#posting and going to sleep I’ll re check this in the morning

[fungus-no69]

When I’m in a holding grudges for minor inconveniences competition but my opponent is cain

Blythe belongs to @thedolmainblog

[rafesbabyg1rl]

The Watcher ~ Part Two

Part One, Part Three

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Your parents work late on Friday nights, which you spend alone. Except you haven't been alone in a long time, not that you know of at least. Rafe has watched for years, he's very good at it. His idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when you catch him in your bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living. After you find the surprise he had left for you, you choose to believe that his threats were empty and try to turn him in. But, your plans are interrupted and you take an unexpected visit to Tannyhill.

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the plot. Strong & descriptive language, suggestive themes, death threat(?), manipulation, kidnapping (?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 3.5k

Author Note: Part Two is here!! I know this chapter is shorter than the previous, but I figured it's better to get what I had out. Also...I'm not sure if I like where this is going, so please share your thoughts about this part and ideas for future parts. Thank you all for the support on the first part of this story. Especially with this being my first work I've published on tumblr, I am very pleasantly surprised with how everyone has reacted to it. So, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!!

CREDITS: The foundation of this fic was heavily inspired by/ based off of one of @faiszt 's bots on character ai. So, if you like this and you like character ai, I greatly suggest that you check out the bot!

The blinding morning light shines into your room through your curtains. You sit up and rub your eyes. You glance at the digital clock on your nightstand which currently reads: 10:34 am. Those sleeping pills really worked, you think. Your parents are already at the restaurant, probably just getting over with the morning rush. 

Your eyes begin to focus, your brows furrow as your eyes land on one of the posts of your footboard. You lean forward to grab the pair of panties you had just worn yesterday which are hanging from your bedpost. You’re pretty sure you had put these in your hamper last night and wait, why are they sticky…? You wonder, you examine them and come to the realization of what it is. Immediately you toss them away, that was not from you. It was your stalker, it had to be. Of course, the first night you spend alone since four weeks ago and he already breaks in. And he does this? You think about his words, “tell anyone and I’ll come back and fuckin’ kill you”, shivers roll down your spine. 

You hadn’t even had time to realize how horny you had been when you had woken up; and now that you have you feel so wrong. But your dream…oh god your dream. You can still remember it vividly, even more so the longer you think about it; you can see the face of the man who fucked you stupid in your dream. You know who it was, who your subconscious mind let you fuck while you slept. It was your stalker. 

Without another thought, you’re in the shower scrubbing the shame and disgust from your skin—or at least attempting to. When you feel somewhat satisfied, which also happens to be when the water begins to run cold, you finally get out. Wrapping a plush towel around your freshly clean body, you lean over the bathroom sink and wipe the condensation from the mirror leaving just enough space to see yourself. Before the glass fogs back up you’re able to see a small part of what appears to be a bruise poking out from underneath the towel wrapped around your chest. You lean in closer using one hand to re-wipe the mirror and using the other to pull your towel down past your boobs. Looking back at the bruised area on your chest, you can see that the closer you look at it, the more it looks like a hickey. You just about stumble backwards at the realization. 

You’ve had enough. After you quickly toss on some clothes, you grab your keys off your dresser with a shaky hand. You rush out towards your car and get inside, pulling out of your driveway carelessly and speeding off. When you arrive at your destination, you take a few moments to rethink this plan. You have to do this. You can’t keep living with some creep sneaking in your bedroom and touching you as you sleep. You twist the keys in the ignition and pull them out, you confidently strut towards the entrance of the building. When you feel the vibration of your phone in your pocket you pause, sighing as you reach back to take it out. When you read the random number, with the same Outer Banks area code as you, your brows furrow. Typically you wouldn’t answer a call from an unknown number, but something in you is telling you to answer. As you press the green button and bring your phone to your ear, you glance up at the building you were about to enter which reads, ‘Kildare County Sheriff’s Office’. 

“Hello?” You ask warily.

After a few long seconds, the person on the other side of the line answers you. “Stop.” The man’s voice sends familiar chills down your spine. 

“Excuse me?” You respond, your voice audibly shaky. “Who…who is this?”

“C’mon pup, you already forgot what I sound like? It’s already been that long?” Your eyes widen at the realization of who this voice belongs to. You’ve heard it one other time, well one time that you remember.

As your head darts around the parking lot looking for your stalker, your voice comes out in a tone that easily betrays you, revealing your fear, “No…no…what the hell do you want?”

Rafe smirks from his truck as he watches you from afar. “I want you to turn around and get back in your car, m’kay princess? And I highly suggest you do what I want.” 

“Or what? What’s stopping me from walking in? Or from yelling for help?” You take a step closer to the building’s entrance.

“Stubborn, stubborn girl…” the man chuckles, “If you don’t get back into your fucking car right now, you’re gonna really fuckin’ wish you had just listened to me. I’m gonna get what I want no matter what, baby. You’re mine.” And with that, Rafe hangs up the phone, still watching you from a distance. 

As much as you want to just run into the building and beg for help, you know that unfortunately since you’re a pogue, the cops aren’t going to believe a single word that comes from your mouth. In their minds, all pogues are liars and thieves. And since you don’t have the slightest clue on who the man you saw in your bedroom is, you figure there’s not much they’d be able to do even if they did believe you. So you reluctantly turn back to your car and get inside. The moment your door shuts you inside, your phone buzzes yet again with another call. It’s coming from the same number, but this time you don’t answer. This was your second mistake. 

Rafe’s already pissed off. You went against his rules, you didn’t listen to him, none of this will work if you don’t listen. He thought he had been threatening enough that you’d behave, but clearly you need another scare. You need to be taught that disobeying him does nothing but hurt you more. When you don’t answer the phone when you definitely know it’s him calling, this is just the cherry on top; the icing on the cake. Rafe is fuming. 

You drive out of the parking lot, breath heavy as you stay on high alert–searching for him. A truck suddenly pulls behind you, tailing right on your ass. You can’t see through the truck's front windshield due to the dark tint. You being paranoid, step on the gas and speed up a bit, well exceeding the speed limit. A few quick seconds pass by and you jump at the sound of sirens. It doesn’t take long for you to check your rearview mirror and realize that the sirens are coming from the truck behind you, which is flashing its red and blue lights. You let out a breath of relief. You’re being pulled over yet you’re relieved because it means you aren’t being trailed by your stalker. The feeling is short lived as you flick your signal on and pull off to the side of the road. You roll your window down and shut off the engine.

The officer approaches you and goes through the typical routine and you try to calm your nerves. All sound is drowned out as you get lost in your thoughts. 

“Ma’am?”, the officer repeats. “Do you know why I’ve pulled you over today?”

The sharp and unintentionally threatening voice of the deputy snaps you out of wherever the hell it was that your mind had taken you to. “Yes, sorry sir, I…I was going over the speed limit.” You submit, wanting to get this over with. You can’t help but worry what your stalker would think if he saw this, he’d probably think you’re turning him in. But, you’re not. Really this whole thing was a misunderstanding, but you can’t explain that to the cop. 

“And why is that?” He questions you ever further, his gaze staring at you intensely. You get nervous and want to look away, but you worry that might make you look guilty of something. You’ve been pulled over before, it’s not usually a big deal for you. However you’re just so goddamn nervous and need this moment to be over. You feel like you’ve done something wrong; like you’re hiding something. But you aren’t.

“I–I thought…I just got distracted sir, wasn't thinking about speed. I apologize for the inconvenience.” You catch yourself, technically you aren’t lying; you just aren’t explaining why you were distracted. The threatening words of your stalker still echo around your head. The deputy gives a small lecture as he writes up a ticket for you. Once he gets back into his truck and drives off, you rest your head back against the seat and let out the breath you’ve been holding. When you start your car back up and finally open your eyes, you look straight out across the road. You can see a tall man leaning against a truck parked across the road, staring right at you. The familiar grin on his face has you sick to your stomach. 

After making direct eye contact with him, you pull off the side of the road and do an illegal U-turn so that you’re heading in the opposite direction, leaving the man behind. You know that he’s following you, so you drive around aimlessly until you get another call from the same unknown number. You want to decline, but you’re too afraid to face the consequences that might follow. 

“What do you want?” You ask, voice full of faux confidence. The only thing you hear on the other side of the line is a heavy breath that causes your skin to become full of goosebumps. 

After you’ve had a few moments to panic, he finally speaks, “Keep driving”. His words are not said lightly. This is undoubtedly a command, not an option. 

“Keep driving to where?” You stammer with nervousness. 

“Tannyhill.” He replies strictly. 

“Tannyhill?” You question before being able to stop yourself. You can’t help the attitude that slips into your voice. When a few more moments of silence pass, you get more and more anxious for his response. “Hello…?” You ask quietly, wondering if you lost connection. Still nothing. “Hello?” You ask again with more volume. After another minute or two, you hear the phone beep; the call disconnects. 

Why the hell does he want you to go to Tannyhill? It doesn’t make any sense. But you don’t exactly have a choice. He’s following you either way and it’s not like he doesn’t know where you live…and just about everything about your life. So, it’s probably best to just play along and obey his commands. 

When you get close to the general destination, your phone rings with yet another call. You answer, already knowing who it's from. This time you don’t speak first, you wait to hear what he has to say. It takes a few moments, almost like he’s trying to wait long enough that you’ll talk. The silence starts to get unbearably awkward, but your mind is set on waiting for him to speak and Rafe doesn’t have the time to wait; having to give you directions and all. When he finally talks he doesn’t greet you. His voice breaking the silence startles you as he instructs you with the directions to get wherever it was he was forcing you to go. 

“Wait…turn left h-here?” You ask, confused at his directions. You had missed the beginning of what he said since you had to collect yourself after being frightened. 

He sighs in impatience, “No dammit, the next one. Were you not listening?” 

“I…no I-I was listening–” you stumble over your words as you turn onto the street he wanted you to. 

“Bullshit. You need to learn how to fucking listen to me, don’t you?” When you don’t respond, trying to focus on remembering the directions he gave you, it only serves to piss him off even further. “Huh?! Don’t you?!” He shouts into the phone as he follows behind you.

You whine in fear, “No..I can listen. I promise I can listen to you.” You practically beg. “J-just tell me where to go?”

Rafe directs you to his house, which you of course recognize as the Cameron’s mansion. You’ve heard about the Cameron’s, but you wouldn’t be able to point them out in a crowd or anything. Besides from the father, Ward Cameron, whom you’ve seen on the news several times. Is he a Cameron? As you park in the large driveway, you rack your brain trying to recall the name of the Cameron son. 

His truck parks behind you, blocking your car in. He quickly kills the engine and exits his vehicle. You don’t notice him walking up to you until he’s yanking your car door open and pulling you out by the arm.

“R-rafe?” You mumble insecurely. He pauses to look at you, chuckling at your words. He mutters a quick ‘smart girl’ before retightening his grip on your arm and continuing to pull you into the large mansion. You start to cry, getting overwhelmed as you imagine the many possible scenarios that may occur. “P-please,” you manage to choke out. “What do you want?”

Unlike the last time you cried to him, this time he doesn’t stop. He drags you up one level of the large, spiral staircase; pulling you into his bedroom. As soon as you see the bed, you’re already feeling it beneath your back when he shoves you down just a few seconds later. As if you hadn’t already embarrassed yourself enough, you can’t help the tears that begin to stream down your flushed cheeks at a flooding rate. 

“Wait…no, please, please!” The way you keep shouting and choking back sobs causes you to gag from how worked up you’ve gotten yourself. All the Cameron son does in response is lean back to get a full view of you as a smug grin spreads across his face. “Please, I—oh god, I’m gonna be sick…” You mumble, which is quickly followed by another gag that interrupts your constant sobs. 

Rafe snakes his hand up from your arm to your hair, wrapping his first tightly around a large section of it. He tugs on your hair to force your head to look up at him, causing a small whine to escape your lips. “Shhh…baby, shhh…” He mumbles, his ‘worried’ tone working to oppose his previous amused expression. “Calm down, alright? Calm down. Ain’t gonna do nothin’ you don’t want, m’kay pretty girl?” The way he says that last part…you’ve never heard his voice sound like that before. You didn’t even think he was capable of talking in that tone. He sounds like he might actually truly care about you. You’re relieved; maybe even a bit…comforted by the fact that he might be telling the truth about not doing anything you don’t want. Well, besides having you basically held captive in his home. 

“What…what are you gonna do?” You manage to choke out between sobs, trying to catch your breath so you can calm down.

“I just wanna talk to you baby. Alright?” Rafe mumbles your name into your ear, allowing you to feel his hot breath against the side of your face. Immediately you’re taken back to the first time you had met him, in your bedroom a few weeks back. You try to push that aside and bring yourself back to the present; the memory only brings back the feelings of complete and utter fear you experienced at that time. Not that the present was any better, hell, it was worse. 

Hesitantly, you nod. He waits a few minutes to speak; waiting for you to catch your breath. Once you’re calmer, at least on the outside, he finally starts to talk. “I wanted to talk about my proposition…” He looks down at you, bringing his hand up to cautiously run through your hair. “Last time I got cut short…remember that?”

You nod. “I…I tried to warn you my parents would come home. I-I swear I didn’t tell them anything.” You say frantically, trying to prove your innocence.

“Hey, shh…it’s okay babe. I know. I know.” Rafe speaks slowly, his eyes never leaving your lips. He pauses to momentarily dart his tongue out to wet his parted lips. “I know. You haven’t told…you’ve been a good girl and listened to me, hm? Haven’t you baby? Haven't you been a good girl?” 

You nod frantically. “I…I’d never turn you in…” The false seductiveness in your voice turns him off, if that’s even possible. 

He pulls back from you and sighs, “Shut up.” He runs a rough hand over his buzzed head and begins to quickly pace across his bedroom. 

“B-but you wanted to talk…” You remind him. The way his attitude was constantly shifting in great amounts had you furrowing your brows as you tried to figure him out. 

“Yeah, I do. But not to a goddamn filthy, lying whore.” He retorts, a large grin appearing on his face while he watches your beautiful features move on your face, displaying your thoughts  as you take in his words. “Just be yourself alright? I can always tell when you’re not you.” He says almost sincerely. “I want…I need you to want this. Don’t try to pull that fake crap on me ever again, yeah?” 

Immediately you nod. “I…yes-”, you stammer, instantly regretting even trying to talk in the first place. Rafe chuckles, making your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He stops pacing and lets out a long sigh, turning to face you again. His steps pause when he’s standing just before you. 

He leans down to whisper in your ear. “I really need this to work, okay…? This is good, this can be good for the both of us. I can help you; we can help each other, baby.” A silent tear rolls down your cheek from the fear of what’s to come. “I know…I know I messed up, alright? I know. But, you don’t have to be scared, baby. It’s all gonna be okay.” He brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Please…I just wanna go home, let me go home!” Your cries are ugly, and very, very real. The fear in your voice only worries him. Worries him that you may never get past this. But you have to. You don’t have another option. And he really, really doesn’t want to have to hurt you. That was never his intention. 

“But you are home, baby. You are home.” He mutters as his fingers brush over your cheeks, smearing your tears. Your breath hitches at his words and your eyes slowly move up to meet his. This cannot be happening. Why is this happening? You think.

“No…please I…just let me go home. I won’t tell. I promise I won’t. I’ll…I’ll never tell anyone about any of this okay, I’ll never say anything about you.”

“I can’t do that, baby…you know I can’t do that.”

“Why not? I swear, I’ll never ever breathe a word of this to anyone.” You say enticingly.

Rafe sits down besides you, causing the mattress to dip and make you lean towards him. He puts an arm around you and his hand lands on the back of your head, pulling it into his chest.

He leans down to speak into your ear while his hand pets over your hair as you cry into his chest. “Because I need you baby, I need you. And I need you to let me take care of you, yeah? I know…I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to be. Just trust me okay…we’re gonna be so good together baby.” He tugs at your hair, gently guiding your face to look up at him. “Just listen to me and nothing will happen, I don’t wanna have to…do anything. I just need to know that you’ll listen to what I say.” Immediately you nod, going along with what he says. He tugs on your hair harder, eliciting a gasp to fall from your lips. “Ah ah, I know you can talk. You’re a big girl, now fucking act like it.” He says forcefully.

“I-I’m gonna listen, I’ll listen to you, just please, please don’t hurt me.”

He smiles softly as his eyes dart across your face, unable to pick a feature to focus on, everything about you is just too damn perfect. “Don’t worry I won’t hurt you, not as long as you listen.” His grip loosens on your hair again. “But you’ll be begging for it soon enough.” Rafe’s whispers are enough to make your sobs start again; in which he pulls your head back into his chest. Your tears soak into his shirt as you have no choice but to cry into him.

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable. This part took quite a bit for me to finish, since life has been a bit busy and I haven't had much time to plan or write. I apologize for the short chapter, I'll try my best to make up for it with the next part! I never really feel done with anything and as I said before I'm not sure if I'm a fan of this part or not. So, if you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas I just might include them in future parts. And there's not much I won't write!

[of-cauldrons-and-inkpens]

You Missed My Heart: PART 2

PART 1 LINK      |      PART 2 LINK      |      PART 3 LINK

Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different.

Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not.

Word Count: 11,305 

Author’s Note: I swear I re-wrote this three different times and all of them were drastically different. I checked for typos, but I’m posting this at four in the morning so there may be a few. 

Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, dub-con (if you squint), piv, oral, unprotected sex; Miguel gets injured at one point; Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)

Minors DNI! Story is below the cut

I groaned as I opened my eyes. My face was pressed in the crook between where Miguel’s ribs and arms would normally meet. He had moved me there in the middle of the night when I had managed to drift too far away from him. I had tried to squirm and protest, but I ended up caving before he would let go. I knew he was stubborn enough to pin me there out of spite and it wasn’t worth it.

Miguel was still awake somehow. It was dark in the room, save for the faint light that drifted through the curtains. Whatever time it was, it was either too late or too early for him to be up.

“Go back to sleep.” Miguel said. His voice was stern but gentle. I slid my hands down and grabbed onto the edge of the blanket. I hauled it upward, pulling it over my head. He let out a low chuckle as he watched me try to disappear.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Just after three.” He leaned down and pressed a quick peck against the blanket that covered the top of my head. “Get some sleep.” 

I glanced up at the gap between his chest and the blanket. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting his features in soft lines and shadows. He looked angelic. He was focusing on something in front of him, frowning and furrowing his eyebrows every so often. 

What was he doing?

I gently pulled down the blanket so that I could see what he was up to. 

Miguel was propped up on a pillow that leaned against the headboard. His eyes were focused on his hands, which were held out in front of him, spaced apart by about six inches, palm facing palm. Threads glistened between his fingers in the moonlight. His fingers were twisting and weaving new threads around the ones that lay between his fingers. The thin webs had been pulled from his spinnerets in his upper wrists. It was like watching someone play cat’s cradle.

One of his arms rested on my back. It didn’t hurt; it wasn’t even uncomfortable, but it did hold me in place, only allowing me the bare minimum of space for my chest to move as I breathed.

“You should go to sleep, too.” I said. I turned my head back and buried my face in his chest. He smiled, continuing to work. 

“I’m not tired.”

I glanced up at him. His dark eyes were beautiful like this. His face looked peaceful. I was too tired to see if he was lying or not.

“Have you gotten any sleep yet? Any at all?” I asked. He shook his head. 

“I’ll be alright. Just close your eyes.” 

I nodded, too tired to argue with him. I started to say something, but the words slurred together until I fell silent. Sleep pulled me in, welcoming me warmly. 

“I know, sweetheart.” He whispered, never faltering in his work. 

Something clattered to the floor downstairs, ripping me from my dream.

I winced, feeling the sun burn my eyes as it streamed in through the window. I tried to push myself upward, but I was overtaken with a dull ache in all of my muscles. 

Fucking hell.

It felt like I had been in a car crash. Every part of my body hurt. But, the most noticeable ache was between my legs. I swallowed hard as I pushed myself upward. I needed aspirin. 

As I moved, I couldn’t help but notice a divot in the bed on Miguel’s side. It was lined with sheets that had been ripped through. The hole was a decent size; roughly the size of a fist and a couple of inches deep. 

It hadn’t been there last night. At least, I hadn’t seen it there.

I slid my right hand over to touch the edges of the divot. It was the perfect size to accommodate Miguel’s hand. But why was it there?

I winced, feeling a sharp pain shoot through my body. If he was in a decent mood, I could ask him about it. If not, it didn’t really matter.   

I leaned over and grabbed the bottle of aspirin. As I moved, a faint twinkle caught my eye. I flipped my hand over. In the middle of the night, Miguel had slipped something around my ring finger. It was a thin band that had been braided from webbing and then tied off on the front of my finger with a small knot. 

Huh.

I tapped my thumb against the material, expecting it to stick to my finger in the same way that the web had stuck to my ankle last night. But this one didn’t. It had been worn smooth by his fingertips. The material looked almost silver in the early morning light. When I pulled my hand into the shadows, it looked almost like braided moonstone. 

I wasn’t sure whether to feel violated by the fact that he had placed a wedding ring on me in the middle of the night, or impressed by the precision it had taken to make it. 

I turned my hand back and forth, inspecting the thing from all angles. If I had known him for any meaningful amount of time, it would have been a sweet and loving gesture. 

I groaned. It was a gift from the man who had basically kidnapped me from my home, but still, I needed to take whatever nice gestures I could get, no matter how presumptuous. 

I unscrewed the cap and dropped several pills into the palm of my hand. I pushed the first pill into my mouth. As I went to swallow, I couldn’t help but notice the faint numbness that lingered on my bottom lip. It was in the exact spot that his fangs had nipped, either on purpose or mistake.

That’s… weird.

I swallowed the pill and then leaned down to touch my thighs. Bright red marks covered my legs, showing off his handy-work. I quickly slid my fingers along the skin… only to meet the same result. 

The skin was numb. It was almost impossible to move the half centimeters of flesh that had been ever so gently nicked. He hadn’t bit me; not really. Just a graze was enough to do that. 

Jesus.

I winced as I downed the second pill. Then I pushed myself up from the bed and made my way to the dresser. I needed something to wear. But, I wasn’t wearing more lingerie. It already hurt to walk; I needed time to heal before I wore anything close to that again. I sighed as I stepped across the room, looking for something to wear. Miguel had laid his sweatshirt from last night on the dresser. I was sure that he had left it for me after my complaint last night. 

Maybe it was a peace offering. Or maybe the sex had been the peace offering and this was just him being nice.  

I quickly pulled it on. It was long enough to cover my hips and a good part of my thighs. I quickly snagged a pair of underwear from the dresser and pulled them on, as well.

Downstairs, something else clattered to the floor. What the hell was he doing?

As I stepped into the hallway, I noticed the boxes that had been piled up outside of the yellow door. I flipped open one of the cardboard tabs. Inside lay my things. At the bottom of the box, I noticed the sleeve of one of my sweaters. He had brought me my things, just as he had said he would. Did he ever go to sleep last night?

I padded down the stairs, making my way to the kitchen with every step. I figured that that was where he was. He didn’t seem like the kind to just linger around the house, looking for some kind of mindless activity to fill his time. He seemed too serious for that. 

I stepped into the kitchen and was immediately greeted by an unexpected sight. He was standing in front of the stove, pushing around eggs in a skillet. The downstairs was cold from the winter air but he was still wearing only a thin t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

He was a portrait of domesticity. 

I watched him closely as I stepped into the room.

“I made breakfast.” He said. 

“Did you get any sleep?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice that the shattered plate had been picked out of the sink and had been thrown into the trash. He turned to meet my gaze. The dark circles under his eyes told me everything that I needed to know. 

“Miguel, you need to go back to bed.”

“I’ll be fine.” He frowned as he pushed the spatula around in the skillet. “I made coffee.”

“Thank you.” I made my way toward the coffee pot that rested on the counter beside him. As I did, his eyes never left the stove. I reached for one of the coffee cups that had been laid out for me. As I did, I glanced back at Miguel. God, he looked tired. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?” I asked. 

He scoffed. “I sleep perfectly fine.” 

“Okay then.” I muttered. Guess that was a touchy subject for him. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the coffee pot. I filled the mug with the dark liquid. As I leaned forward to slide it back into its original spot, Miguel stepped to the side and pulled open the door to the fridge. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a container of creamer and handed it to me, then slinked back to the stove before the eggs had the chance to begin to brown. 

“Thank you.” I said. Warm light from the kitchen caught the ring, making it twinkle again. I considered asking him about it, but I decided not to. Surely he would bring it up if it was something that he wanted to talk about. 

A dark strand of hair fell across his forehead as he focused on the skillet. “Do you need any help?” I asked. 

He quickly shook his head. “What’s on your mind?” I wanted to get even a scrap of conversation from him; I needed some idea as to what he was thinking about. Maybe I should just leave him alone. Maybe he liked to exist in silence. I mean, if nothing else, he seemed used to it. 

“Work. How did you sleep?” He asked. 

“Okay, I guess.”  I added the creamer to my coffee and then returned the container to the spot where he had pulled it from. I carried my mug back to the counter, watching as he lifted the skillet off of the stovetop. I lifted the mug to my lips but then suddenly jerked it back. The glass was hot; it burned the skin of my lower lip everywhere except for the small spot in the center of my mouth. 

“Fuck!” I touched the skin and was met with a familiar numbness. 

Miguel dropped the skillet onto the stove and rushed forward. Within seconds he had cleared the area between the stove and the counter, moving so that he was standing directly in front of me. He towered over me, wasting no time to invade my personal space. “Sorry, I’m fine.” I said. I brushed my fingers along my lip, grazing the burned flesh and then the numbed skin. It felt weird and I didn’t like it. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me see.”

“It’s fine. I just burned myself.” He shook his head before reaching down and gently grabbing onto my chin. He pulled my head upward. My eyes met his for a moment before he turned his attention down to the mark on my mouth. 

“Move your hand.” He instructed. I did as I was told and dropped my hand down to the cold stone of the counter. 

“Miguel, I’m fine. I promise.” He didn’t believe me; I could tell from the deep line that had formed between his eyebrows.

“Open wide.” He instructed. His thumb slid across my lower lip. The touch was feather-light; almost too gentle, too caring. 

“Your face is red.” He remarked.

“This is demeaning.” The words slurred together as he inspected my mouth. 

“Is your lip numb?” His perfected vision could see the minute scrapes against my skin; tiny cuts that had been collateral damage in the excitement of the previous night. 

“A little bit.” He winced, but quickly fixed his expression before I could comment on it.

“It should wear off in a couple of hours. You weren’t actually bit so the effects shouldn’t be too bad. Just be careful not to hurt yourself.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head.

“What if you had bitten me?” I asked. He released my jaw from his hold. 

“That’s not something you need to worry about.” 

“But if it had… let’s say I’m someone else and you bit me, what would happen.” His face twitched. Something flickered behind his eyes as if he was considering it. His eyes didn’t leave my face.

“That’s not… no.” 

“Miguel, it’s a basic question. I barely know anything about you. If you’re planning on keeping me here, then I want to know-” he cut me off.

“And I said no. Damn it, why isn’t that enough for you? What are you wanting from me?” His voice was sharp and cold, like metal. Suddenly, the device on his wrist let out a low chirp. He glanced downward. 

He gave a low sigh. “I’ll get you a plate. You didn’t eat anything last night.” He turned and quickly began to mess with the thing on his wrist. 

I glanced down at the counter. A chorus of beeps came from his wrist as he worked. I gently slid my teeth against my bottom lip; the numbness was strangely fascinating. 

Without a word, Miguel sat the plate down in front of me. Steam drifted off the fresh eggs that covered the plate.

“Thank you.” He didn’t answer me. His eyes lingered on my face for a long moment before he leaned back against the countertop.

He rolled his hand around his wrist, moving his eyes between me and the device. “I have work to do today. But I restocked the fridge so there’s plenty for you to eat. Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. The TV in the living room works, as does the stereo. Most of your books should be upstairs, so you should have plenty to occupy your time.”

“Thank you.” I said. I stabbed a bright yellow piece of egg with my fork. “How long are you going to be gone?” I asked. 

“Are you going to miss me?” He paused, waiting for a response. I nodded, partly because I knew it was the right answer and partly because I thought I would, even if just a little bit. He smiled, proud of my answer. “It shouldn’t be too long. Just a couple of things to correct, then I’ll be right back.” There was something about the way that he said the word ‘correct’ that made me wince. He meant kill; I thought of the blood on his face and knew what he meant when he said he fixed things. 

“Is there anything you think you’re going to do today?” Miguel asked. He wanted to know my plans for the day. Well, gee, Miguel, I’ll probably stay trapped here. 

Then something occurred to me. I was the only person here and I knew more of what was going on now. There was no reason I shouldn’t be allowed to explore.

“Can I leave the house?” I asked.

“And where would you go?” It seemed ridiculous to him to even ask. Why would I ever want to leave when I could sit in an empty house all by myself and pretend I wasn’t his prisoner?

“Out.” I said. “Maybe walk around the block. Is there another block or does it stop after what I can see from the front stoop?” 

“There’s other blocks. But I don’t understand why you would want to leave the house.” 

“Fucking hell, Miguel.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. I turned my attention to the plate. He ground his teeth together for a moment. He was choosing to ignore what I had said. 

“If you need something to occupy your time when I’m gone, I’ll get you a pet.” That doesn’t replace the fact that I wanted to leave the house. I wanted to pretend that my life was normal, even if there was nobody in Nueva York anymore. I could still act as if things hadn’t changed. 

“Ah, a pet for your pet. Doesn’t that seem a bit redundant?” I muttered. That jab had been entirely intentional. 

It was true, though. I was a pet to him; maybe I received different forms of affection than the standard house cat, but the same rules seemed to apply. He would come and go as he needed; I was to stay where I had been placed, always ready and willing to entertain when he came back. 

He rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter. He continued to poke at the device on his wrist. “I’m ignoring you.” I rolled my eyes as I continued to eat. 

“It isn’t fair to lock me inside of a house and never let me leave. You ever heard of cabin fever? I’m going to end up going insane in here.”

“I highly doubt that.” His hair bounced as he spoke. He was shaking his head at me while he messed with his device. 

“Miguel.”

“You’ll be fine.” He said it like it was the end of the discussion. Hell, it wasn’t even a discussion; he just kept saying no. 

“Come on!”

“Is there something you’re wanting to say to me?” His tone was harsh. 

“Yeah, you’re really pissing me off.”

“You’ll get over it. You always do.” 

“Just tell me why. If you think I’m going to run away then where would I even go? There’s nothing out there. So why?” 

“It’s for your own good. Just stay in the damn house.” I rolled my eyes as I took a sip of the cooled coffee. 

“You never fucking tell me anything and then you get pissy when I ask questions.”

“I am not being pissy.” He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. There was a long moment of silence between us. 

“Don’t call me pissy.” He muttered. He sounded more annoyed than actually angry. He almost sounded like an annoyed child. I had to fight back a laugh at how petulant he sounded.

A weird silence hung in the air. I began to eat, ignoring how he fixed his eyes on me. Though, any time I would look up to catch his stare, he would glance back down and fiddle with his wrist. 

"I really do believe that you could start to like it here. I think you just need time. Then, you'll start to warm up to me."

He brushed his hair off of his forehead and let out a low sigh. "You do love me. You just need time." He said the first part for me. He repeated the second part for himself.

I did love him, at least a little bit. Even if just for the fact that he looked so much like another version of himself; a sweeter version… a softer one. 

Maybe he was capable of being that way. Or, maybe he was too far gone. 

His eyes moved upward to meet mine and I felt a sudden wave of shame wash over me. 

"You look beautiful this morning." He said. 

“Miguel,” I asked. His features softened at the sound of his name. “Is there any chance that I’ll ever get to go home?” 

He winced. “If you go back to your timeline, one of two things could happen. Either time will find a way to correct itself and you will die or everything will collapse in on itself. If that happened, it would kill every single person you’ve ever known and billions more.” A bright light shone from his wrist. 

It was time for him to go. 

He let out a low sigh. “I don’t…” His voice trailed off. He looked down at the ground for a moment. “I can’t send you back to die. I won’t.” 

I guess that was my answer.

He stepped toward me. His face had softened. “I want you to be happy and safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” I didn’t reply. He moved closer, stopping only once our bodies were almost touching. 

I looked at him, unsure of what he wanted. He leaned down, placing a finger under my chin. It was the gentlest touch he could manage, yet it was backed with unfathomable strength. He lifted my chin up to meet his gaze.

“I love you. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Be a good girl for me. Okay?” I nodded. He pushed a quick peck against my lips before he walked off, heading toward the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room. Once he vanished from sight, I heard him begin to speak into his device.

A pink and orange light enveloped the living room; it was so bright that I winced. The light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

Then, just like that, he was gone. 

I sighed to myself. Well, no time like the present. 

I pushed myself up, grabbed my coffee mug, and headed upstairs.

He would be gone for hours. There was no harm in exploring, especially since he wasn’t here to stop me. If he didn’t want to tell me anything, then I would have to find it out for myself. After all, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. 

I stared at the yellow door upstairs. Not knowing what was inside was going to eat me alive. I knew it wasn’t an office; Miguel didn’t stay here long enough to do anything but drag me around and then try his idea of a romantic gesture. Maybe it was a storage room, but even then he was entirely too cagey about the whole thing. He didn’t strike me as the kind of person to have some kind of mindless hobby. 

Maybe he was living out the story of Bluebeard and there was something macabre inside. Maybe there was something perverse inside. 

It didn’t matter; I had to know. 

I pushed several of the boxes out of the way. I slid them several feet to the left. I could just move them back when I was done and he would never know. Stepping forward, I reached out and grabbed the door handle. Then, I gave a firm twist. 

It was locked.

Damn it. 

Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? He’s the one who locked me up. He’s the one who said I couldn’t leave the house. He’s the one that did all of this in the first place. 

I couldn’t help but notice that the locks on my door and this door were different. This door was aimed at keeping other people out of the space; mine was aimed at locking me inside, like a princess in a tower. 

I needed some way to get the door open. I was sure that I would understand this all a little better if I could just figure out why he was so determined to keep this a secret from me. 

Then, I remembered my Miguel fighting with the floorboard in our bedroom. Before he embarked on his noble mission to defeat the squeaking sound, he had bought a case of beer and a new set of screwdrivers. If this version of him was so determined to make a perfect copy of my house, then he would have added the set.

I dashed to the hall closet and quickly pulled out the black plastic case that rested on the bottom shelf. Bingo! I plucked the screwdriver from the box and then walked over to the yellow door. I knew that with the old style of lock, I just needed to get the metal inside of the keyhole to move. If it moved, then the door would pop open with no issue. 

I slotted the screwdriver into place and then twisted hard. At first, it didn’t even flinch. Then, after a moment,  the lock groaned and then popped open. I quickly twisted the brass door handle and smiled as the door opened. I pushed the door open wide and then flipped the lightswitch. 

What the fuck?

The room was small. Every wall had been painted a soft yellow; it was a step up from the stark white that the original room had been. A small stuffed elephant lay in the middle of a crib that was pushed against the far wall. A framed ultrasound sat on the bookshelf. Little pieces of a life; of hopes and memories, all packed away to be forgotten.

None of this was from my timeline. In my universe, this was just his office. It was where Miguel would disappear to for most of the night after returning from work. After he died, I locked the door and pretended the room didn’t exist. When the men from Alchemax showed up to take the cardboard boxes filled with his work, I didn’t even have the courage to peek inside of the room. The room was the black hole in the house, eating away at any chance of sleep or happiness that I had. 

At least that was something this Miguel and I seemed to share.

I stepped into the small room, moving toward the bookshelf that rested against the far wall. The shelf was the only thing that looked familiar. 

A box rested on the bottom shelf. I quickly dipped down and pulled it free. I flipped the lid and discarded it onto the floor in front of me. The box was filled with small photos. Some were older than others, each faded and weathered to different degrees. I sunk down to the floor. I moved so that I was sitting criss cross. 

I reached inside of the box and pulled out one of the photos. The picture was weathered, but I could still make out a version of me staring up at him with an adoring gaze. She wore a wedding dress and he wore a suit. 

Jesus.

I sat the photo on the floor beside me and then reached into the box and fished out a small handful. I started to sift through them, viewing little pieces of Miguel’s life as I went. When I reached the last three photos, I stopped. They were pictures of Miguel holding a little girl. She was small and perfect, with his eyes and his smile. 

His child. 

I winced as I looked at the pictures. The last photo was of Miguel and I standing behind her. She was sitting in a small plastic highchair with a cake in front of her. On it, there was a glowing candle in the shape of a ‘1’. Miguel’s mouth was open in the process of saying something as I laughed. It was a moment that was frozen, giving him a small slice of time to keep when it all disappeared.

Fucking hell. I leaned forward and put the pictures back in the box. I didn’t want to look at this anymore. I felt my stomach flip as a wave of nausea overtook me.

However, as I leaned over, I spotted several more photos in the bottom of the box. But, I did know these pictures. I just hadn’t known that they had been taken. In two of the pictures, I was inside of the bookstore that I had worked at. They were pictures of me, taken in my universe. But, when did he take them? After my version of him died, I didn’t go back to work. I was lucky if I left bed most days. So these pictures were older than that. 

Suddenly, I became aware of the footfalls that came from the stairs. 

Miguel was home entirely too early. 

And I was still in the nursery. My head was still spinning from the pictures. I tried to make myself get up and frantically put the pictures back, but I couldn’t make my body move.

I heard him begin to make his way toward the bedroom. But, when he saw that the yellow door had been opened, he picked up his pace. 

I didn’t look back at him when he stepped into the doorway.

I didn’t want to meet his gaze.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” His voice was lined with rage. I stared at the wall. I could hear him swearing under his breath, his tone flickering between pissed to sad and then back again. I glanced back to look at him for a moment. His face was tight and his eyes burned red. 

“This was your office… I’m sorry, his office.” I lifted my hand upward to point at the wall with the small window. The window had been decorated with pink curtains. “His desk was against that wall.” I glanced to the side of the room and then pointed at the left wall. “He kept all of his boxes against the wall. I only ever went inside of the office once and that was when I heard him and my dad arguing about something. But I never… I never found out what it was.” The screaming had happened two days before Miguel died and I couldn’t help but wonder if the two things had been connected. 

“I just wanted to know what was in here. That’s all.” I said. "Are you planning on locking me in my room again?" I asked. 

"No."

The man stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost. His features softened as he watched me. He walked deeper into the room, moving so that he was standing over me. He sat down on the floor beside me. His large frame was only a foot away from me; close enough to touch, but not so close as to scare me. As he sat there, I was once again reminded of how his body had always dwarfed mine. His body was large enough to provide me with either the utmost care or utmost cruelty, depending on which Miguel I got. 

“You had a child?” I asked. 

He winced. “I did.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” My voice was little more than a whisper.

“No.” It was a sore spot for him. It was then that I noticed that he was focusing on the far wall, unable to meet my eyes. 

I was also a sore spot for him. 

I looked down at the floor as he began to speak again. 

“All I’ve ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said. His face twitched. His eyes began to fade from red to brown. He was reliving all of his failures, past and present. 

“I understand.” I said. He let out a dry laugh. 

“But you don’t. You really fucking don’t. Do you know what it’s like to watch you die in every timeline? Every universe? Either before or after me, there you go. Either you burn to death or are crushed or get killed in a car crash or die in some freak fucking accident… and I’ve had to sit and watch.” 

He shook his head. Several dark strands of hair fell across his face. “I’m not a good man. I’ve done… horrible things.” I flinched at his words. I couldn’t tell if it was self awareness or just simple self hatred. “I just wanted a part of you that was entirely mine. A piece of you that I can love and… keep.”

He said the last part so casually. It was as if it was all just a part of the daily dysfunction of a man with a savior complex and the full power to act upon it. He had everything a man or god could ever want, except for the power of self control. 

What he had done was unfathomably wrong, but the smallest part of me could understand it. The only real difference between us was that he actually could do something about it; when I lost everything, I could only lay in bed and cry. 

However, there wasn’t enough money in any timeline to make me admit that to him. Telling him I understood his actions would only feed into the delusion that this was right… that this was inherently good. 

I nodded slowly as I took in his words. He leaned back against his arms. He pushed his hands against the hardwood as he looked around the room, as if reliving a memory. His face was crestfallen. 

My fingers brushed his. He flinched, but then gave into the touch. I slid my fingers on top of his, pinning his hand between my skin and the cold hardwood. He sat still for a moment, taking in the small crumb of affection. Then, he lifted his pinky, moving it so that it slipped on top of my ring finger. 

He glanced down at our hands. His eyes became fixed on the small ring; he was entranced at the fact that I hadn’t taken it off yet. 

Miguel opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly changed his mind. He closed his mouth, allowing for the silence to overwhelm us. 

We were both kind of pathetic. But, I felt especially so at how I still wanted some kind of closeness with him. 

I didn't want to be alone, even if the only option was with the crazy man. 

I glanced up. My eyes met his.

I leaned forward, moving so that my face was only inches away from his. The room was cold and I was sure that he could see the hard goosebumps that had formed on my skin. His eyes danced over my face before drifting down to my lips. He looked like he wanted to tell me something, but it was as if it was stuck. Whatever words he wanted to say wouldn't come out. 

I filled the last inches of space between us. Slowly, I pressed my lips against his. Our lips moulded together, fitting like puzzle pieces. He let out a low groan.

He pulled his lips away from me, giving me a chance to catch my breath.

He lay his forehead against mine. Then he whispered something that was so faint, I couldn’t hear most of it. But, I could have sworn that the last words were a soft "I’m sorry."

The next few weeks, we existed as ghosts. He barely spoke to me. On the rare occasion that he was home during the daytime, I would often catch him staring at me with a weird mixture of adoration and sadness. He was gone until late most nights. I had taken to crawling onto the couch and falling asleep there most nights. The house was too empty; too quiet. He wouldn’t come back until late and would then, without fail, haul me back to the bedroom. I would awaken every morning to a cup of coffee on the bedside table. He would squeeze my shoulder gently, though he was always gone by the time I opened my eyes. 

My head lay against one of the pillows that I had dragged downstairs from the bed. I sighed as I turned over. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just weird to try and sleep when there was no noise coming from outside. I had gotten so used to the sounds of the city lulling me to sleep. Now, I would toss and turn for hours until I would turn on the TV for some noise. 

I pulled one of the blankets higher up on my body. The house was freezing. I glanced up at the clock on the wall. 

Just after two.

Where was he? He usually came back around one or so. He was late. Time was ticking on and he was nowhere to be found. 

Damn it. I winced, realizing that I was actually worried about him. 

Suddenly, a bright light filled the first floor. I jerked upright, turning toward the kitchen. “Miguel?” I asked. I quickly pushed myself up from the couch and made my way to the kitchen.

"Miguel?" I repeated. I flipped on the light to the kitchen and saw him standing there. He was doubled over with one hand grasping the back of a chair. Blood dripped from his nose onto the faded tile below. 

"You need to go to bed." His voice was rough. I stepped deeper into the room, ignoring him. He let out a groan as he tried to pull on the back of his suit. He reached for something, but he couldn't grasp it. He dropped his head, trying to catch his breath. I stopped several feet in front of him.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Blood covered his bottom lip. His face was bleeding from a cut on his cheekbone. It was a gash that was slowly oozing dark blood. 

"Oh my God. Miguel!" I rushed forward, filling the distance. 

"It's not as bad as it looks. They’ll heal, they just need a bit of time.” He said. Blood ran down his jaw as he spoke. He looked bad; bad enough that, if he had been the other version of himself, we would have immediately been on the way to the hospital. 

There were several gashes that had managed to cut through his suit, exposing the skin beneath. 

Dear God, what the hell happened to him?

"Go away." He said. He waved his hand, motioning for me to do as I had been told. He leaned over the side of the counter. Bruises were blossoming on his tan skin, painting him in shades of blue and black. 

"Just let me help you. Are there any bandages in the house?" I asked.

"I don't need help."

"Miguel." 

"What?" His voice was harsh; his words lined with actual pain. 

"Stop being so damn stubborn and just let me help you." I said. I walked over the lower cabinet and pulled out a hand towel. I stepped back toward him, hoping that he would soften.

Instead, he scowled at me. "Go to bed. You're just working yourself up over nothing."  

"This isn't nothing." 

He rolled his eyes as he stepped forward. "I'm completely fine." His leg went out from under him. I tried to catch and steady him, but instead, we both tumbled to the ground below. 

I watched as several of the more superficial cuts on his body began to close. 

"Jesus, Miguel. What happened?" He shook his head as he pushed himself off of the floor. 

"It's nothing. That's why I didn't want you to see any of this." He paused. "What the hell are you even doing down here?" He grabbed onto the counter to steady himself. Part of me expected to see him break the counter under his fingers. 

