underneath and through the city.

This magnificent rebuke of the past and work of organizational metaphysics also provided relatively easy navigation for Sy, who barely had to lay hands on one of the many conduits along the concrete to know the next service point and what intersected at the nodes. When needed, Loren and Nguyen would flash holes between walls or sewer pipes or conduits.

Doc and Sy worked together, wiring her specifically organized carbon to several nodes. Doc whispered instructions and kissed the wires. "Have saturation and hold close the time to pass," she said, and Sy got his way a little deeper into the nodes around the Citadel, every one a banquet of information, a fortune in ransom. It took hours to make their way around the building and remap its system into the rippling circles drawn out of the dead city below. They reached the final node and Doc sat on the dusty floor, sweating profusely.

Sy passed her a bottle of water, sat next to her warmth. From the side he could actually see her eyes, which were crinkled from laugh lines around the edge and too dark in color to make out. He hadn't realized until he sat this close how much older Doc was than he'd thought. She turned her glasses towards him and smiled. "Ghosts everywhere," she said.

"Okay Nguyen," your turn. Sy pointed to the access hatch they were all standing or sitting around. "Might be an hour, maybe a day, but make sure we block that call on the way out."

"This should help," Loren added, taking a thick, rectangular case out of his pocket. "I call it a mix tape. Once you wire it in, the ribbon will make a short time loop, you can get ten seconds of feed and either let it run with no temporal loss, or cut it."

"Spoiling me," said Nguyen. "Or do you think I'm losing my touch with system waves?" She pulled open the hatch and unrolled a set of fiberoptic tools and security ward clones. A few other silver and polyplast tweezers with rejection bending runes, and jeweler's screwdrivers. Nguyen set to work pulling apart the various power and net cables to put them through her own simple patch and switcher. They'd added some mods for transmitting, and she hooked the mixtape into the inbound system decoder.

In not so very long a time, Dove Witherton would just be receiving the report about the highly toxic substance which had been concealed by Sandy Lawson's briefcase. A little while after that, Matt Dowers would discover a detailed plan for the release of a biological agent in the Citadel, peeled from the dead hand of the murderous werewolf, Laika Blackwood. All the while jail cells began to fill up with agitators. Communication blackouts rippled out from the dead city rings until it switched to sysnet mail, each message passing through Nguyen's proverbial hands in its travels. Loren listened in, waiting for the right calls from the right people.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○

"M'x Steyr," Traven interrupted their review of the files for Charybdis. Steyr was fairly sure the peculiar signatures of the ship could be narrowed down against the standard system patterns. It would take time, but they had little else available while waiting for other information.

It was also a distraction from their irritation with Maryam, Kan, and everyone else on the Lev Nicoburg. There would have to be citations and reprimands over the absolute debacle, which they loathed. Reprimands disrupted the continuous flow towards entropy, moved backwards. The outcome of the initial DQD was so far from their initial predictions as to beggar belief. All in all, Vanya Steyr would be much more comfortable with the chaotic chapter closed on Charybdis.

"There's a spike," Traven continued.

"A spike of what," Steyr didn't look up from where they were mapping the system background against Charybdis by each painstaking coordinate.

"It's, uh, something happening with Charybdis," Traven continued, with vague hand gestures. "It's a high probability of a significant engagement between the Marazanna and Charybdis."

"Does this mean we have a potential location?"

"Not so specific, m'x. We usually disregard spikes." Traven grimaced. "The base curve makes precision unreliable. But right now it could narrow the field. Perhaps bring us to a place which could give a vital extra second or two."

"What kind details are you able to project about the engagement."

"Very little, m'x." Traven looked to the side, and down, doing his best to hold still. "It could be any kind of related interaction if the resonance around it is strong enough. It could mean a ship getting destroyed."

Steyr finally looked up at Traven.

"That's why we don't usually use spikes. Uh, m'x." He shrugged.

