afterhours

NSFW 18+ (overflow blog for @b-skarsgard)

[bafterhours]

Fair Trade

Synopsis: Living paycheck to paycheck, Eddie really wasn’t in the best position to date. Marli moved back to the city she was raised in, starting over. When Eddie sees her by chance, he couldn’t let the opportunity slip away like so many others in his life. Drawn to his rugged, silly charm, Marli was ready to explore love again.

Still, as they got to know each other there were pieces of them they hid away, afraid that revealing the truth too soon would ruin a good thing that had only just begun.

18+ Mature Readers Only

ONE

Drills and air compressors sounded off. The automotive shop was ridiculously busy, but Eddie didn’t mind; it made the day go by faster. After pulling a compact SUV into the pickup lot, he walked back into the garage. He wasn’t in a rush, despite the mounting tickets. He was tired, and all he could think about was smoking a bowl on his lunch break.

In all honesty, he hated working at the mechanic shop. He hated his boss, Karl, who didn’t think much of him at all. He didn’t even try to hide the fact, either. Eddie wondered why he had hired him to begin with, but an extra pair of hands was just an extra pair of hands at the shitty chop shop. He put up with it because, well, he really needed the money. 

His only friend at the shop, TJ, whom he could commiserate with, had quit a few months ago. He moved on to a much better-paying job doing third shift at a cold storage warehouse. Eddie couldn’t do nights, but TJ informed him of a possible first shift that would soon be available and promised to put in a good word for him. 

He had been waiting for weeks now without a callback. It took everything in him not to quit and coast. But he had done that way too many times now. Hopping from one job to another. It would just prove everyone’s point about him. Damn it, they were a little right, though. 

“Hey, Eds,” an old coke bottle lens colleague called out to him as he was preparing to do an oil change. 

“Yeah?” he sniffed, wiping his nose on the cuff of his thick work glove.

“Look at these,” he said, waving him over. 

He looked at the nearly bald brake pads on a black Nissan Altima. It wasn’t a new model, but it was only a few years old, still in decent condition. 

“Shit!” Eddie hissed. 

“These bitches are about to give out.”

“What the hell they doin’? Driving with e-brake engaged?” 

“I don’t know. It’s a woman’s car; they know how to fuck anything up.” 

“Heh,” he pulled his ear awkwardly and stepped away then. 

Finally, on a break, Eddie was in the main lobby, standing in front of a vending machine. Grabbing snacks before he smoked himself out. There weren’t many options, and all that was left didn’t seem very appealing. He settled on a bag of plain potato chips and trail mix for the generic M&Ms inside.

As the trail mix dropped, it got stuck on the side of the drop chute. 

“The fuck,” he muttered, smacking the side of the machine. 

Behind him, the desk clerk was speaking to a customer, listing the diagnostics of their car. 

“Uhh…” He heard a long, exasperated female sigh. “That’s okay. I just need the oil change today.” 

“You sure? We can rotate the tires, but the guy who worked on your car stressed that your brake pads need to be replaced.” 

“Yeah, probably,” the woman said dismissively. “But just the oil change today, thanks.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure. I’ll even come back here to get it done, but I don’t have time for that today.” 

Eddie peeked around the corner, overhearing the conversation. The woman he saw taking her key fob back was not what he expected at all. He really didn’t know what to expect, honestly, but the brunette with a nice blowout and full cherry-tinted lips caught him by surprise. The shop wasn’t patronized by an attractive clientele—ever. For a moment, he noticed he had stopped breathing as he took her in. 

He shook his head to himself, as she would even give him the time of day. She was nicely dressed, in a black low-cut top and stretchy pleated slacks. She probably worked at a bank, he guessed. 

With a fleeting glance toward him, he nearly shied away, and she left. Even with her car off the lot, he could hear the brakes squeak even down the road.

…

“Have you heard anything, man?” Eddie asked into the phone pressed against his ear as he walked up to the school yard. 

“No, but your resume is on top of the list, dude,” TJ said on the other end. “I’m tight with one of the office girls—she’s kinda cute, actually.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine.” 

“Karl still busting your balls?” 

“He doesn’t bust my balls,” he grumbled. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” 

“I don’t know, man. I have my kid tonight, but she’s going to her mom's early.” 

“Ah, okay. Well, the cute girl from the office invited me out. You should come.” 

“Hm. I’ll see. I’ll hit you up.” 

“Alright, dog,” he said, hanging up.

When his daughter, Sarah, ran out of school, he was there behind the pack of parents waiting on her. Her smile widened when she spotted him. Taller than the moms and bleached blonde. 

“Daddy!” 

“Hey, lovebug,” he said, hugging her and taking her backpack to carry. 

When she climbed into the passenger side of his van, he buckled her in and shut the door for her. 

“Are you ready for your trip?” he asked once they were on the road. 

“Yeah. I asked mommy if you could come.” 

“You did?” he asked, surprised. “What’d she say?” 

“She just said that you couldn’t.” 

“Mhm. Yeah, lovebug, I’m sorry. But-but you two will have fun.” 