I pushed myself off of the floor and rushed to his side. "Is there anything I can do?" I asked. He shook his head. 

"I'm going to clean up. Go to bed." He winced as he stepped away from the counter. Based on the way he winced as he touched his side, he probably had a cracked rib.

I couldn't imagine anything that was strong enough to do this to him. Unless it had been something, or several somethings, that were all exactly like him. 

"I'm going to help you." I said. I eyed one of the deeper bruises that covered the side of his jaw. He caught me staring at the dark mark. 

"They'll heal, I swear. I can heal relatively fast." He said. Fear tore through me. What if he was wrong? What if he was lying? He hadn't meant for me to see him coming home. He had fully intended on keeping this hidden from me, regardless of how badly he was hurt. "The worst ones are the cuts but even those will be fine in an hour or two."

I had already lost him once…

He glanced over at me. Fear swirled in my eyes as I watched him. Based on the way that his face twitched, I knew he could see it. 

He glanced down at the floor. Then, he leaned to the side and caught my arm in his gloved hand. His touch was gentle, but commanding.

"Come here." He instructed. I shifted toward him, moving until his chest was almost touching mine. I could hear his steady heartbeat and feel the warmth that was pouring off his skin. 

"I love you. I promise I'm okay." His voice was no more than a whisper. 

"Just let me help you." I said. He sighed to himself, giving in to my attempt at kindness.

The downstairs bathroom was quiet. Miguel was perched on the edge of the tub, watching as I leaned over the edge of the basin.

I turned the metal handles to the tub. Warm water spurted into the bottom of the tub. I watched as it began to pool at the bottom. Outside, I could hear the thunder boom. Rain beat against the roof of the house, filling it with the soft sound of water hitting 

"This isn't necessary. You should go back to sleep." He said. He pressed the towel to his face. Most of the blood had stopped flowing. 

"I wasn't asleep." 

"Why not?"

"The house is creepy at night. It's too quiet. I'm used to actual sounds from the city and there just aren't any here."

"I'm sorry." 

"It's fine." 

Soon, the tub was filled three quarters of the way. I leaned over and quickly turned off the flow of water. I straightened my stance and then looked back at Miguel. He offered a soft smile. A bruise blossomed just below his eye, though it immediately began to fade away. 

"I was really worried about you." I admitted.

"I'm okay."

"Are you?" I didn't believe him. He looked rough. It was as if he had been dragged through hell. It hurt to look at him too long. 

"This is all… purely superficial. I'll be better soon." I crossed my arms. Worry and fear covered my face; it was impossible to hide. 

"Sweetheart, there's nothing to worry about." His voice was like warm honey. He lifted his hand upward and motioned for me to come to him. Without question, I did. 

One arm gently curled around my waist. The other drifted upward to ghost the side of my face.

"I'm okay. This all just…" he sighed. He leaned his face forward and gently touched his forehead to my stomach. Warm skin pressed into my shirt. I could feel him slowly inhale as he breathed me in. Then, he lifted his face, peering up at me in the dim room. "This is just how it is." His voice was no more than a whisper. 

"You look tired." He said. He noticed the dark circles under my eyes.

"You're one to talk." He let out a humorless laugh.

His fingers slid across my cheek, wiping away a dark droplet that had landed on my skin. The material on his fingers was smoother than I had imagined. 

"You don't have to take care of me."

"Well, you don't seem to have any sense of self preservation. So if I don't, I don't figure you'll take care of yourself." I said. He looked at my face for a long moment. A soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. 

"No, that's not it. I think you care about me." Pride bubbled in his voice. I rolled my eyes. 

"Strip and get in the tub."

"Yes, Ma'am." He taunted. He winced as he reached backward again, tugging at the neck of the suit. His usual gracefulness was gone. He groaned, pulling at the back of the suit to no avail. 

"Are you okay?" I asked. He winced again as he tried to grab onto something that wasn't there. 

"I got hit earlier and I think the thing broke. I can't get it to move." His fingers worked over the material but it was no use.

"Here. Let me get it." I said. He stooped downward, moving so that I could actually grab onto the back of the material. He awkwardly leaned over as I pulled at the metal on the back of the suit. It looked like there had once been a zipper, but the tiny handle had been busted. Below it were several small clasps that had been bent down to cover the path of the zipper. 

"They really did a number on you." I murmured. I pushed my thumb under one of the clasps. I bent it forward, moving it so that I could see the path of the zipper. I did the same for the other pieces of metal that had become deformed. Then, I pinched what remained of the head of the zipper. I pulled the zipper downward, hearing him sigh softly when I unzipped the material between his shoulder blades. His skin spread out between my fingers, warm and slightly wet from sweat.

"There you go." I said. I released him and stepped backward. He should be good to go now. 

I watched as he effortlessly peeled the suit off of his bruised body. The bruises were changing in color, some getting darker as others began to fade before my eyes. 

He pulled the suit off of his arms, then down his muscular torso. As he reached his hips, I looked away, suddenly very aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing anything beneath the skin tight material. 

My face turned bright red. I looked at the door behind us, waiting for him to climb into the water. "You're blushing." 

"No, I'm… just get in the water." I heard him chuckle as he stepped out of the material. He crudely folded the material and then tossed it across the floor. It landed in a pile beside my left foot. I rolled my eyes. 

"Sweetheart, you don't have to look away from me." He said. I heard the water move as he stepped into the tub. I turned around, watching as he sank into the bath. 

I watched a dark bruise on his bare collarbone fade into his skin before disappearing. It was as if it had never been there to begin with. 

He was always full of surprises.

Miguel leaned back against the cold metal of the tub. Outside, lightning shot across the sky. It filled the room with a sudden white light. 

“I’ll clean up the floor in a little bit.” He said. The tiles in the kitchen and bathroom were stained and slick. In the dim light, the droplets on the floor looked almost black.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to go to bed after this.” I said. “And you’re actually going to sleep.” 

"That's what you think." He muttered. 

"Are you always this stubborn?” I asked. 

"Only for you, sweetheart." 

I grabbed a towel off of the counter and gently dabbed it against his cheek. His eyes focused hard on my face as I tried to tend to his fading wounds. He was attempting to read my features. I sat down beside the bathtub.

“Do I want to know what happened?” I asked. It wasn’t a playful or light question. He could hear the weight in my voice as I cleaned his face. 

“You wouldn’t like me anymore if I told you.” It was such an honest comment that I could tell it pained him. If I knew what he did when he was away, then any chance of me loving him would vanish.

Maybe it was best that I didn’t know. 

"Are you in any pain?" I asked. He shook his head. 

Steam from the tub drifted upward, clinging to his strong chest in thick beads.  

"Why have you been ignoring me for the last week?" I asked. His face tensed.

"I haven't been."

I scoffed lightly as I gently wiped his face with a towel. "And you said I was bad at acting." 

"I've had a lot on my mind." He said. I nodded slowly. 

"You can talk to me." I said. He offered a faint smile. He couldn't, because it was most likely about me. 

"Are you mad at me?" I asked. He shook his head. 

"No, I promise." I looked down at the tile floor. I didn't know what to say to him. Something weird hung in the space between us.

Suddenly, his voice cut through the cold air. 

"Get in with me." He said. 

"What? No." I said. He furrowed his brow. He hadn't expected me to refuse. 

"Why?" he asked. 

"Because you're wounded and I don't want to hurt you."

He let out a low laugh, almost as if he was mocking me. "Believe me, it's impossible for you to hurt me. Now be a good girl and get in the tub."

"You know I'm not your pet, right?" He smirked at my words. A pet was exactly what he considered me to be; maybe a darling pet that he seemed to have a steadfast devotion to, but a pet nonetheless. I rolled my eyes and began to stand up from where I had been perched. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Just get in with me. Please?" His voice was warm, much like his eyes. I sighed as I watched him. 

A nagging voice told me to just walk off. Just go to bed and ignore him. He was clearly fine. Everything that he said would happen, had actually happened. He was healing up perfectly fine. He didn't need to be babied; he was a kidnapper, not a stray cat that needed to be brought in from the rain. But still, I couldn't make myself leave the small bathroom. 

"Please?" He repeated. I groaned before I stepped back from the tub. I grabbed onto the bottom of my shirt and pulled it upward. I hauled it over my head and then discarded it onto the floor. My pajama bottoms and underwear followed close behind.

Stepping forward, I felt the cold air bite into my skin. I winced before casting a leg over the edge of the tub. I had picked the opposite side of the tub to where he was sitting, though something told me he had wanted me to climb on top of him. 

I sank into the water across from him. I lifted my hands to my chest and quickly crossed my arms in an attempt at maintaining some sense of modesty. Miguel's eyes traced over me, drinking me in. His gaze was so intense that it made me squirm. 

"Stop staring at me." I said. 

"You're beautiful." His voice was low and warm. I readjusted my arms to make sure I was covered. I wracked my brain, searching for something to say.

"So, what's the thing about this timeline?" I said.

"What do you mean 'thing'?" He asked. 

"What makes it different from my timeline? I mean, there's absolutely no way that everything is the same. And, even with all of the people gone, there's got to be something weird here."

"Firstly, ouch. Bold of you to assume that my work isn't perfect." He lifted his index finger as he playfully chided me. 

"What's the second thing?" I asked. 

"Secondly, aren't we enough of a 'thing'?" We were both here. That was weird, as far as timelines went. We were both alive and okay, regardless of how we had ended up here.

"Come on. Surely there's something weird here. Maybe they call tuna by some other weird name or maybe the movie Titanic doesn't exist here."

"Well, you're the only person here, so you can call tuna whatever you want. I may mock you if you choose something ridiculous, but that's entirely your choice. Also, I don't think that any movies have ever come out here." 

I watched his face as he spoke.

Goosebumps danced across my skin as I sat in the water. "I think I'm about to get out. The house is too cold to be in here." I said. 

He leaned forward and reached out his arms. In one smooth movement, he hauled me upward and he pulled me into his lap, making sure that my back was pressing into his chest. He leaned backwards, lifted his right thigh upward, and promptly placed me there. His other leg spread outward. His warm skin pressed into my back. I could feel the hard outline of muscles as I sat there. I squirmed.

"This isn't fair." I murmured. 

"Sure it is." 

"How do you figure?"

"I dragged you over here, fair and square." He smirked. He pressed a kiss to the back of my shoulder. I rolled my eyes as I turned to look at the window. Rain beat down against the empty city. Clouds drifted across the sky, leaving several patches visible. 

"The stars are different here." I said. 

"Hmm?"

"The stars." I lifted my hand upward. I pointed toward the window to show him what I meant. "Pegasus is supposed to be right there. It's gone. The only one there is Andromeda."

Andromeda. The chained woman. 

The irony was not lost upon me. 

My ring was my chain; Miguel my warden. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to take the ring off or to truly push him away.

He pressed another kiss against my back. This time, I could feel the stubble of his jaw scrape against my skin. 

"You're warm." I murmured. He smiled against my skin. 

"I'm glad." He gently sucked on the soft piece of skin. I gasped, feeling his fangs graze for a moment. Though, by the time the sound had left my lips, he had already pulled back. 

"Sorry." He said. He inspected his handiwork on my flesh, making sure that he had not broken the skin.

I glanced over my shoulder, watching him as he slid his fingers along the skin of my back. He was enjoying getting to touch me. He could still see the novelty in how new it was.

When he shifted under me, I felt the hard shape of his erection brush the back of my thigh.

Without thinking, I glanced over my shoulder again. I leaned backward, moving until my back touched his chest. I looked up at him. His eyes were warm and soft. 

"What?" He asked. Without a word, I kissed him. He sighed against my mouth, moving slowly and carefully. As he did, I felt a familiar want beginning to stir inside of me. Slowly, I pulled away from him. I then tried to move off of his leg and was mildly surprised when he didn't try to hold me down. Instead, I lifted my hips upward and began to rearrange myself in the water, moving so that one leg sat on either side of his hips. 

I slid my legs around his waist and then pushed myself closer to him. The bottom of the cast iron tub was slick beneath us. It was hard to arrange myself in the water, but somehow I managed. Miguel leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against my lips. As he did, I lifted my hands upward and grabbed his shoulders for leverage.

“Careful, careful.” Miguel said. He placed a hand on the curve of my back to make sure that I didn’t slip in the water. 

“Aww, so you can be nice.” 

I smiled as I slid my hands across his strong shoulders. I could feel all of the muscles flex under my fingertips. A soft smirk painted his lips. God, he was gorgeous. It wasn't fair for one person to look this perfect.

But, looking at him, he looked like he was bone tired.

He leaned in for another kiss, but I bobbed backward. He already looked clean enough; I wanted to tell him to get out of the water and go to bed.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He looked hard at my face, searching for something in my features. But, before I could speak, he followed it up with another question. "Are you scared of me?" He asked. 

"What?" It caught me off guard.

"You heard me. Are you?" 

A little bit. 

"I don't think you would hurt me." I said. It wasn’t a lie.

“I would never hurt you.” His hands drifted to my face. Gently, his traced his fingers along the curve of my jaw, taking in every feature. “But, are you scared of me?” 

I knew exactly what he was referring to. The eyes, the fangs, even the sheer size of him was intimidating. But, under all of that, he was still just Miguel. Even if he wasn’t my version of him, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. 

“No.” I said. He offered a faint smile that didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t believe me, but he seemed grateful that I would be willing to tell him what he wanted. 

“I love you.” He said. 

“I love you, too.” He smiled at my words. I knew that it would make him happy to hear them. They were only three little words, yet they seemed to mean everything to him. 

As I watched his face, I couldn't help but notice how exhausted he looked.

"You look tired. You didn’t sleep last night. You haven’t slept any of the other nights, either. I woke up to go to the bathroom around four and you were still awake. " I said. 

“Yes, I did sleep.”

“I saw you… Please just be honest with me.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“No, you never are.” He rolled his eyes at the accusation. “Why don’t you ever sleep?” I asked. Rain continued its assault on the roof, growing louder as the storm reached its peak.

“I usually can’t.” Thunder rolled so loud that I looked toward the window. 

“Bad dreams.” A dark tendril of hair fell across his forehead. I reached forward and gently brushed it out of the way. 

“About what?”

He shook his head before he pressed another kiss against my lips. That was his way of changing the conversation. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. His hand snaked between our naked bodies. Without hesitation, he grazed my clit with the pad of one of his fingers.

I gasped at the sudden touch. But, I didn’t move away. His index finger swirled over the bundle of nerves, forcing my toes to curl. I inched my body closer to him, begging for him not to stop. 

He rubbed faster and faster. I could feel myself getting closer to finishing. Miguel watched me with a burning intensity; his eyes were dark lust as he worked. I ground my hips against his fingers, feeling the pleasure beginning to grow in my lower stomach.

Suddenly, it overtook me. I gasped and almost fell forward from how suddenly a blinding warmth shot through me. Each touch was too much; it felt like I was on fire. Miguel caught me before I could tumble off of his body. He held me as I twitched on top of him, spasming from his gentle touches.

As I began to drift back down from the orgasm, I could feel his cock as it lay against his stomach. He was painfully hard. Every time I would bob a little too far forward in the water, I would brush into it, feeling just how desperate he was. 

“I think it’s time to call it a night.” I whispered.

“You don’t want to stay in here with me, sweetheart?” His voice was velvety and sweet; his little nickname for me was lined with lust.

“No, because I’m not on birth control. You’re going to end up knocking me up.” I said it partially as a joke. 

He didn’t laugh.

Oh.

“Miguel.”

“We have children in every universe.” He said it so softly and calmly that it was as if he was saying the sun was yellow and the sky was blue. It simply was the way of the universe; it was how things were and always would be. 

“We didn’t in mine.” I said.

“Because he died. Besides, it wasn’t for a lack of trying.” My face turned bright red. There was something in the way that he said the last part that raised a suspicion I hadn't had before.

“Were you ever watching?” I asked. 

“Not from outside of the window or anything like that, but I did catch… glimpses in your timeline.”

“Miguel!”

“I was working!” He defended himself. “I never watched went out of my way to watch you two when you were… intimate. The only times that I ever spied on you were when you were alone.”

“What do you mean when I was alone?” I remembered the photos of me that I had found in the box. 

“When he was at work and I thought something would happen to you; when I was worried about you.”

He was telling the truth, at least as far as I could tell. 

“Why didn’t you ever spy on him and I?” I asked. I expected him to say that he respected me too much to do that. Then again, he treated me like a pet, so it was rather questionable how much he respected me.

“Jealousy, mostly.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve been alone for a long time, sweetheart. He had you and he was always working; he was always gone.” He said.

“You’re always gone, too.” He frowned at the statement. 

Maybe all of the versions of him truly were the same. Based on how he winced, he seemed to be considering that fact.

“He couldn’t protect you because he was never there.” He said.

“Nothing happened to me. There was nothing to protect me from.” 

“But there could have been.” He was obsessed with the idea that I was fragile. Which, I mean, compared to him, I was. But he still didn’t have to be this worried. 

He was haunted by the idea of me dying and obsessed with the idea of saving me. Maybe it was to make up for his past failures.

“I’ve lost you in countless timelines. I could never risk it.” He winced. “But, you’re here now and you’re safe. You’ll always be mine and I’ll always be yours.” He said. We belonged to each other, whenever or wherever we were. The notion both charmed and chilled me. But, one of those feelings quickly won over the other. Or maybe it was just the lingering effects of the previous orgasm.

“Do you want me?” I asked. I was hoping to sound sexy; I just sounded pathetic. 

“More than anything.” 

I leaned forward and gently grabbed his cock. He groaned, lifting his hips  upward so that I could have better access. I slid my hand up and down several times before I moved my body closer to him. As I moved, he held onto me, making sure that I didn’t slip in the tub. I carefully lined him up with my entrance, feeling another wave of want wash through me. I curled one arm around his shoulder. 

“Ready?” He asked. I nodded quickly as I clung to him.

I whimpered when he slid inside. My fingers dug into his shoulders. He groaned as he sunk all the way in. I felt my body stretch, trying to accommodate him. 

After a moment, I pushed my legs into the tub and lifted myself upward. He curled one arm around my waist, watching me in wonder and awe as I slid down again, making us both groan. 

I lifted one hand off of his shoulder. His body had been through enough tonight. I didn't want to risk the one-in-a-million chance that I grabbed onto a sore spot. I gripped the cold edge of the tub to balance myself. But, just as suddenly as I had placed it there, it was pulled off. Miguel pulled my hand into his, lacing our fingers together. 

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against my lips. I smiled, giving into his mouth. The kiss was brief; it was broken when I gasped against him mouth, feeling a warm pleasure begin to grow inside of me.

I bounced my hips, feeling him hit deep with every movement. I moaned. My stomach was beginning to tighten. 

He tightened his hold on my hand. One of his fingers brushed over the ring that I was still wearing.

I was his. I belonged to him. 

As if he could read my mind, he pressed his lips against mine again. 

When he pulled away, he said "Open your eyes."

I did as told. My eyes met his as I slid downward on his cock. Then, before my body could meet his, he thrusted upward, making me gasp.

"Keep looking at me." He said. I nodded as I lifted my hips upward. He groaned, quickly burying himself deep inside of me. He wanted to watch the way my face twitched with pleasure when he fucked me. He wanted to see what he did to me; what power he had over me.

I tightened my hold on his hand. If he was a normal man, I was sure I would have accidentally broken one of his fingers from how hard I was gripping him. 

I lifted my hips, then brought them down on him just as he slammed inside of me. We did it over and over again, forcing out gasps and moans from each other. 

“Miguel, I’m close! Don’t stop!” I moaned. I was so damn close. I could feel the tightening in my lower stomach every time he sheathed himself inside of me.

Then, all at once, I felt a wave of heat wash over me.

I gasped, clenching around him as I came undone. Pleasure coursed through my body, making my toes curl and my head fall back. Miguel pressed a kiss to the base of my throat as he hammered inside of me, not stopping his pace.

After a moment, he let out a low groan. He moaned my name and I was suddenly very aware of the warm fluid that filled me. It was leaking down my upper thighs and into the water around us.

The pleasure began to fade away. I gasped, trying to catch the breath that I had been holding. Miguel smiled and leaned back against the tub, his body tired and spent. A mixture of sweat and water glistened against his skin. 

It was around three in the morning. I could feel the exhaustion beginning to sink into my bones.

I moved to climb off of him, but just as he had last time, he held me in place. One hand held my hips in place, pinning me on top of him. I sighed, giving up any notion of fighting. It was useless; his grip was ironclad.

"Let me hold you... just for a little while." His voice was soft. His other hand drifted to the curve of my back. He pulled me forward, moving me until my chest lay against his. 

"I'm tired." I murmured. 

"I know, sweetheart."

I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could hear his heart in my ear. Its strumming was low and steady. His skin was warm. "I missed you." he said. 

I wasn't sure if he was talking to me directly, or some distant memory of me. But I would take what I could get. 

"I missed you, too." 

He pressed a gentle kiss against my damp hair. Outside, lightning cut across the sky. 

@levisbebe @amplsblog​ @spider-biter​ @taleiak​ @ladyfairenvale​ (I tried to tag everyone who asked! I’m sorry if I missed you!)

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [17]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: losing tempers, arguing, mentions of alcohol and a bit of binge drinking, angst, people getting drunk

Word Count: 15k (i am so so so sorry, i know y'all said you wanted long but this is probably insane. i just needed to end it in that specific place to get the theme i wanted to touch on finished😭 i think you'll like the content if you can bear through it lolol)

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night,  you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a  far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be  exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you  fall more  and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant  for everyone.

#17: CLOSE YOUR EYES, NER KAR'TA

"to be in love with you is to know that even on the days you make me so mad i could scream, i still want to kiss the hell out of your face." ⏤Beau Taplin. "it's the way you wrinkle your nose when you're disappointed in me."

a/n: y'all would not believe the trouble tumblr gave me in posting this smh anyways sorry again this is stupid long (i did warn y'all im a mouthy motherfucker) but hopefully it can make up for the absolutely heartbreaking episode we all suffered thru today :)

.

“If I asked you to kick Karga’s ass, would you?”

“Without hesitation, ner kar’ta.”

You couldn’t help but snicker under your breath at his quick answer. Din was lying reclined in the cot beside you with Grogu napping on his chest. It was an entertaining contrast. The soft father rubbing his son’s back as the child snored while promising immediate violence at a single word from you. The awkwardness of yesterday morning seemed to have dispersed after your confession to him. Add to that the fact that Nima was sleeping in a medically induced coma on the cot you sat on the edge of, and you were on cloud nine. There was still a ways to go and you hated that your close friend⏤ your family⏤ had been injured in such a traumatizing way, but her arm would be saved.

The bacta tank had healed what it needed to. It fixed bone, muscle, and tissue nearly 80%. You didn’t want to risk letting the tank manage the injury to the full 100%. Repairing hand injuries was a tricky thing simply because the tendons and muscles in the hand were so complicated. You’d rather set her hand the old fashioned way⏤ make sure she didn’t lose any function. Nima would be devastated if her dexterity was compromised. Her job, her passion, relied on her hands.

“Anything else I can add to our to-do list today other than fighting the High Magistrate of Nevarro?” Din asked with a hum.

You grinned at him. “I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”

Din nodded his head once. Your eyes glanced down at the hardware holding Nima’s hand motionless so it could heal properly. You had already adjusted them, applied a healing paste, then wrapped it, but you couldn't help but re-check your work over and over again. Your obsessive behavior came in handy when Karga had stepped in ten minutes or so ago to check in on Nima. Though his ‘checking in’ had turned into offering you a job once more. It seemed like every type of denial you had he had a counterpoint.

Your main one being that legally you weren’t allowed to practice medicine. You still had a license because the trial questioning whether or not you were ethically to blame for Soran’s death had ended in your favor. However, one stipulation⏤ which had come from a psychological evaluation the hospital made you go through after you were attacked⏤ was that until Kurt’s trial was over you shouldn’t be in the position of making medical decisions. It had been something you were more than happy to abide by as you ran from your life.

Karga’s cheeky reply had been that he was the High Magistrate and as such he could allow you to do anything you wanted to do. Especially if that thing you wanted to do was be his city’s physician. 

A thought formed in your mind and you huffed out a sigh. You could see Din tilt his head toward you in question. You faced him, “Would I be crazy for considering taking Karga up on his offer?”

“I wouldn’t say crazy.” Din replied. “But why? I don’t want you to feel obligated because Karga won’t leave you alone.”

“It’s not that.” You said. The thought grew in your mind, a chaotic frenzy that wouldn’t leave you alone. “If I hadn’t been here, Nima would’ve lost her arm. She might have even died. I stopped that.” Din remained silent and let you think aloud. “I can keep making that difference. I have to. If I don’t then… If something terrible happens then isn’t that my fault?”

Din sat up, holding Grogu to his chest so the boy didn’t fall, “No. No, it’s not. Thinking like that, taking on that guilt, isn’t healthy.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed so he was sitting up and facing you. “Don’t make a decision based on guilt, ner kar’ta.”

“I guess you’re right.” You mumbled.

He stayed silent for a beat before reaching a hand out to you. You stood and took the singular step that would get you close enough to settle your hand in his. Din pulled you forward so you stood between his legs. The cot was on a lower setting which left you staring down at Din while he was forced to tilt his head to stare up at you. 

“Take guilt out of it. Pretend like you’re one of many that Karga is trying to hire for this job.” Din said. You lifted the hand Din wasn’t holding so you could scratch Grogu’s head. His mid-afternoon nap would be over soon and he’d be awake and bouncing off the walls with energy. “Would getting this job make you happy?”

You pondered over the question. There was a thrill in medicine. One you quite enjoyed when you weren’t forced to care for the people who meant the most in the world to you. Plus, thinking long term, you couldn’t be Grogu’s nanny forever. It wasn’t feasible. Not that you wanted out of their lives. You were so entangled in the web of their lives that that was hardly an option anymore. But, if you wanted a real relationship with Din one day, you couldn’t be his employee. You’d have to find a different way to make credits and support yourself. 

“I think so.” You nodded.

“As long as you're happy, then I think you should do it.” Din replied, but the sigh he released didn’t match the approval of his words. “I just don’t want you to make yourself sick with stress.”

“Worrywart.” You teased. Din chuckled and the rumbling in his chest must have roused Grogu. The boy began to rub his face against the metal he was lying on sleepily. You ran a finger alongside his ear. “Hi, baby boy. Was buir too loud? Did he wake you up?”

Grogu mumbled, then turned with outstretched arms. Din lifted him as you reached out. When you pulled the small child to your chest he leaned his head against your shoulder but you knew he wasn’t sleep based on the way he let his small fingers rub against your shoulder back and forth⏤ just like you and Din would do to him. Grogu was mumbling soft words you didn’t recognize.

“Mhmm, tell mama all about it.” You hummed.

Din’s hands had rested on your hips when he didn’t have Grogu to hold. His thumbs tracing circles over your shirt right above your belt. He nodded, “Do you want children of your own one day?”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his sudden question. It was the last direction you expected this conversation to go. Your jaw popped open slightly. “Uh, wh⏤what?”

“Just curious.” Din shrugged nonchalantly.

To be honest, you had never given it any thought. That was a future decision for future you to make. While in training, you told yourself it wouldn’t be something you needed to even think about until after training was over. Then when you were working in the hospital, you told yourself you needed to get settled in your job first. Finally, your life spiraled apart and during the last year that was hardly something that was on your mind. It was funny that you went full circle and all of that led you to standing in Nevarro’s clinic thinking about a future with children of your own. 

Taking care of Grogu was an experience that had given you more factors and variables to consider, but still you weren’t sure what to say. You shook your head and spoke the truth. “To be honest, I haven’t thought much about it.”

“You’re so good with Grogu, is all.” Din replied.

“What about you?” You paused. “Er, that’s not what I⏤ Obviously you already have a child. You have Grogu.” Din chuckled at your babbling. “I meant, would you want… more?”

Din tilted his head and a very casual nod. “I think so. I like the idea of a big family.”

“Do you have siblings?” You asked suddenly. “I’m realizing just now that I don’t know a lot about your life before Nevarro⏤ other than Grogu and the bounty hunting.”

“No siblings.” Din shook his head. “Not by blood at least. After I was brought in by the Mandalorians, as a foundling, I grew up with a few other kids I considered to be siblings on Concordia.”

“Wait, you were a foundling? Like Grogu?”

“Yes.” Din nodded. “I was born on Aq Ventina, but when I was young… My town was destroyed in a Separatist attack. Battle droids destroyed everything. They… I lost my parents. I would’ve been killed myself if a Mandalorian hadn’t saved me.”

You stepped around him so you could sit down on the cot beside Din. He followed your movements with his t-shape visor. You lifted the hand not holding Grogu to settle on his knee. “Din, I am so sorry. I had no idea, I⏤ I wouldn’t have asked⏤ I shouldn’t have asked⏤”

“It’s alright, ner kar’ta.” Din chuckled and set his hand on top of yours. “I knew you didn’t know, but I wanted you to know. Besides, I started this line of questioning.” He squeezed his fingers around your own. “I know you said you were from Naboo. Can you tell me more? Do you still have family there?”

You fell into a casual conversation with him telling him about the family you still had there. Sharing a few memories that couldn't help but slip out when they came to mind. You felt bad that you were talking about happy memories when Din had just admitted to a tragedy, but he continued to ask question after question leading you into them. Which led to him sharing a few memories of his own from both worlds that he walked. Din lingered on a story about his parents⏤ a happy one he held close to his heart based on the soft tone he spoke in.

“How much do you remember of them?” You asked.

“Enough to know they were good parents.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to spend more time with them.” You replied softly.

In response, Din lifted the hand on top of yours to bury it in the hair at the nape of your neck. He leaned you toward him and set his forehead against yours. The two of you only remained that way for a moment before Grogu sat up and rested one hand on your cheek and the other on his father’s.

“Skraan.” He blurted. Din and you broke apart, laughing, but Grogu was solely serious as he repeated himself. “Skraan, skraan, skraan.”

Din knew what he had to do. The part he was struggling with was the how. Oddly, in his mind, the first step was going to be the hardest bit. Steps two through whatever included taking the N1 out to Mandalore, find the living waters, bathe in said living waters, bring back proof to the Armorer, be redeemed in the eyes of his Covert, return to you as a full fledged Mandalorian rather than Apostate, and request to court you properly. Simple. Easy to remember. Din didn’t even need to write it down. However, step one involved telling you that he was leaving Nevarro and that was going to be tough.

At first he thought he’d just bring you with him, but then you told him you wanted to try being Nevarro’s physician. Din couldn’t pull you away from your home right as you had grown comfortable enough with your past to retry medicine. So, that was out. Then, when he had worked up the courage to say good-bye, Cara quit. That one had caught Din off guard. It happened days after Nima’s accident. Cara claimed she got an offer to be part of special forces with the New Republic⏤ an offer she couldn’t turn down. She even took the time to remind him that this was never a permanent thing anyways. 

However, Cara left in the dead of night without even taking the time to wait until Nima woke up. Din didn’t believe that was a coincidence. He was more than familiar with the concept of running from emotions. When Nima finally did wake up, the look of heartbreak on her features when he had to answer her question of where Cara was had been tough to handle. Din reminded himself that his plan was not the same as Cara’s. He was not leaving you to stay away. Din was not running from you. If anything he was running to you. He just wanted to be the very best version of himself before propositioning you, and Din wanted to do this right.

Before he left, he was going to explain this to you⏤ in great detail. And, if you truly meant what you said about allowing him to uphold his Creed, you’d understand. Din repeated that to himself over and over again like a mantra.

Regardless of how that played out, Din was stuck. It was one thing when he was leaving Nevarro short one marshal temporarily. Now the city would be missing him and Cara, and in good conscious he couldn’t let that be.

Mayfeld, hands laced behind his head as his feet were kicked up on his desk, called out. “Come on, Mando. What? You don’t trust me to hold down the fort while you’re gone?”

“Exactly.”

“Uh, ow.” Mayfeld complained. “You could’ve at least pretended to think about it before answering so fast.”

Din chuckled under his breath. Honestly, his relationship with Mayfeld had come a long way. How he felt now was a stark difference in comparison to how badly Din wanted to shoot him in the face when they first met. After what happened on Morak, after revealing his face in front of Mayfeld, Din truly respected the man⏤ trusted him. The truth is he would never forgive himself to leave Mayfeld here to deal with all the responsibilities alone. That wasn’t fair to his friend. All those facts didn’t deter Din from mocking and mildly bullying the man though. That was much too fun to give up.

“I have a friend flying in today to baby-sit you.”

“Nice. Got me a nanny too?” Mayfeld replied. “Hope she’s as pretty as yours.”

Din knew the man was only trying to rile him up, and he technically had picked the exact topic that could do it. But, Din didn’t take the bait. He shrugged. “He’s not really my type, but I’ll let you make the call on that.”

“Alright. So I’ll be the Marshal, and he’ll be my Deputy?”

“No. He’ll be Marshal, and you’ll still be Deputy.”

Mayfeld dropped his feet off the desk, hands falling to his side, and his jaw popped open in shock. “Hold on! The new guy gets to be Marshal before I do?? You’re just gonna promote him over me? Immediately.”

“Exactly.”

The man scoffed in response and crossed his arms like a petulant child. It reminded Din of the way Grogu would pout when you told him you couldn’t snack on cookies or cakes right before dinner time or when Din would wrestle a full sized critter out of his son’s mouth before Grogu could swallow it whole. Mayfeld shoved up from his seat to cross the room and pour himself a cup of caf. Din stayed where he was⏤ leaning against Cara’s old desk.

“You tell your girl that you’re leaving yet? Or is that still a secret?”

“I’m going to tell her.” Din said firmly.

Mayfeld slurped out of his mug, purposely trying to annoy him, “You said that four days ago, then three days ago, then two⏤”

“Keep talking and I’ll demote you from Deputy.”

“Is there even a level below deputy??”

“I can make one.” Din replied dryly. A wide grin crossed Mayfeld’s face and Din shook his head with a grumble. “Today. I’ll tell her today.” Mayfeld just stared at him from above the rim of his mug. Din pushed off the desk. “I’m going to do it.”

Mayfeld shrugged in response and Din resisted the urge to throw something at the man. He huffed and turned to leave. Mayfeld called out behind him, a teasing comment, and Din threw him a crude hand gesture over his shoulder causing the man to burst out in laughter. 

It barely took him any time to get from the station to the clinic. When he stepped through the front doors he was greeted by Aayla and one other worker he wasn’t familiar with. The Twi’lek waved him in and hit a button on the desk to unlock the backroom doors. It was the sound of your voice that greeted him first.

“⏤and if you pull those staples out, you’ll be dealing with me.” You stood at the end of a bed with your hands on your hips and your face drawn in concentration. Aayla had found and wrestled you into a white coat when you started and Din would be lying if he said he didn’t like the look on you. Din especially liked watching you take control of a room. You could command a scene with voice and stare alone, and Din really, really liked watching you do it.

“Baby girl,” A vaguely familiar voice chimed and Din frowned at the nickname, “Dealing with you would be my absolute pleasure.”

Din stepped further into the room to see that a worker from the hanger, a Trandoshan man he couldn’t recall the name of, was sitting on a cot with a long cut from wrist to elbow. A line of staples was holding it closed. Din crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Yeah? How about dealing with me?”

The Trandoshan looked to him at the same time you did, and he found it comical how different the reactions were. Your face split into a bright, gorgeous smile while the hangar worker stiffened up and averted his eyes.

“Well, hi there, Marshal.” You cooed and stuck your hands into the pockets of your white coat.

“Do we have a problem?” Din asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

You turned to look at your patient and raised an eyebrow in question. The Trandoshan glanced at him before looking back to you and shaking his head rapidly. You nodded and reached out to set a hand on Din’s forearm. “I think we’re okay here.”

“Can⏤ Can I⏤?” The worker pointed to the door.

“Yupp. Keep it dry. Come back in a week, and I’ll see if you’re healed enough to take the staples out.”

The Trandoshan jumped up but paused when he realized he was going to have to pass Din in order to get out. Even though Din was technically blocking the way, he kept his position so the man was forced to squeeze around him. When the man was finally out, your laugh filled the air and Din sighed in admiration. You shrugged, smile still in place, “That was kind of fun.”

“How’re you doing?” Din asked.

“I’m okay.” You nodded and then scrunched your nose once. “It’s so weird. I’m still not used to this, but at the same time I am?” You motioned around yourself. “It’s familiar, but it’s not. Am I crazy?”

Din shook his head, “Of course not.”

“Hmm,” You took a step closer to him so you had to lift your face to meet his visor, “I think you’re biased.”

He grinned under his helmet then shrugged. “Maybe.”

“So, what can I do for you, Marshal?”

“Have you had lunch yet?” He asked, and you shook your head in response. “Can I walk with you to get some? You aren’t busy are you?”

You shrugged out of your white coat and tossed it onto a cot. “That’s the beauty of working for a man who is super desperate to keep you around. I can do what I want.” Din chuckled and followed you out of the room. As you passed the front desk, you called out, “Aayla, I’m going. Just call me if any real emergencies come in. Okay?”

“You got it, doc!”

As you both stepped out, Din offered you his arm and you slipped yours through it. He nodded back toward the clinic. “Who is the new girl?”

“Miriam.” You answered. “Aayla is training her to work the front desk so I can train Aayla. She’ll be able to help me with little stuff. I think she’s got a lot of potential.” Din nodded toward a stand merchant who greeted him first. “We’ll be able to see more if I have an assistant, but we still can’t do any routine kind of work. Karga still needs to get another physician to work that side of things.”

Din hummed. “I hear he’s working on it, but I’ll… encourage him to work faster.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” You shook your head. “I can be plenty annoying on my own. You should’ve seen how much I bothered Admin back in Coruscant when I wanted them to buy the emergency department a whole set of ultrasounds.”

Din could imagine the scene and he wished he could’ve seen it. He’d have to make sure he had a front row seat for when you began to hound Karga for this. Without even discussing it, it seemed you both had the same sandwich place in mind⏤ the one that sold the cookies Grogu liked. Din didn’t bother ordering for himself. He wasn’t overly hungry. He mostly just wanted to spend time with you and make sure you took a break to eat. Din watched as you greeted the owners by name and after ordering your food you ordered a pack of cookies for Grogu as well. He could barely even pay attention to the conversation at hand because he was so busy watching you.

Even when the owners offered you the meal for free as a thank you for taking the job in town, you insisted on paying the full price. As you walked out, you frowned at him. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”

“I’m fine, ner kar’ta.” He replied. Din planned finding a bench where you could sit and eat⏤ you had commented about how much you loved the current weather this morning⏤ but the sound of his communicator made him groan.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

Din lifted his vambrace to see he was being hailed to the hanger. “Oh. I have a, uh, friend visiting today. He’s here early.”

“Really?” Your eyes widened.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I have to go meet him.”

Din had begun to pull his arm away, but you kept your grip around it and briefly bit down on your lower lip drawing all his attention to the shape of the lips he loved so much⏤ the lips that haunted his every dream. You pleaded, “Can I please come with you?”

“You want to?” Din was surprised.

“Yeah!” You bounced in place. “I’d love to meet your friend. I mean, if that’s okay?”

“Always. You should start eating while we walk.” Din nodded.

You snickered. “Okay. Bossy.”

Din’s eyes snapped to you, and he chuckled. The two of you changed direction toward the hanger. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t going to meet Cobb Vanth eventually.

The week had gone shockingly well. Better than you could’ve hoped, but then again your expectations were incredibly low. Working in the emergency clinic was actually enjoyable. Karga had tried to rope you into doing everything, but you put a hard stop on that for obvious reasons. Nevarro was still relatively small so when it came to emergencies⏤ there really were not many emergencies. Only a patch up job here and there like with the Trandoshan this morning. Again the bar was low considering you started this job with Nima nearly losing her arm.

Nima had been doing very well physically, but, as much as she tried to hide it, emotionally she had taken a toll. You weren’t sure why Cara left so abruptly. Din and you had talked about it in depth one night after dinner and he seemed to think it was because she had cared too much for Nima too fast. The only opinion you had on the matter was that Cara had certainly gotten on your bad side. You were loyal to your oldest friend and it irked you beyond belief that the once deputy of Nevarro had left when Nima needed her most.

“Where’s your friend from?” You asked as Din and you neared the landing pad.

“Tatooine.”

“Ah, my neck of the woods.”

Din chuckled. “Were you even there long enough to call it your neck of the woods?”

“I lived in Mos Espa for at least half a year. In Tatooine years, that feels like a decade.” You replied and the laugh that left him made your cheeks warm. 

He glanced over at you, your arm still looped through his, “What made you choose Tatooine, anyways?”

“It’s kind of a depressing answer. Definitely a mood killer.” You winced. Din’s feet came to an abrupt stop and he turned so he was facing you entirely. You should’ve guessed he’d have that kind of reaction. You shook your head. “I took care of a patient who said Mos Espa was where lowlifes and runaways escaped to when they had no other world to call home. So…” You shrugged. “I went to Mos Espa.”

“Ner kar’ta⏤”

“I don’t feel that way now. A lot has changed, and I’m not the person who initially fled to Tatooine,” You said quickly, “But you asked why I went, so I said.” With your next words, you kept your voice low so only he could hear you. “I promise I’m okay, Din.”

Din gave you a curt nod. With an amused shake of your head, you slipped your arm through his once more and tugged him toward the landing pad. The Mandalorian warrior let you drag him along, and you could’ve swore he was dragging his feet on purpose to make it more difficult for you. The chuckle that left his helmet confirmed this for you. 

“How long is your friend staying for?” You asked, and Din stayed quiet. “And is his visit a social call? I imagine he’s heartbroken being away from the sands of Tatooine.”

Din’s feet came to a stop once more, but this time it came as a surprise. You paused with him and gave him a curious look. He tilted his head. “About that, I wanted to talk to you about⏤”

“Mando!”

You and Din both turned at the voice. Walking in your direction was a very familiar face. Cobb Vanth? The marshal of Mos Pelgo was a far way from home, but he looked no different than the day you last saw him. His signature red scarf around his neck acting as a homing beacon for your eyes. Vanth’s eyes were initially focused on Din, but then they dragged over to you and he shook his head in surprise.

“Little lady!? Is that you??” Vanth grinned. 

Din and you both snapped to look at one another again rather than the new arrival. At the same time, the same words left your lips. “You know Cobb Vanth!?”

Vanth spread his arms out as he continued to approach, a large duffel bag hanging from his back, “Well, ain’t this a surprise!”

The shock wore off and it finally occurred to you that Cobb Vanth was here. Right here, right in front of you. You let out a laugh and rushed to meet him halfway. He greeted you by wrapping his arms around you in a tight grin⏤ a laugh leaving him as well. What felt like another lifetime ago, you had met Cobb Vanth on your arrival to Tatooine. Though your plan had been to settle in Mos Espa you had accidentally ended up in Mos Eisley. In an attempt to get from one place to the other you got lost in the desert briefly after the land speeder you rented ran out of fuel halfway. It had been your fault for trusting the man you got the speeder from. Rather than dying you were saved by the man you were now hugging. Vanth had even been kind enough to get you to Mos Espa eventually.

You pulled away from Vanth. “It’s so good to see you! You look great.”

“Oh, I know, darling.” Vanth winked. “But still not holding a flame to you.” You chuckled and a hand settled on your shoulder. Din had walked over and you took a step back so you stood right beside him. Vanth motioned to the Mandalorian. “You never told me you knew Mando.”

“I didn’t back when I was with you, Vanth.” You glanced between the two men. “How do you guys know each other?”

Vanth readjusted the bag around his shoulders. “Now that, little lady, is quite the story.” He continued on talking about how Din came looking for a Mandalorian and found Vanth decked out in Mandalorian armor. He followed it by describing how Din ended up flying into a krayt dragon to kill it from inside out. A detail you did not love to hear. “We’ve been best buddies since. Right, pal?”

Din didn’t respond. You were still in awe at the coincidence of it all. You missed your Mandalorian by literal months. Din had swung through Mos Pelgo right before you had. What would’ve happened if you met him then rather than now? 

“Mando?” Vanth questioned. Waving his hand once in front of the helmet. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Din replied and you wondered where the tension in his voice had come from. You slipped your arm around his once more and he seemed to relax marginally. He cleared his throat before nodding. “How was your trip, Vanth?”

Vanth’s lips stretched back out into a charming grin. “Hey, I can’t complain. Gotta say Nevarro looks better than I thought it would. I’m excited to explore it.” He chuckled. “The weather ain’t too bad either. I was worried I’d miss that desert air.”

“Don’t worry. These lava plains are plenty hot enough.” You replied. “How long are you here for?”