Vanya looked into and through the increasingly uncomfortable Traven, considering the shape of things to come. "Fine. You and Tanner, forward your data and system transfer recommendations." Steyr leaned into a com switch on their console and in conversational tones broadcast fleet-wide, "System transfer is incoming, we will move shortly."

Part 7: The Tower

a story by @rox-and-prose and @cipheramnesia

Dusk turned the Nevamil sky a flat aquamarine, and made visible the red lights blinking atop the Citadel. It was the tallest building in the capital city, Aureodar, even visible from the far off gridded streets of old houses converted into apartments. The last time Laika had seen it was a field trip for school.

The little blue Kirov was somewhere between the mountains and Genghis Khan and the most anonymous hopper port they'd been able to find in Aureodar. She worried about Sy, seemed ages past she'd been this physically far, though it was hardly more than weeks. Wires and talismans crossed over the streets, bikes and busses swooshed wet pavement, and linecars screeched overhead, all wrapped around her and her backpack and familiar unknown faces of the United Eastquad Block.

Ghosts gathered around her, whispering. You keep coming back here little wolf girl, you'll never get away from this place. Little wolf girl, you know you belong here. Freak. Queer. Sissy. Killer. Monster. You thought you were better than us, you never were. Laika let them needle and claw her. They were her ghosts, not the other way round. Every horrible word only built her up. Luna was with her in that way.

Most of the houses on K Street were mods, from early to late first century post-terraform. They were all retrofited from the original single family modules, but they were tough as nails, old construction built to weather thr storms of atmosphere generation. Number 1132 was where she was headed, lights were still on in the third floor windows.

Laika took a last look around on the front door's stoop. The poles for street lights and warden ropes all had at least three CCTV cameras and arrayed parabolic empathy receivers tuned into psychic conflict between morality and legality. She flashed a tight little smile at the familiar old glass eye of the state before pulling a short crowbar out of her bag and cracking the door open.

The third floor smelled of some sharp, fragrant allium along with sweet woody flavors and cooking meat, enough to rouse her stomach. Deep breath, ignore the ghosts, knock. A woman with her black hair in a bob cut, rolled up sleeves on her billowy dress, a little sweaty and confused, almost a quarter meter shorter than Laika. A wave of gaming sounds, net music, and oven warmth joined them both on the landing.

"Hey Tara," Laika said.

The other woman looked closer. "Laika? Oh tides, it is!" She wrapped Laika up in a big soft hug inside thick arms, crushing her stick body. "I thought you, I don't know, I thought you were dead! I mean, there were rumors?"

"Uff! Uh, hey. Sorry to be like, unannounced. Is it okay if I come in?" Laika hesitantly patted Tara's shoulders until the hug relaxed and her feet were back on the floor.

"You just have to, please. I'm sorry, when did you get back, why didn't you call?"

Unlacing her boots and slipping them off, she said, "I just got back today, um. I've been a bit off the net you know." She dipped her hand in the tiny basin by the door and thumbed a drop of water on the polished river stone at the altar. "But I wanted to see how you'd been, I guess. It just, well it's weird. That smells amazing."

She saw a couple kids blasting through uncreatively humanoid aliens, loudly and luridly across the living room screen, followed Tara into the kitchen and dinette area and watched her stir around sizzling veggies and meat in a wide dish. "Thanks," Tara said. "The spawn over there don't always appreciate it, but you know how... well, how kids can be..." Tara frowned awkwardly.

"Yeah, uh. Yeah." Laika rubbed the back of her neck. "So what all have you heard?"

Tara stuttered with a little embarassment. In the distance Laika could very faintly hear sirens, but she knew they weren't for her. The people who would come for her didn't use sirens or advertise their presence.

Half paying attention to Tara, she added, "Well, uh, some is true. But... you knew it was bad at home. Stuff happened. What about you though? Like, two kids? Wow!"

Tara probably was relieved at the change of topic, and Laika was glad to take a minute, but she couldn't focus all the way. She was waiting.