“Suppose 'til Mando here gets back.”

It took a second for the words to register in your mind, but Din picked it up much faster based on the way his entire body tensed once more. Until he gets back. Gets back? You slowly pulled your arm away from so you could turn and look at him. Before your hand could fall away entirely, Din caught it with his own⏤ holding it against his arm. 

“Wait⏤”

“You’re going somewhere?” You furrowed your brow in confusion. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a trip. Din paused and somehow his hesitance irritated you. “Where?”

Din sighed. “Mandalore.”

Your eyes widened, “Manda⏤ The Mandalore that may or may not be poisoned still?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Okay.” You replied. “Alright.” You pulled your hand out from under Din’s hand and shot Vanth a quick, firm smile. “It was really good to see you, Vanth. Welcome to Nevarro! I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” Din took a step toward you, his nickname for you leaving his lips, but you took a step back. “I need to get back to work, but I’ll see you at home?”

You didn’t give him the chance to answer and turned to leave. If Din called out after you, you didn’t hear him. Your footsteps were rushed as you tried to wrap your head around the information you had just learned. Were you angry? Maybe. It wasn’t a clear cut anger though⏤ it was muddled. There were too many other emotions swirling in your head, but the main one that started to push to the front was disappointment. Every time you thought you understood where you stood with Din it seemed like something happened that made you question it all. Had he just planned on leaving the planet without telling you? Or maybe he wanted to wait until the last second and just wave to you as he took off, or hang a note on the fridge for you to find the morning of. Even if you weren’t in this weird back and forth romantic thing with him, as someone who literally lived in his home and helped care for his child you were incredibly involved in his life. If you were a team, then you needed to know the plan.

More irritation boiled up in your blood, and you found yourself changing direction from the clinic to a familiar house. Your fist was banging on Nima’s door before you fully even registered what it was you wanted to say. Nima opened the door, in her pajamas, and your eyes glanced at the metal brace surrounding her right arm out of habit. 

Nima deflated and whined, “Please, please, please, please tell me you’re here to clear me for work.”

“No. Two more weeks. I’m not changing my mind on that.” You replied and she groaned. “I’m here because apparently Marshal Mando is leaving the planet and hired a replacement marshal but didn’t think to tell me any of this.”

“Come on in. I have alcohol.”

“I told you! I told you⏤ didn’t I tell you??” Mayfeld cried then spun to look at Vanth who was leaning against the wall. “I kriffing told him. Days ago.”

“Please stop talking.” Din groaned as he hung his head back while slouching in the seat. Din thought that the worst part of learning you and Vanth already knew one another would be the tight hug you literally ran to give him. Vanth had pulled you up off your toes in the hug, and the primal side of him yearned for a fight. His hand literally twitched toward his blaster⏤ his kriffing blaster. As if he was going to shoot down his good friend Cobb Vanth who left his town to do him a favor. 

Din had a problem. He was a problem. Growing up the way he had, with the losses he faced, he tended to be possessive of what he considered his own. Din liked to think over the years he had gotten good at reigning that behavior in. He didn’t shoot Vanth, after all. Still, that side of him didn’t hesitate in rearing it’s ugly head in moments like when he watched Cobb Vanth hold you for what he considered to be a second too long. It wasn’t until your arm slipped through his, a soft smile on your face, that he felt the logical side of him slip back into control.

Then, of course, it all went downhill when Vanth accidentally admitted the thing he had yet to tell you. Watching that smile fall off your features, feeling you try to slowly pull away, felt like he had taken blunt force trauma to the chest. It physically hurt and left a raw, aching wound and it only got worse as he watched you walk away. Din put the pain pretty high on the list of ones he experienced, and this was coming from someone who had a job that led him to be stabbed repeatedly. 

“I am sorry about that, Mando.” Vanth spoke up.

“It’s not your fault.” Din straightened his posture and shook his head. “I should’ve told her ages ago. That’s on me.” Vanth had apologized to him multiple times during the walk from the tarmac to the station. He’d do so between asking questions about the town that Din was supposed to be giving him a better tour on. Din rested his elbows on knees. It dawned on him that there was a question he hadn’t asked in his distress. “How do you know her?”

Vanth crossed his arms. “It was a couple months after you left, actually. She got lost between Mos Eisley and Mos Espa.” Din’s eyes widened at the thought of you getting lost in that Maker forsaken desert. Vanth chuckled. “Her land speeder ran out of fuel. It was by pure chance I ran into her. She stayed in Mos Pelgo for a few days then I took her the rest of the way to Mos Espa. We stayed in touch though⏤ here and there.”

Briefly, Din wondered what his life would’ve looked like if the two of you had been in Mos Pelgo at the same time. It was a curious thought but he knew both of you had been different people at that time. Even if it, in the great scheme of things, wasn’t that long ago. Less than a year. Then again, as quickly as you had wormed your way in his heart he couldn’t imagine meeting you months ago would’ve been that different. Din sighed and stood, he grabbed a holopad off the desk remembering that despite his dilemma in breaking your heart today he still had work to do. 

“Yeah.” Vanth hummed. “Little lady and I didn’t see each other often, but she’d visit me or I’d visit her for the occasional hook up.”

Din’s head snapped to glare at Vanth and, in an attempt to ensure his hands were free, he slammed the holopad back down onto the desk⏤ ignoring the tell tale sound of cracking glass. Vanth’s lips curled up into a mischievous grin and Din was half tempted to drag him back to the tarmac and ship his ass to Tatooine. Mayfeld burst into laughter and Din just shook his head.

“Sorry, brother.” Vanth chuckled. “I saw how up in arms you got out on the tarmac. Couldn’t help myself.”

“Hilarious.” Din replied. 

Eventually, Mayfeld and Vanth wandered out so the newest temporary marshal could get acquainted with the town and meet Karga. It gave Din a couple of hours to work though he spent most of it internally spiraling over the moment your entire face fell. He hated that he had been the cause of that⏤ just because he had been too scared to fess up. His communicator began to go off and Din answered it.

“Hi, Marshal?” A woman’s voice said. Din confirmed who it was. “This is Ms. Wynn, I’m in charge of Grogu’s class. Everything's still fine, but class ended about twenty minutes ago and I haven’t seen you or Soran. Is everything alright?”

Din shoved up from his desk’s chair. “I’ll be right there.”

On his way out the door, he called Aayla at the clinic to see if you had just gotten caught up with a patient, but the woman claimed she hadn’t seen you since he took you out for lunch. The clinic had been quiet otherwise. Din’s stomach churned uncomfortably as he hurried to pick up his son. Were you alright? Or were you so upset that you refused to even care for Grogu? Din knew the moment that thought crossed his mind that he was wrong. Regardless of how upset you were with him, you’d never take it out on the little boy. Din just hoped you were okay.

You narrowed your eyes at Nima as she downed the last of her beer, “Is this all you’ve been doing all day? Drinking?”

“Well, I can’t work, so…” Nima shrugged. When she offered you a drink you had turned it down, technically still on shift as the physician, but she hadn’t stopped from drinking herself. You had come here to rant about Din, but as it turned out you both had plenty to complain about. For hours, you and her had sat on the back porch of her house . The last thirty minutes or so you were trying to pry information out of Nima about how she felt about the Cara situation, but the mechanic would simply shrug it away. You knew she was hurting more than she claimed though. “Do the skies look gross to you?”

“What?” You blurted and slumped down in your seat.

“The sky. It looks…icky.”

You peered up best you could, and in her defense icky was probably the best word. The day had started clear, but the sky now had a greenish tinge to it. It reminded you of the beginnings of a storm, but you couldn’t see any clouds. You leaned out further to look and by doing so it gave you a clear view of Nima’s kitchen through a side window where you saw a clock resting against her wall. 3:37. Dank farrik. You jumped up.

“Karking⏤ Grogu!” You panicked. Shit, shit, shit. “Stop drinking, Nima.”

She mumbled a confirmation that you didn’t firmly believe then started sprinting back to the center of town. You had never, ever been late to pick up Grogu before. Guilt gnawed at you imagining Grogu looking for you in a crowd of parents and not being able to find you. Maker, how could you lose track of time like that? You got to the school in record time to find that all the kids were gone. Ms. Wynn was cleaning up around a room and she said Din had come and picked him up about ten minutes ago. 

As much as you wanted to avoid Din for a little while longer, you needed to see Grogu so you could apologize to him. On your way in you passed Mayfeld and Vanth who were standing in the lobby. They both raised their hands to greet you and you blew past them without preamble. You were a woman on a mission. 

“Grogu?” You called out, searching the room. Faintly, you could hear Grogu calling back to you and he waddled into the room a second later. You breathed a sigh of relief and knelt down to scoop him up into a hug. “I’m so sorry, baby. I am so, so sorry.”

“No sorry.” Grogu hummed giving your cheek a small pat making you chuckle.

The sound of a throat clearing had you glancing up to see Din leaning against the doorway that would lead back to his office. You were in an odd position because you were still upset at him from leaving you in the dark, but you were also ashamed and embarrassed at missing Grogu’s pick up time.

“Hi.” You mumbled awkwardly.

“I’m sorry.” Din blurted. Your eyes narrowed. Was he not going to address the ‘you abandoned Grogu’ thing first? “I should’ve told you sooner that Grogu and I are going to Mandalore.”

You slowly stood up with the cooing child in your arms. “You and… You’re taking Grogu?? To Mandalore??” If he heard the rising anger in your voice, he didn’t show it. “The planet that, again, we don’t know is even habitable?”

“Of course. Where I go, he goes.” Din shrugged nonchalantly. You blinked once, and Din finally seemed to catch onto at least one of the thoughts you had. “I want you to go, but I can’t pull you away from Nevarro. Not when you just started working in the clinic, and if I did choose to leave Grogu here that would just be added stress for you.”

Right. Because worrying about Din and Grogu on some wasteland of a planet wasn’t a stress factor. You locked your jaw and let out a slow breath through your nose. The boy in your arms seemed to latch onto the tension faster than his father did based on the worried looks he was bouncing between the two of you. Finally, you found your voice, “I forgot Grogu at school. I lost track of time. I⏤”

“It was an accident, I know. I’m not mad.” Din said calmly. 

He wasn’t mad. Din wasn’t mad, and somehow that made you even angrier. A part of you wondered if he was purposely not showing any anger in an attempt to keep you from being angry. One mistake for another mistake. Tit for tat. Maybe he was trying to make up for the fact that he knew he upset you, but you hated the calm demeanor he still seemed to carry. It occurred to you then, that you wanted him to be angry. You wanted to argue. The Mandalorian in front of you was the picture perfect example of composure and it pissed you off.

“You’re not angry.” You enunciated each word.

“Of course not, ner kar’ta.” Din shook his head. He drifted closer. “We should talk more about this trip⏤”

“Why?” You shrugged and pasted a large smile on your face. If he wanted to be composed then you’d be composed too. “I should check on the clinic one last time before heading home. I’ll take Grogu with me. Get as much time with him as I can before you boys go on your little adventure.”

Din shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a nervous tic you usually only saw at home, “Yeah. I might be late getting back. It looks like there might be a volcanic ash storm rolling in soon. Nevarro hasn’t seen one since before the guild left here.”

“No problem.” You said. “I’ll see you at home.”

Din began to take a step toward you, but you turned on your heel to leave with Grogu. You knew you were being petty, but right now you didn’t really care. If the two of you were playing mistake for mistake then this seemed fair too. You were petty to him and he didn’t tell you that he planned to leave you alone on this planet without him or Grogu. Tit for tat.

Din watched you leave with the sinking feeling that the interaction between the two of you had not gone well. Mayfeld stepped in with an incredulous look while Din continued to just stand with his arms crossed over his chest.

Mayfeld scoffed and motioned behind him, “How in the hell did you make it worse?”

Din mumbled a string of curses in every language he was familiar with and pushed past Mayfeld to leave. The man fell into step beside him. As much as he wanted to chase after you, he needed to help get the city prepped for the oncoming storm. Mayfeld, never able to take a hint, shook his head, “I mean, geez Mando. How is it you can string up a quarry in seconds, but can’t figure out how to apologize to a woman?”

“Where is Vanth?” Din asked, ignoring Mayfeld’s own line of questioning.

“Walking your girl to the clinic then home.”

Din locked his jaw. That was good to hear. He wanted to be the one to walk you and his son back to the safety of your shared home, but considering the circumstance he was just glad you weren’t alone. Din ordered Mayfeld to take the eastern side of the city and warn all citizens to bring in or tie down their outdoor belongings while he took the west. 

He didn’t get it. Had you wanted him to be angry at you? Din was a little peeved, it’d be a lie to say that he wasn���t. He had to leave work to pick up Grogu despite you taking on that responsibility this morning. Since starting at the clinic, you and him had taken turns, but Din liked to know beforehand so he wasn’t just up and leaving the station. If an emergency happened, where you were needed with a patient, that was more than understandable, but that hadn’t been the case. You had just lost track of time. A very human mistake to make, and honestly it was your first when it came to Grogu. So, yes, Din was a little peeved, but he wasn’t angry.

Din pushed it out of mind. You knew the truth, and he could better explain himself tonight when he got home. Right now, he needed to focus on the task at hand. 

According to Karga, the volcanic ash storms were quick but deadly. The closest volcano would spew out a hot and devastating breath of ash. It’d roll over the city, blanketing everything in darkness, but it usually was blown away and gone in a matter of hours. Din had heard plenty about them, but they had never occurred while he was planet side. As long as there was proper prep to begin with then it should be a smooth transition. Karga, ever the planner, had built the city buildings with proper metal shields to roll down over windows and doors in the case of a storm. Everybody would stay indoors for a half a day, and then they’d spend the rest cleaning up.

Din wondered if his helmet was equipped to withstand the ash. It should be. The beskar and his flight suit would keep the hot ash from burning his skin, and if his helmet worked correctly then the filter should keep out most of the dangerous ash. He only wondered in case he needed to venture out to save a citizen or two. They were making the rounds to tell everyone that staying indoors was an order, but Din knew with his luck one or two people would ignore the warning.

It took hours to ensure the entire city was ready to be locked down and make sure that Vanth found his place and that it worked for the man. Din had simply housed him in Cara’s old place. It was still furnished and it wasn’t like Vanth needed anything permanent. The storm was still being estimated at being 24 or 36 hours out. It would give Din, Mayfeld, and Vanth time in the morning and afternoon to run through the city once more for final checks.

“Hey,” Din called out as he stepped into the house with a sigh. When he rounded the corner he noted that you were in the kitchen alone and cleaning up. He glanced around, “Grogu?”

“Bathed and in bed.” You replied without missing a beat. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, sorry, getting the city prepped took longer than I thought it would.” Din groaned. “How was⏤”

“I have leftover dinner for you.” You interrupted him and motioned to the stove. “But I figure you’ll want to clean up first.”

Din nodded in relief, “Thank you.” You gave him a tight nod, a smile that didn’t reach your eyes painted your lips, and he paused before heading back to the shower. “Hey, you’re not going to bed are you? I wanted to talk.”

“I’m not going to bed.” You shook your head.

“Good.” Din turned and hurried off. From the moment Vanth let slip that he was leaving, Din had been craving to sit down next to you and explain everything. He wanted to take your hand in his and reassure you that everything was going to be okay, they wouldn't be gone long, and it killed him to leave you behind. Din wanted to explain that he was leaving to find redemption and revenge. Though, he wasn’t quite sure how you’d handle that information.

As Din washed the day off of him, he wondered how you’d feel about that? If he told you the absolute truth that he planned to find redemption in part so he could court you. If he told you that he planned on tracking down Daelar to rip the man’s throat out. He wasn’t positive how you’d handle either fact, but he was positive that he needed to tell you. Din was human, he made mistakes, but he made it a mission in life to not make the same mistake twice.

After getting dressed, Din carried all his armor, sans his helmet, into the room to set aside. He paused long enough to check in on Grogu and tuck the blanket thrown haphazardly around the hammock around the boy’s small body. “Nuhoy morut'yc, adi’ka.” Din readjusted the stuffed frog in Grogu’s hammock with a smile and left the room as quietly as possible. A nervous energy settled along his skin and he rolled his shoulders once, “Ner kar’ta?”

The kitchen was empty and Din titled his head in confusion at the finding. His eyes landed on a plate of food waiting for him on the island counter and drifted closer. Sitting beside the plate was a small note with the most passive aggressive of all smiley faces he had seen drawn.

‘Went out with Nima. Don’t wait up’.

Din aggressively tore his helmet off and the only thing that kept him from slamming it onto the counter was the knowledge that the sound would wake up Grogu. His nervous energy melted into irritation. Sure, he hadn’t clarified that he wanted to talk when he asked if you were going to bed, but Din knew his intentions had been clear. That’s why you had deliberately answered his question in such a specific manner. His hands clenched and unclenched as he took a slow and steadying breath. 

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t. Din repeated this under his breath in an attempt to convince himself of it.

It was funny. The last time you sat in this cantina with Nima, in these exact chairs, the two of you had also been talking about Din. The subject last time was how awkward it was to tiptoe around him in his own home. Mashal Daddy, is what Nima had called him last time.

“Marshal Dickhead.” Nima scoffed before taking the shot in front of her. She pushed your shot glass closer to you and you tossed it back as well. The liquid burned the entire way down and you grimaced. It had been ages since you drank to this degree⏤ you were a light weight now. “That’s what he is.”

You shook your head. “No, he isn’t.”

“Okay, I need you to work on your shit talk.” Nima pointed at you. “Defending the person you’re complaining about is kind of redundant.”

You tapped your glass and the bartender wandered back over to pour the both of you another shot which you took without hesitation. Nima tried to get them to pour another, but you shook your head and ordered two mixed drinks instead. At least those had something other than straight liquor in it. 

“I’m pissed at him, but I don’t wanna shit talk him.” You replied.

“Then what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “I want to fight.” Nima gave you a questionable look and you shook your head. “Not physically. Maker, I don’t have a death wish.” Picking to tussle with a Mandalorian could possibly be the stupidest choice in the galaxy. “But I want to argue with him.”

Nima narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I⏤ I⏤” Your words got caught in your throat and you tried to wash it down with a large swig of your drink, to no avail. It was dumb to want to argue, wasn’t it? Couples tried to avoid that. Not that the two of you were an official couple. You groaned and buried your face into your hands⏤ already feeling dizzy from the drinks. You wanted him to be upset with you, to feel comfortable enough around you to show that he was upset. Up until now, the two of you hadn’t had any real arguments. Sure, there were little tiffs here and there about nothing important, and it typically always ended with Din conceding the point with a shrug. Despite what most people seemed to think, you knew that towering wall of beskar had emotions. He had a lot of kriffing emotions, and you wanted to see all of them. Even the negative ones. 

“I think I get it. The ‘wanting to argue’ thing.” Nima said softly. You lifted your head to look at her and she gave you a small smile. The Twi’lek reached out to set her hand on your shoulder with a comforting squeeze. “You want to have hot, angry make-up sex.”

Despite the sullen thoughts weighing you down, her words made a loud laugh slip from your lips. Nima look affronted that you were laughing at her theory, but you just shook your head and let the laughter die down to chuckles.

“I was serious.”

“I know you were. That’s why it’s funny.” You replied and took another sip of your drink. “But, I think I want to have not angry sex with him before I go for the other stuff.”

Nima’s eyes widened, “Wait, you guys haven’t⏤” You shook your head. “What the kriff are you waiting for!?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted. It was a fair question. “I think we’re going slow.”

“But, why?” Nima replied. “It’s obvious the two of you wanna jump each other’s bones. Half the city thinks you’re already married to him.”

You furrowed your brow, “Yeah, why is that? I get that the evidence stacked against us is damning, but to just assume we’re married?”

“Oh, I’ve been telling everyone the two of you are married.” Nima replied.

“What? Why??”

“I don’t know.” Nima shrugged. “Seemed fun. Figure it’ll be true one day.”

You scoffed, “Well, it won’t be if he disappears on the cursed world of Mandalore.” 

The words fell out of your lips with more pain than you meant to convey. Nima’s face fell and you lifted your drink to knock back the rest of it. That was a possibility, wasn’t it? Din and Grogu leave you to never return. Then what? You live in the house you shared with them alone? Listening to the ghostly echoes of where they used to be?

“Shots.” Nima called out to the bartender. “We need more shots.”

The two of you were four more shots in when a familiar face wandered toward you. Vanth leaned against the bar on your other side with a smile that you could tell was concerned. “Hey there, ladies.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, buddy!” Nima drunkenly lifted herself from her seat, nearly toppling over, and pointed at Vanth. “We aren’t interested. She’s married,” Nima pointed to you then pointed back to herself, “And I like pussy.”

Vanth’s eyes widened and you dragged her back down into her seat. “First, stop telling people I’m married. Second, stop announcing to the bar that you like pussy. And, third,” You motioned for Vanth to take a seat beside you which he did, “This is Cobb Vanth. He’s a friend from Tatooine and the replacement Marshal while Di⏤ Mando is gone.”

In your own tipsy stupor, you had nearly said Din’s name aloud. Luckily, Nima was too gone to notice and Vanth didn’t seem to care. He leaned over to over his hand in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Nima.” She replied curtly and held her hand out like a queen offering it to a peasant. You rolled your eyes, but Vanth just changed the position of his own hand to take hers with a small shake.

“Nima.” Vanth said. “Can I buy you two drinks?”

“I insist you do.” Nima nodded and pulled her hand away.

You chuckled with a shake of your head and tossed back the rest of the one in front of you so Vanth could get you a fresh one. Nima was babbling about something mechanical that you couldn’t follow along with and directing her words to anyone who glanced her way. 

“I’ve already apologized to Mando, but I feel like I owe you an apology too.” Vanth said. “I’m sorry about what happened on the tarmac.”

You snorted. “It wasn’t your fault for assuming Mando wasn’t keeping secrets.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it a secret.” Vanth shrugged, catching the bartender’s eye and holding up three fingers. He turned back to you. “I think the poor guy was just scared.”

“Mandalorians don’t feel fear.” Nima blurted out from behind you, apparently a part of the conversation now.

You shook your head. “I don’t care if he was scared as long as he tells me that he is.���

“Fair request.” Vanth shrugged. The drinks were brought over and you took a small sip of yours. The tipsy buzz floating in your skull was slowly shifting to just plain drunk, and a sadness crept in alongside it. You suddenly wished you were at home curled in bed⏤ curled in his bed. Listening to the soft snores of both him and Grogu. “So,” Vanth’s voice snapped you out of Din’s dark and safe room and back into the noisy cantina, “Where does that leave the two of you?”

“She’s dropping his ass.” Nima barked.

“Nima⏤” You whirled on her.

“You don’t need him! He’s abandoning you!” Nima cried and you took in the way her lower lip quivered for just a moment. “We don’t need either of them! They can⏤ They can go explore the kriffing galaxy or join the New Republic’s special forces team or whatever it is they want to do! We don’t care. We’re better than that. We don’t need them.” She turned and shook her head before taking a large sip of her drink. “I’m better off without her.”

You reached out, wordlessly, and pulled her hand away from the glass so you could hold it. Nima tangled her fingers with yours and squeezed once⏤ hers eyes glistening with unshed tears. You knew she had taken Cara’s departure worse than she wanted to admit. Nima was right. She didn’t need Cara. Nima was strong and beautiful and smart and incredible. Cara had been a friend but she had also been a bump in the road. She left selfishly when Nima needed her most, but Nima was going to rise above it. However, she had been wrong about you.

You did need Din. That’s why the thought of him leaving Nevarro was so jarring and painful. Coming here had been a way to escape your past and hide out, but you had never expected to find someone who would grow to be so important. Honestly, it was a bit scary if you thought about it for too long, but the truth was that you needed Din in your life. Him and Grogu. Without them, you’d have a gaping hole in your heart and you weren’t sure there was anything else in the universe that could fill that. Din hadn’t fully explained his reasoning, you hadn’t given him the chance, but you knew he wasn’t leaving you. Nima had been blindsided by Cara and left with nothing. Maybe it would’ve taken him forever, but Din wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye and you knew⏤ deep, deep down⏤ that he’d fight tooth and nail to return to you. 

“I’m sorry to ruin your night, Vanth.” You said, “But I think we’re gonna call it quits.”

“Don’t be silly.” Vanth shook his head. He tossed back his drink before rising himself. “I’ll walk you ladies home.”

You gave him a thankful smile knowing you were in no state to navigate to Nima’s house in the dark, put her to rest, then find your way back home yourself. Vanth chose to help Nima walk considering you had at least a little better control over your legs. The three of you stumbled out of the cantina into the warm night air⏤ it was time to go home.

Din didn’t have the time to put all his armor on, it was nearing one in the morning when his communicator went off, so he had simply thrown on the upper half of his flight suit, gloves, and boots. It left him in one of the more ridiculous outfits he wore considering his sweatpants did not match any item he adorned, but he just needed to get the door.

When he swung it open, Vanth stood on his porch with you in his arms sleeping soundly. He nodded toward your figure, “She was wide awake when we dropped off her friend, and was doing decent on the way here, but by time I reached the end of you street she was dozing off on her feet.”

“Thank you.” Din mumbled. He was quick to step forward and take you into his arms⏤ not enjoying the way you were snuggled into Vanth. Though he did appreciate the man bringing you home. “I really do appreciate this.” You shifted so you could bury your head into the crook of his neck and Din sighed. “Was she… How was she when you found her at the cantina?”

Vanth didn’t answer at first. He stared at Din for what felt like a long moment before looking at you then back to him again. Vanth chuckled, “I know I’m new to town, brother, so take this with a grain of salt.” He shook his head. “But it’s obvious she cares about you as much as you care about her. A fight now and then is normal, but don’t let it go on for too long. You don’t get time wasted back.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Din mumbled. 

Vanth gave him a quick nod before turning on his heel and leaving. Din shut the front door with his foot and carried you through the quiet house until he reached your room. The thought that you spent the night drinking until you were too inebriated to get home yourself bothered him more than he wanted to admit. You were a grown woman who could do what you wanted, but you had gone to specifically avoid talking to him. He found that incredibly annoying. 

It was like you were purposefully trying to rile him into lashing out, and that’s the last thing Din wanted to do. Din had a temper, but back during his bounty hunting years that was easily handled. He’d get angry, he’d go hunt a quarry and burn that emotion right out of himself. Now, he was in a setting where he didn’t have an outlet and he worked hard to keep that temper under wraps. Din had lashed out at Karga a time or two since his arrival, but that was expected and Karga was no stranger to his anger. 

Din settled you on your bed and began to carefully take off your boots followed by your socks and pants. He kept his gaze off your lower half as his only goal was to make you more comfortable. He stood and pulled your covers up to tuck you in. Din paused for a moment before pulling his helmet off and tucking it under one arm. He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. Maker, you were driving him up the wall. You had no idea the kind of fire you were playing with. It’s not like you were in danger, Din would tear his own heart out before hurting you, but he didn’t want to yell at you. 

“Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar.” Din sighed aloud. A reminder. He leaned forward to press his lips against your temple. Din would not lose his temper with you because he could not afford to lose you. He turned off your automatic alarm sitting on the night stand by the bed and wished you the same farewell he had to Grogu earlier in the night. “Nuhoy morut’yc, ner kar’ta.”

The headache you woke up with was nasty, and you swore in that moment to never drink again. Probably a fruitless promise to yourself, and not the first time you had claimed it, but right now you were miserable. You groaned and rubbed your face in your pillow before sitting up with a grunt. There was a weird amount of sunlight in your room and not just in ‘my poor hungover eyes are overly sensitive’ kind of way. You rubbed your face, glancing around, and it was then you realized the alarm sitting by your bed was off.

“Shit.” You breathed and jumped out of bed. The sheets tangled around your lower leg and you hit the floor with a curse. First you forgot to pick Grogu up from school and now you’d be late to taking him to school. Maker, you were so stupid. As reliving as it had been to drink and talk to Nima last night, it hadn’t been worth it for this. The speed in which you got dressed was startling and you burst into Din’s room to find it empty.

Your hungover brain realized much too late that this could’ve been bad if Din were in here with his helmet off. “Grogu??” You hurried out of the room and into the hall. When you stepped into the kitchen you were met with the smell of food and the sound of babbling. Grogu sat in his high chair eating with his father right beside him dressed and ready for work. “Grogu.”

“Ma!” Grogu greeted briefly before diving back into his food.

Din turned to stare at you and you rubbed your face in embarrassment, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why my alarm wasn’t on.”

“I turned it off.” Din shrugged. “Vanth brought you home late. Figured you needed to sleep in.” Din rose from his seat and began to try and clean Grogu up from the mess he had made of breakfast. “You’re fine. I can take Grogu to school this morning.”

“What?” You gaped in disbelief. 

“What?” Din echoed. 

“You hired me to take care of Grogu while you worked and I am failing at that right now.” You spat.

Din scoffed. “Failing is a bit dramatic. You made a mistake. It happens.”

“I show up passed out from drinking on a work night, and your response was to tuck me in and turn off my alarm??” You said as your voice began to raise. “Seriously??”

“Wasn’t a work night.” Din replied calmly. “I wasn’t on schedule.”

You groaned in frustration, “That’s not the damn point, Din!”

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is you’re supposed to be upset! You’re supposed to be angry!” You snapped. Grogu cooed nervously from his seat and you bit back as much of your anger as you could. “It’s a normal human response. Why can’t you just admit that you’re angry at me!?”

Din set his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Why do you want me to be angry at you so badly?”

“Because I want you to be human around me!” You snapped.

Din stiffened, and as much as you hated the way you worded that, you thought maybe it would be the line that pushed him over the edge. Instead, he just gave you a tight shrug. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t being human around you.”

“Really?” You laughed in broken disbelief. “You’re not even going to react to that shitty thing I just said?” Din remained silent. “Whatever. I’m taking Grogu to school.”

“You don’t have to do that⏤”

“Actually, I do.” You replied sharply and scooped the boy up from the chair. Grogu reached up to set a hand on your face and you sighed⏤ momentarily finding peace. When your gaze lifted up to spot Din once more the peace fell away. “It’s my job. Remember? Might as well do what I was hired to do while Grogu is still in Nevarro.”

Din didn’t respond. He stood stock still. Enough so that a stranger could walk in and confuse him for a droid. On your way out, you scooped up Grogu’s bag by the door and hurried out. There was a sharp, acidic tang in the air that greeted you and you flinched at the smell. The sky was uglier than it had been yesterday, but you were already late so you pressed on. 

The entire rushed walk to school, you spent it apologizing to Grogu for yelling at his father in front of him. You shouldn’t have lost your temper in front of the child. As if he understood the situation entirely, Grogu babbled along with you and continued to give your face small pats of reassurance. Right outside of the school, Ms. Wynn stuck her head out to greet you.

“Hey, Wynn. I am so sorry about yesterday and for being late this⏤”

“Hurry, get in.” She grasped you by the wrist and tugged you inside. She shut the door tightly behind you and you glanced around the room to see all the children being kept busy by the other school workers. You gave Ms. Wynn a confused look and she sighed. “The storm is coming sooner than everyone thought. The watch people are estimating it to hit city center in the next twenty minutes or so. You can’t be outside.”

You shrugged, “I can get to clinic in fifteen.”

Grogu wiggled and whined in your arms so you set him down so he could run off to play with his friends. Ms. Wynn shook her head. “No. It’s not worth the risk. Volcanic ash storms are incredibly dangerous. The entire city is locking up right now.” You still thought you’d be able to make it, but before you could argue further your communicator began to beep. “I’ll let you take that. I need to start class.”

You nodded and watched her walk off before activating your communicator. “Hello⏤”

“Ner kar’ta?” Din’s voice crackled to life⏤ panic evident. “Where are you and Grogu??”

“At school. Wynn just locked us in for the storm.”

“Good.” You heard Din breathe out a breath of relief. “Just stay there until the storm passes. It should be over by this evening.” There was an awkward pause of silence before he cleared his throat. “If you need anything, call me. Please.”

“I will.” You replied. Then added, “You’ll be safe at home, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” You hummed. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later.”

The call ended miserably and you wandered to the side of the room where you could drop into a chair. The good news was you wouldn’t have to worry about Grogu like some parents probably worried about their kids. Minutes later, the sound of strong wind and debris rattled the metal sheet covering the window you sat by. It made you jump in alarm and you silently thanked Wynn for stopping you.

That had come much sooner than twenty minutes.

You had to applaud Ms. Wynn and the other workers for their tenacity. The storm outside sounded miserable and terrifying, but the kids seemed nonplussed by it with the way the teachers distracted them. Around the end of the first hour, Aayla contacted you to ask about a few people who had wandered out into the storm and then stumbled into the clinic. Most of the injuries had been superficial⏤ the exposure short term as they came from nearby buildings. You walked her through how to mix some paste for burns.

It was during the second hour that the patients got too complicated for Aayla.

“I don’t know what to do, Doc.” Aayla’s voice shook. “I keep having him use his inhaler, but after a few minutes he ends up needing it again.”

“I’m worried he’s scorched his lungs. His asthma making it that much worse.”

“Do I mix a paste? Or⏤ Or make a solution?”

You sank in your seat. It was a solution that needed to be made, which you trusted Aayla to do, but that fluid then needed to be aerosolized. That way the patient could breathe it right into his lungs. Working with the machine that did so was tricky and even you weren’t the best at it. You hated the idea of getting Aayla to attempt it only to make a mistake and take on that guilt herself. She was still new to medicine. That kind of guilt shouldn’t be weighed on her conscience considering she hadn’t been trained for this.

“What’s his oxygen status right now?” You asked.

“It’s in the mid-80s and that’s with an oxygen mask on.”

Dank farrik. He might not make it to the end of this storm. The patient could crash much sooner than that. You gave Aayla a few orders to keep the man stable then pushed to stand. You caught Wynn’s attention and the woman drifted closer after helping a child with a small task. She gave you a warm smile, and you returned a skeptical one.

“Hi. So, I need a jacket, scarf, and some sunglasses.”

Wynn warned you against your idea, but you were dead set. You had no choice. So, ignoring her advice, you pressed on. You soaked the scarf in cold water then wrapped it a few times around your mouth and nose to use as a makeshift filter. The glasses would hopefully at least protect your eyes a little, and the jacket was to cover up the remainder of your skin. You were thankful you hadn’t worn shorts today. 

You had traveled to the back door to leave that way none of the ash would slip into the same room as the kids. It would take you 15 minutes to get to the clinic. It was now or never, you supposed.

Din was furious. His temper running hotter than the volcanic ash whipping around him. As it turned out, his helmet would keep out the dangerous conditions surrounding him. Grogu’s teacher had reached out to him to let him know that you had traveled out into the storm to reach a patient. She had done so to ensure that someone else was aware of the situation. Din had thanked her before rushing out himself. 

He asked one thing of you today. One. 

He just wanted you to stay inside the kriffing school with Grogu. It wasn’t asking a lot considering the literal fire and ash raining outside. It was common sense for someone to stay inside. Din was literally just asking you to follow common human survival instincts, yet you still left. You left, not protected in beskar as he was, but rather dressed in a wet scarf and jacket. As if that was going to help a karking thing.

Din tried to hail you over the communicator but it never got through. He told himself it was because of the storm. If even a little ash got into the communicator it’d glitch. That had to be it. Din refused to believe anything could have happened to you. Still, fear mingled with his rage, but he chose to ignore that for the time being.

Black and gray wind swirled around him, whipping his cloak in every direction, as flickers of burning ash drifted in the air. It was so thick that he could barely see a few feet in front of him. If he wasn’t careful, he could step right over you on accident and not even know it. The thick ash was beginning to settle on the ground in thick piles like the snow of Hoth. When he reached the clinic doors, he saw the metal shutters were down. Din didn’t hesitate to slam his hand against the metal as hard as he could.

If nobody opened the door soon he’d break through the shutters. Sure, ash would collect in the clinic lobby, but he’d deal with that problem later. Luckily for everyone, the shudders cracked open and Din quickly slipped through. Miriam, the new girl, had opened the door for him. Din didn’t mean to blow her off, but he sped past her. She was clever enough to open the second set of doors without him having to have asked. 

Inside the room, were a few people sitting on the cots or against the wall with a pink paste rubbed into splotches on their skin. Aayla stood in front of an older man who was struggling to breathe. A nebulizer, the same kind of machine that blasted a mist of medicine for Grogu, was being held up in front of his mouth.

“Where the kriff is she?” Din snapped.

Aayla nervously stiffened in place. She pointed out of the room, “There’s a small break room down the hall. She’s⏤She’s in there.” Din spun to leave, but Aalya called out to him. He nearly ignored her until she spoke again. “I think she’s more injured than she lets on. There’s some leftover pink paste from the last batch for her skin burns. Right now, she’s using the other nebulizer.”

Din huffed out a small thanks before snatching the jar off a side table and following her instructions out of the room. He wasn’t familiar with the back halls of the clinic, but he didn’t need any more clues to find you. Halfway down the hall he could hear a barking cough. Din picked up his pace then threw the break room door open hard enough that it slammed into the wall.

You startled where you were sitting at a table with a nebulizer mask held in front of your face. Your eyes widened in surprise and you opened your mouth to begin to say his name only for you to begin coughing violently. Just for a moment, his anger subsided. Din hurried over and set a hand on your shoulder to evaluate your injuries.

“Injuries. What’s wrong?”

“Just⏤ Just some burns.” Your voice was hoarse. “Worst of it⏤,” You began to cough again, “Lungs. In my lungs. Medicine will help.”

You took a few more deep breaths of the nebulizer and Din let his eyes trace your exposed skin. There were patches of mildly burned skin on your hands and on your forehead and upper cheeks. The pattern made it clear to see the shape of the sunglasses you had worn. Din tore off his glove and threw it aside rougher than he intended. Your eyes widened but you didn’t say anything. Din dug his fingers into the paste and began to rub it over every single burn he could see on you⏤ no matter how small. 

When he was appeased that he got every single injury, Din shoved the jar aside angrily and huffed, “Are you out of your damn mind?”

“No.” You replied. Your voice already sounding better. “It’s not like I had a choice.”

“Excuse me?” Din narrowed his eyes at you.

“I had a patient who needed me.” You shrugged. Then, you had the audacity to roll your eyes and mutter under your breath, “Just relax, Din.”

Din pushed to stand so fast that the chair he sat in went sprawling back and you jumped at the sound. He set his hands on the table and leaned toward you. “Relax? Did you just tell me to kriffing relax??” You stared at him silently, and Din took a step back with a shake of his head. He scoffed. “Relax.” Din felt his blood boiling under his skin. “Bic ni skana'din.”

“Din⏤”

“No.” Din snapped. “You’re going to sit there, and you’re going to listen to me.” He leaned in once more. “You wanted me angry? Well, now I’m angry! Dank farrik! What the kriff were you thinking!? I told you to stay in the school. I made myself very clear.” He slammed a hand down onto the table in frustration. “Do you realize how badly that could’ve ended?!”

You set down the nebulizer mask, “Din, I had to⏤”

He reached out to snatch the mask from the table where you set it and forced it back into your hand. Din shoved your hand up so it was holding the mask by your mouth once more. “No, you didn’t. Those patients look fine in there.”

“The old man wasn’t.” You snapped back with a glare of your own. “He might not have made it till the end of the storm.”

“Was there a chance he could’ve?”

“I mean, I guess, but there was just as equal of a chance that he wouldn’t. I⏤”

“Then that’s the risk that gets made.” Din yelled. “You don’t risk your life like that ever again. Do you hear me!?”

“I’m a physician!” You cried. “What would you have me do, Din? Risk him dying⏤”

“Yes.” Din reached out and wrapped his hand gently on the side of your face. Din was breathing hard, his rage making him shake, but he kept his touch soft as he forced you to face him. “That’s exactly what I would have you do. I don’t give two shits about him, but you I can’t live without, ner kar’ta. Is that not clear to you!?” 

You shook your head. “You don’t mean that. You wouldn’t risk him dying.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Din let out a harsh laugh. He wouldn’t risk one of the citizens of his city dying. In your shoes, he probably would’ve done the same thing⏤ but that wasn’t the point. Din sucked in a sharp breath trying to get back to the point he was making. “If I tell you to stay put, in order to keep you safe, you will listen to me. Do you understand?” Your eyebrows furrowed deeper and Din understood the immediate distaste for his words, but he didn’t care. “I said, do you kriffing understand?”

The nebulizer stopped on it’s own and you tossed aside the mask before standing up with a scoff, “I understand, but I’m not promising you I won’t do the exact same thing again.” You tried to walk around the table, out of his reach, but Din mirrored your movements and met you on the other side to block you in. You shook your head. “This is my job. Helping people is what I do. I’m not going to put people at risk just because you don’t trust me to be competent enough to succeed.”

Maker, you were the most frustrating woman⏤ Din’s hands found his hips as he leaned into your space. “You think it’s a trust thing?” He barked out an angry laugh. “All it takes is one mistake, one miscalculated step, and that’s it. It’s not about competence or about trust. It’s about gambling, and I’m not going to let you gamble your life away for a stranger.”

“As if you’ve never gambled your life for a stranger before?? I highly doubt that.” You spat. “Din, you’re a good man and if you think⏤”

“No.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“I said, no. I’m not.” Din said through clenched teeth. You were going to be the death of him. He was vibrating with frustration. Fear grabbed control of him at the realization that this was who you were. You were good, to your core, and this was going to keep happening. It was clear on your face that you didn’t believe his words. You weren’t getting this, and Din wasn’t good enough with words to get you to. Resolution settled in his mind, determination, and his next words came out in a low growl. “Close your eyes.”

You blinked almost owlishly. “Huh?”

“Close your eyes, ner kar’ta.” Din demanded, his hands traveling to his helmet without pause. Your eyes widened in alarm before shutting tight. It scrunched your features up. Din tore his helmet off and slammed it onto the table before closing the space between the two of you.

Din had never kissed someone before, which seemed ridiculous considering the other acts he had performed, but the idea of it seemed easy enough. His hands found your jaw and he tilted your head up enough that he could press his lips firmly against yours. Din held them there until he felt your entire body slowly relax. He pulled back just a bit and opened his eyes to see your features had softened though your eyes remained closed. Din’s nose brushed against yours, unable to bring himself to pull away from you any further. He mumbled the next words out, exhausted, but tightened his grip around your face in hopes to get his message across loud and clear, “I am not a good man. I’m a selfish man, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do⏤ no line I wouldn’t cross⏤ to keep you and Grogu safe.” Din leaned his forehead against yours and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I kissed you without asking permission. I just… Ner kar’ta, I cannot lose you and I didn’t know how to…”

“It’s okay.” You mumbled. “I‘ll forgive you on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“Kiss me again.” You breathed. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to your toes, and Din didn’t hesitate to meet you halfway. His lips pressed against yours once more, but this time it wasn't so simple. It was messy, for lack of a better word. Your lips moved against his, furiously, and Din mimicked every action. It was as if the anger of your argument had shifted and transformed into this moment right here. Teeth clashing against teeth, tongue pressing against tongue. The kiss was desperate and felt like a battle. You versus him in a competition to devour the other, and Din was never one to back away from a challenge. 

He hooked his arms under your legs, lifting and turning, so he could set you on the table. Din’s hands shoved aside the nebulizer machine that sat in the way and he heard the device clatter against the tile floor. He’d buy the clinic a new one. Din pressed into you forcing you to either catch yourself by reaching back or continue clinging to him. You chose to keep your arms around his neck, wrapping around even tighter, and Din had to readjust and wrap his arms around your waist to keep you both from collapsing onto the table.

Din took a chance by nipping on your lower lip and the moan that left you was the perfect reward. He licked into your open mouth, a similar action you had done to him, and it deepened the kiss once more. Finally, breathlessly, Din was forced to pull back just enough to get air. You were panting as well⏤ the only sound in the room being the heavy breaths you shared between one another and the howling storm outside.

“I’m sorry I forgot to pick up Grogu.” You said and the disappointment in your whispered words made his chest ache. “I’m sorry I left last night instead of staying to talk. I’m sorry for yelling at you this morning.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Din replied. “All of this could’ve been avoided if I had just told you about Mandalore. I also promise to get more angry at you if you promise it’ll always end like this.” The soft, breathy laugh that left your lips was like a reassuring melody. You were safe. You were in his arms. You were okay. Din let out a breath of relief. “Ner kar’ta…”

You tilted your mouth against his to let a soft kiss linger against his. The exact opposite of the kind of kiss the two of you had shared. You sighed, “Why did it have to come to this? Why wouldn't you just admit you were upset with me?”

“I… I was worried about scaring you away if I lost my temper.” He admitted. “Things felt so good between us, so perfect, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Telling me how you really feel is never going to ruin anything, Din. I want that. I want to know what you’re thinking.” You replied. “Fighting isn’t always a bad thing.”

Din pressed his lips softly against yours once⏤ twice⏤ three times. “I can see that.” Maker, maybe taking his helmet off was a bad idea. After getting to feel your lips against his it was going to be twice as difficult to maintain his control. “I need to put my helmet back on, ner kar’ta.”

You chuckled and set a soft kiss against his cheek before releasing him. Din took one more second to stare at you, unhindered by his visor, and he loved the way your lips were swollen from his. He grabbed his helmet and tugged it back on. When it was back in place he let you know. It was cute the way you peeked out of only one eye, just in case, before letting both open. 

“I think I’m ready to talk about Mandalore now.” You shrugged. “Unless, you have something better to talk about?”

Din chuckled and gave you a small shrug. “We can talk about how you were my first kiss, if you’d like.”

“I am?” Your eyes widened. “Seriously?” He nervously gave you a small nod⏤ face burning under his helmet. “Oh man, I am so sorry. If I had know I would’ve⏤ would’ve⏤ I don’t know. Been gentler?” Din laughed at the concern drawn all over your face. Your lips twitched up but you gave him a small shove. “I’m serious! Maker, I was basically going for your tonsils…”

Din lifted a hand to hold your chin. “I’m not complaining.” He leaned his cold forehead against yours. “And by the way, I am proud of you. I’m so proud of everything you do. I… Can you promise to at least call me before you do something risky?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I can promise that.”

Din would take the victory where he could.

mando'a translations:

Nuhoy morut'yc, adi’ka

Sleep safe, little one.

Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar

I feel at home with you.  

Nuhoy morut’yc, ner kar’ta.

Sleep safe, my heart.

Bic ni skana'din.

Expression of being angry or repelled, i.e. ‘that really ticks me off’

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastovaova @uwu-i-purple-youu @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassedd @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal

[honeytonedhottie]

honeys guide to school໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹🎀

the first day of school is rapidly approaching, this post is to help and give a guide on being successful in school. i’ll separate this post into sections <3

SECTION ONE : STUDYING

hot girls get good marks, paying attention during classes and studying are easy ways to get good marks, however sometimes studying for hours isn’t enough.

time spent ≠ results. how long u study has no correlation to how well you’d do on an exam, however HOW you study is the most important. to PASSIVELY retain information: re-read past notes/lectures, randomly highlighting and reviewing notes. when studying SIMPLIFY and explain. these two things will ensure that u learned the material.

a studying method : ACTIVE RECALL METHOD. you’ll need two different colored pens, a piece of paper and ur textbook/notes packet. first step is to read the notes packet or textbook and try to memorize as much as u can, then close ur notes and textbooks, grab ur paper and writing utensil and just start writing what u remember. once ur finished take the other colored pen and write down what is missing. until you’ve completely memorized the text

SECTION TWO : SCHOOL AIR

school air can make you feel disgusting, especially if you don’t typically do touch ups throughout the day, but here are some ways that u can beat school air.

keep ur lips MOISTURIZED, dry lips will make you feel really crusty, so make sure to walk around with good chapsticks or lip balms and gloss. also, whenever ur in the school bathroom or whatever, make sure to check on ur hair and make it look pretty.

spend TIME in the morning making sure that you look ur best, making sure that ur clothes r wrinkle free and clean, doing skincare.. all those little things will piece together how you feel and how you LOOK. get 8-9 hours of sleep, and eat a balanced diet with 3 meals a day to look after ur health, because we are most beautiful when we r HEALTHY <3

for the last portion of this post i want to talk about other various aspects of school. after school a lot of us don’t have a large amount of time to be productive, especially since it is SO tiring going to school. but use the time that u have WISELY, don’t neglect ur health during school and don’t be so hard on urself, make a good morning and evening routine and STAY consistent. do NOT bully or be rude to anybody and don’t be rude to urself either. be kind to everyone, especially ur teachers <3 make friends and have a great experience! 💗💗

if there is anything that i didn’t cover in this post please tell me so that i can talk about it <3

MUCH LOVE - honey

[silversatin2105]

Inspired by the response from Grand line dreams Angst ask about severely injured reader

Writer’s comments:

This is a response to the ask answered by the user known as @grandlinedreams, this is my take on a best case scenario, thank you so much for your permission to post

TW: Angst, mentions of medial stuff, potential character death, if I’ve missed anything please let me know and I’ll add them to the list

It had been two weeks and three days since (Y/N) had been severely injured, you had survived the reaper’s scythe that night, its amazing how you did, you were decimated, deep lacerations on your arms and chest, before Law even got to you half a pint of your blood had already been spilled, without hesitation that day Law had carried your dying form to the Polar Tang and emergency surgery had to be performed.

Blood had to be warmed and prepped, bandages had to be removed and the wounds under sutured after Law checked for signs of internal bleeding and any shrapnel that entered the wounds had to be removed and then fish skin was placed upon the wounds before being re-dressed, when the blood was ready it was allowed to flow into your veins as the other arm took in IV fluids, no need for a sedative you were already out of it.

The first night was always the fist challenge you would face, At this moment deaths embrace felt comforting, the natural next step but what about him?

Law had always feared that your devil may care attitude would lead to calamity and so right he was, you fucked up and now the Captain of the Polar Tang had to deal with the very real threat of loosing you, On one rare conversation he would tell you of the brave man whom gave him a second shot at life, to tell you the truth that’s the first time he opened up to you, hearing his story you vowed to do anything for him, become anything for him and right now there was a very real chance that would be a corpse.

No were the thoughts in your mind as you channeled all your energy, all your might, everything into breathing, you were not going to add to the myriad of mental scars to him, NO MORE SUFFERING, breathing in and out you fought, the heart beating in your chest like terrible thunder as in the reality that your coma had sealed you from, you lay heaving concerning law.

“Damn have you developed an infection?” Law asked wiping your brow with a clean cloth, the male grimaced lip bitten as he checked your wounds, a few were red and hot to the touch so he applied IV antibiotics to your course of treatment, the second hurdle in your journey to spit death in the face and draw another waking breath, raw emotion galvanizing your resolve, fight on, live on.

After a few days the antibiotics took effect, the second hurdle back to the land of the living almost cleared, Law was still taking his meals by your bedside, still cautious- On alert, and He left the running of the ship mostly to Beppo after forming a plan of attack for the next moves to make, like before he spoke to you, Asked what was going thought your mind?, No doubt he’s seen some wild occurrences, since his alliances with straw hat, but in truth, seeing you that day on the battlefield, he never dared to hope that you’d draw another waking breath. 

Heck he was so worried that he had taken to shifted bathroom breaks with other members of the crew watching you and this was the norm for two weeks and four days, He must have had too much coffee that morning as he couldn’t wait for cover, he made his apologies to your sleeping form and bolted for the bathroom, as he walked back to the med bay he sighed- I better get another cup of coffee later for tonight..im so fucking tired …when’s the last time I slept, were his thoughts as he walked into the room where you were being kept, his tired and drained eyes gaze out to a surprise.

It was you, sitting up in bed your (insert color) eyes looking at him with a sort of tired look, you had seen better days then again so had he, he looked disheveled, sleep deprived and honestly so fucking done, in that moment no words were spoken, just a quietness as your eyes locked, ten minutes had passed and then it happened, you began to speak.

“I’m so sorry captain, I messed up… their Haki was too strong, I promise it won’t happen again” you told him an apology, one of the things you fought through death for, Law was stunned, the first thing from you after three weeks was an apology.

“Is that it… after three weeks the first words out of your mouth is an apology, We’ve all been worried sick, you damned idiot !” Law went on to say in a harsh tone, cold words masking the internalized concern he daren’t let himself feel, the emotions he stonewalled from his own heart, Law in this moment was as before romantically hidden behind a sheet of Plexiglas.

You looked up at him with shock in your eyes, you expected this but you didn’t expect it to hurt so much, tears welling in your eyes you slid back onto to the bed clutching the blanket to your chest, Law grumbled and sighed laying his hat on the bedside table resting his head by your side, a hand timidly reaching out to yours, within a moment, you felt the roughness of his fingertips upon your hand, the hand of your captain, you froze in response, you go to turn to look at him.

“D-don’t look at me right now. Please…” Law orders as you oblige him to take in the warmth of your hand, the pulse on your wrist, a pulse that those three weeks ago could have been taken from him, could he finally bring himself to hope now that you were once more amongst the living, fifteen minutes past as he assessed you, got his heart ready and then he began to speak.

“Listen up, I am going to say something, take it as you will…the truth is (Y/N) I feel deep kinship for you, since you joined the crew you’ve shown unwavering loyalty, courage in the face of adversity. What I mean to say is…I love you”

Law speaks to you, the world in that moment shattering, your eyes widen as he presses his head close to you back, and you blush as Law finally falls asleep after three weeks of hell.

You go to move and as you do, you feel an arm move carefully around you, light snoozing sounds from the captain of the heart pirates can be heard, and so in that moment you smile lightly and fall asleep again.

“It’s easy to promise someone that you’d die for them but even more difficult to promise that you'd live for someone"

END SCENE

[specialinterestshows]

Back to my regularly scheduled posting of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic.

Warnings for this section: Stoner themes

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 26 of ?): Kiss The Cook

Dazed by the early rays of morning light, you stretch and rub your eyes. You’d slept much better last night than you had the night before, and felt far more well-rested. Gently grazing the relaxed figure next to you, you pause before determining you haven’t woken her. Moving carefully out of the sheets and off the bed, you duck into the bathroom. You don’t leave until your face is washed, your knuckles are re-bandaged, and your hair is in an acceptable state.

Peeking into the bedroom, you notice Rhea hasn’t moved much, if at all. Grabbing clean clothes, you change by the couch to let her sleep in. Then you had an idea.

Quietly walking to the kitchen, you look through the cabinets before pulling out and dusting off an old serving tray. After setting napkins and utensils on the tray, you set to work making breakfast from what you have in the fridge. Bits of what Rhea had said during your conversation last night floated through your mind as you cooked on the stovetop.

“I want to see you a whole hell of a lot more than I get to”

“I’ll remind you how hot you are at every given opportunity”

“I’m going to do what I can to see you again, even if I have to fly you out to me.”

Smiling to yourself, you feel far more secure than you did the last time Rhea was about to leave. There was even a confident swagger in your hips as you put together breakfast.

Once the finished food was on plates, you placed the dishes on the tray and take a step back to look at the arrangement. After determining something seemed to be missing, you look through your cabinets until you find a small vase. Looking at the bouquet of flowers you’d greeted Rhea with a couple days ago, you pluck one from the arrangement before filling the vase with water and setting the purple flower inside. Placing the floral adornment on an open space in the tray, you smile, nodding to yourself before carrying the whole of it to the bedroom.

“‘Morning, Rhe,” you say softly, stopping at the doorframe. No response. You walk a bit further in before trying again.

“Rhe? You hungry?”

The beautiful figure wrapped in your bedsheets stirs, mumbling something unintelligible.

“I have something for you,” you almost sing with the cheery cadence of your voice.

Slowly stretching out, Rhea finally turns around and opens her eyes.

“Hm?” she takes a moment to look at you before processing the mouth-watering smells wafting from the tray. You set down the surprise breakfast on the bed next to her, watching her expression change.

“Oh, babe!” Rhea gasps, smile widening as she looks at the warm food, “You didn’t have to do this!”

You’re pulled into a kiss before you can respond. Resting your hands on her thighs for balance, you revel in the feeling of her caressing your face as her soft lips press against yours.

“You’re too good to me,” she says as soon as she pulls back, “Now help me eat all this.”

Sitting on the bed, you grab a utensil and start to dig in.

“Mmm, delicious,” Rhea says between bites. You had to agree, glad you had the foresight to make large helpings.

“Good way to wake up?” you ask her.

“One of the best,” she replied, suggestively wiggling her eyebrows. You laugh before taking another bite.

“Wake, bake, ‘n’ breakfast?” you offer after swallowing.

“Wish I could,” Rhea sighs, “I have a long day ahead of me once I get to the airport” - she checks her phone - “I don’t have to be there for another few hours, but I still need to wash up and get all my things together.”

“Let me know if I can help,” you say, nodding.

“Thanks, love,” she says before continuing to eat.

Shortly after finishing breakfast, Rhea stood up and started taking off her clothes. Coughing, you narrowly avoid choking on your food, not having expected the morning to change course so suddenly.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, smiling at your reaction and the intensity of your stare as she stripped naked, “Wanna join me?”

[end part twenty-six of ?]

Part 27: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/725947345571840000/absolute-smokeshow-part-27-of-shower-head

-

Tag List (thank you!)

@cherryberryshine , @littlemiss-fanficlover , @elisewithak , @babybatlover , @girlofpink

[b-afterhours]

AOS Neon: Gemini (oneshot) Part A

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: PART TWO of the Honeymoon (oneshot). As always, thank you for reading! This is the last of it. However, this is a very long chapter and I will have to post this last bit in two parts, A & B. I will link them!

Gemini | PART A

The following morning, they woke early. Despite her tiredness, Alma was too anxious to sleep in today. Bill felt his heart race while lying beside her. He chewed the inside of his cheek, debating whether they should take the tests he bought right away or start their day as usual.

Alma pressed her body against his back, wrapping her leg and arms around him. He chuckled softly—it wasn’t often he found himself as the little spoon. Even if he liked it, it felt a little silly. They lay there in silence, holding each other, savoring the stillness of the space and time before facing the tests.

Bill placed his hand over hers, which was lying on his pec, and turned his head a little. “Do you think you might be…” 

Alma rested her cheek on his shoulder blade. “Maybe…” In all honesty, she was skeptical. She was feeling a little crampy when she woke up, but she didn’t want to voice that. “Do you think I am?” 

“I do.” 

A smile tugged at her lips with how sure he said it. “I should take one now, should I?” 

“Could you take two? Because the last one— 

“I’ll take two,” she stated.

Alma got up and grabbed the tests from under the sink cabinet. Bill had bought three and tucked them away, still inside the plastic bag from the pharmacy. As she glanced at the receipt inside, she couldn’t help but note the items: three pregnancy tests, one energy drink, and a pack of cigarettes. How lovely, she sarcastically thought.

Bill entered the bathroom with a cup for her to pee in before taking a seat on the ledge of the bathtub, crossing his arms, and putting one knee over the other.

Alma shot him a look with furrowed brows. “Are you really going to sit and watch me pee like a pervy probation officer?”

Bill gave her an amused glance. “I—I guess I can look away. Since you’re so shy,” he replied facetiously.

Alma quickly took care of business, and together they dipped two tests in the cup, capped them, and immediately laid them face down.

“In five minutes, we’ll check,” Bill said, kissing the top of her head.

“Okay…” Alma swiftly took off her nightgown and tugged at his arm, urging him to lean down for a kiss.

He lifted her off her feet, sitting her on the edge of the sink, leaning back as he watched her pull down his sweatpants to his thighs. Though it was quick, they made love instead of waiting in anxious anticipation. Drawn to the shower, they continued under the cascade of warm water, letting their stress melt away as they focused solely on making each other feel good.

They re-entered the bathroom in lounge clothes after their shower, and just as Bill reached out to flip a test over, Alma caught his hand.

“Wait. If it’s negative, we can still try.” She locked eyes with him as she assured him. “If it isn’t… this changes everything.” 

Bill took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling more slowly than usual. “I know. I’m ready.”

Alma bit her lip, nerves making her hesitate. “Okay. Check.”

Bill flipped the first test over, his fingers careful, as if it might snap back at him. They both leaned over the sink, holding their breath. Two vibrant pink lines were right there, unmistakable.

Alma’s breath hitched. “Oh.”

Immediately, Bill flipped over the second test. It read the same—distinct, undeniable. A rush of emotions hit him so hard it almost knocked the air out of his lungs. He felt like he could cry, his heart swelling with relief, pride, joy, and, most importantly, the overwhelming satisfaction that he was right.

“Are you okay?” Alma asked, her brow furrowed as his expression was unreadable, nearly catatonic. “You see what it says, right?”

A smile slowly spread across his face, and he nodded, but then his expression shifted. His hand flew up to cover his mouth. “You… You’re carrying my baby.” He cradled her face tenderly.

Alma’s eyes grew glassy. “Yeah…” she whispered, her voice cracking as she quickly wiped away a tear before tightly hugging him.

“For real?” Bill sniffled, holding her just as tight. “Oh, shit…” He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes, trying to make sense of it all. “It’s real,” he repeated, finally letting the truth ring.

…

The next week, they closed up the record shop but lingered after hours, unknowingly lost in conversation. Bill had been especially sweet to Alma since they found out she was pregnant. For Alma, though, it felt like the moment she knew for sure, all the pregnancy symptoms kicked into high gear—now that she couldn’t cling to denial.

“Well, it's just to confirm what the tests showed us,” Alma said, sitting on the edge of the desk, her eyes on Bill, who sat beside her in the office chair. “I piss in a cup, and then they do blood work.” 

“Okay… shouldn’t I still go?” He asked as he absentmindedly fiddled with a pen.

“I’m not saying you can’t. You can come with me. It’s just not—exciting,” she shrugged. 

“Mm. This is how the birthing center does things. When will the ultrasound come?”

“Yeah—so it was different at the hospital. They did the tests and the ultrasound when I first went, but I think that’s because the city hospital was so busy. Also, the doctor who delivered Echo was old. I guess he just wanted to get it all done quickly. He retired not long after she was born. Anyway, I scheduled the ultrasound during the confirmation appointment. It’s still early. I can’t be more than a few…” She trailed off, trying to estimate. 

“How far along do you think you are?” He tilted his head curiously. 

“Uh. I don’t know… five, six weeks? Maybe...” 

Bill puckered his lips, thinking back to June, trying to pinpoint when and where they might have conceived. Until his mind lingered on the faulty test she’d taken that month, stirring his curiosity further.

“The birthing center tends to do it at 8 weeks,” she continued. 

“The ultrasound.” 

Alma sighed with a small smile at his eagerness. “Yes, the ultrasound. It won’t be that long of a wait.”

Bill sat back, thinking that far out in the calendar now. “So like two weeks from the appointment?”

Alma nodded. “Give or take.”

“That’s really close to my birthday,” he mused with a smile.

Just as Bill was about to lean back in the chair, his wristwatch caught his eye. He sat up abruptly and checked the time. “Shit, we were supposed to pick up Echo twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh my god!” Alma exclaimed, hopping off the desk and throwing her cross-body bag on in a hurry.

It was rare for them to be late picking up Echo from Yolani’s place, let alone completely forget the time like this. But since Echo was with them the majority of the time, and her spending the evening away had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, it had slipped their minds.

When they left the shop, Alma paused and quickly blew out some prayer candles still lit on the sidewalk in front of the store. They were able to consolidate the memorial space, but it still remained.

…

August 1995

“What should we have for breakfast, baby?” Alma asked Echo, who was seated in the breakfast nook playing with a yellow Power Ranger action figure, wrapping a paper napkin around it as a makeshift dress. 

Alma was halfway dressed for the day, preparing to head to her ultrasound appointment soon, but not before dropping Echo off at Yolani's.

“Scrample eggs!” She said, scrunching her eyes. 

Alma’s mouth watered, and her stomach flipped at the suggestion. She couldn’t stand making them. Bill had delegated himself to the duty whenever Echo wanted them now. 

“Hmm. What about a slice of daddy’s birthday cake for breakfast instead?” Alma mused, a playful glint in her eye.

Echo giggled mischievously, covering her mouth with her hands. “Cake? Yeah!”

“Yeah! I think I’ll have some too. With a glass of milk?”

“YUM!” Echo grinned, her eyebrows so arched they almost touched her hairline. 

They happily enjoyed the chocolate birthday cake for breakfast together. Bill had celebrated his 34th birthday just a few days earlier. This year’s celebration had been low-key. Alma had taken him out to eat at a new Brazilian bistro, and then they visited an art exhibition they were invited to as a family. The following day, he only went out for drinks with Darby for a little while, and that was only because Alma encouraged him to. She felt she couldn’t be much fun in that regard anymore in her state. When he returned home before midnight, she was a little disappointed, though.

As Bill descended the stairs leading out of the private sitting area, in just dress pants and an under tank, he could hear Alma and Echo’s naughty laughter through the house. Following the sound, he smiled, seeing what they were giggling over.

“Cake?” He raised a brow at Echo, who was clearly tickled. “For breakfast?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Echo snickered, with chocolate staining the side of her mouth. “Want some Papa?” 

“Sure, I’ll have some.” His participation in having dessert in the morning alongside them made her giggle even more, which he was aiming for. He didn’t really feel like having any, but if it made her happy, he would. 

They were just about to leave Yolani’s place after dropping Echo off, and, as usual, she wasn’t interested in seeing her parents off. She was always thrilled to be with Yolani, cozy in her home away from home.

“Echo, come over here,” Alma called, noticing her lounging on the couch without a care.

“Give your Mommy a hug goodbye,” Bill added, nudging his head toward Alma, who stood beside him.

Echo slipped off the couch and begrudgingly padded over on bare feet because she swiftly pulled her socks off right behind her shoes when she entered. Alma picked her up and hugged her tightly.

“You guys are dressed nicely,” Yolani complimented, despite how drab she felt next to them.

“Thanks,” Bill replied, since Alma was occupied. “We have a meeting to go to, so—” It was a white lie. Doctor appointment—meeting; what was the difference anyway?

No one knew yet that Alma was pregnant. Even after her blood work had confirmed it, they wanted to keep the news to themselves until after their first ultrasound.

“I love you, little one,” Alma whispered in Echo’s ear. “Now give your Daddy a hug too.”

~~~

In the ultrasound room, Bill sat next to Alma, anxiously bouncing his leg as they waited. Alma glanced over at him, her gaze drawing his attention. He brushed off his knees, covered by the relaxed trousers he wore, and stood up. She watched as he moved to the other side of the examination table, where the equipment was set up.

“What? Are you going to do it?” She laughed lightly.

“I could probably figure it out,” he muttered, running his fingers lightly over some round buttons. “They’re taking forever.”

“They are,” she agreed, glancing toward the door.

“C’mon, lift your shirt up,” he said, taking hold of the wand.

Alma giggled. “This far?” she coyly asked, pushing her blouse over her belly. “Or do you want me to go higher, Mr. Doctor?”

“Ma’am, I’m happily married,” he said, causing them both to laugh. “Look at your bump,” he remarked, noticing how her belly looked more prominent today.

“Yeah,” she peered down with a smile. “It’s kinda…”

“Kinda what,” his eyes flicked up at her.

“Can you chill? I think it just looks big, but I’m probably just mostly bloated, babe.”

Suddenly, they heard footsteps on the linoleum floor coming from down the hall. “Put it up, put it up!” Alma urged in a harsh whisper, and Bill quickly returned the wand to its place while she pulled her shirt down.

The young ultrasound technician entered with a warm smile, and Bill swiftly found his seat again, nervousness returning as they prepared for the appointment.

“Okay, so not your first rodeo then,” the tech said after asking Alma if this was her first time amongst other various questions. “That’s great! How old is she?”

“Three. Four in November.”

“Oh! That’s such a good age to be a big sister! She’ll be so helpful. Alright, are you ready?” She smiled at them. “Could you lift your blouse up while I fire up this machine?”

Finally, Bill thought. He understood that part of the tech’s job was to be personable, but it felt like it was prolonging what they came for. He clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees, watching as the tech applied the glycerine gel to Alma’s belly. Just then, she reached for his hand.

They looked ahead at the projection of what the machine was picking up, but there wasn’t anything discernible yet within the trapezoid on the screen—just black-and-white imaging.

“There’s baby!” The tech said happily. 

Bill excitedly raised his eyebrows as he clasped Alma’s hand in his, lifting them close to his face. The tech pointed out some features on the screen to help guide them through what was projected. There on the screen was a flicker of a strong heartbeat. Alma glanced over at him, noticing his focused yet happy expression, clearly not wanting to miss a single detail.

“How far along did you say again?” The tech asked suddenly.

Alma looked at her curiously; shouldn’t she know by reviewing her chart? “Nine weeks on Friday.”

“Hmm, let me take some pictures for measurements,” she said, clicking some buttons on the machine in front of her. 

Bill watched as the tech glided the wand across Alma’s belly, pressing in rather deep, but then she paused, causing him to glance at her screen to decipher what had caused her brows to furrow with concern. She continued sweeping the wand back and forth, reading the screen in a way she only understood before pausing again, this time pulling it away completely.

“Hmm, could you wait one moment, please? I’ll be right back, I promise,” the tech said before stepping out of the room.

“Did you see?” Alma smiled at Bill. “I can’t believe that’s inside me! It’s a trip.”

“It is,” Bill returned her smile, kissing the back of her hand. “I saw! So tiny. Uhm, do they usually leave the room like that?” he pointed. 

“Oh… uhm, no, but,” she lightly shrugged. “I don’t think it’s anything.”

Bill nodded, though Alma noticed his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, clearly anxious. A moment later, Alma’s OB walked in, followed closely by the tech.

“Hello, how are you today?” She asked Alma, warmly. “Oh, yes, it can be a bit rough at this stage. And you must be the father,” she added, extending her hand for a shake. “I’m Dr. Leslie.”

As she reached for the patient chart nearby, a wave of nervousness washed over Alma. Though the OB and tech were being amiable, she could sense through bullshit. Bill noticed the way Alma’s chest rose and slowly fell, and it didn’t ease his own anxieties.

“Miss Sanchez, could you…” Dr. Leslie gestured toward the machine.

The tech displayed the images she had taken, while Dr. Leslie glanced back at the chart. “Do you know the date of your last period?” she asked Alma. “And about the nausea—we prescribed medication for that at your last appointment, correct? Because we can fill that script today if not.” 

“Uhm, yeah. I got that filled. Is everything okay?” Alma asked, her voice steady despite the unease in the room.

Bill felt a wave of relief that she had asked before he could. He wasn’t sure his tone would have been as calm.

Dr. Leslie gave Alma a reassuring smile. “Of course. Yes, I apologize. How about we show them?” she said to the tech.

The wand was back on Alma’s belly. “Do you mind pushing your pants off your hips a bit more? I wouldn’t want to get them messy,” the tech requested.

Alma quickly complied, eager to understand why the doctor needed to be present. It felt unusual. 

“Okay, so here’s the baby. They’re measuring a little bigger than 9 weeks,” the tech said.

“Closer to twelve,” Dr. Leslie informed, as she focused on the screen, with her chin resting on the web of her hand.

“Really?” Alma’s eyes widened as she glanced over at Bill, who was equally astonished.

“Yes. The period you say you had in June was most likely implantation bleeding. That’s normal, but you haven’t experienced anything else like that since?” Dr. Leslie asked, looking at Alma.

“No,” she replied, still trying to process the information.

“Great. I’m really glad to hear that. So if you could show them now, Miss Sanchez,” Dr. Leslie instructed.

The tech swept the wand over just a bit, and Bill watched intently as the image of the fetus disappeared and another appeared on the screen. His brows furrowed in confusion, and then his head snapped toward Alma as the realization dawned on him. 

“This is baby number two,” the tech said excitedly.

Alma sat there, blinking, trying to comprehend what was being said. 

“Two? I-It’s twins!” Bill exclaimed, shock evident in his voice. “Holy shhh—” he began to say, but the curse word faltered into a whisper.

“Uhm…” was all Alma could mutter before falling silent again. Her mind raced as her heart sank.

“Let me see if I can get them both together for a picture,” the tech said, pressing the wand into Alma’s belly and focusing on the screen.

“Do twins run in your family?” Dr. Leslie tried to carefully ask, noticing that Alma seemed to have retreated into herself. 

“Uh,” Bill’s nervous gaze bounced between Alma and the doctor. “Uhm, on my wife’s side, yeah.” 

Alma flashed Bill a hard glance before turning her head toward the tech, wanting to see everything she was doing on the machine now. Miss Sanchez noticed, and she turned to her with a smile. 

“So exciting, right? This is my first time imaging twins,” she said happily. “Congrats!” 

“Yeah…” Alma nodded. “Right. Thank you,” she muttered. 

“See, their hearts beating,” the tech pointed at her screen as Alma watched. “Very strong! It’s amazing.” 

When they were finally alone with Dr. Leslie in her office, the reality of the situation hit harder as she began explaining the changes in their care plan now that it was a twin pregnancy. She calmly detailed the differences, pointing out that they were expecting fraternal twins and what that meant from now forward.

The doctor wrote Alma a new prescription for iron supplements, emphasizing the increased need for them, especially since Alma explained how tired and winded she could get. As well as suggesting baby aspirin, it would help her headaches and would serve as a precaution for high blood pressure. Alma’s mind was still spinning from the news, but she managed to take it all in as Dr. Leslie continued speaking of the babies.

Babies. Each time the doctor used the plural, it rang in Alma’s mind like an alarm. The initial excitement had given way to a strange, heavy reality. Bill glanced at Alma, trying to gauge her expression. She was quiet, and he knew she must be processing everything just as intensely, if not more, as he was.

A pang of guilt tugged at him. He had been the one to suggest having another child, but never in his wildest dreams had he anticipated this. Twins. He felt like he'd flown too close to the sun, wishing for something simple and getting more than he bargained for.

“While you're healthy and everything looks great with the babies. This is considered a high-risk pregnancy.” Dr. Leslie said as easily as she could. “I’m not trying to cause alarm, but you know, take it easy as we go further along. We’d like the babies to keep cooking for as long as is reasonable.” 

Alma sat quietly while Bill’s mind churned with a thousand thoughts. Take it easy. That phrase was foreign to his wife. He knew Alma rarely slowed down. The record shop, Echo, their house, her photography, her stubborn independence—taking it easy wasn’t exactly her style.

“Reasonable?” Bill asked, his voice tight.

“Yes,” Dr. Leslie said calmly. “Twins typically don’t go full term, but we aim to get as close as we can for a safe delivery.” She offered them a reassuring smile. “But let’s focus on the now. That way, we can stay on par for the course.”

Bill exhaled, rubbing his forehead, feeling overloaded. His mind raced through the logistics of having two babies and a toddler, while Alma continued to sit quietly next to him, chewing on her lip. 

“Okay,” Alma finally spoke up. “I can do that.”

Bill was surprised her voice remained so steady when she finally spoke. However, he knew his wife well and could see by her eyes how terrified she truly was. Beneath his concern for her, another feeling he had secretly held for a long time now gnawed at him—jealousy. He had always felt a little envious that Alma had gone through her first pregnancy alone, knowing the experience in a way he didn’t. This, though—twins—was uncharted territory for both of them. In this, they were equally new, equally unsure. He had to let his jealousy go.

When they left the center, Bill opened the Jeep’s passenger door for Alma, watching as she slid in quietly, still clutching the ultrasound photos. By the time he got into the driver's seat, she was staring down at the profiles of both babies, her expression unreadable. He turned the ignition but left the car idle in park. 

He looked down at the photos she held, then back at her. “They already look cute, don’t you think?” he said, trying to add some lightness. “The tech took some good pictures. On the projection, they kinda looked a little—freaky,” he lightly chuckled. 

“Mhmm,” Alma hummed in response, her voice distant. “Sorry, I just... I can’t wrap my head around it,” she muttered. “I didn’t think this was how today was going to go… I don’t know. I’m just—I’m hungry,” she sighed, slipping the ultrasound pictures back into the envelope, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere.

“Yeah, me too.” He nodded. “What do you feel like having?” 

“Just pick something,” she replied, a bit dismissive but not harsh. Bill nodded quietly, putting the car into drive without another word.

By the time they reached the café they frequented for lunch, the drizzle had turned into a steady, light rain.

"Could I get extra croutons on the grilled chicken Caesar, please? And for the half sandwich, I’ll have the pesto Italian—toasted. Also, a banana berry smoothie—a large," Alma ordered at the register with a polite smile. "Uhm, I’m going to find a seat," she added, running her hand down Bill’s arm before stepping away.

“And for you, sir?” 

"Huh?" Bill turned back after watching Alma leave. "Oh, yeah, uhm," he pressed his lips together, scanning the menu board above, trying to recall what he'd planned to order moments ago.

They sat together in their usual corner booth by the window, where raindrops clumsily zigzagged, absorbing into each other until they got so fat they slid down the pane like anvils. They weren’t conversing much, as they were occupied with eating, especially Alma, who was fully enjoying her meal. 

“Do you want to try?” she asked, holding her smoothie out to him. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

While Bill took a sip of the smoothie, Alma began spearing chopped romaine on her fork, her gaze drifting out the window. Across the street, she saw a family rushing through the rain, both parents carrying toddlers in matching purple jumpsuits. Two little girls. Twin little girls. She swallowed thickly as a lump formed in her throat. The culmination of their day and the sheer reality of what was happening inside her body hit her with a force.

Alma dropped her fork, the clatter of metal against the dish cutting through the murmur of casual conversation happening throughout the café. Without warning, she buried her face in her hands and began to sob audibly. Bill froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, but when he noticed a few patrons stretching their necks to see what this issue was, he swiftly moved. Sliding into the booth seat beside her to shield her from nosy onlookers. 

“Alma?” Bill said softly, gently wrapping his arm around her trembling shoulders.

“I just don’t understand!” she sobbed. “What does any of it even mean?!”

Bill frowned, unsure of how to comfort her. He remembered Scotty’s words about the helplessness of being on the sidelines, and now he truly understood. All he could do was support her, of course, but it pained him knowing that was all he could do. She had to do the rest, the hard part, for two lives now. 

He wanted to say, ‘Everything will be okay,’ but he couldn’t guarantee that, not really. And telling her he was scared too wouldn’t help ease her fears. So, he just took a deep breath and pulled her a little closer, offering the one thing he could—his presence.

“I’ll just go to the car,” Alma sniffled, wiping at her cheeks, though the tears continued to spill. “I want to go home.”

“Alright, love,” Bill nodded, noting the embarrassment written across her face.

Alma followed him out of the booth, and she headed straight out of the establishment while he gathered their food in to-go containers. He watched through the café window as she walked with slumped shoulders and showed no effort to shield herself from the rain. She sipped on her smoothie and was clearly still sobbing. Bill’s heart sank, and he hated himself for even thinking it, but it looked so pitiful. 

His poor wife, who detested crying in front of others, who even disliked crying in general, was now utterly overwhelmed by the hormones she couldn’t control.

Bill quickly jogged to the Jeep, placing the food in the back seat before entering the driver’s side. Speckled with rain, he slammed the door shut.

“Alma, I know this is fucking crazy,” he admitted. “I know you’ve been thinking about your siblings. But these are our babies.” Alma bit her quivering lip, feeling tears wanting to spill over again. He paused, rubbing his wet brow as he looked at the blur of water running down the windshield. Something about saying, “our babies,” out loud caused it to dawn on him further. There were two.

“I know,” Alma sniffled. “It just feels like a weird joke. It’s just not clicking!” 

“I get it. Yeah…” he replied, his brow furrowing in sympathy.

“And then the doctor said a bunch of scary shit—preeclampsia, c-sections. They’re going to cut me open, Bill! I said in her office I could do it, but—”

“Don’t think that way. You can do it,” he reached for her hand.

Alma took a deep, shaky breath. “I know I’ve done it once before, but this is so, so different! I haven’t done this…” She fell silent, glancing over at Bill. He looked so conflicted about how to comfort her. “I... I’m so glad I wasn’t alone this time. But I am happy, though.”

“Are you? I feel like you should be mad at me, or—” he said, his voice tinged with guilt.

Alma turned to look out her window. “I was,” she admitted, glancing back at him. “That’s why I didn’t say much in the ultrasound room.” Bill chuckled but quickly stifled it when he saw her serious expression. “It’s not funny. I was yelling at you in my head; you’re lucky,” she said, a light laugh escaping her. “But it’s my fault too… I guess.” She rolled her eyes playfully.

An inappropriate thought crossed Bill's mind, but he quickly pushed it aside; it didn’t fit the mood. “I’m happy too,” he finally said earnestly. “Like really happy. I don’t know, as a guy, it—” He bit his lip, searching for the right words. “There’s a sense of pride in being able to do it twice, honestly.”

“But it was my body that released two eggs? The doctor explained that.” 

“Yeah, sure. But I mean,” he lightly shrugged with a smug smirk. 

Alma shook her head at him. “You’re a sicko,” she twisted her lip. 

“Oh, don’t even start. You ask for it! And you take it too!” He shot back playfully.

“Oh my god! What is wrong with you?” Her cheeks went hot, knowing he was right. “Can we go home?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he playfully dismissed with a laugh. “You don’t like hearing the truth, huh?” he winked.

….

The record shop was buzzing with activity for a gig the following week, but Alma just didn’t have the energy to oversee it. She gave it her best effort, pushing through most of the day. However, while resting in the office, a sudden wave of nausea hit her, and before she knew it, her head was in the trash bin as her stomach emptied.

It was dizzying, and despite wanting to push through, she gave in and went home for the rest of the night, leaving Bill to handle things without her.

“Where’s Alma?” Ash asked him when she arrived for her shift. 

“Ah, not feeling well,” Bill informed her while he was leaning against the cash wrap counter watching the acts for the night having their merch tables filled. 

“No! She was excited about photographing the headliner tonight! Must be pretty bad, huh?”

“Yeah… she’ll be okay, though,” he lightly shrugged. “You down to do some Alma things tonight?”

“Hell yeah!” Ash said enthusiastically, pumping her fists, effectively making her bangles chime, eager to put some training to use. 

They still hadn’t shared the news that they were expecting. Earlier in the week, while in their home office, Bill had been flipping through one of Alma’s planners, curious about when they had conceived. Alma sat beside him, explaining how to count back from the week of gestation she was currently in.

“So, it didn’t happen on our honeymoon… It must have been in New York before we flew back,” he said.

“That’s what I think, yeah.”

"Hmm," he hummed, his bottom lip jutting out in contemplation and remembering the sex they had on their two-day layover in the city. Of all the times it could have happened, sex at the penthouse was the least adventurous location. Maybe even the least exciting performances they’ve given. 

“Something’s in the water there,” she joked with a soft laugh. 

“Apparently,” he said, closing her planner. “Uhm, should we tell people about the babies now?” 

“Uh…” Alma took a deep breath. "Well, I won’t be able to hide it much longer." She had been wearing oversized knit sweaters and layers to conceal the small, growing bump. "I wish I could wait until 20 weeks, but that’s impossible unless I literally never leave the house."

Bill nodded, understanding why she wanted to wait. Her siblings had never quite made it to that stage, and he knew that weighed on her. Still, he didn’t like the way she was thinking. He had assured her that technology and medicine had changed for the better, but it didn’t seem to ease her much.

"I’ll just show up to work one day without a damn sweater," she suggested with a light laugh. "Let them figure it out. That’s what I did when I was pregnant with Echo."

“What’d they say at the shop when you did that?” He smirked, curiously.

"Eh..." she grimaced slightly. "It was awkward. No one said anything my whole shift, but I could feel them staring! And, you know, they all thought I was single, so I’m sure they didn’t know what to say." She laughed, shaking her head. "When I had my next shift with Ulyssa, she knew, so she broke the ice by congratulating me, and then everyone else felt comfortable to do the same."

“I see,” he side-eyed her. “And what about your dad?” he asked carefully. 

Alma scratched her head, a worried look crossing her face. It didn’t matter that she was a thirty-three-year-old married woman—she was still fearful that she’d somehow get in trouble for falling pregnant. On top of that, she was anxious about how he’d react to the news that she was expecting twins. 

"Maybe... after we find out the sex of the babies. Then you can tell him what you did."

"Oh, so now I get to take some credit for it?" He teased with a light laugh.

When Bill returned home from the gig, the house was peacefully quiet. Alma was fast asleep, with Echo lying right beside her. He smiled at the sight of them sound asleep. As he slid into bed wearing sweatpants he had cut into long shorts, Alma stirred and mumbled in her sleep.

“Billy.” 

“Yeah?”

He was only met with silence, prompting him to glance down at her. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes were closed, and her long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. She turned away from his touch when he lightly poked her nose, and a string of jumbled words came out. 

“But did you look?” she muttered after a string of incoherence.

She was sleep talking, which he had noticed her doing so often these last few weeks. Nothing ever made much sense; it seemed as if her mind was filtering out unimportant nonsense. 

“Look where?” He softly asked, wondering if he’d get a response. 

She muttered incoherently as a reply, and he bit his lip to keep from audibly chuckling. 

“Look.” She said suddenly, making him pause. “He—just like you—like your pretty eyes.” 

He furrowed his brows, wondering what she could be dreaming about. Whatever it was, he was just glad it didn’t seem like a bad one for a change. 

….

The news of their pregnancy spread slowly—or as slowly as it could before Echo could blab it out to anyone who would listen. After her first week at the new Montessori preschool close to home, they took her out to McDonald’s to celebrate. She had eaten surprisingly well for a child her age, but despite introducing her to finer foods, not even a well-trained Michelin-awarded chef could compete with the chicken nuggets and fries a clown could offer. 

“Would you like to be a big sister, E?” Bill asked her.

“Slow down a little, baby,” Alma said, seeing her chow down rather quickly. “Your daddy asked you a question.” 

Bill repeated the question, and Echo paused, her hazel eyes shifting thoughtfully. “I like it now.”

“You like it now—like just us?” He asked, trying to understand what she meant. 

“Me. Papa. Mommy,” she pointed between them with a golden fry before smiling brightly at her mother.

"Hm," Bill pursed his lips and exchanged a glance with Alma, who raised her brows at him. "Well... what if I told you that you are? That you’re going to be a big sister."

"No. That's okay," Echo replied, returning to her chicken nuggets, disinterested in what her parents were trying to say.

"Um, well, Echo, I’m going to have a baby. Two babies," Alma gently added, trying to help explain.

"Mama having a baby?" Echo asked, scrunching her eyes as she nibbled on her ketchup-covered chicken nugget.

"Yeah! Two babies. They’re growing in my belly, E," Alma said, smiling, patting her stomach.

Echo’s brows furrowed in confusion. "How do they come out? You frow up?"

Bill laughed. "No, sweetheart. Sometimes Mama just doesn’t feel good, but the doctor helps take the babies out, and then they’re here."

Echo nodded, still a little confused, but they let it go. She quickly got distracted and decided she wanted to join the kids in the play area. Bill took a bite of his Big Mac, watching her as she eagerly clamored up the stairs on her own.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Bill said, wiping his mouth. “Do you think she understands?” He glanced over at Alma next to him.

“I don’t think she cares.” She replied, taking a sip of soda from the yellow-striped straw.

“What? She seemed excited?” He said with a tinge of doubt in his voice. 

“No, she seemed disturbed.” 

“Disturbed?” He lightly chuckled. 

“I wish I didn’t forget the sonograms on the island. Maybe it would have helped, but right now she doesn’t care,” Alma lightly laughed, grabbing a few fries.

“We could take her to the next ultrasound,” he suggested. “Maybe if she feels involved in some way, that could even help.” 

Alma nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s a good idea, actually.” 

~~~

When the day finally arrived, Echo sat on her father’s lap in the ultrasound room, firing off a million questions while they waited. Bill was just glad it was her asking the questions this time, instead of him. Alma appeared calm and well rested, a contrast to Bill, who had tossed and turned the night before, too anxious for what lay ahead. He was surprised that morning to find Alma already half-dressed for the day, gently nudging him awake—he had shockingly overslept.

When the images of the twins appeared on the screen, Echo finally quieted down, her wide eyes shifting between the projection and Alma’s belly.

"See? I told you," Alma chuckled softly as Echo grew bashful and nestled closer to her father, who lightly caressed her pink cheek. 

Back at home, Bill joined Alma in the kitchen as she pinned the new sonogram photos to the fridge next to the birth announcement for Scotty’s son, Dean Scott Everett. She seemed genuinely happy after learning about the twins' sexes, which relieved him. He had feared tears might come instead. He wondered if she held back her emotions because their daughter was present but knew she didn’t have true control over that because of the surge of hormones running through her body. Earlier in the week, she'd burst into tears out of frustration when she couldn’t reconfigure the vacuum hose properly.

Echo was thrilled to learn she’d be a big sister to a little sister—Baby A. Bill was happy too, already experienced as a father to one daughter, and loving her so much made it easy to imagine loving another. Baby B was a boy, and while he felt just as happy, a strange sense of dread washed over him. First, he feared Alma's reaction to the news, and second, he worried that his son might mirror the parts of himself he didn’t like. He hated even having those thoughts.

Alma stepped back to look at their profiles on the sonogram photos on the fridge with a smile on her face that transferred over to Bill when he approached her. 

“They’re getting so cute,” she said, opening the fridge for some leftovers she could reheat. 

“Were you surprised when the tech told us they’d be a girl and a boy?” Bill asked as they finished lunch on the back patio. At the appointment, Alma hardly looked surprised at all, almost as if she had expected it.

"Uhm, well, yes. Now that we know, we can get serious about what to name them. And Echo definitely was—she immediately told her teacher when we dropped her off at school. "Alma chuckled softly. "Were you surprised?"

“Yeah, it’s still even wild seeing two in there,” he smiled, glancing at her bump. “It’s just—I don’t know—it seemed like you knew already…” he asked carefully. “Like they couldn’t possibly be anything else other than what they are.” 

Alma bit her cheek as she gazed out at the yard in thought. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “If I told you, you would just dismiss it anyway.” 

“Why would I be dismissive?” He raised a brow at her. 

“Because I dreamt of them," she shrugged. "Many times now, and that's only the ones I remember.”

“Dreams?” he asked skeptically.

"See? You don’t even want to believe it."

“No, no," he tried to assure her. “I mean, you’ve been talking a lot in your sleep too, so—”

"What do I say?"

"Nothing I can really understand, honestly. But tell me about the dreams."

"It’s just me caring for the babies, usually. I can’t see them exactly—it’s just blank?" She narrowed her eyes, trying to explain. "But I know. I know it’s a boy, and I know it’s a girl. Sometimes you’re in the dreams, and Echo too, but mostly it’s just me with them.

“Hmm,” he nodded thoughtfully. “Did you have dreams about Echo?”

“I did, sometimes, but not as much as with these babies.” Alma looked away for a moment, then bashfully admitted, “I dreamt about you a lot, though. Nice dreams.”

Bill felt a light blush creep up. “Nice ones?” he smiled.

“I—I just missed you so much,” she said, her voice trembling as her eyes filled with tears. He quickly wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to help her settle.

“Yeah… in these new dreams, what am I doing there?” he asked quickly to distract her from her guilty thoughts.

“Oh,” she sniffled. “You’re just holding them. It’s sweet. Sorry,” she said, wiping her nose. “I’m sick of crying so much. I feel so fucking crazy lately.” 

He gave her a light, comforting squeeze. “Well, I understand you can’t help it. At least you look pretty when you do.” 

“Yeah, right,” she laughed, kissing his cheek.

~~~

October 1995

It was a chilly, dreary day in mid-October. Bill sat in the office that morning, shuffling paperwork, but his thoughts were miles elsewhere—in New York. Trigger Finger had been privately dealing with an issue for the past week, and earlier that morning, he’d been on the phone with Bianca discussing it. Telling her that he would bump his trip up and arrive sooner to see what was going on himself. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Bianca reassured him. “It’s only two weeks earlier than I planned,” Bill countered. “Just let things simmer for a bit. We’re good. Nothing falls on us anyway.”

The issue had started when one of Alvin’s footmen, who usually sold at their club, got tangled up with the authorities on unrelated charges. During his arrest, they discovered a significant amount of cash in his possession, raising suspicion. While the situation wasn’t likely to come back on them, Bill hated that it had happened at all. Still, they had both agreed to pause any sales at the club until the dust settled. Figuratively and literally.

“Fine, just keep me updated until I can get there,” Bill said.

“Like I’ve been doing?” Bianca shot back. “I’ve got it under control. Trust me, I want this to blow over just as much as you do. He’s a lower rung—nothing to stress about.”

At that moment, Alma walked into the office, moving sluggishly. She wore an oversized sweater tucked into a long skirt, her hair styled half-up in two buns. Since she reached the middle of her pregnancy, she was moving a little slower.

“Sure,” Bill pressed the speaker button on the phone. “Yeah, Alma’s here,” he said, giving her a subtle heads-up not to say anything revealing. Alma stood beside him, gently caressing his head.

Bianca greeted Alma, and Bill stood, offering Alma his seat. Before sitting, she wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her face against his chest, soaking in his warmth. Lately, with the weather turning cooler and the days growing shorter, she had been extra cuddly with him. 

Before Bianca ended the call, she reminded Alma to take care of herself and joked, “Even though I know you’re expecting twins, I’ll only believe it when I see them with my own two eyes.”

“Weren’t you about to go?” Bill asked her while he brought a chair around the desk to sit next to her. 

“Eh, yeah,” Alma said, slumping into the cushy office chair, her hands gently cradling her belly. “I guess. I’m tired. I almost don’t feel like going out anymore, actually.”

“What do you feel up for?” Bill asked with a smirk, eyeing her lazy posture while he rested his head against his fist.

“A margarita. A menthol cigarette. Sushi. A massage. An Oreo, peanut butter milkshake,” she listed off on her fingers.

“Yeah, there are only two things there you can have.”

“Mhmm. The margarita and sushi,” she replied, closing her eyes in wistful thought.

“That does sound good. I think I’ll have that for dinner tonight,” he chuckled, earning a playful middle finger from Alma in response.

“Maybe I should call Ulyssa; she’ll be down to go shopping with me,” Alma mused.

“She’s in town?” Bill asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. But could you call her for me?” She pointed lazily at the phone on the desk.

“You don’t feel like doing that either?”

“I just don’t want to move until I have to,” she laughed lightly.

He shook his head, amused, dialing Ulyssa. After a few rings, her voice filled the room through the speaker. She cheerfully informed them that she could come over within the hour.

Alma noticed him glance at the clock on the wall, but she sensed the tense demeanor he’d carried all week simmering beneath the surface. She ran her hand down his forearm and laced her fingers with his, gently pulling him back from wherever his mind had wandered.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, her brows furrowed with concern.

“Hmm?” He turned to her, snapping out of his thoughts. “Yeah. I’m just a little—”

“Tired?” She tilted her head. 

He nodded, blinking his puffy eyes. He had been having trouble sleeping, and last night was no different. Plagued by an odd, repetitive nightmare of an intruder lurking in his home, jolting him awake in a cold sweat. It would leave a strange anxiety over him, keeping him from returning to sleep. This need to stay up and keep watch over his family, even when they were perfectly secure and sound, overtook him. 

“Could you help me up?” she asked, and he immediately obliged, pulling her up by her hands.

She led him out of the office, down the hall, and into their bedroom. When they entered, his hands wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close, and he ducked his head into her neck, making her giggle softly.

“Go lay down,” she said, turning her head to kiss him gently. “Take a nap!”

“Really?” He chuckled, a bit surprised.

“I’m so serious.”

“Do I look like hell?” He sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his house shoes.

“No…” she said unconvincingly. “You look perfect to me, actually. But sleep,” she insisted.

“Alright, yeah. I should,” he agreed, finally lying down while Alma gathered her coat and tote bag. “Do you have the catalog?”

Alma smiled at him. They had spent time together flipping through a department store catalog, circling items they needed and liked for the babies' nursery. “I got it. And I’m taking the Tahoe, by the way.”

“Alright,” he yawned loudly. Alma leaned down to kiss him goodbye and wait for Ulyssa downstairs, but instead, he grabbed her and pulled her down into bed with him. They made out, with her leg hiked on his hip, until Ulyssa rang the doorbell, forcing them apart. Bill cursed in his head but helped her out of bed.

Alma smirked when she noticed him subtly adjusting himself in his lounge pants. “You don’t have to walk me out this time,” she said, giving him a pointed look, signaling for him to stay in bed and actually take a nap.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, leaning back against the headboard with one leg still hanging off the side of the bed.

“Do you want to see something before I go?” She teased, pulling up her skirt and ignoring the second ring of the doorbell.

Bill’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard but instantly intrigued. “Always,” he smirked.

He watched on curiously as her long skirt rose past her thighs until she took his hand and guided it past her panties, revealing how wet she was. A deep, pained groan rumbled in his chest, his eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. In her second trimester, she was wetter than he’d ever felt, insatiable in ways that only intensified their connection. Even when now, as they kept things fairly tame, the passion between them remained fierce.

But time was ticking. They had been advised to ease off once she reached her third trimester, or sooner if any complications arose. The thought lingered between them—that any time they were together like this could be the last for a while.

“Fuck! And you’re leaving?!” he groaned, two fingers flicking forward, causing Alma’s hips to jolt at the sensation. “Just sit on it for a second,” he peered up at her when he hooked his middle finger inside her, preventing her from pulling away.

Alma’s heart raced, her body wanting to give in. “I can’t. I have to go,” she said, grabbing his wrist and forcefully pulling his hand away.

Bill shook his head with an amused grin, pushing his erection down his pant leg, holding it down. “Why would you do that?” he lightly whined.

As Alma kissed him goodbye, she placed a hand on his cheek, meeting his lust-filled green eyes. “Maybe if you jerk off, you’ll nap better,” she teased with a cheeky smile before heading downstairs. “I love you,” she sang out from the hallway.

~~~

“Whoa! You must have had a really fun day!” Bill said as he picked Echo up from preschool that afternoon. Her little backpack bounced behind her as she ran happily into his arms. Other children were playing as they waited for the respective rides in the schoolyard. 

Echo's shirt was dirty, and the knees of her leggings were grass-stained from outdoor play. But what caught Bill's attention the most was her hair—Alma had carefully styled it into a sleek braided ponytail that morning, but now it had frizzed out, with flyaways sticking up like a crown of dandelion fluff.

“So fun!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck while he tried to smooth down her wild hair.

“I can tell,” he chuckled, giving her an affectionate squeeze.

Bill adjusted his sunglasses, scanning the area for Echo's teacher to sign her out. As he did, he caught her looking at him with a soft, admiring expression, standing alongside two teaching assistants who swooned at the sight of him. It wasn’t often that he picked Echo up alone—usually, Alma was the one doing it—but today, she was still out shopping. Even when Alma was present, he noticed the staff stealing discreet glances at him. Alone, however, they were bolder today. Even some mothers picking up their children dared to look a little longer than usual. 

The staff couldn’t help but notice how his black denim hugged him just right, the silver wallet chain bouncing against his thigh with each step of his boots. He wore a fluffy, oversized black sweater with a wide neckline, revealing a hint of the strap of the white muscle tank underneath. His silver necklace gleamed against his strong neck, accompanying the accentuating stud in his earlobe. His hands, adorned with rings, caught their attention. The skull ring worn on his middle right finger stole the show, but they seemed to overlook the significance of the one on his left ring finger today.

It wasn’t just that he was tall, edgy, and good-looking that drew their gazes. It was the rare sight of a father picking up his child, and Bill did it with a calm authority that was hard to ignore. The way he effortlessly connected with Echo, smoothing her messy hair and listening intently as she babbled about her day, made him stand out. The attentive, hot father look just made him all the more attractive. 

“Where’s Mama?” Echo asked as he signed the sheet on the clipboard the teacher happily held out for him.

“Say bye, E’,” he prompted, redirecting her attention instead of answering in front of the staff. As innocuous as shopping was, he knew the staff was surely listening in, and he didn’t want to feed their nosiness. “Thanks,” he said quietly to the teacher as he handed back the pen.

“Bye-bye, Mrs. Tilly!” Echo waved over Bill’s shoulder as they headed out.

They drove to the record store together, with Echo continuing to excitedly chatter about her day at school. Bill listened, noting how well she was picking up new things, despite his slight skepticism about the Montessori curriculum. He observed her growing independence with mixed feelings; while he was proud, it also made him a little sad to see her needing him a little less.

“And Papa? Papa? You hear me?” 

“Yeah, I’m listening, honey,” he replied, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“Papa. Can I—May I have a snack?” 

“Sure, when we get to the shop.” 

“Okay,” she said, kicking her feet in excitement. “And Mommy?”

“Oh!” he said, remembering that he never answered her. “She’s shopping with Aunt Ulyssa.” 

“Aww. I wish I go!” She lightly pouted over being left out, which made Bill chuckle. 

He wondered what Alma was up to. Several hours had passed since Alma left him behind for his “nap”—a nap he never actually took. He did pleasure himself with his fingers in his mouth, tasting Alma’s sweetness, however. Afterward, he found himself in the basement, lifting weights. The workout helped relieve some stress, invigorating him enough to proceed with his day, but as he was removing the added weight discs from the bar, one slipped off and landed squarely on the top of his foot.

He cursed loudly, hobbling for a moment before gingerly putting his full weight on it to ensure nothing was broken. It hurt like hell, but he was relieved to find he was mostly fine. However, it would be black and blue and irritatingly sore for a while.

In the office at Sheisty Sound Records, Bill set up a small snack for Echo, placing cheese and crackers alongside an apple juice box in front of her. He adjusted the chair, pushing it up a bit so she could reach the desk better. She settled in with a satisfied smile, ready to enjoy her snack while he tackled some paperwork while sipping black coffee from a paper cup.

Bill perched on the edge of the desk next to Echo, scanning a reminder list that Alma had left behind. It was a mix of calls she needed to make and orders for flyers. Lately, he had noticed her forgetfulness—small things—but he knew they could add up down the line. They had discussed when she should take off from work as her pregnancy progressed, but Alma was adamant about working until she simply couldn’t anymore. She did the same when pregnant with Echo. He knew she would say that, so he kept his thoughts to himself. He didn't want to come off as doubting her abilities, but her stubbornness sometimes frustrated him.

“Want some, Papa?” Echo asked, bits of cracker flying past her lips as her mouth was full. She held out a piece of cheese toward him.

“Thank you,” he replied, accepting her offering with a smile. “Could I get a cracker too?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded, handing him one with a proud grin. A sweet thing about her is that she always liked to share her food.

Shortly, there was a light rap on the door frame, and Bill turned, laying an order form down on the desk. 

“Oh, hey man,” he said, standing up. 

Bill was expecting Shuggy to stop by today, bringing over some studio equipment they needed. In exchange, Bill was hoping to offload some older gear to make space. Echo watched the two men shake hands, speaking amiably as they greeted each other.

“I can pull my van around back if you don’t mind,” Shuggy suggested, pointing towards the stage area.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you back there,” Bill replied, then turned to Echo. “Uh, you go ahead; I gotta make sure she’ll be alright.”

“Your kid?” Shuggy asked, glancing at Echo. Bill nodded. "You helping out today, little boss?” he asked, playfully.

Echo grinned shyly, nodding as she stayed perched in the chair. Bill chuckled. “Yeah, she’s keeping me in check.”

Shuggy proceeded, and Bill stayed back a moment, looking through the office window towards the cash wrap.

Both Ash and Darby were chatting during their shift change near the cash wrap. Bill hesitated, not wanting to interrupt their conversation to ask if they’d keep an eye on Echo. It wasn’t their responsibility, and he knew they were just being generous when they helped out in the past. With a sigh, he decided to close the office door instead, figuring he’d let Echo occupy herself for a bit while he handled business.

“E’, I’ll be right back, okay? Will you be fine by yourself?” Bill asked. Echo gave a little shrug, munching on her snack. “I’m going to close the door,” he continued, kneeling down to her level. “Don’t leave, alright? Only Ash or Darby are allowed in here when the door is closed, okay?”

“Okay, Papa,” she replied, her attention drifting off.

“Hey, look at me,” he asked gently. Hazel and pale green eyes meeting again. “Just stay in here. I won’t be long, baby,” he reassured her, brushing a hand over her wild hair before standing and heading for the door.

Meanwhile, Alma and Ulyssa found themselves at the bustling mall food court, taking a much-needed break from their shopping spree. They split a Philly cheesesteak, but Alma was taking smaller, more deliberate bites, quietly regretting not ordering a full one just for herself.

Shopping bags sat at their feet, filled with adorable baby clothes and other odds and ends they had picked up throughout the day. They had managed to find a few lovely little girl clothing items, but it was the tiny boy’s clothes that had captivated them the most. It was just so cute; it made Alma’s heart flutter with excitement.

Alma glanced at the clock tower in the middle of the food court, thinking how Bill would have picked Echo up from school by now and then returned to her conversation with Ulyssa. As they chatted, she reflected on how Bill had been in his head this week, which she chalked up to the anxiety of expecting twins finally hitting him. She felt he had been a little blasé about it all until now. Ulyssa's laugh about how crazy it all was brought a smile to Alma's face as she sipped her lemonade. As a twin herself, Ulyssa had been nothing but excited since learning the news. She loved having a sister and the special bond they had. In a way, learning Alma was an only child, Ulyssa gravitated to her wanting to be a person she could lean on despite her being fiercely independent, even sometimes to a fault. 

"You were saying about the winery?" Ulyssa nudged, excited to hear more details about Alma’s honeymoon.

“Well, listening to the ghost tour you took in Georgia,” Alma said, pushing her long hair from her shoulder. The prenatals were making it grow quickly, and dealing with it had been irritating to her lately. She didn’t mind the nail growth, though. “It reminded me of this witchy-looking altar in the orchard on the property,” she explained, describing the eerie scene.

“Oh, weird. But you know, it’s a place where they grow stuff, right? So the moon phases could represent growth—maybe it’s to bless the land for good crops. Makes sense, right? I would ask Ash. She knows more about that stuff, than I do, honestly.”

“Huh,” Alma said reflectively. “Yeah, I get what you mean. Still kind of spooky, though.”

“Eh, you should hear about the stuff that happens in Romania,” Ulyssa replied. “I’ve got a cousin who swears he met a vampire at a bar once. Next thing he knows, he’s half-naked in a ditch with what he claims was a bite on his thigh. We always joke that he got bit by a mangy stray dog,” she laughed with Alma. “Are you done?” Ulyssa asked, gathering their trash.

“Yeah, but… Could we get another one before we keep shopping?”

“Duh! The fact that you would even ask when you’re eating for three? Of course,” Ulyssa grinned.

Back at the shop, Bill dusted off his jeans as he wrapped up his equipment exchange with Shuggy. He jumped off the stage, regretfully limping on his sore foot for a moment for doing so as he headed back to the office. Through the windows, he noticed Echo wasn’t in the chair, but it hadn’t set off any alarms yet. Rounding the desk, he bent down and peeked underneath, expecting to see her playing there, but it was vacant. His heart rate picked up slightly as he straightened up and looked out toward the cash wrap. Darby and Matt were there, preoccupied with customers.

He frowned, quickly checking behind the door and under the small table in the corner, but no sign of her. Bill scratched his head, eyes scanning the office again. On the other side, he noticed papers that had once been neatly stacked on the desk had been knocked off and scattered across the floor along with her juice box. He didn’t like the way that looked—not one bit. His gut tightened with unease, his nightmares spilling into reality. Quickly, he checked the cabinets behind him, hoping she might be playing a game of hide-and-seek. But again, no sign of her.

His pace quickened as he left the office, scanning the aisles for any trace of his daughter. As he rounded a corner, he nearly bumped into Chrissy, who was busy shelving misplaced CDs.

“Hey, have you seen Echo running around?” he asked, his voice low but urgent. 

“Echo?” She paused with a CD in her hand, looking up at him. “No, I didn’t even know she was here.” 

Bill took a deep, uneasy breath, fighting against the panic that was welling up inside him. “Alright, well, if you see her, you know…”

“For sure,” Chrissy said, with a nod.

At the cash wrap, Darby caught sight of Bill crouching down, scanning under tables.

“You looking for something, man?” He asked, brow furrowing in concern.

Bill stood up, swallowing hard as the weight of worry pressed down on him. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Yeah. My kid.”

“Oh shit…” Darby’s eyes widened, the gravity of the situation hitting him hard now that he was a father too. “Matt, go stand by the door. Lock it behind everyone who goes out.”

“And don’t let anyone in!” Matt added, hopping out from behind the counter.

“Exactly. Good lookin’ out,” Darby said.

Darby hollered at Chrissy to take charge of the cash wrap while he began searching alongside Bill, who had already walked off to check the bathrooms. He slammed the door to the men's room open but found it vacant. Standing outside the women's room, he cracked the door open and called for Echo.

“Uhm… it’s just me…” a sheepish, girly voice answered. “Meg.” She announced, causing Bill to roll his eyes. 

Bill's mind was racing now as he stood by the stage, rubbing his forehead as dread washed over him. He and Alma had stressed to Echo the importance of stranger danger. She seemed to understand that fairly well, but the sight of the scattered papers on the floor twisted his stomach into a knot. His thoughts spiraled into a dark place, imagining the worst—what if someone had taken her? No one of authority seemed to have noticed she was at the shop, leaving him anxious about whether she had walked out with someone, willingly or unwillingly.

“Echo?” Darby was heard calling out her name from the other side of the room. 

Bill began to check the backstage area, pushing aside the heavy curtain. As he did, he heard a familiar giggle coming from somewhere within the pleats. "Echo, are you over here?" he called, hoping to coax her out. A giggle sounded, though it was faint and muffled. "E’, I heard you. Come out now.”

Darby began approaching the stage when he noticed Bill looking through the curtain frantically. Her laughter felt like a figment of his imagination, and his heart sank further with each passing second. Frustrated, he stomped his sore foot on the ground, and a sharp, startled squeal was heard. Bill looked at Darby, wondering if he had heard it too. 

“I heard that!” Darby pointed out, which reassured Bill’s sanity. 

Bill looked down at his feet, tapping the hollow stage. He quickly hopped off, ignoring the nagging pain in his foot, and made his way to the right side, where there was an opening for the crawl space underneath—an opening that was always supposed to remain locked. An opening that Alma had disturbed for extra mic stands and simply forgot to lock behind her.

Darby announced he’d come back with a flashlight when Bill pulled the door open and called for Echo, trying to reach out with his long arms, but she was far inside, and he was much too big to crawl in for her. “Hey, you gotta come out.” He said sternly, and he heard Echo whimper in trepidation. “You’re not in trouble, E’. You just need to come out; there are spiders down here,” he added, hoping to coax her out of the crawl space.

“Spiders?”

“Yeah, big ones.”

He heard her shuffling around in the dark, and as she finally emerged from the shadows, he quickly scooped her into his arms. “You can’t do that ever again,” his voice was stern but laced with relief, kissing her dusty cheek. “Like ever again. You scared, Papa.” 

She frowned, full of remorse, her hazel eyes filling with tears. “I sorry, Papa.” She cried out, hugging his neck. 

He rubbed her back while she wept. “I know you were just playing, honey. But I have to know, you were supposed to be in the office, remember?” He sighed. “I probably took too long to come back. I’m sorry.” 

Darby gave Bill a thumbs up, visibly relieved that Echo was safe and sound inside the shop instead of in the back of some creep's white windowless van. After the unfortunate day he’d endured, Bill decided it was best to head home.

“Hey, man, I’m sorry I must have not locked the storage space,” Darby said before Bill left.

“You don’t have to do that,” Bill replied, meeting Darby’s gaze with understanding. “I know it was Alma. It’s on me, though. It’s fine. Echo is fine; that’s all that matters. Thanks for helping, by the way.” 

“Yeah, man,” Darby nodded appreciatively. “I know you’d do the same for me.” 

While on the drive back home, he thought about Echo being missing; even for a few minutes felt like an eternity. As if he wasn’t deathly tired already, the fear he felt drained what was left of him in a matter of seconds. While he wished he could have driven in silence with only the sound of the rain against the car and the metronomic swish of the window wipers, Echo requested to listen to Human Fly by The Cramps, which she liked to listen to ad nauseam lately. 

“Bzz, bzz, bzz,” she giggled, singing along in the back seat happily. Without a care, she almost gave her father a mental breakdown not even 30 minutes ago. 

The pager, lying in the passenger seat, beeped, jolting him out of his remorseful brooding. Reaching over, he quickly grabbed it, the first few digits he recognized to be Alma, but it slipped from his fingers and fell on the floorboard. Causing him to let out a loud, heavy, defeated sigh.

When pulling into the driveway, Ulyssa was driving out and waved at him in passing with a friendly grin on her face. He liked her company, but he was relieved he didn’t have to entertain it that evening. He just wanted to shut in, away from the world, and let the weight of the day settle away in silence. 

When they entered through the side door, he helped Echo out of her coat and set her backpack on the bench while she scrambled to take her shoes off to search for her mother. He stayed behind for a moment, double-checking that he had locked the door—his lingering paranoia from recent dreams gnawing at him.

Suddenly, Echo’s excited squeal sounded through the house. She had found Alma in the kitchen, unpacking the takeout she'd bought for dinner. Bill felt his tension ease as he walked toward them, comforted by the sounds of home.

“Does it look nice?” He heard Alma ask their child as he made his way to join them. 

“It’s cute, Mommy. I like it!” She jumped excitedly.

“Aw, thank you, love. But what the heck happened to your hair?” She mused, making Echo bashfully giggle. 

Bill paused in the kitchen archway, momentarily stunned. Alma’s long hair was gone, replaced by a layered cut with curtain bangs that fell to her shoulders. It looked nice and healthy—he didn’t have an issue with her making her own decisions about her hair—but he hadn’t known she was planning to cut it. The surprise proved too much for him to process after the day he had. Alma ran her hand through her shorter locks, but her smile faltered when she noticed his expression, her excitement giving way to uncertainty.

"You don't like it?" she asked, frowning slightly.

Bill opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it, drawing a deep breath through his nose. “I—I do. It looks great, I just…” He rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

“You didn’t nap, did you?” Alma asked, noticing the tiredness in his eyes. “I know, I didn’t mention I was getting a haircut—it just kind of happened.”

“I just need... I just need a minute,” Bill said abruptly, turning away before Alma could respond.

She frowned and glanced at Echo, who seemed to have sensed the shift in the air. “He’s just tired, darling,” she assured to ease her concern. However, when she looked into her daughter’s eyes, she looked guilty of something. 

Bill didn’t know why he felt like crying; he didn’t know why he felt so strongly about a damn haircut. On a better day, he wouldn’t have reacted in the way he did. He felt bad over not being enthusiastic and leaving his wife to question whether he really liked it at all, but he just needed some space. He wanted quiet, he wanted to be still, and he didn’t want to think about anything else any further. 

Alma found him later that evening, choosing to let him be until he decided to emerge from the private sitting room. She had been in the den when the scent of marijuana wafted up from above, confirming he was still in there. As nighttime settled in, she climbed into the empty bed after putting Echo down in hers. She debated whether to check on him while she lay there; she didn’t like the thought of sleeping without him when he was just a room away. He hadn’t even kissed her when he came home, leaving her to worry if he truly disliked her haircut after all. She ran her fingers through her shorter locks, and regret settled in. 

Alma slipped out of bed, feeling a bit winded from moving too quickly. She carefully made her way to the sitting room and called out his name softly from the threshold, but there was no reply. Peeking in, she half-expected to find he had left through the secret passageway, but instead, she saw him lying on the couch, asleep. The 1,001 Baby Names book lay on the floor, having seemingly slipped from his sleepy grip. He was curled into himself, wearing dark gray thermal pants and a Sound Garden tee, she had cut the bottom hem off. It sat just above his cut hips, revealing his happy trail. 

Alma reached to gently stroke his stubbly jaw to softly wake him, but Bill jolted awake before she could. His quick reaction startled her, as she stood before him. 

“Are you okay?” she asked with worry. “Come to bed.”

“Shit, sorry,” he sighed, sitting up, running his hands down his face. 

“Echo told me what happened today…” 

Bill scratched his head, bracing himself for the lecture about keeping a better watch on their daughter, which would only deepen his sense of guilt. “I know,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve—”

“I’m sorry that happened,” she interjected. She couldn’t fault him for what happened, it was a mistake that could have easily happened with Echo under her watch as well. “I told her that wasn’t very nice of her. She said she wouldn’t do it again, and she’s very sorry,” Alma said, brushing her hand over her belly. Bill sat silent for a moment, slightly impressed that maybe the therapy books really have been helping her after all. 

“Is that all that happened?”

“Yeah…” he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm,” she tilted her head, unconvinced that it was the only thing troubling him. “Is something going on in New York?”

He looked away from her, the knot in his stomach tightening again. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. As much as he insisted that the club was his business, he felt he had to bear the current issue alone, despite knowing he could tell her anything. However, the thought of burdening her, especially with her being pregnant, held him back. Alma sighed, swallowing hard. She could sense his tension and his avoidant demeanor, which worried her. 

“Is…” she paused, trying to be careful with her wording. “Is it something that can be settled? In an… appropriate manner?” 

“It basically already is,” he said, looking at her belly, covered by her wine-colored silk nightgown. “It’s nothing to worry about, love. I promise.” 

Alma nodded, biting her lip as she decided to leave it at that. He reached out, resting his hand on her belly. He was transfixed with seeing how her body was changing lately. “I like your hair,” he peered up at her. “It’s pretty, really. I was just overwhelmed after everything that happened.”

“Yeah… I guess if it was the reverse, I would have cried,” she laughed softly, affectionately pushing a lock of his brown hair back. “They were moving a lot today,” she mentioned, enjoying the sensation of his hand running over her belly in a soothing rhythm. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, fuck,” he nodded; he hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime, and his stomach felt hollow. “What time is it?” 

“Almost ten. Just go lay in bed,” she gestured out the threshold. “I can bring you something to have up here.”

He rose to his full height, the cropped shirt raising further up his chiseled stomach, and followed her out, limping slightly until he acclimated to the pulsing pain in his foot and was able to walk properly. “I dropped a weight on my foot,” he explained, catching Alma’s curious glance at his sock-covered feet.

“Yeah, lay down,” she reiterated, recognizing he’s had a really crummy day. 

“What the hell is that?” He paused, noticing a large, long, arching pink pillow in their bed.

“It’s a pregnancy pillow. It’s really comfortable; you should try it,” she lightly laughed. “I bought it from a baby boutique today. They upsold me,” she shrugged. “I left most of the things I bought in the Tahoe, but the cribs and stuff like that are going to be delivered soon.”

Bill listened to her as he crawled into bed and lay into the void of the pillow, cuddling up to a side of it. “Is this what it’s like to lay next to me?” he asked, bemused, as the pillow was nearly the length of him.

“Isn’t it comfortable?”

Bill rested his cheek on the soft fabric, feeling the gentle curve of the pillow cradling him like a warm embrace. “Yeah—but is this going to be between us from now on?” He looked up at her.

“Yeah, sorry.” She bit her lip, stifling a smile as she watched him snuggle deeper into the pillow, even tossing a leg over it. 

“Damn it,” he grumbled, closing his eyes.

Though he didn’t like the thought, he snuggled in further, and Alma laughed at his genuine contentment when she left the room. 

…

November 1995 | New York City

At Trigger Finger, in the loft, Bill sat with Bianca amidst the electric energy of the club's rowdy atmosphere. The bass pulsed, and the laughter and cheers blended together into the lively night.

“But yeah, like I said,” Bianca paused, drawing the long, thin cigarette from her lips and flicking the ash into a small tray, the smoke curling lazily into the air. She glanced over at Bill, her expression sharp and focused. “Lower rung. Unless he wants additional charges, he’s not talking.”

“Yeah,” Bill replied, his eyes drifting toward the floor below. The raucous cheering pulled his attention, intrigued by the spectacle unfolding. A new girl had taken the stage, her movements captivating the crowd. She held herself upside down on the chrome pole, sensually arching her back. Then, in a breathtaking display, she righted herself and slid down the pole into a high-impact split that demanded dollar bills to be launched into the air. He could see why she was a crowd-pleaser.

“I spoke to Alvin. He told me as much.” Bill said, still half-watching the performance. “When we were back in business on Halloween, how did that go?” He took a puff of his cigarette. 

“Fuckin’ phenomenal. Like nothing happened.” She met his gaze, her dark eyes sparkling with the thrill of the club’s successful holiday night. “So, what do you think?”

“Well, the holidays are coming…” 

“Right,” Bianca replied, taking another puff on her cigarette.

“That’s the best time of year for us,” he continued, leaning forward.

“The most wonderful time of the year, some would say,” she winked, a playful smile spreading across her face.

Bill chuckled, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Exactly. So yeah, I’m cool with that. Because—what Alvin doesn’t know is that we have friends in the precinct.”

“Precisely!” Bianca laughed, pointing the glowing red ember of her cigarette at him.

“That fucker deserved a little scare. He’s too fucking cocky sometimes,” he said, ashing his cigarette in the ashtray between them. “He thinks we need him when it’s the fucking opposite.” 

“I agree,” Bianca said. “And that kind of attitude causes trouble. We don’t need that.” 

“No,” he shook his head. His gaze drifted back to the window; the new girl was collecting a hefty amount of tips from the stage. Her confidence radiated as she smiled at the patrons, effortlessly commanding their attention. It was then he noticed her nipple piercings catching the disco ball light. “What’s her name again?” 

“Avery,” Bianca said, stamping her cigarette. “She’s good. I like her. Since we lost Payday, she’s really been something.” 

“Hm,” he raised a brow, following Bianca in stamping out his cigarette. “Did you see her ringside during Simion’s premiere fight on TV last month?” 

“I did! She looked beautiful in that little sparkling silver dress! And the fur coat! Oh,” Bianca exclaimed, placing a hand on her bosom in envy.

“She did look pretty. I’m happy for her. I’m glad Simion won, too,” he smiled smugly. 

“Did you bet on him?” 

Bill chuckled. “Yeah—I had a little parlay going.” 

“Smart, smart,” Bianca nodded, her expression turning more serious. “Alright, well…” she began, smoothing down the short skirt of her tight red leopard print keyhole dress. “I speak to Alma, so I know she is doing well enough—bless it. So really, how are you?” Bianca tilted her head, pushing a dark lock from her big updo back. She spoke to Bill a fair bit as well, but in person she could get a better sense of him. 

“Eh, I mean, bigger picture, yes, everything is well. And I’m grateful, truly,” Bill replied, leaning back into the sofa as he contemplated. “But my wife... is different. Obviously, she can’t help that, I know.”

“‘Cause she cries a lot?” 

“Yeah…” he scratched his head, his gaze drifting. “She cried the whole day before I left.” It was a slight exaggeration, but it was a little more incessant than usual. He’d take the tears over a temper any day, though. It wasn’t that she often got upset, thankfully, but when it happened, it was startling. He learned to stay quiet, biting his tongue, and wait for her irrational hormonal eruption to give way to a flood of apologetic tears, as it always concluded. 

“Poor girl,” Bianca cooed.

“She wishes that she could’ve come, but she’s…” He arched his hand over his belly.

“Is she really big?” Bianca asked, with a brow arched in curiosity.

Bill took a deep breath. “Well… I’m not going to say so—” 

“Good boy,” she quickly quipped. 

“But she says she is. She said she looks nine months pregnant already. But all this to say, we’re staying in Washington for the holidays. She can’t travel. She’ll reach her third trimester this month, and we’re just hoping we can make it through the whole of December before the babies are born.” 

“Fuck, I knew that was coming,” Bianca frowned. “The holidays won’t feel the same without you all!”

“I know,” Bill nodded, sharing in her disappointment. “I know. We were really upset about having to make that decision, but—”

“What can you do, right?” She sighed in resignation. “But whatever’s best, of course, so that everyone's healthy.”

“Exactly, thank you,” he said sincerely. “At least Alma’s dad is coming to Seattle for Christmas, so that’s something,” he added, trying to find a silver lining.

“But?” Bianca prompted, sensing the hesitation in his voice.

“Well… I don’t know, it feels like I’m bitching.” 

“No! Bitch all you want, it feels like you need it, babe!” 

“Well, you know, if things were different, I’d rather be here for the holidays. But now it’s just me, my heavily pregnant wife, my child, and my 80-something-year-old father-in-law, who needs a cane to get around,” Bill replied, looking a bit exasperated at the thought.

“Oh, hell. What a crowd... Well, it’s just this year, right?” 

“I’m sure I’ll live, but yeah.” He said, rubbing his brow. 

“You will, honey. You want to say Alma’s different, but you seem a little different tonight yourself. Picking up some sympathy hormones?” She chuckled lightly.

Bill rolled his eyes. “That’s not a thing, is it?” 

“Oh, sure it is! My ex-husband gained weight with me when I was pregnant with Lorenzo. Craved some really nasty shit, too,” she grimaced with disgust while Bill glanced down at his stomach warily. He was fine there. “When I was pregnant with Gian, though, he had this phase where he had to check every lock on the doors and check the latches on the windows before bed. Even checked the stove burners. Like, every single night. Real OCD, I swear.” 

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? That bad?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It was sweet, in a way—but, man, it got old fast.”

“Hmm?” Bill crossed his arms, tilting his head curiously.

“Yeah. So, what have you been doing? Crying along with Alma?” she asked sarcastically, making him laugh. 

“Nah,” he scratched his clavicle. “I don’t know…” he shook his head, amused, still skeptical of her claims. 

There was a heavy rap on the loft door, cutting through their conversation. Bill and Bianca exchanged a quick look of shared annoyance at the interruption.

“Yeah?” They called out together.

The door cracked open, and the muffled music from the club below flooded the room in full fidelity. Theo stepped inside first, giving them a dutiful nod, followed closely by Scotty, who flashed a crooked grin as he entered.

“Oh shit!” Bill exclaimed, standing up with a grin to greet his friend.

“Did you forget I was coming or what?” Scotty laughed, pulling Bill into a tight hug.

“We just lost track chatting,” Bianca chimed in, rising from her seat to give Scotty a warm hug as well.

“Beautiful as ever, Bianca,” Scotty said, embracing her tightly. “So good to see you again.”

“Same, honey,” she smiled back, pushing a stray lock of his wavy, chocolate hair back affectionately. “You two heading off, or sticking around for a minute?”

“I could go for a drink,” Scotty replied with a wink, glancing at Bill.

“Yeah, sure,” Bill shrugged, not minding the delay on their planned bar crawl.

As Bianca led Scotty on a quick tour of the club, Bill lingered by the bar, chatting casually with a nearby patron. A nerdy tech guy speaking with him about some new file-sharing program. When Scotty returned, Julia, now an established bartender, was already poised to take their order. She was wearing a camo bikini top and daisy dukes with red cowboy boots. 

“Hey, how’s it going, Julia?”

Scotty’s eyes widened when Julia got right up in his face, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “Are you a fucking idiot, Everett?”

“Damn!” Scotty blurted, taken aback, his grin quickly fading as he realized his mistake. Julia had a reputation for being prickly, and now he was on the receiving end of her infamous biting attitude. Typically, he liked being berated by cute girls, but Julia truly scared him. “Yeah, yeah, I am an idiot. Sorry.” He raised his hands defensively.

Julia glared for a moment longer, her piercing gaze lingering, before finally stepping back with a scoff. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“No names,” Bill chimed in, putting a protective hand on his shoulder, saving Scotty from further wrath. “She goes by Cherry here.”

“Got it,” Scotty raised his brows. “And what the fuck do they call you here?” He turned to Bill after making his drink order. 

Bill grinned. “Badass Motherfucker.” He said, matter-of-factly.

“Fuck you!” Scotty retorted, laughing with his friend. 

Julia returned shortly, sliding their drinks over. “Enjoy, boys,” she muttered unceremoniously. 

“Thanks, Cherry,” Scotty winked, holding out a tip between his two fingers.

“Fuck off, Scott,” she said with a playful smirk, harshly snatching the tip from him and stuffing it in her bikini top before moving on to serve other patrons with more flirtatious enthusiasm than she bothered to offer them. 

Bill raised his glass, clinking it against Scotty’s. “Cheers, idiot.”

“Cheers, badass,” Scotty quipped, rolling his eyes playfully.

A glass of red wine sat next to two whiskeys on the low, polished table in the reserved VIP booth. One drink turned into two as Bill and Scotty lounged comfortably, chatting with Bianca. Scotty, usually animated and quick with a quip, found his attention drifting. 

It wasn’t just the spotlight of raining cash on the topless bombshell blonde act on stage that grabbed his attention—it was the sheer scale and atmosphere of the club. The lighting bathed the room in pink and red neon lights while sweeping glitter specs danced around them and the music reverberated through the air. The opulence was overwhelming, almost hypnotic. It was more than he’d imagined. He had only heard about the happenings at Trigger Finger, but being inside it was something else entirely. It was quite overstimulating, making it hard to focus on the conversation competing with the pulse of the music. 

Bill took a glance at Scotty, realizing his friend had quieted, a rarity for him because he had a penchant for hyperactive yapping. Bill smirked, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. He couldn’t help but feel a touch of pride at how thoroughly the club seemed to have captivated his friend.

“Could you hold off on telling Gian about me not being here for the holidays?” Bill asked Bianca next to him. “I have lunch with him before I go; I’d like to tell him myself.” 

“Sure, babe,” she nodded with a smile before taking a sip of her red wine, matching her shade of lipstick. “Gian still talks about Seattle all the time,” Bianca said, switching the subject. “And some girl he talks to on the computer. Gabriela? You know about her?”

Bill shook his head, calmly. “Don’t know. Probably some customer he met,” he shrugged.

“Aw, well, the way he talks about Seattle makes me a little jealous, even.”

“Yeah, we took him on that speed run through town. You have to come visit,” Bill said, taking a sip of his whiskey. “We’ll put Queenie in charge or something. I think she can handle it.”

“Hm,” Bianca nodded, agreeing with the idea. “Throw in Theo, and I may be convinced. You’ve been right, Scotty?” She asked him, pulling his attention away from the stage.

“Huh? Seattle? Yeah! A few times. I was there, uh, around this time last year, actually. Pretty place! Bill’s house is gorgeous—a good spot to party too,” he chuckled, remembering the after-party they’d hosted after the band he managed, Null, played at the record shop. A sold-out show, no less.

Soon, Theo shadowed the group while Bianca saw the men out, but not before she shared some flirtatious platitudes with Scotty. 

“Hopefully, the next time I see you again is in Vegas,” he winked at her, his arm still around her waist. “How about that?” 

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Bianca replied, with her fingers brushing his cheek. “You were my little good luck charm the last time.” She poked his nose, his right nostril adorned with a gold hoop ring. 

Scotty’s grin widened as she sauntered back inside on her high heels, making her nearly as tall as him and Bill, leaving them to climb into the back of a taxi en route to their next destination. As the vehicle pulled away, Bill smirked, side-eyeing his friend.

“Are you trying to get at my business partner?” he teased, with mock suspicion.

“What?” Scotty’s eyes widened. “Nothing like that, man. Just having fun,” he shrugged, utterly unashamed.

“Yeah, sure,” Bill drawled, leaning back in his seat with a knowing grin. “For the record, she’s got like three boyfriends. I heard you have to get jumped by all of them if you want a spot on her roster.”

“Jumped?!” Scotty exclaimed with a scoff. 

“Yeah, and they’re all buff fucking meatheads, too!” Bill added, chuckling.

“Oh, fuckin’ hell. I bet! She’s a lot of woman. I’m man enough to admit I couldn’t handle that!” Scotty laughed, shaking his head.

After wrapping up their visit to a chic rooftop bar, Bill and Scotty found themselves in a grungy basement dive, feeling far more at ease in the unpolished charm of their new surroundings. The music blasted loud enough to vibrate through the sticky concrete floor, and the walls were a chaotic collage of band stickers, Sharpie-scrawled signatures, and layers of peeling graffiti. It wasn’t glamorous, but it had character—exactly the kind of place where they could unwind without pretension.

Scotty was in town handling some business with the music label, and as luck would have it, his trip coincided with Bill’s. Had Bill arrived two weeks earlier like he nearly had done, he would have missed him completely. Now, leaning at the far end of the bar, their black dress shirts undone just enough to suggest they’d left formality behind for the night. Sleeves rolled up to their elbows, and they each nursed a drink, their conversation blending into the din of thrash blasting overhead. They were making plans to meet the following day to see a duo band, which Scotty described as having an experimental metal electronica sound. 

“You think you can handle managing two bands?” Bill asked. 

“People do it all the time,” Scotty shrugged. “I got one band in the bag, cutting a legit studio album in LA right now. With this group, I mean, we’ll see how it goes.”

“Genre-bending, boundary-pushing. I can guess the allure.” 

“Exactly! You’ll see. If they work, they work. If they don’t, well,” he shrugged. 

“Right, sure. And I know people do it all the time.” Bill handed Scotty a cigarette and lit his own, taking a long drag. “I only asked ‘cause your son—excuse me—my godson was just born; I’d think you want to make some time.”

“Well, sure! Of course! But time is fucking money. C’mon, you know that,” Scotty said, lighting his cigarette. “You’ve got your titty bar and the record shop, among your other miscellaneous shit,” he said with a pointed look. “And Alma’s pregnant—with twins! Holy fuck, man, that was fast! You literally just got married. Anyway, when are you going to take a fucking break, dude?”

Bill let the smoke linger in his lungs for a moment before releasing it. “Alright, yeah, you got me there. But everything’s lined up, you know?” He shrugged. “I’ll slow down when the twins come. I have to.”

Scotty raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Right, and you’ll be sleeping like a baby when they arrive, huh?” he said sarcastically, earning an eye roll from his old friend. “Don’t get me wrong, Billy. It sucked, leaving him only being three months to LA with Null. But, eh, he won’t remember, you know.” He took a puff of his cigarette as remorse flickered across his face. “Of course, work isn’t everything, but I can’t go back to being dirt poor again. I rebuke that shit from the bottom of my balls!” He punctuated with grabbing his crotch.

Bill chuckled, blowing out smoke. "Was Ki' pissed that you left, though?" he asked, smirking a little. He knew how Kiara could be, especially from their phone calls, where Scotty often vented about her grievances with him.

“Surprisingly, no.” Scotty raised his brows as he took another drag. “You know, she would bitch and even break up with me because I didn’t have a ‘real job.’ But this time... not a word. Nothing.”

“Yeah,” Bill raised his brows, clearly not expecting that answer.

“Since Null got signed, she’s finally cool about it. Thank fuck.” 

"Guess she’s seeing the payoff now, huh?" He winked. 

“Need anything, fellas?” The male bartender interrupted, but they quickly ordered beers and a shot they really didn’t need to take, but they were buzzed enough that it sounded like a fantastic idea. 

“Alma, ever give you shit like that?” Scotty returned to their conversation after they shot back their Jim Beam.

“No... We fought about other stupider shit, though,” he laughed, something he could do now in hindsight. 

“Man... But dude, I’m happy for you and her!” He said, patting his friend on the shoulder. “You got names for the twins yet?”

Bill shook his head. “Nah… not yet. Nothing sounds right. Nothing—feels right. We have Echo, right, so we can’t call these other babies like Susan and Michael.” 

“Mike and Sue. Boring, regular shit, yeah, that won't work. Hey, I got a cousin who named her kid, Rope. Is that something you might consider?” He chuckled. 

“Shut up,” Bill laughed, shaking his head. “Rope? Really?” 

“They’re fuckin’ rednecks,” Scotty rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively. “Naming Dean was easy enough. James Dean. I mean, great-looking actor, right?” He winked, taking a sip of his drink.

“I like that,” Bill said, his words trailing off as his attention shifted. A young woman with full, dark-lined lips brushed her body between them to grab napkins off the bar. There was more room in several spots across the bar, but she went out of her way to do so. “Seems like it’s taken, though,” he added, his gaze flicking down to her just as she turned and winked at Scotty. The men shared a knowing look but played the weird flirtation off and continued as if nothing happened. “But yeah, I don’t know... A’ and I will figure it out. What was Dean almost named? There’s got to be a few that hit the chopping block,” Bill asked, genuinely curious.

“I was thinking of music-inspired names. Lyric—was too girly. It was almost Coda before Kiara and I settled on Dean. I really wanted to name him Riff, actually. Riff Scott. Kiara wouldn’t have it. She hated it,” Scotty chuckled.

“Let me put that on my mental list,” Bill joked, pretending to write it down on his palm.

“Yeah, go for it, man!” 

They paused to take a sip of their beers just as Human Fly by The Cramps began to play from the jukebox. Scotty started to lightly nod his head along to the beat, but Bill grimaced having to hear it against his will again.

“Fuck, I can’t stand this song anymore,” Bill shook his head as he took a drink. “I used to like it until Echo wanted to play it over and over these days,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically.

Scotty laughed, clearly relating. “Yeah, I can’t even listen to Rhythm Nation anymore because of Jazzy. Can’t even enjoy watching Janet in the music video either. And she looks tough and sexy in it! But this is a classic! Poison Ivy—Lux Interior!”

“Sure, but—” 

“Hey, Lux—that’s not bad! Add that one to your mental list,” he said, before downing the rest of his beer in one go and slamming the empty glass on the bar top. “Let’s go to another bar! Fuck this song! Fuck work! Fuck all the noise! Let’s just have a good fucking time the rest of the night.” He patted Bill on the shoulder, encouraging him to chug the rest of his drink too. 

Bill slammed his empty glass down. “Yeah, fuck it, let’s go!” 

“Bzz, bzz, bzz,” Scotty playfully poked at him. 

~~~

The following morning, Alma called the penthouse when Bill hadn’t called. After the rings ended, she was just met with a low, hollow tone when it wasn’t answered. She sighed heavily and tried to bat her anxious thoughts away so she could prepare for the day. She shifted carefully, easing herself out of bed. Her movements were slow, not only to avoid waking Echo, who was sprawled out beside her but also because the dizziness that had plagued her recently made sudden movements a gamble. She sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her growing belly for a moment until she felt confident to rise. 

Bill had made her promise she wouldn’t do too much while he was out of town. Part of that promise was to not stay at the shop until close. She abided by that, but everything was beginning to feel like too much regardless.

Yesterday, she was leaving early despite the show going on that night, but she had trained Ash for moments like this, and this was her first run going completely solo. It needed to go well because she didn’t want Bill to tack on her duties onto everything else he had. 

While keeping her promise by leaving early, she was happily chatting with Darby when she leaned down to pick up her tote bag behind the cash to leave. In the motion, she suddenly felt herself continuing forward, unable to steady herself as the room spun. Darby, being quick, grabbed her arm and steadied her long enough to ease her on her bottom. 

“Whoa, hey! Just sit,” Darby said, his voice full of alarm as he met Alma’s unsteady gaze. “You’re okay,” he reassured with a hand on her shoulder.

Alma blinked slowly, her eyes focusing on a nearby table leg, willing the room to stop spinning around her while taking deep, deliberate breaths. Darby, moving quickly, disappeared to the office and returned with a cold bottle of water. Without asking, he pressed the cold plastic against the back of her neck.

She flinched, immediately swatting his hand away. “No,” she whispered. But she reached for the bottle, took it from him, and brought it to her lips for a long, much-needed sip. “Okay,” she breathed out after a few gulps, clearing her throat and trying to center herself. “I’m okay. Shit. Sorry,” she muttered, glancing at Darby with a weak, apologetic smile.

“No, no,” Darby shook his head. “No need to say sorry. You’re good. I’m just glad you didn’t hit the floor. Are you going to be—?”

“Do not tell Bill,” Alma interrupted him, almost pleading.

“Huh?” 

“He’s away. He doesn’t need to worry about this right now.” 

Darby chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “Hey, I’m no rat. I won’t go running to him unless you’re in real trouble. Do you want help getting up?” He asked, offering his tattooed hand.

“Sure, yeah—thanks,” she sighed, taking his left hand, the one that read ‘SICK,’ across his knuckles. The back half of the phrase ‘LOVE SICK’ when he put his fists together. 

Darby helped Alma to her feet, keeping a firm grip on her arm to ensure she was steady. Once she was upright, he quickly grabbed her tote bag from behind the counter, sparing her the effort of bending down and risking another dizzy spell.

“I could drive you home if you want.” He offered, still concerned. 

Alma gave him a tired but grateful smile. “I’m just sitting, Darb’. I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “I’m heading straight home from here. Echo’s on a play date with her little library friend Austin, so she’s getting dropped off today.”

Darby nodded firmly. “Okay, alright… but I want to walk you to your Jeep, at least.”

Alma saw the concern still etched on his face, and, though she felt fine now, she nodded, allowing him. Together, they made their way outside, Darby staying close in case she wavered in her steps. 

As they reached her car, she turned to him with a small smile. “Thank you. I’ll call in when I get home,” she said when they reached her car. “Would that make you feel better?”

Darby exhaled in relief. “Please? It would,” he admitted. 

In New York City, Bill was dead asleep, having crashed hard after the late-night bender. However, his peaceful slumber was interrupted by a rough nudge. His bleary eyes cracked open, confused, struggling to remember where he was.

Instinctively, he pulled the soft, white feather-down duvet closer to his bare chest and backed away from the source of the disturbance, his body tensing up.

“Dude, relax,” Scotty's familiar voice cut through the haze of Bill’s grogginess, followed by a chuckle. He stood there beside the bed, his usual mischievous grin plastered across his face.

Bill roughly rubbed his sleep-crusted eyes, trying to make sense of his location. He was in a hotel room; that much he could process. It was a nice one too, something he would book. 

“Want some pizza?” Scotty asked, picking a piece out of the box on the desk and offering it to Bill.

Bill blinked, sitting up slightly. “Where are we?”

“My hotel room,” Scotty replied, approaching with the pizza. “You don’t remember? We’re at The Plaza, dude! I wanted to treat myself, I can’t  lie." He chuckled, holding the slice out until Bill took it.

Bill fell back into bed, took a bite of the cold, stiff pizza, and felt the night slowly returning to him. They had drinks in the hotel bar, having an unnecessary nightcap and shadowboxing each other obnoxiously around other patrons; it was a hazy memory, and it seemed everything went lights out from there. 

“I feel like shit,” Bill whined, taking another bite of pizza. 

“Yeah, we’re too old for this shit,” Scotty groaned.

Bill turned his head when he heard his friend rummaging through his suitcase. That’s when he noticed him showered and dressed for the day. He had on a dark dress shirt and black trousers with suspenders hanging off his shoulders. They were a long way away from their old punk roots, besides holding on to shady colors. 

“Are you not hungover?” Bill was surprised how unaffected he seemed after a night of binge-drinking with him.

Scotty flashed a grin as he zipped up his bag. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I’ve got a meeting soon. Trust me, I’d rather be where you are right now.”

“What fucking time is it?” His brows furrowed. 

“It’s about to be two.” 

“Shit,” Bill muttered, jolting right out of bed, dressed in nothing but gray boxer briefs and long black socks. “Where’s the phone?”

“Behind you,” Scotty nudged his head in its direction before taking a seat to put his pair of Solovair boots on. 

Bill quickly dialed home, and a snippet of the previous night filtered through his mind in a quick burst—rowdy laughter, booming voices, and the blur of city lights from inside the back of another taxi.

“What?!” Bill had laughed with incredulity. “She winked at you,” he said, pointing a finger at Scotty.

“Bullshit, man, that was definitely for you!” Scotty had countered, laughing loudly.

Now, as Bill anxiously bounced his leg as he sat in the chair by the small table with the receiver to his ear, willing the call to connect, he took in the luxurious room. It was a king suite with a single massive bed. 

His brows furrowed. “Where did you sleep?” He asked while the phone continued to ring.

Scotty turned to him, unimpressed. “You hog the hell out of the covers, man,” he shook his head. 

“Fuck,” he mused, scratching his jaw. The phone rang one last time before he was prompted to leave a voice message, but with a frown, he hung up instead. 

“Hey, you can stay, but I have to head out,” Scotty said, spritzing himself with cologne as he checked his appearance in the mirror. “If you’re not here when I come back—” 

“You know where to find me.” 

“Always, brother,” he leaned down to give Bill a handshake that turned into a half hug. “Tell Al’, I say hello,” he winked, knowing exactly who he was trying to reach. 

“She hates when people call her Al’.” 

“I know,” Scotty chuckled at his own obnoxiousness. 

Bill dialed again once he was alone in the hotel room. It only rang twice before it was answered, and he heard some labored breaths over the line.

“Hello?” Alma managed to say, her voice a bit strained.

“Hey—it’s me.” Even if his voice sounded sleepy and gravelly, Alma recognized it. “But are you alright? You sound—”

“Oh my god,” she sighed heavily, her irritation palpable over the phone. “I’m tired of people asking—I’m pregnant, I’m not fucking terminal.”

Bill tossed his head back, not expecting to be met with such an attitude, but he knew better than to argue with an irritable pregnant woman while he was hungover.

“Uhh… Well, no, you’re not that,” he said, trying to keep his tone light.

“Where are you calling from? I don’t recognize the number.”

Bill rubbed his stubbly chin. “I—uh... Scotty is in town. He’s staying at The Plaza.”

“Oh? Did you go out?” Her tone softened slightly.

“I did… I ended up crashing here. I’m going home when I get off the phone, though. I need to shower,” he said, leaning back to sniff his ripe, hairy armpit. “Bad.”

Alma smiled. “Well, that explains why you didn’t call this morning, sounds like you had fun. That’s good. I miss you.” 

“Yeah, I miss you too,” Bill replied, his heart warming at her words. “I hope I didn’t worry you.” 

“It was getting to that point. I even emailed you this morning,” she laughed lightly. “Uhm, I gotta pick E’ up from school, it's a half day, remember…”

“Okay. Just checking in.”

“I was on my way out when the phone rang, but I—well, I’m not that fast at the moment, so…”

“Ah,” he nodded, understanding what the huffing and puffing was about when she first answered. “I see.”

“I’ll tell Echo you said hello, love.”

“Oh, he went to a meeting, but Scotty said hello too.”

“Tell him… fuck you,” she replied, making Bill laugh.

….

November 1995 | Seattle

When Bill returned from his trip, he arrived before noon, offloading his luggage from the trunk of the cab with the assistance of the taxi driver, who escorted him home from the airport.

Alma slowly descended the stairs, as carefully and gracefully as she could, while keeping a firm grip on the banister to meet him when the door opened. She greeted him with a warm and radiant smile on her face when he walked in. His eyes widened in surprise. Had it only been a few days? Her belly seemed so much rounder than when he’d left. She wore a fitted top that usually downplayed her curves, but now her fuller breasts made the neckline more revealing than usual, showcasing cleavage that caught him off guard. It really hit him then that in just a few more weeks, the babies would be in the world.

“Wow… you’re fucking gorgeous,” Bill breathed with awe as he let his duffle bag fall to the floor. In two quick steps, he wrapped Alma in a tight hug where she stood on the last step. 

For a moment, he just held her, marveling at how surreal it all felt. It was almost unbelievable that the girl he’d met so many moons ago—the one who had captivated him with her sharp wit, her sincere kindness, and her quiet strength—was now his wife, standing before him, pregnant with his children. If he could go back in time and tell his younger self this would one day be his life, he wouldn’t have believed it for a second. His younger self wouldn’t have interpreted his future self as some optimistic oracle, but  rather a deranged intruder, and would have spat in his face. Hell, even who he was about ten years ago would have done so too. 

“You’re glowing!” he said, leaning back just enough to take in her face. Without waiting for her response, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her deeply, pouring every ounce of his love and gratitude into it.

Alma’s cheeks flushed as Bill pulled away, seeing as his absence made his heart grow even fonder of her. It was only a short trip, no different from others he had taken in the past. While it hit a slight reset against the tedium of late, the separation felt too great this time.

“You’re so sweet,” she said softly, her hand caressing his cheek. She didn’t quite feel like anything he’d expressed about her—she felt puffy and heavy—but it was nice to hear all the same. “I’m glad you came back in one piece,” she added with a gentle smile, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his face, noticing some gray hairs at his temples.

Bill had some time to settle in before they both headed out to pick up Echo from school. When she saw him, her face lit up with pure joy, running straight into his arms. On the ride home, Alma nudged Echo's leg, prompting her to share the news she had been eagerly waiting to tell her father.

"You finally decided how you want to celebrate your birthday, E’?" Bill asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror, curious about her choice.

“McDonald’s!” Echo exclaimed excitedly. “With the chicken nuggets!”

“Really?” Bill raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Alma, who shrugged lightly. They’d been suggesting all sorts of other ideas, but nothing had swayed her. Ever since Alma’s friend Liz had thrown a McDonald’s birthday party for her son Austin, Echo couldn’t let the idea go.

“You know, they provide the cake and all that,” Alma added, with a hint of relief in her voice. Hosting the party there meant she wouldn’t have to worry about setting up at home. They would avoid having hyperactive kids ransacking the place and could return to a clean, quiet house afterward.

“Yeah, well that’s a good choice E’,” Bill nodded, though he leaned over and muttered to Alma, “I was hoping she'd pick the museum.”

Alma smiled knowingly. Bill had been trying to convince Echo to have her party at the Natural Science Museum for weeks, but it looked like that would have to wait for another day.

They settled into the evening, with Bill showing Echo the new winter coat he’d brought back from New York. It was a puffy violet coat with white fur trim on the hood, and Echo’s face lit up with excitement as she twirled in it. Alma smiled, watching their interaction from the opposite side of the couch, where she tried to get comfortable. 

“And this, Papa,” Echo pointed to some garments still in the shopping bag he produced the coat from. “Something for me, too?” 

“Uh, no, baby,” he said, lifting the bag on the couch. “It’s something for your baby sister and baby brother.” 

“May I see?” Echo asked.

“Yeah,” Alma said, smiling with intrigue. “May I see, too?” 

“Well,” Bill began, pulling out two tiny Sesame Street-themed jumpsuits with Big Bird and friends embroidered in the center of the chest, “while I was looking for Echo’s coat, I spotted these. It’ll still be winter when they’re born, so I thought they’d need something warm too.”

He handed the jumpsuits to Alma, who grinned as she held up the colorful garments. Her heart swelled, seeing that he had picked out something for the babies on his own. 

“I got you something too,” he said, and she looked up at him curiously. “It’s in my luggage. But they're for your eyes—and mine,” he smirked. 

“Oh!” she raised her brows. “Well, these are so cute,” she said, her eyes soft with affection, as she ran her fingers over the material.

“So very cute, Papa!” Echo agreed.

Bill turned to Echo, lifting her up off her feet and planting a flurry of playful kisses on her cheeks. “You’re the cutest of all!” he teased, making her giggle loudly as she squirmed in his arms.

“Mommy, Mommy! Help me!” She squealed in a fit of hearty giggles as she reached out for Alma, feigning the need to be saved. 

~~~

After Echo was tucked in for bed, Bill found Alma in the kitchen, wearing an oversized flannel and biker shorts, making herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—heavy on the peanut butter, as of late. Twice before, he’d already caught her eating peanut butter straight from the jar with a spoon, and she hadn’t even bothered to hide it. Once, he saw her bite into a whole tomato the same way you would an apple. He never realized you could just do that, until then, it seemed so forbidden. Besides pasta, she usually didn’t have any particular cravings, she was always just hungry—for anything. 

“You want one?” she asked, pointing at her sandwich with the used butter knife.

“I’m good,” he said, eyeing her with a smirk. “Can I have a bite, though?”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, licking the knife clean as she turned to put it in the dishwasher. 

Behind her back, Bill quickly scurried away to the den after giving her rear a love tap. So when she turned around to see what he was snickering about, she saw the damage done to her sandwich.

“Oh, you asshole!” she yelled, loud enough for him to hear from the den. He had taken a very large bite out of it, so much for not wanting one. 

They settled into bed not long after, abandoning the movie they'd chosen halfway through. It turned out to be a bore for both of them, but truthfully, it was more about the impatience to be close after nearly a week of sleeping without one another. It was the one thing they couldn’t stand when apart. Too many nights without each other existed, and they hated adding to it.

Bill lay with his head resting on Alma’s moisturized belly, having undone the bottom buttons of her flannel shirt to get closer to her skin. She was propped up against her pregnancy pillow, her fingers gently running through his hair as they chatted. Alma couldn’t help but laugh when he mentioned how he and Scotty had shared a bed. Her laughter made her belly shake, but, despite the movement, the babies remained still, much to Bill’s disappointment. 

Anytime the twins would give a significant kick, Alma would eagerly urge him to feel, but they just wouldn’t perform as soon as he was near. While it was still incredible to feel even the faintest of flutters, Bill couldn’t help but want more. For now, though, it seemed all he’d get were ghost-like movements beneath her skin but nothing too significant.

“We should really get serious about what to name them,” Alma said, pushing her shoulders back, growing a bit uncomfortable from staying in the same position for too long.

“Yeah,” Bill agreed, sighing as he peppered kisses on her belly.

“We can make a list of ones we like. Maybe we can fairly narrow it down that way?” She asked because anytime she’d verbally suggest a name he didn’t like it and vice versa. 

“It’s hard to think about,” Bill admitted. “A lot of pressure.”

“Yeah, I know. Naming Echo was easy. I didn’t have to think twice.”

“Mhmm, because technically I chose it,” he nodded, sweeping his hand over the peak of her belly and tracing the dark meridian line that lay vertically over it. 

Alma smiled. “A long, long time ago, too.” 

“You say they move when I talk?” He said becoming distracted.

“They do.”

“I’m literally right here, and they won’t move. Hello?” He tapped his finger above her navel the same way you’d check a live mic. 

Alma laughed softly. “They’re probably asleep, love.” She shifted her hips, signaling she needed to adjust to a more comfortable position.

Bill caught on but couldn’t resist one last playful move. Before he backed off, he blew raspberries on the side of her stomach. Suddenly, he felt a small jolt push back against him. Alma winced slightly, her hand instinctively going to her side.

Bill looked up at her, eyes wide in surprise. “Was that—”

“Yeah, that was the baby,” she laughed. “I don’t think she liked that.” 

“It’s baby girl?” Bill asked, trying to remember their configuration inside her. He blew raspberries against her skin again, and just like before, he got the same response. “She hates it,” he laughed. “What about baby boy?”

“He moved too, just on the other side. He’s not as active as her, but the other day I think he was hiccuping. It was a weird sensation,” Alma said, relaxing as Bill helped her get more comfortable in bed.

“Hiccuping? It wasn’t gas?” He asked, intrigued, as he slipped under the covers and pulled them over her.

“Shut up! No. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me,” she yawned, her face nuzzling into her pillow. “At first I thought I was just feeling my heartbeat in my lower back, but it was rhythmic, just like when you hiccup. Kind of freaky, huh?”

“It’s strange,” he agreed, nodding. “Cool, too.” 

They both fell quiet for a moment. A subtle tension lingered between them. As much as he was enamored with her changing body, he missed it too. He eyed the oversized pregnancy pillow between them with a pang of jealousy. The way she cuddled up against it—when it should’ve been him she had her leg draped over—slightly irked him.

“Do you have to sleep with this tonight?” Bill asked as they lay there in the soft darkness.

Alma shifted, kicking her leg under the pillow, and her cold foot brushed against his hairy shin. He took it as a small gesture of compromise while he complained about the plush pink barrier between them.

“I guess not,” she replied, sitting up and pushing the pillow’s arched arm behind her, to his surprise.

She snuggled into him, and he adjusted the pillow to support her back. As she held him tightly, the desire for closeness was mutual, but Alma hesitated, uncertain if she could. When Bill slid his hand under her shirt, she couldn’t resist leaning in for a kiss. A soft moan escaped her lips against his, her nipples hyper-sensitive at his touch.

Before long, Alma found herself straddling him, her shirt slipping down to her waist, leaving only her forearms covered. Bill gazed up at her body with admiration and awe as she moved slowly, riding him at a gentle, deliberate pace. His large hands roamed, yet no matter how much he touched, it never felt like enough. He wanted to not only remember every inch of her body by sight alone but also by feeling.

Alma shifted his hand away from her breast, the sensation becoming a bit too overwhelming. She guided his fingers to her mouth, wrapping her lips around them in a way that made him swallow hard, appreciating the sensation for what it was. Since finding out they were expecting, Bill hadn’t felt comfortable with her giving him blowjobs. It made him anxious, thinking it might restrict her breathing too much in a way that would affect the babies, and he didn’t feel like it was a wise thing to participate in fully.

As she leaned forward, resting her hands on his bare chest, the pressure of her body pushing him into the mattress drove him wild. Her hips rocked in a rhythm that made her breathing quicken, the angle hitting just the right spots when she ground down. Bill sucked in a sharp breath, feeling her hot wetness, his head falling back onto the pillow.

“Alma,” he moaned, his voice rough with pleasure. “Baby… Fuck, you feel so good.”

Alma looked down at him, catching sight of his intense expression—his brows furrowed, neck strained, veins bulging on his biceps and forearms, while he bit his flushed bottom lip. His words spurred her on, and she kept up the pace, knowing her climax was right within reach. Every movement brought her closer, her body trembling as their breaths mingled in the dark.

Below her, Bill felt her elbows buckle until she straightened up and continued to roll her hips. His eyes closed, his heart racing, succumbing to all the sensations. Her moans filled the room, erratic at first until they went shallow again. Her once steady rhythm slowed almost suddenly. He opened his eyes, thinking maybe it was time for him to take over from below. Until he saw that her eyes rolled back into her skull, her head lolled back, and her body went limp. For a split second, he thought she was overwhelmed by pleasure, but when she began to fall backward, his protective instincts kicked in.

"Alma!?" he gasped, quickly catching her and easing her onto the mattress. Her eyes fluttered open but looked unfocused, and her breathing was shallow. Bill's hand stroked her flushed cheek gently. "Hey, hey," he called softly, trying not to panic.

Alma blinked through her dizziness and her ears still rang when she saw Bill's face hovering above her with worry etched across his features. Her heart sank when she realized what had happened, and embarrassment quickly followed.

Bill’s hand rested gently on her shoulder as she tried to sit up. "No, no, just lay down," he said, soft but firm.

"I’m sorry..." she muttered, her voice shaking as tears began to well in her eyes.

Bill let out a slow breath, roughly running his hand through his hair. "What—did you faint?" he asked, uneasiness in his tone as he tried to understand what had just happened.

"I got… dizzy," she admitted quietly, looking away, trying to downplay it.

His frown deepened, and he shook his head, knowing she wasn’t telling him the full story. “Let me help you get your clothes back on,” he said, a sigh escaping him.

“You’re mad?” Alma bit her lip. 

“No,” he said, a bit more harsh than he intended to, as he plucked his gray sweatpants from the floor, swiftly putting them on. The band slipped from his thumbs, snapping against his skin. “No,” he said, gently now. “I’m concerned, honestly.” He held back on what he really wanted to say—that the sight of her limp in his arms had terrified him. Uttering those words he feared would only serve to scare her, though. He didn’t like the feeling of her limp body in his arms and gently guiding her down safely on the mattress. It unnerved him, it was too macabre, too reminiscent of a lifeless body. His pregnant wife's lifeless body, no less. 

“I’m sorry…” Alma whispered again as Bill helped her step into her shorts, steadying her before easing her back into bed.

“Don’t,” he muttered, swallowing hard as he lay beside her. His eyes closed for a moment, gathering himself before he looked at her again. “There is nothing to be sorry about. I’m not upset in the way you think I am,” he explained softly. Her gaze remained downcast, with guilt. He studied her, trying to understand where her feelings were coming from, he was never an asshole about not getting off when he wanted to. She knew that, too. However, there was a mutual understanding now that sex, at least in the traditional sense, was off the table from now on. “It’s okay,” he said softly, tilting his head slightly to catch her eyes. “Maybe… you shouldn’t have been on top?” He felt a little regretful. Wanting to receive her and take her in completely in the moment, he may have been a little too greedy in hindsight.

Alma’s eyes met his again. “It’s my fault,” she murmured. “It started a few days ago, but... I just like being close to you. I—”

“Shit, Alma,” Bill interrupted, stunned to know the truth. “I like being close to you, too, but you can’t push yourself like this right now.” He shook his head, surprised she would even risk such a thing. “How many times has it happened?”

“Twice. Once at the shop and then… tonight,” she admitted, seeing the tension tighten his jaw. “But—” she quickly added before he could respond. “I already made an appointment with the doctor. It’s tomorrow.”

Bill exhaled deeply, in relief. “Good. Okay. I feel better knowing that,” he said, leaning in to kiss her gently.

They lay there, cuddling in the dark, trying to settle their nerves and get some rest. However, Alma kept shifting her hips, searching for a comfortable position that wouldn’t strain them too much.

“You want the pillow?” Bill suggested, suddenly feeling a bit selfish about his earlier request.

“Please?” she giggled, as he was already up, retrieving the pillow from the side of the bed and helping her nestle into it comfortably.

…

December 1995

It was a frigid, overcast Christmas week. However, to Bill, it wasn’t quite as cold as he knew New York to be. Though he wished he were there, it felt nice to celebrate the holiday festivities in his new family home. The sight of the house dressed up with red ribbons, paper stars strung on the mantle, green garlands on the banister, and the twelve-foot Fraser fir sparkling with ornaments and scenting in the living room brought him a sense of warmth he hadn’t expected. He found himself regretting not spending their first holiday in their new house; to think he had never really liked Christmas before. Having a child changed his jaded perspective, allowing himself to see the enchantment and wonderment through Echo's hazel eyes. 

Alma’s father, Antonio, had been in town for a few days, and surprisingly, the visit had been relatively painless. When he arrived, he personally gifted Bill a bottle of Mezcal for the opportunity to stay at his home. For Alma, he gave her a bag of dry chiles and a jar of local Texas honey. The old man appreciated his own space and often retreated early to his sleeping quarters in the basement to chat on the phone with his wife Connie, who was with family in San Antonio until he was ready for bed. Other times, Bill would find Antonio inspecting their home, looking for creaky floorboards or tapping the walls with his knuckles, ensuring the integrity of them. 

They were still gathered around the dinner table after supper, where Bill had stared off at a nativity scene with all the little biblical figures under a barn roof on the banquet table. Alma had bought it and tucked it away in the dining room so that her father didn’t think they were completely godless despite being so. Bill, having known his father-in-law a little more over the years, had learned that it was Alma’s mother Maria who had been the more devout Catholic out of the two.

Alma had been showing Antonio developed photos from their wedding in Vegas, an appropriate few from their honeymoon in Italy until she began showing him photos from Halloween. Echo had at first insisted on being a boombox. Alma had no clue where that idea came to her, but they both went on a trip for the supplies to make it. It was at the store that Echo encountered a yellow Power Ranger costume and her vision pivoted. In the photo, Antonio was looking at Echo mid-karate kick in her costume.

She showed him photos from Echo’s McDonald’s birthday, and Antonio chuckled at the ones she took with the poor minimum-wage working soul who had to don the Grimace costume. She smiled, but her eyes gave off a skeptical uncertainty with the big, oblong purple thing. Echo had a nice birthday, with some classmates, and Liz’s children. However, Alma felt a pang of sadness when she learned that Liz and her family were relocating to a military base in Colorado after the holidays that day.

Echo left her mother’s side after growing bored and onto Bill’s lap when Alma began showing off some concert photography to Antonio, original prints of photos that had been published in several other music magazines now. Two from international publications, one from Japan and the other from the UK. Her father looked impressed, seeing the tangible proof of her success. She had a real knack for framing and capturing the kinetic energy in the scenes she photographed.

She was pointing at a photo of a band, explaining how they were on a big European tour recently. Then, at another group, explaining how a year ago the band's manager asked if she’d travel with the group on their west coast tour to take photographs of them while on the road. She found herself considering it, but she had too much going on during that time herself. Bill was silently relieved she didn’t go, but he figured a similar opportunity would arise at a better time anyway. 

“This is the band from Rolling Stone,” Antonio recalled, tapping on the original photo laid out before him among others. “I saw the news about this guy.”

“Oh, yeah. Sad, huh?” Alma replied, gazing at the photo thoughtfully.

“Bit of a waste, if you ask me,” he added, glancing at her, hoping he didn’t come off as callous. She didn’t seem bothered, though. 

“Mhmm.” Bill hummed, joining the conversation as he returned from the den after Echo asked if she could watch TV. “Alma has been getting calls from biographers recently. They want to interview her about their hometown return and see all the material she has.”

“Really?” Antonio turned to Alma, intrigued.

“Uhm, yeah. I just need to research who these people are because—”

“You don’t trust them?” he asked, sensing her hesitation.

“Well, I just don’t know what they would do with my words or my photos. I even have video footage too,” she explained.

“I think you should save that for something else, love,” Bill suggested. 

They had discussed the value of her material, and while they agreed it belonged to the fans in some capacity, there was already an oversaturation of media surrounding the band. The lead singer's conspiratorial demise had become a constant topic across every medium imaginable, and they felt it would be wise to not add to that noise without careful consideration.

“I just need to curate what photos I would like to share. Like these,” Alma said, opening a portfolio and fishing out the photos of baby Echo nestled among the band members, sharing a sweet moment with the lead singer. A few shots zoomed in on the lead singer and Echo alone. “I wouldn’t give this away until one day she can decide for herself, you know. So… yeah. I don’t know, it just makes me nervous,” she admitted, exchanging a look with Bill, who gave her an understanding nod. “Uh, you can keep looking through everything if you want to,” she said to her father. “But—I have to pee really bad.”

“I’ll help y—” Bill started to rise from his seat but paused. 

“Use this,” Antonio said, holding out his cane to her.

She smiled, amused, but took a firm grip on the brass handle as she rose carefully. Her big pregnant belly emerged from under the table in an almost shocking display. Bill saw her every day, but still, there were moments when he really took note of how pregnant she was. Even feeling a slight tinge of guilt. This was one of those instances. While he had learned to keep his reactions in check, he noticed Antonio's eyes widen for a moment, clearly taken aback. 

“Oh, this isn’t so bad,” Alma said after taking a few careful steps with the cane’s assistance. 

“You should get one,” Antonio suggested with a wink. 

“A wheelchair would be better. A motorized one,” she joked, making her father chuckle. 

When Bill made the call to Antonio a few months ago to inform him he’d be a grandfather again, he caught himself feeling a bit nervous. Just like with Echo, he would take responsibility, despite it being a team effort, but he was glad that this time Alma sat next to him on the couch in the living room.

“Just sound, like, a little happier in tone,” Alma said. 

“You want me to be cheery?” he raised his brows at her. “He’s going to think I’m on fucking drugs. It doesn’t matter how I sound if it’s me calling, he always figures it has something to do with you anyway.” 

“Fine.” Alma tutted.

“Do you want to do it?” He said, trying to pass the phone off to her, she was doing nothing to help the nerves he felt.

“What are you nervous all of a sudden?” she asked knowingly, eyeing the phone offensively.

“Not like you are. You’re my wife, you're acting like–” 

“Like what?” she tilted her head.

“Like if we’re teenagers and I accidentally got you pregnant? We’re in our 30s, A’. If anything, he should be happy that these babies were made in marriage this time.”

Alma rolled her eyes. “Well, go ahead and tell him that, then.”

“Fine.” He leaned back and dialed.

“Bueno?” Antonio answered.

“Hey, it’s Bill,” he said quickly, hitting the speaker button.

“Oh… uhm, is Alma—”

“I’m here, Apá, I’m fine,” she interjected quickly before he could start worrying.

“Hi, mija! So?”

Antonio was receptive to the news when Bill informed him. He congratulated them both as he was very happy for them and also thrilled about being a grandfather again, especially. Again—he was happy they were blessed enough to say that. And grateful that another baby would be joining their family, it made his heart swell at the opportunity.

“And have you been feeling okay, Almacita?” Antonio asked.

“Uhm,” Alma bit her lip and crossed her arms uncomfortably. “Well, as good as I can,” her eyes flicked up at Bill, seeking some support. “I’m fine, but it’s just a little harder because we’re having twins.” Alma covered her mouth with her hand nervously. 

“Uh, yeah, it’s another girl, and we’re having a boy, too,” Bill continued.

There was a long pause at the end of the line and they both looked at each other worried. Bill wondered if the old man’s heart went into arrest.

“Apá?” Alma thickly swallowed. “Did you hear that? I’m twenty-two weeks today. More than halfway!” She said, trying her best to sound optimistic. “Everything—I’m okay.” She didn’t want to tell him until she surpassed a week after the gestation her siblings were prematurely born on. That way, she felt, would ease some worry. 

“Yeah, Alma is healthy, and the babies are healthy. They’re all doing well.” 

Antonio could be heard clearing his throat before he spoke. “That’s a blessing. Wow... I’m happy for you. I just think of your Mamá you know…” 

Alma took a deep, shaky breath and frowned. “Yeah… me too.” 

“But you’re strong, Alma. I know you are. Just take care of yourself, okay? And—you too, Bill.”

As they sat in the dining room, waiting for Alma to return, Bill and Antonio shared an unspoken sense of awkwardness, neither of them really knew how to interact. The start was usually hard, but when they got going, the conversation flowed easily. However, both men sat there quietly, deliberating on whether to go first.

“This dining room,” Antonio began, glancing around the space after removing his reading glasses. “It’s big. I know you stayed here for Thanksgiving this year—did everyone come here to eat?”

“Oh, uh, no.” Bill shook his head. “Actually, we were invited to the Darby’s Thanksgiving.”

“Guy with the tattoos?” Antonio asked, sweeping a hand over his wrinkly arm.

“That’s him.” Bill nodded with a smile. “It was nice. You know, Thanksgiving in New York started when Bianca gathered all the stragglers for the holiday so they wouldn’t be lonely and of course, so she could stuff everyone full of food,” he chuckled. “I was the first to her holiday parties. Then the next year, it was Queenie. Then Marcy. And then, Alma, eventually. Darby’s Thanksgiving was a lot like that. Even though we miss our friends back on the East Coast, it had the same kind of feel.”

“Oh, I’m glad Bianca and Darby are so gracious like that. Found family in a way, huh.”

“Yeah, good people,” Bill agreed. “Bianca insists on cooking everything herself, but Darby does it potluck-style. Alma and Echo made pecan pies, and I handled the mashed potatoes. That kind of thing. Um, while we were there, Darby and his wife Jennifer announced that they were expecting again.” He said, twisting his wedding band, still feeling the awkward air between them.

“Exciting.” Antonio nodded. “That’s great.” 

He paused, glancing at Antonio. “You were in San Antonio for Thanksgiving with Connie, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Antonio replied, scratching his head. “She has two sons, older, both in their 50s, they’re nice,” he shrugged indifferently. “I haven’t mentioned this to Alma, yet. I just don’t want to upset her right now, but we’re thinking about moving there— permanently.”

“Really?” Bill didn’t think Alma would be upset, she’d probably be happy that he was moving away from Missouri.

“Mhmm. I’m from Texas—Houston, specifically,” he proudly clarified. “But San Antonio’s nice. And a lot warmer,” he added, looking out at the barren trees through the bay windows, where the sky was a bright, wintry white. “You two leave the curtains open in every room here. You’re not worried about people looking in?”

“Um,” Bill hummed, looking out the window with him. “Well, having the curtains drawn makes it feel more open here. In New York, everything can feel so... closed in.” He gestured with his hands. “But I guess, now, you can see that neighbor all the way over there,” he pointed, through the tall leafless trees. “But usually, the trees cover us well in season.”

“I guess,” Antonio looked unconvinced. “People can look in. Or something?” 

“Something?” Bill smirked. “Like an animal?”

“No,” he said definitively. “You never know what’s out there, I guess,” he lightly shrugged.

“Uh-huh.”

“You have a gun?” 

Bill tilted his head, surprised by his question. He deliberated on how to answer him for a moment. “Well,” he licked his lips, becoming serious. “Don’t tell her I told you, but Alma does.” 

“I have what?” Alma’s voice cut in as she re-entered the dining room, catching them both mid-chuckle. She found it nice to see them having a moment.

“Uh,” Bill scratched his chin. “That you have bear mace,” he thought quickly. “You know, for the bears everyone tried to scare us about when we moved here.”

“Have you seen one?” Antonio asked her curiously, raising a bushy brow.

“A bear? Yeah,” Alma said, which piqued Bill’s attention because he hadn’t been aware she had. It seemed like something important enough to mention. “Bill, some mornings,” she laughed when he shook his head at her joke. 

….

The next day, Alma and her father prepared to head out for some last-minute Christmas shopping. Alma was slipping on her coat and a thick scarf while Bill knelt beside her, tying the laces on her Vans by the side door.

“You two going to be out long?” he asked, double-knotting her shoelace.

“Nah. I mean, look at who’s going,” she giggled. “We’ll shop, eat somewhere, and then meet you and E’ at the shop.”

He stood up and kissed her. “Alright. Call me for anything. I’m serious.” 

“I know, I know. I’m taking the Mustang by the way,” she said, taking the key off the hook. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said at his disapproving gaze. “I’m with my dad, remember, I’ll be on my best behavior. I just want him to enjoy a ride in it.” 

Bill sighed, relenting. “Alright, fine. Just be safe.”

Antonio met them after greeting Echo, who was enjoying cereal at the kitchen island. He was held up for a moment when she proudly showed him yet again the school artwork she had done, pinned with magnets to the fridge. One, in particular, were odd-shaped people who represented her mother and father, herself, and two star-like shapes she said were her siblings.

“Ready?” Alma smiled at her father when he appeared. 

“Ready.” He smiled, smoothing down his heavy coat.

The mall bustled with holiday shoppers, but Alma and her father took their time, strolling at an easy pace through a department store. Their paces were quite similar, so Alma found it nice that she didn’t have to take uncomfortably long strides like she had to with Bill most times. They found some respite sitting on the edge of a display bed with snowman-themed jersey sheets, watching the shoppers whiz by them. 

“I know, you and Bill don’t ask for much. But when you showed off how the nursery is shaping up, I noticed something you don’t have, yet.”

“We forgot something?” Alma asked, the image of the nursery coming to mind. They had everything she thought, and not only that two of everything.  

“You did. I didn’t see a rocking chair.” 

Her eyes widened in surprise. “I forgot! My head, I swear I can’t even remember anything lately.” 

“Well, thankfully I still have my mind,” he tapped his temple with a wink. “Let’s get one.”

After purchasing a rocking chair that would be delivered post-Christmas, they continued browsing before settling at a Tex-Mex restaurant to eat at. As they ate, Antonio brought up the quirky squinting Echo would sometimes do and asked if she needed glasses in the same way Alma did. Echo was close to the age Alma was when she was prescribed glasses. She quickly informed him that she had them checked and that she was fine, much to his relief when the conversation drifted toward naming the babies.

“Well, we’ve been narrowing it down. So we’re close.” She said as she chewed a bite from her massive burrito. 

“What are the names you like, though?” Antonio asked. She mentioned a few, most quite unconventional, some a little old-fashioned, some just things, but one, in particular, gave him pause. “No. Not that one.” He bristled, taking a sip of his beer.

“What?” she said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. Antonio was glad she finally did, her top lip was stained with red salsa for a good minute, but he hadn’t wanted to interrupt her. “Why? I think it’s pretty, Bill, too.” 

“That’s an ex-girlfriend's name—before your Mamá. Don’t name her that.” He shook his head disapprovingly. 

“Apá? Ex-girlfriend?!” Alma laughed, surprised by the revelation. “Okay, then... We’ll cross that off.”

“You want a Spanish name, though?” 

“It’s not mandatory,” she replied, “but I think it’d be nice, you know? Something with a bit of heritage, I guess.”

“I think so, too,” he smiled. He loved his daughter's name, after all. “Flora, Sol, Paloma, Luna, Cielo,” he listed, letting the names roll off his tongue. “I don’t know… just some ideas, but I keep coming back to Vida, from your list.” 

“Oh, you like that one?” 

“It’s nice,” he nodded thoughtfully. “I like it. It kind of shares a little something with your name in a way.” 

Alma sipped from her glass bottle of Mexican Coca-Cola, letting the thought sink in. “You know, that was on both mine and Bill’s list,” she said with a little laugh. “But we thought maybe we could think of something better?”

“Were there any other names you both had on your lists?”

She shook her head. “No, just that one.”

“Well, maybe it’s a sign,” Antonio said with a gentle smile. “You both agreed on it before you even knew you’d have to convince each other. Maybe it’s meant to be Vida.”

They returned home so that they could unload the car of their shopping bags before making their way to the shop. Only one item Antonio helped carry in and hid in the downstairs coat closet for Alma, everything else they left inside by the side door, not wanting to put any more effort than that. There was a mellow acoustic show going on tonight, as well as a small staff holiday party, and both Alma and Bill wanted Antonio to see the place in action. 

Alma was waiting for a car to pass while she sat on the edge of the driveway when said car slowed and partially pulled in beside her. It was her neighbor from down the way, and through the window, Alma could see her eyeing the Mustang with keen interest.

“What does she want?” Antonio asked, eyeing the neighbor with suspicion. He didn't like the sharp, haughty turn she made in her Land Rover.

Alma sighed. “I don’t know.” She said, rolling the window down. 

“My, you are pregnant!” the neighbor exclaimed, her tone overly enthusiastic, with her slight southern twang she didn’t do a good job of suppressing. She wasn’t local, but she pretended to be.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked neutrally, ignoring her comment. 

“Oh, well, I don’t mean to cause alarm,” the neighbor rushed to say. “But have you heard gunshots? It was maybe a few months back? I was talking to the Turners. They live just on the other side of me. They said they heard it too from this direction. Strange, right?”

“Really? Yeah, that is strange,” Alma said, furrowing her brow, feigning concern. “We don’t own any guns. But you know, my husband mentioned something like that a few months ago. But he heard them come from down your way, actually.” She deflected.

“Interesting,” the neighbor said, leaning out her window slightly, her voice dropping as if sharing a secret. “Well, we are armed, it's our God-given right to be. But we’re responsible. To hear shots ringing out of season? That’s just not what we do.” She shook her head, disapprovingly.

“Right…” Alma said, her eyes narrowed at her skeptically. “Well, sorry, I can’t help you? I mean, it was months ago, right? Could have been anything.” Alma replied, trying to keep her tone light. Of all times to do so, it was so very inconvenient that the neighbor was bringing up months-old speculation while her father was present. 

“It was some time ago. Oh! I didn’t see you there,” the neighbor said, suddenly noticing Antonio in the passenger seat. “I’m Whit’, Alma’s neighbor. You must be her grandfather,” she added with a disingenuous smile.

Alma raised her hand, so her father wouldn’t speak. She could feel her irritation bubbling up, how she hated when her classmates teased her for her much older parents. 

“Father,” she said tightly, forcing a smile. “He’s not much older than—um, sorry, what’s your husband’s name again?”

“George.”

“George, yeah. He’s about 80 too, right?” Alma shot back, her annoyance creeping into her voice.

“Hmph,” Whit’ said, her expression hardening as she put her buggy sunglasses back on. “Well, I’m sorry to hold you up. You really look due any day now. Really, just about to pop!”

“Mhmm. Have a Merry Christmas,” Alma replied, rolling her window up quickly, cutting off any further commentary.

“What the hell was that?” Antonio asked after being a bystander to their odd passive-aggressive exchange. “Does she have a problem with you?” 

“I don’t know,” she said, turning safely onto the road. “I’ve only interacted with her a handful of times, and she’s never acted like that before.” Out of very small, small talk, the most they ever spoke was Whit’ taking interest in her unique engagement ring. 

“She’s jealous,” Antonio suspected, glancing at his daughter.

“What?” Alma chuckled. “I don’t see why? She has a rich old husband, no kids, and stays home drinking wine, and spending his money. Good life, I think. I certainly wouldn’t be worried about gunshots from months ago.” She rolled her eyes.

“That’s true about the husband? She looks your age,” Antonio said, raising a brow.

Alma laughed. “He’s probably in his sixties, not eighty. I was just getting a dig at her. Sorry,” she quickly said for doing so at her father’s expense. 

“Maybe she wants a young, rich husband like you,” he chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Alma’s lip curled at the thought. “We don’t have them, by the way—guns,” She lied to her father, unknowing that Bill hadn’t told him they did to some degree. Antonio didn’t take offense that she wasn’t being truthful, she was smart to not reveal to anyone they had the means to protect themselves. “But, if she wants to accuse us of shooting guns, she should be smart and back the hell away.” She said, making her father laugh. 

…

Christmas Eve/Day 1995 

It was late in the evening on Christmas Eve but Bill and Alma were in the living room planting Echo’s presents under the base of the large tree, but currently he was taking pictures of Alma in front of their twinkling fir. She quickly threw on a nice tunic she knew would fit without the fuss of shimming it on and stood cradling her belly while Bill took photos with one of her professional cameras. 

“So that’s all she said?” Bill asked, still curious about the strange interaction she had with the neighbor, while he adjusted some camera settings before holding it back up.

Alma sighed. “Yeah, I told you about the noise. It carries through the trees.” 

“Smile,” Bill chuckled, seeing her scowling at him through the viewfinder. “What did your dad say?” 

“Nothing. He just wanted to know what her problem was.” 

Bill nodded, he would have wondered the same if he was there for the interaction. Especially when hearing the covertly rude comments the neighbor made about how pregnant his wife looked. It pissed him off, frankly, because who the hell was she?

“She’s bored. Don’t worry about it, love. You want one more?” He asked, taking a snapshot of her, glancing down while taking a step out of position. He thought that would come out pretty, it looked relaxed, and she looked more herself as he saw her.

“I think that’s good,” she smiled appreciatively.

They set to work, gently arranging Echo’s presents beneath the tree. Bill walked over to the couch to grab a few more gifts, and Alma could hear him chuckling quietly behind her.

“What’s funny?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

She stared at him with an annoyed glint in her eyes until he settled his laughter. “It’s just when your back is directly facing me, you don’t look pregnant. But the second you turn a little—boom, there’s your bump, all out of nowhere.”

“For real?” She rolled her eyes. Why would he even point that out after everything she’d just said about the neighbor’s comments? “So, like this?” She positioned herself facing straight forward again, then angled slightly to reveal the curve of her belly, making him laugh again. “Leave me alone!” she said, swatting the air in his direction, though a hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

“It can’t,” he said through his laughter. “It’s cute. You’re cute.” 

She bit her lip to keep from laughing with him, but in her mind's eye she could picture how jarring it could look, sometimes she’d catch her figure in the reflection of a mirror and would even shock herself. Failing to hold her laughter caused her to snort loudly, and when she joined him it only made them laugh even harder. 

After they finished, Alma glanced over the pile of gifts. “I think we went overboard… E’ has so much this year.” 

“Eh,” Bill shrugged, hugging her from behind and kissing the top of her head before resting his chin on it. “Well… it’s her last Christmas as an only child before we have to budget three ways next year.” 

“Aww, yeah,” Alma wistfully sighed. After a beat, she tilted her head up at him, her eyes twinkling, reflecting the lights on the tree. “I have an extra gift for you, but it’s not wrapped... I had my dad put it in the coat closet.”

“Oh,” he said, anticipating something else entirely until she mentioned her father. “A Game Boy?” He said, almost expectantly.

 Her smile fell. “Dammit,” she said in the same tone Echo would since it had become an inside joke between her and Bill. “No… they were sold out.” He had dropped very obvious hints about wanting one after trying to beat Giancarlo’s high scores on his over the summer. “But—I think it’s something you’ll want to use in the morning.” 

~~~

They crept quietly, hand in hand, down the hall, careful not to wake Echo, surprised she hadn’t come barreling in their room to wake them first on Christmas morning. It was quite early, but Alma assumed her father would be up by now sitting in the breakfast nook with the newspaper like he had been this week, but the sound of the water pipes humming told her he was just starting his day.

Alma popped a blueberry bagel into the toaster while Bill grinned, pushing the sleeves of his Italian cardigan up, experimenting with his new espresso machine–hissing and steaming. She’d noticed him eyeing it a few times when they were out, catching his gaze lingering just a little too long at the display. She didn’t know why he held off buying it himself, but it seemed like he was putting priorities in front of just a want. A want she could easily tell would be a daily need with how he was fixing himself a latte, a change from his usual black mugs of coffee. 

While slathering cream cheese on her toasty bagel, she watched him take a sip of his creation, raising his brows in satisfaction. She missed coffee. Besides the occasional sip here and there, she made the personal decision to abstain after learning she was pregnant. This morning, though, Bill walked around the island with his matte, slate-green mug and encouraged her to steal a sip at the very least. However, she found it so tasty she ended up keeping his mug, but he didn’t mind making another, taking the opportunity to happily fiddle with his new machine more. 

~~~

Echo enjoyed a bountiful Christmas this season. She had gotten everything she wanted on the list she wrote to Santa and more. Though she quickly moved on from the clothing she was gifted by both her parents and grandfather, she was still appreciative. However, her attention was fully captured by the Barbie castle and the assortment of accessories that would be perfect for the Barbies she’d received on her birthday.

With his pocket knife, Antonio was helping Echo open the packaging that housed the baby doll he and Connie had gotten her, while Bill and Alma tidied the room. Of course, most of the mess was from the wrappings from Echo things. For Antonio, they’d picked out a high-quality mag flashlight he’d mentioned in passing over the phone. Alma also gifted dress shirts she knew he’d like (the same work over-shirt he had in various colors) and cozy loungewear for Connie to receive later.

Bill and Alma exchanged their perfume and cologne gifts, a custom they’d kept every Christmas. But this year, they decided to treat themselves to Nokia cell phones, which they bought at the beginning of the month. Alma had a celestial hard shell cover on hers, but Bill left his bare. 

“I think Echo has one more present?” Bill announced. Echo perked up, her eyes going wide with excitement as she looked between her parents.

“Did you check under the whole tree?” Alma asked, hoping to keep Echo occupied while Bill slipped out to the dining room.

Moments later, Bill returned, pushing in a pink, battery-powered Jeep with a big red bow stuck to the front of it. Echo squealed, leaping off the couch and clambering into the driver’s seat. “It’s like Mommy’s! Look, Mommy!”

“Yeah! It is just like mine!” Alma laughed, her own face lighting up at Echo’s joy.

“Make it go, Papa!” Echo said, bouncing in the seat, eager to take off.

“We can, but outside after breakfast, okay?” 

“You should hug your mom and dad, Echo,” Antonio suggested with a warm glint in his eye. “Tell them thank you,” he added, giving her a little wink.

Echo looked up at her parents, her excitement softening as she scrambled out of her new pink Jeep. She wrapped her little arms around Bill and then Alma, but not before she ran her hands all over her belly first as she thanked her too. 

“You’re very welcome, darling,” she said to her daughter and looked at her father Antonio with a smile, silently thanking him for giving Echo the gentle reminder.

~~~

Bill was helping Echo into her coat, while Alma and her father lingered in the living room, chatting after breakfast. Antonio mentioned with a laugh that their laughter from the night before had woken him where he slept just below, though he wasn’t complaining; he’d found it rather endearing. 

Echo squirmed impatiently while Bill worked to button the toggles of her coat, her energy so high she could hardly stand still. She was eager to enjoy her new ride and still buzzing from her excitement that morning. She had come down the stairs to find her parents waiting for everyone below, sharing kisses and smiles as they sat together on the couch. Echo gripped the stair railing tightly but, in her rush, tripped on the last step but recovered quickly to her parents' relief. Not even letting the blunder hinder her from the gifts awaiting under the tree.

“We’ll follow in a second,” Alma called to Bill, who replied with a wink and a nod as he stepped outside with Echo.

Alma stayed behind to rest for a moment, especially since she was still full after eating a hefty plate of chilaquiles, the sauce she made from the dry chiles her father had brought. Her feet were not only swollen lately, but they just plain hurt too. While Alma was thanking Antonio for the nice hair accessory set he had gifted her and the shoe-shining kit he gave Bill, she sighed, propping her swollen feet up. Antonio handed her a throw pillow to place under them, noting her visible discomfort as she sank further into the couch.

“Did Bill get you anything else?” Antonio asked, noticing they didn’t exchange much. 

“You know, the basement’s pretty big? Well, Bill is going to make a space there to build a small dark room for me after the twins get here,” she smiled. 

Outside, Bill kept a watchful eye on Echo as she navigated her new toy, guiding her away from the bushes and helping her learn the stops and starts. Her laughter bubbled up as she tapped the gas, stopping and starting as she got a feel for her Jeep’s controls. When a hind wheel became stuck between the damp grass and the driveway, Bill stepped in, holding the steering wheel lightly. 

“Alright, hit the pedal,” he instructed, giving the car a gentle nudge to free it from the spot.

As Echo zoomed down the driveway, she turned around at his call and drove back toward him, her face glowing with a big dimpled smile that mirrored his. The whir of the motor whined down as she approached and then came to a stop altogether. 

"Hit the pedal?” Bill said, his brows furrowing as he watched her tap it with a concerned frown. “Hm," he murmured, scratching his head under his black beanie with a hint of regret. "Maybe I didn’t charge the battery long enough, baby."

Echo’s face twisted into a pout, clearly unimpressed by his oversight. Her little arms crossed, and her expression was unmistakably displeased, which he was taken aback by. Mostly because her low-brow glare he was met with revealed just how menacing his own could look. 

“Fix it!” she whined. 

“Echo,” he said gently, tilting his head at her. “I can, but we have to go inside while the battery charges.” 

“No!” she screamed. 

Bill bit his lip, sighing quietly through his nose as his shoulder slightly slumped. She’d been acting out more than usual lately, mostly with Alma, and they both suspected the change had to do with the twins’ impending arrival. When they’d started setting up the nursery, she happily helped in her own little way, but once Bill put the cribs together, it seemed to make everything feel much more real for her. The finishing touch—the bassinets in her parents’ bedroom—seemed to have triggered her even more. The twins not only had their own room but their own little sleeping area in her parents’ space, too, a luxury she didn’t have. That realization had sparked a subtle jealousy in her, though she couldn’t quite put it into words.

Bill scratched his brow, unsure what to do as Echo’s cries grew louder, filling the quiet morning air. “Let’s go inside, Echo,” he tried again, gently helping her off the Jeep. She allowed it at first, but as soon as her pink, sparkly rain boots hit the ground, she plopped down and let out an even louder wail, refusing to move. When he knelt down to help her up, she flopped back and went limp, kicking her legs in defiance each time he tried.

“Oh my god,” Alma said, looking out the living room window, and seeing the situation outside. 

“She’s tired,” Antonio remarked. His gaze remained on Bill, slightly out of morbid curiosity, to see how he’d handle his child's tantrum. He saw that Bill was lightly frazzled, but otherwise he was very calm. 

“Yeah, but—” Alma sighed, beginning to ease herself off the couch to go outside.

“Mija, just—” he said, placing his hand on her knee. “He’s got it.”

Outside, Bill took a deep breath as he righted himself. “Okay, well, I’m going inside, so… I guess I’ll see you later,” he said, moving away slowly. He heard her cries soften a bit, glancing back over his shoulder, he saw her watching him, a hint of surprise on her tear-streaked face at the idea of him leaving her outside. “Do you want to come in?” he asked gently.

“No!” she shouted, her little voice resolute.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Just remember, you’ll have to knock if you want us to let you in.” He stepped onto the porch, giving her one last chance. He paused for a beat, hoping she’d get up, but he could tell she was hoping for him to change his mind first, so he began to twist the doorknob.

“No! Don’t leave me, Papa!” she cried, making his heart twinge. “I want to go inside!” she scrambled to her feet and ran toward him, her little arms wrapping around his leg tightly.

He knelt down, immediately scooping her up, noticing the overtired look in her eyes. She’d had so much excitement for such an early morning, and the day’s overstimulation was catching up to her. “When we go in, you’re taking a nap,” he said softly but firmly. Echo frowned at the suggestion, clearly not thrilled. “Hey,” he murmured, brushing the tear stains from her cheeks with his thumb. “What’s the matter?” She stayed quiet, wrapping her little arms around his neck in a hug instead. “Ready to go inside now?” 

“Yeah,” she whimpered softly, “I sorry, Papa,” she said, rubbing her tired eyes.

“I love you,” he said, kissing the top of her head as they walked back into the warm house together.

Once inside, Alma took over, guiding Echo to her room for a nap. Meanwhile, Bill slipped into the office to have a cigarette and return a missed call from his oldest brother.

“E’, you comfy?” Alma asked, pulling the covers up around Echo as she snuggled in, nodding happily. “Good. Ow!” Suddenly, Alma winced as her hand flew to her belly, feeling the twins shift in a big, sudden movement. She looked down, noticing that her belly, which had been sitting high, seemed to have dropped. “Did you see that?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

“The babies moving, Mama!” 

“Yeah! They did a flip!” She lightly laughed, but that only alerted Alma to the fact that they positioned themselves for birth. “Are you excited to meet them?” 

“Mm,” Echo lightly shrugged indifferently before yawning.

“They’re so excited to meet you,” Alma said, softly caressing her cheek. 

“How do you know?” Echo asked, curiously. 

“They whisper to my heart,” Alma replied, her hand resting on her chest. “They tell me they love you too.” She gently tickled Echo's side, eliciting a fit of giggles from the little girl.

“Really?” Echo asked, her hazel eyes sparkling with wonder. “What do they say?”

Alma leaned in closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “They say they can’t wait to see your smile and give you hugs. They know you’re going to be the best big sister ever.” She said, stamping her lips on her daughter's cheek lovingly. 

Christmas Day was set to end with a grilled steak dinner, and Bill was outside on the patio, bundled up warmly as he tended to the steaks. The cold air made his breath visible when he blew on his hand after holding the cool metal tongs. Inside, Alma was on the phone with Carla, sharing a giggle as she prepared some sides. 

At the breakfast nook, Antonio and Echo were having a bowl of Sopa de Estrellitas. “Want some more sopita, bwello?” she asked, her little voice sweet and earnest.

Antonio patted his belly. “Abuelo, is full, Mijita,” he smiled warmly at her. “Pero, gracias.”

“Gracias!” She said excitedly, delighted she understood the word.

He chuckled. “When someone says ‘gracias’, you can say, ‘de nada’. You say it,” he encouraged. “De nada.” 

“Day nada!” 

While he praised her effort, his gaze followed Alma as she brought out foil-wrapped mushrooms and other veggies to the grill, her pregnant belly leading her way while she waddled toward Bill.

Bill quickly threw his cigarette inside the chiminea he started a flame in, fanning away the lingering smoke with his hand. When he saw Alma approaching, his eyes softened, and a warm smile spread across his face. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, and she began to say something when he cut her off with a long, tender kiss.

“How’s it going,” she asked, glancing over at the grill. 

“Still trying to bring myself to cook one of these steaks well done for Ulyssa,” he grimaced, making Alma giggle. Ulyssa and Yolani were expected to come soon for dinner. "Are you not cold?" Bill asked, rubbing her arm, since Alma didn’t bother to put a coat over the emerald green wrap dress she'd changed out of her pajamas into.

"I'm warm," she replied with a smile. "It actually feels nice out here for now. How are your brothers?" she asked, remembering he’d called them earlier.

“Good,” he nodded. “Same ol’ thing, you know.” 

“Mhmm,” she looked up at him, trying to read him. “Is it different this year? Since, you know, your dad passed?” 

Bill's chest rose, taking a deep breath and twisting his lip in thought as he looked out across the yard. “Yes and no…” he met her gaze. “I never had a good Christmas with that man since my mom passed, so it’s not like there’s much to reflect on. I guess this year just feels a little… weird.” he shrugged, indifferently. “Have you thought about your mom today?” he asked, softly.

“Well, yeah,” she said truthfully. “But I have been during this whole pregnancy.”

“I thought so,” he nodded, understandingly. He thought of his mother too but after so many years the memories he could recall were so distant. “Your dad misses her too. He was talking about her earlier having a smoke with me on the balcony.” 

Alma's eyes widened. “Shut up. My dad doesn’t smoke,” she scoffed. 

“Yeah, he does,” Bill said adamantly, raising his brows. 

“He quit before—”

“You were born. I know he told me while we were smoking.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“He said he only does it socially with Connie when they play dominoes with their friends and that he’s old now, it doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t anyway.” 

“For real?” She said, still in denial. 

“Yes!” He pressed. “When he asked for a cig’ I laughed at first because I thought he was joking—but no. Trust me, I was surprised too. Never in my life, I thought I’d ever share a smoke with your dad.” Little did he know that he’d share a glass of mezcal with him later that evening. “It was kinda fucking weird, but whatever, I guess.” 

“Yeah… I guess.” Alma shook her head, still in disbelief. “He likes you,” she looked up at him with a knowing smile. 

He shrugged as he walked over to the grill to flip the thick steaks. “Sure, whatever.” 

“No, it’s not whatever,” she followed him grinning. “That’s a good thing, babe. I know it’s not cool but don’t be so punk fucking rock that you can’t accept that your father-in-law actually likes you.” 

Bill shot her a side glance as he closed the lid to the grill. “Okay fine. He thinks I’m… alright—cool,” he said dismissively, which made Alma laugh at his stubbornness. “Anyway, did Carla like her holiday package?” he asked to change the subject. 

“She did.” Alma slipped her arms into his heavy coat and held him, and there he noticed she was much warmer than him for a change. “She said hello, by the way.”

Resting her cheek on his soft sweater and taking in the spicy scent of his new cologne, she felt his hands run down her lower back and over the curve of her ass. She quickly turned them around so that Bill’s back faced the windows instead.

“Stop, my dad can see out here,” she harshly whispered with a smirk on her face. 

Bill chuckled before giving her ass a small tap. “It’s my house? I think I’m allowed to touch my wife here.”

“Don’t be weird,” she lightly laughed.

“You just look so pretty.”

“You too,” she murmured back, discreetly palming his package. 

He jerked back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “I hope he saw that—you’re going to drive him to smoke another cigarette.”

They both started laughing and Antonio, momentarily looking up from helping Echo dress her Barbie, noticed them. He was mid-task, carefully pulling a tiny top over the doll, when Echo insisted on covering its plastic "chi-chi’s," making them both chuckle. But as Antonio's gaze shifted, he caught sight of Bill rubbing Alma's belly in a gesture filled with tenderness and with a hint of protectiveness.

It was a small, ordinary moment, but for Antonio, it meant everything. Seeing his daughter this way, settled and happy, in a home she loved with a family around her, eased something in him. As her father, he would always care deeply for Alma, always feeling that tug to protect her, and he would continue to do so on behalf of his late wife, Maria, also. He had taken a better liking to Bill and being in his home, he felt a pang of regret about his old abject thoughts about him. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t ever admit that to his son-in-law just to stubbornly hold a small edge over Bill because being an old man, that's all he had left. But deep down, he knew his past disdain for the man his daughter had chosen was unwarranted. Seeing them here, witnessing firsthand the life they had built, brought him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt before. Behaving so domestically, though they lived unconventionally. It was their life, how they liked it. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he could worry less about his daughter because he knew she had Bill.

…

January 1996 

It was close to the end of the first month of the new year. Alma was to be induced to deliver within the week. At her final doctor’s appointment, she received the news she’d been hoping for. She had the green light to attempt a vaginal delivery rather than a c-section, as long as the twins stayed in position. With any luck, everything would go as planned—at least she hoped. Alma would joke with Bill that she felt ninety-nine years pregnant, but by now, it wasn’t feeling like such a joke anymore. 

The babies seemed restless, often stretching out in ways that made her ribs ache and her breathing shallow. Worse was the pressure on her bladder, and she often found herself racing to the bathroom. Last week, she'd barely made it in time, ending up standing in the shower and just letting it happen there to avoid an accident on the floor. Having been alone in the house at the time, she saved herself from the embarrassment. She was over being pregnant right then and there. Luckily, it will all be coming to an end soon.

It was evening, while Bill soaked in the bath while Alma sat on the wide ledge, her legs submerged in the warm water with him. She had showered prior and wore only a pair of granny panties and a comfortable lounge bra, a fresh change from the shirt she’d been living in for days. She had neglected her hairy legs, and he was carefully shaving them for her. His hair was slicked back, still dripping from the bath, as he concentrated on running the razor along her shin one last time.

“Ouch!” Alma inhaled sharply, jerking her leg back.

“Quit fuckin’ playing,” Bill laughed, shaking his head. She’d already tricked him twice into thinking he’d accidentally cut her, and he was onto her game now. 

Alma giggled mischievously. Before draining the tub, Bill leaned down to speckle kisses up her freshly shaved smooth legs, making her squirm and laugh even more.

“Okay, how short do you want it?” Bill asked, standing outside the tub wearing black compression boxers and holding up the clippers with a raised eyebrow.

Alma stood in the tub, a towel under her feet, her panties already set aside, and full bush out. “As short as you can, I guess,” she said, her cheeks warming slightly as she spoke.

“Alright,” he replied, adjusting the guard on the clippers. “Put your foot on the ledge—and don’t mess around this time. This is a delicate area.”

Alma carefully adjusted herself as Bill got into position, only for him to pause and peel a small, forgotten sticker clinging to the underside of her belly. The print on it had been worn away, all that was left was the paper silhouette, likely rubbed away from her loofah during her shower.

“You forgot one,” he teased with a smirk, flicking the stubborn sticky paper off his finger. Echo spent that evening before bed gleefully decorating Alma’s belly with stickers, an activity that left both of them in fits of laughter because the babies seemed to move against her hand as if following along.

Once that was out of the way, Bill turned his focus back to the task at hand and diligently leaned in with the buzzing clippers. The moment stretched into an awkward silence, only the quiet hum of the clippers filling the room, and Alma found herself gazing blankly at the bathroom wall. 

“This is so weird,” she muttered, breaking the silence while Bill concentrated below her, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. 

“You asked,” he shrugged, unaffected. “It’s like 1981 down here.” 

Alma rolled her eyes, pursing her lips. “You didn’t even see it in ‘81.” 

“No. But I saw it in the winter of ‘87 looking just like this,” he laughed, teasingly. 

“Whatever,” Alma said, stifling a giggle. “You know, you could probably use a trim yourself,” she quipped. They had let personal grooming slide, especially since pausing their usual intimacy. In the meantime, she’d gotten creative, perfecting her hand job skills when she felt like it.

“Sure,” Bill paused, pulling the clippers away to meet her eyes. His smile turned sly. “But only if you do it,” he winked. 

PART B

[splendidreads]

Open Your Arms, Part 3

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Female OC

Word Count: 4692

Warnings: some mildly foul language, threats, protective Bucky is a warning in itself.

Summary: 'Arranged marriages are never easy. This one is no exception. Both sides will have to relearn their ways, and learn to trust each other. Bucky has all the love to give, but Katherine doesn't know how to accept real love. She's never been loved by anyone other than her best friend. Will she learn to open her heart, to New Yorks most notorious Mob Boss? Or is she too scared, that he's just like everyone else?'

A/N; This is my FIRST Bucky story. As well as my first AU story. If this first part does well, l'll keep on going. I'm incredibly beyond nervous about this. ALSO; things will pick up in the next chapter!! DONT WORRY!!

Constructive criticism welcome, but please be nice.

Please re-post and comment:)

I do NOT give permission for my work to be copied and posted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. PLEASE just reblog if you want to share my story!!

TAGLIST: @wintasssoldier

Part 4 Here

SONG: Finesse by Bruno Mars & Cardi B

Katherine had slept pretty well that night, in her new big bed. She had actually slept into the morning, for the first time in years. Her bed was surely a mess, and she probably had the worst bed head of her life. But for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt rested.

A soft humming sound started in her throat, as she rolled over in the bed, hearing her phone buzz against the nightstand. She stretched her arm out, blindly smacking her hand around before she finally felt her phone. One of her eyes slowly peeled itself open, just enough to look at her phone.

10 text messages, and 2 missed calls.

It was then that she finally looked at the time, both of her eyes snapping open. It was nearly eleven in the morning, far longer than she’d ever slept in before.

“Shit!”

She fell out of the bed with a loud plop, scurrying to get to the bathroom and start her day. As she turned the shower on, she went through her text messages.

Sage 7:46am ‘GOOD MORNING! Let me take Skadi out for a walk, then let me know when someone will come get me!’

Sage 8:03 ‘Skadi tried to drag me into the lake.’

Sage 8:30 ‘KATIE ARE YOU UP?’

Bucky 8:32 ‘Good morning, Katherine. I came to check on you, but you were so peacefully sound asleep.. I thought I’d just let you rest. I have meetings starting at 9, and hopefully will have a lunch break around noon. I hope you sleep well, and I’ll see you later (:’

Sage 9:10 ‘I’m ready whenever you are’

Sage 9:30 ‘…are you alive?’

Sage 9:47 ‘Did something happen..?’

9:52 Missed phone call, Sage

Sage 10:03 ‘I’m stopping by your house, or I guess your old house, grabbing a couple of things. Your dad isn’t here..’

10:13 Missed phone call, Sage

Sage 10:15 ‘Did I possibly steal someone’s phone number, because you left the letter on your desk? Yes, yes I did.’

Bucky 10:25 ‘Sage texted me. Steve’s about to head over to get her.. I know you said she worries a lot, but she seems pretty antsy to not hear from you. I told her that you were asleep, and she didn’t seem to believe me..?’

Katherine let out a long huff of air as she began brushing her teeth, reading all of the text messages. Her eyes rolled, reading the ones from Sage. But when she saw the texts from Bucky, she smiled. She hummed softly, her fingers tapping away on the glass screen.

‘Everything’s fine, I promise!! Would you believe me if I said that I slept in?’

‘Good morning! I’m so sorry, I don’t ever sleep in like this. Thank you for being so kind! Don’t worry about Sage, it’s just very uncharacteristic of me, lol’

She sent the first text to Sage and the second to Bucky, as she moved around the bathroom, prepping to get into the shower. Just as she was about to step into the shower, Sage texted her back.

‘…What?’

‘I was preparing myself to fight a mob, just so you know..’

‘Also.. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THAT STEVE WAS HOT!’

A rumble of a laugh passed Katherine’s lips, shaking her head as she quickly texted her back.

‘Lol I’m getting into the shower see you soon.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katherine decided to try and leave her hair down for the day, realizing she hasn’t had that opportunity in such a long time. Her hair was always in a slick bun, or a braid for work. It had been long enough that she was a bit surprised to see that the strands reached right above her rear. She had a hard time getting herself ready, her eyes glued to the body she saw in the mirror.. Noticing every detail that she despised about herself. She wasn’t a petite woman, that was for sure. Her hips were wide, thighs jiggling as she moved. Her tummy had a bit of a pooch, sticking out over her jeans, enough for her to grab between her fingers to fiddle with. Stretch marks across her hips and abdomen, even her thighs and breasts, from frequent weight changes. She would at least give herself credit for having nice curves.

A sharp rap of knocks at her bedroom door snapped her out of the daze.

“Hold on!” Her voice echoed through the bathroom, her bare feet padding across the tile as she pulled a shirt over her head.

“My hands are full or I would just come in anyways!” Sages voice sounded from the other side of the door.

Her hands were full?

Katherine pulled the door open, a confused look on her face as not only Sage but Steve as well both walked into her room with a few boxes and shopping bags. She continued with her confused expression, a hand on her hip as she watched them set everything in the TV area.

“So, I know that you’re not a very materialistic person,” Sage started, opening a few boxes, “But I also know.. That was never really a choice.”

Katherine walked towards them, peering into the boxes, “Okay…”

“I may have let it slip, that you’re a bit of an artist..” Sage shot her an innocent look, “I grabbed everything from my place that you had, and Bucky sent Steve and I out to get you new art supplies.”

Katherine’s eyes shot up, looking between the two blondes. She was silent for a moment, not sure what she wanted to say. Steve let out a soft sigh, a smile on his lips as he helped Sage take everything out from the bags

“He had already fully intended on taking you shopping.. But after talking to Sage,” His eyes went to her, a smile on his lips, “We all agreed you could use the surprise.”

Katherine stood there, dumbfounded. It wasn’t unlike Sage to try and take care of her, that wasn’t anything new. But the fact that it was Bucky, as well as Steve.. She watched as the two began taking things out, her eyes looking at all of the things.

“I also got a few things for you to decorate your room with.” Sage spoke, looking around the room. “This is the perfect spot!”

Sage stood up with a handful of rectangular frames in her hands. She walked over towards the television, and began placing them on the wall, trying to figure out the best spot for them. Katherine watched her for a moment, trying to look at the photos.. She could practically feel her heart swell, realizing what the pictures were. One was of Katherine and Sage, around the time they met. They were both so young.. Another was the two of them, a bit older, with a huge mess of paint. They both had big grins plastered on their faces, though she knew that after that moment they cleaned it all up. Next was a photo of them from their High School graduation..

“I thought you could use a few personal touches.”

Katherine’s lips curved up into a sweet smile, “Thank you.. Both.” She turned her smile to Steve, who just simply nodded his head, returning the smile.

Sage hummed softly, as she stuck the photos to the wall, satisfied with her arrangement. She then went back to all of the things on the table, and began to move some stuff around. Soon, all three of them were going around the room, decorating. Sage had suggested putting music on, and Katherine didn’t argue. The girls were dancing around the room, having a great time.. Katherine didn’t even notice that Steve had been gone for about fifteen minutes.

“Ooh, don't we look good together?

There's a reason why they watch all night long..

Yeah, know we'll turn heads forever..

So tonight I'm gonna show you off!”

Sages voice sang the words happily, both girls laughing as they danced around. Katherine smiled, walking into her closet to hang up the last of her clothes.. There wasn’t much, but it was at least a little better now. Sage had brought the clothes that Katherine left at her house, wanting her to have better options. Katherine had gone deep into her walk in closet, the music flooding her ears, and didn’t have any idea that Steve was back.. And that there was someone else in the room as well.

“You must be him.” Sage smiled, putting her hand out, “It’s good to officially meet you.”

Bucky offered her a kind smile, shaking her hand, “You too.” He glanced around the room, raising an eyebrow, “It looks nice. Thank you for doing this..” He seemed like he had more to say.

Sage hummed softly, “No problem. I’m just thankful that you’re not a big meanie,” She chuckled a bit, before lowering her voice, “She would kill me for saying anything… But I feel like it’s my job.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed on his face, listening intently. He could hear Katherine in the closet, humming along to the music. He wondered if she liked to sing.. But he was also very curious to know what Sage was about to tell him.

“I know way more about what you do, than she does.” Sage crossed her arms on her chest, looking directly to Bucky’s eyes, “She has no idea.. The reality of what she’s about to put herself in.”

Bucky nodded his head slowly, though his eyes narrowed a bit, “And just how do you think you know?”

Sage chuckled softly, proving his gaze ineffective, “Deputy Chief Alexandria Chambers.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, hearing the name. He looked to Steve, who simply nodded his head as if he already knew the information that was being revealed. He was confused.. How did she know her?

“She was my mother.”

Bucky swallowed a lump in his throat, “She was one of the best, that’s for damn sure.. I was very sorry to hear about her passing.”

Sage nodded her head slowly, “Thank you. She was always fair.. And I know that she was on your side of things. Well, you and your mob family.”

Bucky wasn’t exactly sure where this conversation was going, but he continued nonetheless, “I’m assuming that uhm..” He cleared his throat, “She made sure her daughter was well aware of the world she lived in.”

Sage nodded her head, “She was very thorough about it.” She seemed like she was about to say more, though a smile crept its was back onto her face when they could all hear Katherine’s voice.

“When I'm walkin' with you..

I watch the whole room change..

Baby, that's what you do..”

Katherine had absolutely no idea about the conversation that was taking place, as she hung up her clothes. If anyone had been paying close attention, they might have noticed the sweet smile that tugged on the corners of Bucky’s mouth. ‘She sounds wonderful..’

“Listen,” Sage looked to Bucky’s eyes, a serious expression on her face, “I just don’t want Katie to get caught in the crossfire of your world.” She let out a huff of air, “She deserves the best.. Even if she doesn’t think so herself.”

“No, my baby, don't play..

Blame it on my confidence..

Oh, blame it on your measurements..”

Steve walked over, grabbing the now empty bags. He was listening to Sage speak to Bucky, and he knew where she was going with her words.. Sage had told Steve quite a bit when they went shopping. She was quite the protective friend.. And for good reason. He glanced at Bucky, their eyes meeting for a moment. Bucky’s eyes shifted back towards Sage, and they watched each other for a moment, listening to Katherine sing. He put his hands on his hips, as the two of them shared a bit of a staring contest. Until Sages words broke the moment of silence between them.

“I will do anything for her.. Anything.” Sages eyes squinted, “I’m not trying to get on your bad side or anything.. I just want to make sure what your intentions are with her.”

Bucky watched Sage for another moment, and was starting to understand why she was interrogating him. “My intentions are what they’ve always been.. I intend on marrying Katherine someday.”

“But do you intend on loving her?” Sages words were sharp, and quite clear.

Bucky thought about those words, his eyes looking around the room. It’s not like he was heartless.. But love was never really on the table for him. Love was dangerous. It could be used against him.. Who would ever truly love a man like him anyways?

Sage shook her head, her eyes looking over the photos on the wall, “She deserves to be loved.. Taken care of.. And cherished.” Her lips curved downwards, “She hasn’t gotten much of that. Her mom died too soon, and her dad just became even more of a piece of shit.. Yet somehow, she’s still a ray of sunshine in this shitty world.. and I don’t want anything to diminish that.”

Steve cleared his throat, taking a few steps closer to them, “I can tell you that she’ll be well taken care of here, Sage.” He offered her a kind smile, before glancing at Bucky, “Even though everyone thinks that Buck is some scary monster.. A hard ass, who has no heart.. There’s a big ole teddy bear under that facade.. And I have a feeling that Katherine’s going to find him.”

Bucky glared at Steve, for saying such mushy words.. But, he could potentially be right.

Sage returned Steve’s smile, “I hope you’re right.. But I still want to know what Bucky’s thoughts are.”

Bucky took in a sharp breath, looking down at his shoes for a moment, trying to think over his words, “Steve’s right. Everyone does see me that way, and they’re not exactly wrong.” His eyes flicked up to Sage, “But I know how to be a gentle man, Sage. I would’ve never made a deal to marry someone, if I didn’t think I could… Be a decent husband.” He let out a soft breath, “I promise you that my intentions with Katherine are genuine. I will take care of her, and maybe we will grow to love each other.”

Sages lips curved up into a wide grin, and she brought her hands together, clapping them. “Well, alright then. Then I have a job for you.”

Both men’s facial expressions changed to one’s of confusion, looking between each other before turning their attention back to Sage.

“Katherine needs to change. She needs to learn that she deserves love.. And I want you to help me do that.”

Before Bucky could respond, the music suddenly stopped.

“Hey Steve, I was wondering if you-“

Katherine had come out of the closet, holding a clothing rod in both of her hands. Her eyes widened slightly, seeing that Bucky was standing there.. Her lips curved up into a sweet smile, their eyes locking. She felt her breath hitch in her throat, admiring his steel blue eyes.

“Hi.” Her voice came out soft, the grin on her face not faltering.

“Hey.” Bucky responded, his lips curving up to return the grin, “Uh, what happened?” He asked, pointing to the rod in her hands.

Katherine looked at it, then chuckled, “Fun fact, if you’re too short to reach something, just ask for help. Or you’ll end up taking down all of the clothes you just hung up.” Everyone in the room began chuckling, though Katherine’s cheeks tinted a light pink shade.

“I’m assuming you were about to ask for my help?” Steve finally asked, still chuckling a bit.

“Yeeaahhh..” Katherine chuckled softly, “It can wait until later..” She hummed for a moment, before looking between the three of them, “So.. What ‘cha guys up to?”

“Oh, I was just interrogating your new boyfriend, of course.” Sage grinned, sending Bucky a knowing look.

Katherine’s blush deepened, “Sage!” She scolded her, “We literally just met yesterday!”

Bucky’s lips turned up into a smirk, “Yeah, and I’m already introducing you to people as my girl.”

Sage raised an eyebrow, Steve tried to stifle a laugh. Katherine’s face was red as a beat, and thank god she didn’t have to come up with anything to say.. Because Annette knocked on the door, her warm smile peering into the room.

“Lunch is ready!” She announced, before motioning for everyone to follow her.

Bucky chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. His eyes watched as Sage grabbed Katherine’s hand, leading her out of the room. How cute. He couldn’t help the thought, seeing how she reacted to his words. Steve followed behind the girls, and Bucky went right behind him.

———

The next week went.. Well? Bucky had been pretty busy with a bunch of meetings, and Katherine found herself feeling pretty lonely. Sage had gotten stuck working overtime at the hospital, so Katherine didn’t really have anyone to talk to. She did, however, find herself in the kitchen a lot. Annette showed her where everything was, and was delighted to find out that Katherine was a quick learner. Baking, cooking, you name it. Annette started showing her everything that she knew.

“You know, I think Mr. Barnes has a soft spot for brownies..” Annette said, smiling as Katherine took them out of the pan.

“Really?” Katherine’s eyes looked at her, “You think.. You think it’d be okay if I took some up to him?”

Annette nodded, “If the door is closed, just make sure that you knock. But yes, I think he’d be pleasantly surprised.”

Katherine slowly nodded her head, and decided to grab a plate. She put four brownies on it, not knowing who else might be in his study with him.

“I’m going to finish up the laundry, then I’m done for the weekend!” Annette said, as she came around to the side of Katherine, taking a brownie.

“Alright, thank you for your help. Let’s hope that he likes them!”

Katherine took the plate in her hands, and started to make her way through the house. She was a bit nervous about going to Bucky’s study. She hadn't been in there since her first day here, and he’s been so busy lately.. Maybe brownies might be a nice offering. They hadn’t spent hardly any time together, shy of quick ‘Good morning’s before he had meetings. As she walked down the hall to the study, she found that the door was open. Perfect! She hummed softly, deciding to just walk in.

“Hey Bucky, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.. But I made-“ Her words were cut short by the stares of five men.

Bucky stood at his desk, towering over scattered papers and files, a frustrated expression on his face. Steve stood next to him, the same kind of frustration.. There were three other men gathered in the room, none of which Katherine had met before. As soon as she had stepped into the room, all the men’s eyes snapped up to look at her. It startled her enough to make her stop dead in her tracks. She gripped the plate tightly, her eyes shifting between each man, finally landing on those icy blue orbs.

“Brownies..” Her last word finally came out, her voice much quieter than it started.

Her eyes glanced at all of the papers on the table, and they widened a bit when she realized what they were. Crime Scene Photos. As soon as she had that realization, the photos were all scooped up back into a Manila folder.

“Who the hell are you? Snoopy little bitch..” One of the men voiced, his words sharp. Italian. “Who said you could barge in here?”

Bucky’s head snapped towards him, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Katherine’s voice was first.

“Excuse me? I live here. If I feel like bringing my man some brownies, I’m quite sure I can do just that. And, the door was open.” Her words came out much stronger than she expected, so she kept that strength and walked further into the room. “Learn some manners, bitch.” She walked around to the side of the desk that Bucky was on, and he greeted her with what seemed like a proud smirk.

“You are quite correct, doll.” He hummed, her words feeding his ego a bit. My man. His eyes looked towards the man who voiced against Katherine, “You’re lucky you still have your tongue. Katherine is right, you should learn some manners.. That’s no way to speak to a woman, especially mine.”

Katherine felt a chill run through her, Bucky’s flesh hand resting on the small of her back. She gave him a warm smile, silently thanking him for his words.

The man in question scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Whatever. She just marched in here like she owns the place.”

This time, Bucky’s metal hand reached out. He grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, pulling him to be halfway across the desk. Katherine let out a soft gasp, though Bucky’s flesh hand stayed gently on her back. Steve stepped around Bucky, putting Katherine between the two of them.

“Her name might not be on the title yet, but this is her home. And no one will speak to my girl like that. Next time, there will be no warning. Capiche?” Bucky’s voice was loud, commanding.. And it startled Katherine a bit.

The man’s eyes widened, his hand grabbing onto Bucky’s metal one, and he just nodded his head. Bucky finally let go of him, not until his eyes seemed to peer straight into his soul. The man stood up straight, fixing his shirt. Bucky’s gaze softened, turning towards Katherine once more.

“You made brownies?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. His voice was much softer towards Katherine.

She cleared her throat, nodding her head as she held the plate up, “I only brought four.. I wasn’t sure who all was in here..”

Bucky took one, giving her a grin, “Good thing there’s only four of us. Amato, you can leave.” He didn’t even look over to the man as he dismissed him.

The man grumbled something in another language, which Katherine assumed was Italian, before storming out of the room. The other two men looked between each other, before turning to look at Katherine with small smiles.

“Katherine,” Bucky hummed, “These are two of my best men. Clint Barton, and Bruce Banner. Bruce is the head of our science division, and Clint is head of the security team.”

Steve took a brownie as well, “It’s nice to meet you both.” Katherine smiled, extending the plate over the table.

“Likewise.” Clint said, nodding his head as he took a brownie. Bruce took the last one, giving her a nod with a smile.

Katherine watched as all four men began to eat the brownies. She hadn’t even tried one yet, so she wasn’t even sure if they were good or not. Though, based on their silence, and that they continued eating them..

“These are so good, Katherine.” Steve grinned, plopping the last bit of the brownie into his mouth.

“They really are.. Reminds me of my moms.” Clint said, a soft chuckle on his lips as he ate.

Bruce smiled, “Did you make these, or did Annette?”

Katherine couldn’t help but laugh at them, “Annette supervised, and I made them. Found an old recipe we wanted to try.”

Her eyes went up to Bucky’s face, still awaiting a reaction from him. His eyes were closed, as he slowly ate the brownie. A soft hum came from him, as he finished the brownie, his eyes opening to find hers looking at him.

“Delicious.”

Katherine’s lips curved up into a big smile, “I’m glad you guys liked them. I’m starting to really get into baking, maybe I can bring some stuff up for you guys every so often.”

Bucky smiled at her, his hand still on her back, “I think that’s a really nice idea.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, Clint moving to collect all of the papers on Bucky’s desk. Katherine glanced at them, curious about what they were.. And why that man was so rude to her.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted something important.. The door was open, so I-“ Katherine’s words were cut short by Bucky raising his metal hand as if telling her ‘stop’.

“The door was open. You did nothing wrong, doll. Amato needs to learn his place, and keep his trap shut.” Bucky’s fingers on her back slowly began to caress her, sending another chill up her body.

Katherine nodded her head, though it didn’t exactly make her feel better.

“I think it was a shock to him though, hearing you talk to him like that.” Clint said, giving her a grin, “You’ll need that sharp tongue, being in this world.. Especially being Bucks girl.”

Katherine returned the grin, “Anyone who dares to calls me a bitch, will get this sharp tongue. I don’t care who they are. I’ve dealt with a life of assholes, I’m not doing it anymore.”

All four of the men began chuckling, Steve patting Katherine on the shoulder.

“No one will ever treat you badly, doll. If they do, they’ll have to answer for it.” Bucky said, the other men nodding their heads.

Katherine’s eyes looked up to Bucky’s, searching.. All she could see was a strong, kind man. He wasn’t as scary as people made him out to be. He had only been kind to her.. She almost couldn’t believe that there was blood on his hands. She gave him a small smile, nodding her head.

“Alright boys. Now that this is taken care of..” Bucky motioned towards the folders, “I’m done for the weekend. I’ve been putting a few things off, trying to get this done.” His eyes glanced back down to Katherine.

Steve chuckled softly, nodding his head. Bruce nodded his head, “It was nice to meet you Katherine, thanks for the brownie.”

Clint smiled, “Yeah, it was nice to have a snack.”

“Of course.” Katherine smiled to them, watching as all three men walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.

“So…” Bucky cleared his throat.

Katherine raised an eyebrow, turning her body in his hand to face him, “So?”

He let out a soft breath, “I’m sorry that I haven’t spent any time with you, Katherine. Business has just..” he shook his head, “It can be very time consuming at times.”

Katherine shook her head, gently resting her hand on the arm that was still around her, “Don’t. I understand, you’re a very busy man.”

He smiled, lifting the hand from her back to gently caress her cheek with a finger. Katherine’s lips parted ever so slightly, her breath getting caught in her throat.

“Well.. I intend on spending the weekend with you.” He hummed softly, “I’d like to take you to dinner tonight.”

“Is it.. A date?” She asked, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

He chuckled softly, “As long as you want it to be..”

Katherine’s lips curved up into a happy smile, “Well, we’ve got to start somewhere, yeah? I think a date is just what we need.. You need to solidify the fact that you call me your girl.” Her words were meant as obvious teasing.

“Oh? Well, you did come into my study, and call me your man.” His lips quirked into a handsome smirk, “I think we’re on the same page, don’t you?”

“Hmm.. I suppose we’ll see, depending on how well our date goes. Maybe we’ll get somewhere.” Her expression changed to match his.

“Maybe.. I’ll steal our first kiss tonight.” His words were soft, barely above a whisper.

Katherine’s cheeks darkened, “O-Oh yeah?”

“Only if you want me to, of course..” His fingers cupped her face gently, “I don’t want to force you into anything, doll.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” Her voice was soft, her eyes peering deeply into his.

“I hope not.. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day we met.”

[2309analysis]

This is a one-shot of Robin having a regular day on the Sunny.

“ I acquaint thee ”

I push my back my hair against my ear, I sit up to put back the lovely book I have just finished back on it’s shelf. I return to my desk and write down the book I have read onto my chart of “finished books.” (Have a hc she keeps track of the books she finishes)

I go down to my room and look through the small window, I see Nami asleep, but her bed’s a mess. Poor girl. She always has a hard time falling asleep, but alas, I can’t blame her. I turn around to peer into the boys’ room.

I see them all sleeping in their own ways on top of bunk beds’. Of course, the first person I look to is Luffy, my beloved friend and captain. As I smile, I start to see Franky, who’s just now starting to get up. He slowly rises out of bed, and looks around for his daily cola. Before he could finish getting them, I back away.

I walk to my usual spot on the mast. I sit down quietly and lean my head against the swaying ship. I close my eyes to listen carefully to all the sounds I hear; the calm seas drifting us to out to our next destination. The yawns and groans of my crew slowly getting up. The wind brushing itself against my hair. The seagulls gawking in the distance passing by the Sunny. The doors of my crew-mates rooms’ being opened by them. I slowly lift up my eyes as I see the slow rising sun.

“Mornin’, Robin-chwan!” I turn my head over to the cook of the crew, Sanji. “Good morning, cook. How was your sleep?” He swiftly flawns his arms up to his chest and starts to dance around with pure joy. “It’s was amazing! I didn’t want to wake up from my beautiful dream. It was amaz— …” As usual, he excitedly describes his dreams to me. While I listen quietly, I catch at the corner of my eye my captain claiming his usual spot.

On the other side I see Nami re-checking her three posts on her wrist. “Seems we’re still heading in the right direction. phew..” As she reassured herself, she comes up near me and Sanji and politely asks for some breakfast.

“BREAKFAST!!!!” My captain shouts at the top of his lungs. “Sanji, hurry! I’m hungry! Get me some meat!” He demands out of our cook who becomes quickly annoyed by him. “Alight, alright! I heard you the first time. Now shut up and go to the kitchen and wait there. I’ll whiff up something for you.”

On dot, the rest, including me gets up and make our way to the kitchen. We all sit in our usual spots and silently wait for Sanji to finish the meal preparations. Luffy waits anxiously, practically drooling at the mouth, waiting to dig his teeth into the preparing food.

I bring out another book from the ship’s self-library. As I patiently wait for my meal, I decide to start another book. The crew’s’ inconsistent chatter becomes muffled. I fall into the world of the book’s imagery; I start to imagine the words through my mind. As if I’m in the book itself. A few minutes later, I return back to reality, the words “here’s your breakfast, my dear Robin~.”

I set down my book and thank the dear chef for cooking such a lovely meal. I began to grab my fork and start by cutting up my sausages. Eggs, sausages, two pieces of toast, and a glass of coffee to fit my routine. It may not sound like much, but the way we eat our meals it’s 3x bigger than your average food.

After we got done eating our food’s and put our plates and glasses aside for Sanji to clean, we all went to our “spots” of the boat. Usopp and Franky go straight to the engineering department. Chopper goes back tand his doctor’s office. Nami goes back to our room to draw out more of her “world-map,” which I’ll admit, I admire her dedication. Brook goes wonders around the ship in hopes to help some of us out. I go back into the library to read my book, as I sit down I noticed Zoro is training. Like usual, I can’t tell if he’s overexerting himself or not.

I don’t usually know what Luffy’s up to. He mainly hangs around Brook or Usopp, but since Usopp’s busy with Franky he’s most likely going to be left alone. Suddenly I hear the door slam open. My question has been answered; it was Luffy. Shockingly he seems interested in looking into a book. “How may I help you, Captain?”

“Comic books.” He replies simply. I’m not entirely surprised, his reading comprehension isn’t the best out of all. He isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but definitely a peculiar one. “They’re over there near the right of you. Feel free to choose as many as you like. Remember, to return them after you’re done. You have a habit of just leaving them and going somewhere when you’re uninterested anymore. Leaving me to pick them up. Please be more responsible with them, okay, Captain?”

I don’t mean to scold him, but you can imagine the frustration of having to pick up after others. Alas, I don’t think he heard me, he was plopped onto the floor head down in the comic books. Even more so than me, and I’m considered the book worm. “Sorry, Robin. I’ll be more careful with the books. But I wanna sit here and read. I like hanging out with you, but you’re always in here reading the days away. So I want to come to you, instead! Hehe”

He gives me those big idiot smiles. I can’t help to feel touched, though. I smile and return to my reading. We both quietly read almost until lunch-time. I couldn’t help but to look up at Luffy and watch he read intently, if it’s comic books, then fine. It was still a rare sight. It a cute and funny thing. I sense that somebody was watching us though, I angle my head towards the door and I see everyone staring shocked at us.

“Luffy’s reading a book?! And actually being quiet and focused?! Holy moly. Is today Opposite Day or something?” Usopp whispers to Nami and Franky. I use Cien Fleur and pull out a hand and mouth to tell them it wasn’t Opposite Day, but he was only wanting to hang out with me.

“Oh. Okay, but I’m shocked he’s not annoying you or anything. If he were with me, I would’ve kicked him out by now.” Nami commented. I chuckle. I take a minute to put a book mark down and I close the book. I see Luffy eyeing the crew sourly. “Who said I can’t be calm?!”

“Nobody. It’s just… you’re not the best self-contained guy.” Franky chuckles. Luffy shoots up and runs towards them yelling at them to go away if they’re going to bother me and him. Obviously a little embarrassed he returns back to reading. I still walk toward the door, “huh? Are you okay, Robin?” I turn around, “oh yes. I’m just going out to get some fresh air, I haven’t been able to fully concentrate for the past few minutes. I’ll be back before lunch.”

“Okay! Awww man, I lost my place. Damn..” I turn back around to grab a view of the Sunny in all her glory; amongst the vast ocean. I breathe into a slow breathe to inhale all of the smell of the sea. I lay my hand down on my head and rest it on the railing. I observe the crew doing their daily routines. I smile.

“Lunch is ready! Everyone gather in the kitchen. Especially you, Zoro. Just because you can sleep all day doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat. Jesus..” Zoro sourly snaps a stare at Sanji. “You wanna start something, cook?! I can take you on in my sleep.” “Oh yeah?! Let’s see this newfound confidence, Moss head!”

Suddenly Nami clams them on the head. “Shut up! Both of you calm down and just eat. Do this somewhere else, or not at all, BUT NOT ON THE SHIP!” She drags them into the kitchen. Plops them onto the floor near their seats, and sits down at her seat. Luffy laughs in the background.

I slowly walk towards the kitchen. I come around to my seat and quietly sit down. While still smiling I continue to observe my friends. It’s never a dull moment with them. The speciality of them. I was soon served my plate filled with wonderful colors of food.

Each time, the cook seems to impress us once more. The food always is appealing to the eye, and filling to the stomach. It tastes like heaven too. I wouldn’t trade any other food for these meals. Regardless of how unimportant it is.

I decided to ask for some tea this time. I think it would compliment better with the food he gave to us other than coffee. Which, won’t say much, because it’s Alfredo. We all quickly eat up the Alfredo and ask for more. Before we knew it, it was all gone. It was a wonderful meal, as always. I thank Sanji for the meal and head about outside.

Nami follows asking me for a navigational book. One thar she hasn’t read yet, of course. “I’m running out of books to give you, navigator. Soon, you’ll just be rereading things you already knew.” She chuckles. “Let’s me honest, I know enough to put the world government to shame. Maybe even the creators of navigating. Just kidding! Although, it’s be a dream to meet the creator of it.”

I walk up to the library to check what books Nami hasn’t looked at yet. (Another hc, he keeps “read” and “unread” for each crew member and herself. Of course, in a notebook or tabs) I noticed that there’s only two comic books on the floor and the rest was put away. I want to assume Luffy did what I asked and put the ones he read away and the two he didn’t still around. I’ll ask him later, I don’t want to put false information into my notes.

I choose two books for Nami. Regardless of her only asking for one, she always ends up coming back for me after I given her one. Usually in the same day. I admire her dedication to learn more and more about it. Like how I am with archeology. We’re all committed to something.

Soon, I heard the door burst open. It was Luffy. “Coming back so I can finish reading these comics. I’ll be done soon, I read fast!” I smirk. “Is that so? Then, Captain, could you tell me what they were about?” He stares blankly and thinks for a couple moments. “Well… they’re mostly about super-hero’s. They save the city from destruction and they capture the bad guys and send them off to jail. Isn’t that the usual plot of comic books?”

While he’s not wrong, he didn’t explain to me why. I laugh, “yes, but sometimes comic books have cliffhangers or the villains win for the moment. Did any of the computer books you’ve read have any of those moments?” He ponders again. “Well.. I don’t remember exactly, but I think.. this one did.”

I grab the comic book from him, and I scroll through a few pages of it. “It does seem like for the majority of the comic that the villain is winning. Although, in the end the hero saves the day. You found the second part to the cliffhanger. Good job though, next time pay a little more attention to what you’re reading. You’re more than welcome to take a few short books and read them in your free-time.”

He smiles and thanks me. Then randomly takes three books off of the selves. Unfortunately they’re out of order, but I don’t think he’ll notice. I get back to what I was doing before and head to the door. I open it up to Usopp. “Heya, Robin! Can I barrow a few boos about mechanics? I promise it’ll only take a few seconds!” I gesture out of the way, “of course, take as many as you like.” He rushes in just as he got in, he was out. Like the wind.

I walk towards the stairwell to give the books to Nami. Who was obsessing over her log-posts. I softly walk up to her and gently pat her on the shoulder. “Here’s your books. I’m sorry for the delay.” She instantly raises her hands and grabs the books excitedly. “Thank you, again, Robin! I’ll enjoy every moment of them. Maybe we should buy some more. Or I just make one myself, hah! Nah, I’m not a writer.”

“That’s okay. We’re all good at something and I don’t mind buying more. Even I enjoy reading the navigational literature. It’s a real treat. It’s even more treasurable to see someone who can easily navigate through these waters like you can, Nami.” She smiles happily. She thanks me again and proceeds to walk towards our room for some quiet to read the books.

I sit down onto the mast again for today. I listen to all my friends having a good time. With the wind riding in the back of my hair. I smile more, I’ve never smiled this much in my life. It’s a good feeling, a warm, comfortable feeling. A feeling that reassures yourself that you belong. This is your home. You’re home. At least, that’s what it gives me.

I mean, I’m sure it’s different for everyone. Especially for those who can smile easily. Than those who can barely pull a genuine smile. Than those who don’t. Everyone’s “reassurance” is different. Regardless it all means the same.

Brook leans over to me and sat beside me. “How is your day going, Robin? Anything you would like me to help you with?” I shake my head no. “My day is going well. Everything’s peacefully settled, but I will admit, it’s kinda boring. But, how’s your doing been going?” He yohohoho’s “Splendidly! I made sure I did everything correct today! I even helped Sanji with his cooking. I hoped that effort was seen in his eyes. We all know how highly expected he his about himself.”

“That is true.. I’m not sure if he knows it yet, but he exceeds them every time. None of us can ever get enough of it. We’re all so excited for his meals. I hope he sees that through his own efforts.” Brook nods in agreement. “Absolutely right, indeed, Robin! Glad that you’re so thoughtful of others. Really makes you easy to talk with.”

I become a little flustered “really? You think so? Hmm.. I only thought I was just being realistic and non-accusatory.” Brook looks at me throughly and laughs again. “My, you’re so modest! Too bad I can’t be that modest, get it? Because I’m a Skeleton! YOHOHOHO!” I chuckle aside him.

We talk a little more (I’m sorry, but I’m not about to make four more paragraphs of desperate attempt to move it along) then Brook was called over by Franky and Usopp. I tell him “good luck, see you later.” He frantically waves back at him gesturing the same thing. I go back to me and Nami’s room.

Nami is drawing her map. I put a jacket on her shoulders so she doesn’t get cold. She smiles at me and returns to her drawing. I walk over to my side of the room, and decided to take a small power-nap. (What?! Robin sleeping?! Rare.)

A couple hours later, I was being nudged to get up by Nami. “Hey, it’s time for dinner. You slept pretty well back there. Feeling refreshed?” She replies with a wide smile on her face. “Yes.. I’m well-refreshed. Thank you for the concern. Also, we should hurry, it’s now dinner time. Shall we go together?”

“Sure! I was actually about to ask the same thing. I’m glad we had the same thought in mind. I guess we’re either hanging out too much or know each other more than we thought? Hehe I know it was just a small coincidence. Regardless. We really should get going…” “Agreed.”

We both walk and talk until we reached the kitchen. “NAMI-SWAAAAAN! ROBIN-CHAAWWN! YOU’RE HERE!” Sanji practically jumps at us just barely entering into the kitchen. “Shut up, and get off of them and give them space, curly brows. Sheesh, I wonder how they can tolerate such an ignorant man.” “What you say?! You wanna talk about that last comment out-loud? I don’t remember you being perfect either! Mr. Serious 24/7! Like, c’mon, lighten up! Good god, you never smile anymore. It’s a real turn-offer.”

I sit down while their bickering continues. Jimbe yells at them to knock it off and continue with dinner. Luffy while laughing agrees, but because it’s only food in the context. Sanji scoffs and hurries to get our food. He, of course, serves the girls first. Then goes on to subtly passive aggressively serve the boys’. Then just slams Zoro’s plate down in-front if them. Boy, do they ever change. Most likely never. It’s good though. I love them just the way they are.

After we all got done with our foods, Luffy wanted us to watch the stars with him. “Oh right, there was going a meteor shower tonight! I completely forgot to say anything.” Nami stated. “There was?? I was only wanting to watch the straws with everyone.” Luffy shouted back.

We all gathered around where Luffy was standing. We all sat down in our places, “look, I already see one!” Chopper shouted to all of us, specifically Usopp and me though. Then we all owed and ooed in delight a few seconds later. I could sense the ease and excitement from the rest of the crew as we silently watched the beautiful nightsky.

“Aren’t they a sight? Look how amazing they are.” Brook softly said to us. “Yeah. They’re really breathtaking.” Usopp replied just as softly. “Shhh we can give our feedbacks after the show’s over.” Nami softly but sternly scolded them. “Fufufu..” I chuckle. Which caused a chain reaction to luffy snickering quietly to himself.

After the beautiful scene that we witnessed, we all decided to head back to the rooms’ and sleep for the night. Today wasn’t as eventful as I was expecting it to be, but it certainly did end on a marvelous note. A positive result for a chill day. I wonder what tomorrow will be like.

— THE END.

[butchkaramazov]

A Shade Darker Than Red: Chapter 8

this is a repost because tumblr, being a jerk as always, decided to delete the former post. if you like this one, you could maybe check out the entire series using the masterlist i'll post in a few minutes.

A week passed by. Paro was eerily quiet when she was with me, and I thought of what I had said that day. Had I really, truly ruined all my chances of saving even our friendship?

A million thoughts rushed through my head as I turned restlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling of our bedroom was painted with blue fluorescent stickers shaped like stars. Papa had done that. I had asked Maa to take them off if they bothered her, but we never did.

Beside me, Maa tossed in her sleep. They say if you think of someone, they can’t fall asleep. Could she hear my thoughts?

I had nothing to distract myself with. No phone, no book—nothing. Just me, my thoughts and the stars on the ceiling.

A sudden, vivid memory flashed in my mind. We were six. A year had passed since my meeting with Paro. We were running around like hooligans in the park while our mothers talked about work, pados-wali aunties and whatnot. I still remember what Paro was wearing: a frilly, white frock with Minnie Mouse sewn onto its sleeves. The sky was red and so was our laughter, until Paro bent down and ripped a flower right off its stem. “For you,” she had said, clumsily tucking the flower behind my ear. When she touched my earlobe, the flower was white. When she let go, it was red.

Another memory. We were nine. She sat with me on the bed while I rambled on about my latest hyperfixation: dragons. She listened to every single detail I had mentioned and, by the end of the afternoon, showed me a drawing of a wyvern.

Twelve. I was reading The Priory of the Orange Tree, sitting on the windowsill. I took a sip from my milk tea, letting out a contented hum. I wasn’t on the windowsill anymore. I was Ead, pressing a kiss to Sabran’s brow. Sabran was someone who looked uncannily similar to Paro.

An annoying ding! from my phone forced me back to reality. I heard Maa’s grunts and snores: the coast was clear. 

I climbed off the bed, taking care not to put extra weight anywhere that would make the mattress creak. I walked towards the desk and picked up the phone.

WhatsApp: You have 3 messages.

It was Paro. I checked the time: 3:49 a.m. Paro was a morning person, what was she doing staying up all night?

Paro<3:

hi renu are you awake?

—00:27

do you wanna hang out on the roof like we used to? 

—02:01

its ok if you dont wanna. go back to sleep you have a big day tmrw. actually, if ur awake rn i’ll kill you

—03:48

Oh, Paro.

I glanced at Maa, slowly increasing the fan’s regulator. Please don’t wake up soon.

I walked out of the room and closed the door. Thank goodness I’d oiled its hinges last week. 

The main door was locked—opening it meant creating a ruckus. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. No wait, actually not shit. This meant I’d have to take the old way around. 

Jeez, fourteen-year-old me was fun.

I opened the door to the balcony and hoisted myself up on its railing. It was an easy jump. I tumbled onto the grass, praying that a grasshopper wouldn’t find its new home in my ear. The grass was wet and the air smelled of petrichor. 

I stood up, smoothening my pyjamas. Staying out late at night was a risky thing, especially in our neighbourhood. Plenty of TicTac-shaped pills here and there, and men on the prowl. I didn’t give a damn. I was eighteen and probably feeling some feelings I wasn’t supposed to be feeling. (That’s a lot of ‘feeling’s, I know.) What could possibly hurt me?

A lot of things, I realised, as I walked up to Paro’s house. Like that mad dog Rathode had warned me about. The creepy guy who keeps children in his basement (just a speculation, but when Madhu speculated about something, it was most probably right). An overspeeding motorcycle that could crash into me any minute. My own mother, with her pots and pans, once she realised I was gone.

Oh well, the damage was done. I found myself opening the gate on instinct, as if I knew Paro’s house better than I did my own.

I stepped into their garden, careful not to trample on any beetles—and made my way to the window of the woman who lived below Paro’s flat. Madame Fosco, I called her, in everything but her looks.

The tin shade Madame Fosco had installed last year was probably on its deathbed by now. Rust had made its edges creaky, but Fosco was deaf, anyway. I grabbed onto it and hoisted myself up, finding myself staring right at Paro’s face, our faces a millimetre away from each other’s. She screamed.

I screamed.

My foot slipped and I fell off the tin shade, tumbling onto the grass once again. At this point, I would be surprised if a grasshopper hadn’t found its home in my ear.

“For Whitman’s sake, hush,” I whisper-shouted, if that’s a thing. If it wasn’t, it probably is by now.

Paro peered out of the window, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed. 

I shook my head (in case a grasshopper had organised a nice family dinner in my hair) and climbed onto the tin shaft once again, pulling myself onto Paro’s windowsill.

“Come in,” she whispered, switching the lights on. 

I felt comfortable squatting on her windowsill like a failed Spiderman and grumbled as I walked into her bedroom.

Paro switched her phone’s torchlight off. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” I stared at her retreating figure. “What did I do?”

“Why are you still awake?” she snapped. I followed her to the door.

“Why are you still awake and staring out of your window like Oscar fucking Wilde?” I snapped back.

Paro flipped me off while trying her hardest to pull the gates across the door. Sweat shone on her forehead, her eyes illuminated in the moonlight.

“Hold on, let me help,” I offered, gently grabbing her wrist. Paro grumbled, stepping aside.

I pushed the gate back and pulled it in again, keeping the screw in with my thumb. It glided into the opening on the other side, miraculously not making a single noise.

I turned towards Paro. She was staring at my arms.

“What?” I asked her, incredulously. One moment she said she wanted to kill me, and the next she looked at me like I was something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“N-Nothing,” she gasped. My heart fluttered. Dammit, these butterflies in my stomach had turned into fucking bats at this point.

Paro walked up the stairs while I followed her footsteps in the dark. “Just like the old times, huh?” I heard her say.

I grinned. “Just like the old times.”

Paro opened the door to the roof, the tensed line in her jaw glinting in a sliver of moonlight. God, she was as beautiful as ever.

“Come in,” she said, her words echoing in the marble walls.

I followed her to the railings, leaning against the cool surface. A light breeze rippled through, making her hair fly for a brief second. Dear God, she was poetry herself.

“Where are Auntie and Uncle?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

A light breeze caressed my cheeks. “They won’t be back before tomorrow. Business trip,” Paro explained, edging closer to me.

“Oh.” I was suddenly aware of the pen still tucked behind my ear.

Silence.

“So we’re—we’re all alone, then?” I asked her, hoping she wouldn’t hear the slight quaver in my voice.

Paro nodded. “We are.”

Silence, again.

She leaned against the railing. “You’re going away in three weeks.”

I nodded, not quite knowing what to say.

“I asked you a question.” Her voice was cold and harsh, harsher than I deserved. 

“That was a statement,” I snapped. “And don’t use your fucking CEO voice with me.”

Paro frowned. “I’m not.”

“You are.” I glared at her. “And you know it.”

She stared at me, scrutinising my every feature. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just been—you’ll be gone—and—”

“I know, it’s okay,” I heard myself murmur, edging closer towards her.

“I—I’ve got that Poe book with me,” she said. “Do you want it now or at the graduation party?”

“Now,” I said, without thinking. “The party will be too loud. And too crowded,” I added as an afterthought.

Paro bit her lip so hard I was scared it would bleed. “Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I watched her retreat into the shadows, taking the white along with her. The night was a pool of blood, again.

I hummed. Did she know about the history of ‘OK’? Probably not. I’d tell her. Not knowing things I wouldn’t be able to tell her before we drifted apart wasn’t a good idea. At least she’d be able to tell her children that their Renu Auntie had told her about the history of ‘OK’. Maybe she’d sigh and think of me, again. Words were a certain but clumsy way into a person’s mind. 

Papa had told me that. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking of him.

Did Paro know about Jinnah? That Netaji might’ve actually been alive? Did she know that birds came from lizard-hipped dinosaurs? There was so much I had to tell her before I vanished from her mind.

It was pathetic. Scrambling onto every crumb of unrelated information I could find, just to hang onto her thoughts, stay on in her mind for a little while longer.

“I’m back,” Paro said, stepping into the moonlight.

She looked like Aphrodite, the goddess of love born from love itself, in all her glory—clutching a book of Edgar Allan Poe, the letters of which shone in the lamplight or moonlight, that I do not know.

“For you,” she said, handing me the book.

“It’s beautiful,” I gasped as I ran my fingers along the edge of its spine. It was a leatherbound book, The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe written in shiny gold lettering. I opened the first page.

To Renu, it said. Keep me in your mind, always. From, Paro.

I chuckled, flipping through the pages. “Of course I’ll keep you in my mind, Paro,” I laughed. “What a silly thought!”

Paro looked at me, hope faintly glimmering in her eyes. “You will?” Her voice had softened down to a murmur.

I looked at her incredulously. “Well, duh, Paro, I can’t just forget my best friend of thirteen years now, can I?”

Paro’s lower lip trembled. “You promise?”

I smiled. “Always.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

A comfortable silence followed and as we looked at the stars, I knew we were both smiling.

[ts1989fanatic]

In Dear Diary, the National Post satirically re-imagines a week in the life of a newsmaker. This week, Tyler Dawson takes a journey inside the thoughts of singer Taylor Swift.

Monday

This is pretty exciting! The new tour is going well. Fans are enthusiastic. I get to go to sleep every night atop a mattress padded out with dollar bills.

Swifties are the best fans around, and I can’t wait to tell everyone where I’ll be performing next on the Eras Tour. It’s a good life, travelling around, performing before adoring crowds.

I know I sing in Anti-Hero that I’m the problem, but, really, all I do is make people happy.

Tuesday

I just announced where I’m headed. Twenty-six new cities.

Everyone’s going to love it, I’m sure. It occurs to me now that there would’ve been some nice poetry if it had been 22 cities, instead of 26. Although at age 33, sometimes I feel weird singing that particular song.

Now, to sit back and bask in the enthusiasm of my fans and everyone who wants to see me. It’ll be nice to see the world again and visit Germany and Ireland and Scotland.

Huh, weird, I just saw on Twitter the Australians seem to be getting cranky. Ah well, I’ll check on that in the morning.

Wednesday

Oh no. The people of Perth are angry because I’m not stopping by to play a show. I do have other dates in Australia, though. What’s their problem?

You’d think at this point I wouldn’t care if people were mad at me. But I’ve written innumerable songs about how people have jilted me in the past. I wrote a 10-minute version of a song that had my fans demanding Jake Gyllenhaal return my red scarf.

I may be famous, but that doesn’t mean I’ve got an iron shell around me. It still hurts.

But I guess I don’t really want to have bad blood with Australia. It may be full of horrifying poisonous animals, but the people are nice enough.

Thursday

I just got off the phone with my manager.

It turns out the Canadians are upset, too. So upset that some upstart member of Parliament has officially complained to the House of Commons that I’ve snubbed Canada.

Ungrateful ingrates! I’ve been all over the U.S. Don’t they know that’s a short plane ride away from pretty much any Canadian city?

It’s not like I’ve even spent much time there before, beyond Toronto and Vancouver and Edmonton.

What’s wrong with these people? Everyone always says Canadians are so chill. As if a national hissy fit is going to convince me to come visit.

Friday

As I was falling asleep last night, I came up with a great idea for a song — one about just how much Canada sucks and how much they’re ruining my life.

That’ll be my revenge!

Ugh. I just did a Google search to make sure I wouldn’t be infringing on copyright or something. Turns out South Park did this ages ago. Maybe I’ll just sing Blame Canada at one of my shows.

ts1989fanatic: I know this is satire but that sh*t is not funny at all, not everyone can afford to travel to the USA to go too a concert.

[mi-i-zori]

Among the Ice of Her Thoughts

CoD Viking!AU (Not Mine) - Viking!Soap x Healer!Reader

DISCLAIMER : Just a little something I wrote a while ago for @ghouljams ‘ Viking!AU. I just recently tweaked it a little. Healer!Reader is Ghoul’s character, not mine. I will write something for my own Viking!AU, but it will of course be very different from theirs. Please go check their work, it’s absolutely amazing !

WARNINGS : None.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

CoD AUs - Masterlist

Main Masterlist

When she finally comes back from the realm of dreams, Dag’s chariot is already high in the sky, and the sun is peaking through the fabrics of her tent.

She finds tearing her limbs from their lethargic state to be no easy task. Her muscles are begging for a few more minutes of rest ; hours, even. They pull and wail along with her every move, the creaking of her joints echoing within their walls. She could indulge them - the Gods know how many times she decided to follow her needs, going back to sleep when she was supposed to start her day. But she is not tired enough to succumb to sleep anymore ; especially not when a choir of unfamiliar voices echo from the outside of the so-called « sanctuary » she was given a few hours earlier. To her, this assortment of fabrics and furs is no safe haven, especially not when she jumps so violently every time they start dancing with the wind. Still, she is in no position to complain : not only was she given permission to use this tent as hers even though it originally belongs to the one who brought her here, but the warriors roaming the campsite also respect the boundaries this shelter was made to provide, allowing her to hide from their curious eyes.

A part of her wishes she could stay under the covers and ignore her surroundings, act as if this is was nothing more than a dream. Yet she forces herself out of their warmth, the morning breeze leaving a trail of shivering kisses along her skin.

She barely has the time to put her heavy coat on that the sun suddenly sculpts a broad silhouette on the outside of the furs. It moves silently, with the confidence of a warrior, and her whole body tenses as the man stops before the entrance of her tent. He hovers for a second as she stands frozen in place, her breathing so low even she can barely feel it in her chest.

- Vænn ? You awake ?

It’s MacTavish, she realises, his deep timbre sending a wave of warmth down her spine ; a stark contrast to the violent shivers the sound of the nickname he gave her send crawling down her spine. Despite knowing that he is unable to see her, she can’t bring herself to move. Swallowing the knot tightening in her throat, she graces him with a hum, although it comes out much weaker than she originally intended.

- ‘Am about to go gather some wood. Wanna come with me ?

His tone is low, careful ; not unlike the kind one would use to coax a terrified little creature out of its shell. She can’t really decide if she likes the idea or not. In her eyes, this behaviour of his is way too human for a man like him, cursing the flame that sways in her chest at the prospect of accepting his offer. Her satchel lies against the wooden post standing in the middle of the tent, it’s empty stomach catching her gaze. It could be a good opportunity to gather some herbs for her decoctions, she thinks, and the rational part of her soul lights up at the idea of potentially being useful to her captors. MacTavish’s words from the day before echo in her mind.

Say yes next time someone asks if you’re a healer. You’ll live longer.

- Give me a minute, she finally says, the words grating against her tongue. Please.

- Gotcha. I’ll be waiting for you near the campfire.

It’s only when his shadow disappears that the tension finally lets go of her chest. One of her hands glides along her face, a sigh escaping through her fingers. The bed is neatly made before she covers herself in warm furs and sturdy leathers. She then takes a deep breath as she opens the entrance of the tent, rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness in her muscles. The tremors seizing her body are not from the midgardian frost waiting for her outside ; but she decides to play pretend, holding her head high as she steps in the fresh morning snow. Sól greets her with a wintery kiss on her cheek, highlighting MacTavish’s figure in the distance. She marches towards him, forcing herself to ignore the curious stares of his companions.

Vænn. A catch. A prey. That is what she is in the eyes of those who see themselves as a pack of wolves, their fur covered in blood as they take whatever they want, destroying those who refuse to yield : nothing but a frail creature meant to follow their every word in order to stay alive. Soap has made his intentions of courting her clear, promising that no harm shall befall her while she lives among his peers ; but as he greets her with a smile, guiding her towards the forest with a hand on her back, she knows she cannot allow herself to be afraid. One wrong move, and she shall become nothing more than a meal to be shared in their den.

A frozen blade pierces her core as these thoughts dance in the back of her mind. The forest is peaceful, and they slowly carve their own path through its shimmering white coat. Her gaze roams her surroundings as MacTavish starts gathering a thick bundle of branches under his arm, looking for a patch of herbs to collect. Their eyes meet, causing him to send a smile in her direction before resuming his own search. The snow crunches heavily under his boots. Her attention flickers to the blade hanging from his hips, the iron of its handle glinting in the sun. She frowns as her mother’s voice echoes through her memories.

You are not safe, she says, and she can almost see her spectre glare at the warrior’s silhouette walking ahead of her.

You are not safe.

[nrc-broadcasting]

A Deal Sealed In Gold

⋆﹥━━━━━━━🎧━━━━━━━﹤⋆

There has seem to be an issue(well, actually, just my dumba/ss); I answered this ask and instead of saving it to drafts, I posted it. I, for some reason, couldn’t post it privately or even do anything to it other than delete or edit it. So yeah, have a picture for a substitute.

A yawn erupted from Yuu’s mouth, minuscule amounts of morning dew still in their eyes.

They traced circles on their bedsheets, trying to grasp their consciousness before getting up.

Finally getting their bearings, the rose and stretched their arms out above their head.

After nudging Grim a few times to get him to wake up, they started making breakfast; it wasn’t much, since Ace and Deuce didn’t spend the night so their the only person eating, Grim only eats 2 tuna cans for breakfast these days.

“Grim~ time to get up,” Yuu said, clapping their hands loudly to try and get the sleeping cat on the counter to wake up again.

“HMMMM!” Grim mumbled begrudgingly.

“Oh?” Yuu raised an eyebrow.

“Get up now before I resort to hitting two pans together.” Yuu’s icy voice reached Grim, who shot up like he was electrocuted.

“I-I’m up, henchman!” Grim stuttered.

Yuu merely sighed. “Let’s just go and eat breakfast,” they said, opening a can of tuna.

After eating, they started brushing their teeth after helping Grim with his fur.

Deciding to review some e-mail requests, they picked up their phone with their toothbrush still in their mouth.

Their morning was peaceful. That was, until an e-mail mentioning a certain merman’s business made them choke on toothpaste.

•••

“Good morning, Twisted Wonderland! And by the Seven, do we have an interesting e-mail to read to day,” Yuu said into the mic, chuckling. A small smile etched on their face as the same upbeat music played in the background.

“Alright, right onto it I guess!” Yuu said, re-adjusting Grim’s position on their lap and giving him a few pets.

“This one comes from a listener named Annie, hope you tuned in today!” Yuu greeted.

“They ask; how did you get the upper hand on Azul Ashengrotto? It seems like making a deal with him is my last resort, so how do I avoid getting potentially exploited after signing a contract?” Yuu smiled, despite knowing they’ll get hell from the Octotrio later.

“Let me tell you the easy way out,” Yuu paused for suspense.

“Just don’t.” Yuu sighed, knowing they were probably in a tough place and thought that was their only option.

“Don’t even think about signing the contract.” Yuu said firmly.

“But should the situation really does call for it,” Yuu hesitated.

“Alright, Listen Up I suggest you read the contract more than 10 times to confirm that there’s no hidden clause, or offer something he’d deem worth more than your unique magic.” Yuu explained.

“I have faith that Azul’s stopped the way he…used to run his business. But after seeing people like you hesitate? The trust I have for Azul is still there, but I’ll go and check on Mostro Lounge myself anyway.” Yuu shook their head.

“You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. Or in other words, you take ridiculous risks and bear the consequences.” Yuu said.

“That contract might look golden like daylight. But I guarantee you there are a myriad of ways you can do to solve your problems; though I might not know what they are exactly, but if a contract is the last resort,” Yuu paused

“It should be the last resort.” Yuu warned.

“If, even despite all this, you still decide to go through with it, try to fulfill your side of the contract. If the requests are near impossible for you, remember most contracts have loopholes,” Yuu said, careful to talk slowly so the listeners can absorb the information.

“The contract you’ll make with Azul is not an exception, so search for any loopholes you can play to your advantage.” Yuu advised.

“The worst that’ll happen when you don’t complete a contract is that you’ll have to work at Mostro Lounge; for how long? That’ll depend on Azul himself.” Yuu said.

Their phone let out a little ding, signifying a notification; Yuu raised their eyebrow.

“Oh hey, it’s a new e-mail from Annie! Happy to see you’re listening in today.” Yuu gave a small smile, lightening the atmosphere.

“Annie asks: What are the things he’d deem more valuable than my unique magic?” Yuu read out loud.

“Ah,” Yuu sweat-dropped.

“It would seem you asked the wrong person, I wouldn’t know as I don’t even have magic! I’m sorry but I don’t think I’ll be able to give you advice on that.” Yuu genuine laughed. They’re magicless, that’s a fact, so it would be useless to take it as an insult.

“But if you ask what I think he’d find valuable, I have a few answers.” Yuu said.

“Pearls, corals, magic crystals, blot crystals, and that’s just to name a few.” Yuu said, counting on their fingers.

“The head of two dead eels and of a squid would suffice too, if you’re feeling a bit petty…” Yuu mumbled, mostly to themselves.

“You can also compensate him by being a good costumer, buying products in bulk and such.” Yuu said, zoning out to try and think of more suggestions. But alas, nothing came to mind.

Shaking their head, they focused their attention back to the mic in front of them.

“So, Annie, did that answer your question?” Yuu asked.

Another ding from Yuu’s phone.

“They said: Yes, it did! I’m glad to be able to help.” Yuu said.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━🎧━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Our fairytale has come to an end.

[randomshipperhere]

We Went Back

A list of suspicious things said or done in the video. (Not sure if someone did the whole thing yet since I avoided looking through the tag before watching)

Visual Glitch: 👁

Audio Glitch: 🔊

Thumbnail says a lot already

Intro: Welcome to “We Went Back”. A Horror game set in space about going back somewhere. Because of course we did... or we will.

0:35 👁 Glitch happens after: “Cryosleep Interrupted”. Mark rapidly blinks after.

0:47 👁 🔊 “Wakey Wakey”. 2 specific glitches are used. He blinks once again but it’s more obvious.

1:28 👁🔊 “Good Morning”. Minor glitch. Another blink

1:39 👁 Mark types down and says “Oopsie Poopsie”.

2:31 👁 Flash warning. M[r]s. Dorene Whitac[a]re

3:06 👁🔊 Mark says “I would love some coffee”. Very slight audio cue with ISWM Mark saying coffee.

Maybe it’s nothing but... “Somewhere here is the actual code that I need to put in to the computer terminal so I could unlock it. Unless this is going to be a loop”. Just the game mechanics being the game mechanics but man is it also the problem we’re dealing with as a fandom.

4:47 🔊”Captain?” same sound cue when you turn to the empty hall and notes with “The Captain Needs Sleep”.

Guys please I’m bad with horror. If I miss anything due to me being a wuss I’m sorry.

10:02 👁 Speaking of the Sleepy Head scene... He blinks again. This time more confused rather than the sudden ones he did before. “That’s weird” you think so you fischfuck?

10:18 🔊 “I think I’m supposed to be asleep but I don’t think I am”. Same sound from 3:40 of the 1st video in ISWM Pt.1. Mark looks around followed by more blinking. Gee Mark, you should get your eyes checked.

16:57 👁 After Mark says “Coolant Leak” we get frozen Mark in the cryogenics room. Why the color? Very minor unintelligible audio change.

20:27 👁🔊 After Mark says “It’s Futile”. We get the “Fire on the bridge” announcement to you know which scene.

21:45 “Why does this feel familiar”. Does the Captain choking you, you being burned ring any bells???

Outro: 👁 Right after he says “I will see YOU” Dorene shows up. And you know what Ms. Dorene says in the show... Step in the wormhole “I’ll see you up ahead”. Bye let me die now.

Outro song is slowed down and glitchy same for the outro clip. As if that wasn’t bad enough...

23 minute video my ass. It took ma an hour and 3 minutes to watch to also make this post

[daydreamingleclerc]

Hey with the recent news of Ronaldo returning to united I was wondering if you could write a Mason fluff where the reader notices a change in his attitude/confidence (E.g., spending extra time at the training ground coming home late tired and the reader catching him rewatching that Ronaldo free kick against Portsmouth several times?) and when laying in bed the reader comforts and reassures him? (Sorry for a very long ask love your writing 💙)

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH THANK YOU 🥺🥺💜💜

good enough - mason mount blurb

it was all that anyone could talk about, whether they were a united fan or not — ronaldo was coming back home.

according to those within the football world, it had been on the cards for a lot longer than people realised, with hushed tones and scribbles on paper amongst friends and fellow teammates that arguably, one of the greatest of all time could be coming back to the premier league. it left a bitter feeling in chelsea’s mouth, so mason said, that they got so far with their star summer signing in lukaku, which made a premier league win for them look much more promising, that now ronaldo was heading back to manchester, they feared it would all slip through their fingertips. in saying that, ronaldo was one of mason’s idols growing up, that the thought of playing against him and shaking his hand at the end of the game had all become too much for him to handle.

it wasn’t that you were particularly worried about, though. mason had started acting different, not within the relationship but within himself. he was leaving earlier for training, and most mornings you woke up a message on the kitchen counter with a little sorry i left early <3 scribbled in his all-caps handwriting on a pink post-it note. it wouldn’t have bothered you that he left early if he didn’t arrive home late, too. at first, it was barely noticeable, starting off as twenty minutes late and then gradually making its way up to as much as three hours late.

it was putting a strain on you and on the relationship. you felt like he didn’t want to be around you, thinking it was something you’d done or something you’d said — or even worse, that he was seeing someone else. you’d mentioned it to reece and timo on a whim when you picked him up from training several days prior, and they promised you they’d keep an eye out, swearing to keep it between just the three of you. reece pulled you aside the next time he saw you, admitting that he’d noticed mason shying away in the changing room, headphones in and glued to his phone. he checked up on his friend, snooping through his watch history even though he knew he shouldn’t, and found that he was re-watching all of ronaldo’s classic free kick goals.

that same evening, when you arrived home from dinner with friends at around eleven thirty, mason was half asleep on the sofa with that very same compilation of ronaldo’s free kick goals playing on the TV. you poked your head through the door before he managed to switch it off, and you smiled at him sympathetically, as he looked over at you sleepily.

“mase?”

“hm?”

“wanna come to bed? you look exhausted,” he was hardly even listening to you, too overcome with sleep, and you knelt down beside him on the sofa and kissed his nose. he hummed.

“i’ll be up in a minute, there’s washing up that needs to be done,” he mumbled, stretching his arms over his head. you felt your heart sink, and tears brimmed your eyes at his cold shoulder, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty and snap.

“mason, i know something’s going on with you and i know you won’t tell me because you’re so fucking stubborn, but i’m your girlfriend,” you took a breath, pinching the bridge of your nose, and you brought a hand down to his shoulder, avoiding his eye contact. “why don’t you go up to bed, i’ll make us a cup of tea and we can talk, okay?”

you arrived at the bedroom door with the two cups of tea, and handed him one while he sat propped up on the pillows, folded arms and slouching at the neck. the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, with just the ticking of the clock and blowing of steam to fill your ears. mason took a deep, shaky breath.

“i feel like i’m not good enough anymore.”

if you thought his words earlier on were heartbreaking, then your heart just completely shattered into a million little pieces. mason stayed calm, albeit the sadness in his voice was very apparent. you gripped at his wrist with your free hand, “what do you mean, mason?” he shrugged, and you placed you tea down on the nightstand, gripping his hand in both of yours.

“i just don’t feel confident on the pitch anymore,” he continued, gripping your hand in his as you clung onto him, “it’s like i try, and i try and i try but i just feel—”

“—mason, there’s a reason you start every game, there’s a reason you won the champions league and the super league, why you were the player of the season last year, there’s a reason millions of people across the world of all ages scream and shout your name when they see you in person, on the street, or on the telly,” he watched you now, intensely, “you’re one of the best players in the league, babe, they don’t call you the next frank lampard for nothing.”

he laughed at your teasing, and you kissed his temple. “i promise — and i’m not just saying this because you’re my boyfriend, or because i love you — but you really are one of the best players and chelsea are very lucky to have you.”

mason leaned over and kissed you, his lips soft against yours as you hummed in content. “i’m sorry for being so distant,” he mumbled, but you kissed his lips again. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you mumbled, forehead resting against his, a smirk on your lips and a twinkle in your eye. “and mason?”

“yes my love?”

“in my eyes, ronaldo’s got nothing on you.”