His relationship with his daughter's mother, Amy, was rocky to say the least. The love between them had long gone, so he couldn’t even imagine being confined in a car for the 2-hour trip with her. He doubted Amy would like that either. 

If it weren’t for Sarah, they probably would have cut all ties. Before separating, they had tried to work it out, but admittedly, Eddie just didn’t try hard enough for Amy. Sarah was three and a half then. That killed him, but he just wasn’t in a place in his life to be who she needed him to be.

Sarah was eight now, and though far from perfect, he was doing his best. Still, Amy always found something to be upset about. His best wasn’t good enough for her because he bordered on the line of general adult expectations. There’s no praise for doing what you’re supposed to do.

While he and Sarah were eating cereal at the breakfast bar the following morning, there was a knock at his apartment door to his surprise.

“Is that your mom?” He said, with a full mouth as he checked the time on his phone. 

They weren't running late in the slightest. When he answered the door, Amy let herself in. He noticed then that she had only come to scope his place out. It was an annoying habit of hers, especially now. He didn’t live in the most amazing place, but he had upgraded past the worst shoeboxes he’d used to rent. It was a little out of his budget, but he worked to live somewhere safer for his daughter to visit. 

He lived in a remodeled studio in a ten-unit brick complex on the first floor. Though secondhand, he had a comfy bed, and he made sure to have a pull-out couch. When his daughter spent the night, he slept on it while she took over his bed. 

“Taking off early?” he asked, after Amy told Sarah to brush her teeth and get dressed. 

“I wanna beat the traffic…” An awkward silence hung between them. “Uh, you have any plans this weekend?” 

“Me? Nah.” 

“Right. I wanted to tell you—if Sarah hadn’t spilled the beans already, that Roscoe is coming with us.” 

Amy had been with Roscoe for nearly a year now. They were acquaintances in high school and reconnected. He was a track jock then, and now he works as a high school cross-country coach. He had a son of his own, and from what his daughter said, he was an annoying little shit.

“What?” He raised a brow.

“Well, you know, we’re at that point now…”

“So you’re going to your hometown to bring him to meet your parents, then?”

“Well, yes, Eddie, that’s part of the trip.”

He scoffed. “Well, good luck to him.”

“You wouldn’t let Sarah around him if you didn’t think he wasn’t a good guy. Most importantly, he's responsible. Reliable.”

“Right, right,” he pressed his lips together, taking the jab. 

It didn’t feel good hearing that. Their relationship was far from salvageable. Both of them have dated people here and there, but learning that she was bringing her boyfriend to meet the parents, it was serious. He was regretting that he had sacrificed his weekend with Sarah for their trip now. 

“Just letting you know.” 

“Okay,” he said dismissively, rubbing his jaw with his knuckles. 

“I really like him, Eddie. Actually… more than that. Sarah’s being slow to warm up to him, but I think she will, too. It’ll work out in the long run.”

“The long—what do you mean by that? You know she’s my kid, too, Ames.” 

“I don’t mean it like that—”

Sarah had walked out of the bathroom then, interrupting them. What they didn’t know was that she could hear them despite talking in hushed tones. Suddenly, she didn’t want to leave at all. She clung to her father’s leg and whined while her mother tried to coax her off. Though it broke his heart, Eddie encouraged her to go and reminded her of all the fun she’d have at her grandparents', and she reluctantly listened. 

…

Eddie was being truthful about not having plans that same weekend. He smoked a fat bowl that evening, and was scrolling pornhub on his phone until he found something to his liking. With a hand inside his Adidas track pants, he hit play and watched a girl shine her naked tits with baby oil when his friend TJ called, interrupting him. 

He was out at the bar, wondering if Eddie was still coming. Feeling bad about his attempt to blow him off, he checked his wallet. He was good for a few. 

Lately, he hasn’t gone out as much as he used to. Not because he had lost interest, but because his income was tight. With rent, the electric bill, and miscellaneous necessities, he also had child support payments. Amy got him for five hundred dollars every month through the court. If it didn’t make him feel like a jackass, he would have contested it to reduce the amount, but he was also too prideful.

While sipping on a beer at the dive bar, TJ got a text from the office girl he’d been talking to, who he expected to meet at the bar. Instead, her text led them to a house party. Eddie didn’t mind the location change since there was a huge ice chest with drinks he didn’t have to pay for. 

After pushing around seltzers, he fished out a Modelo. He popped the tab and leaned against the railing on the back deck. While chatting with a few dudes who TJ knew from work, one of them lit a joint, which eased him enough to pull out his. Both crossed paths in the rotation. 

A lone joint now rested in between his fingers after the group had sufficiently indulged. He had been pushed out of the work banter between TJ and his coworkers. Instead of hanging on the edge of the conversation, he scoped the rest of the partygoers from the deck. The deck wrapped around to the other side of the house, and just before it turned the corner, he did a double-take. It was her.

It was the woman with the bad brakes he saw a few weeks before. She was dressed much more casually, in a chartreuse halter top, a black skirt, and knee-high boots. She was speaking to a girlfriend with chunky maroon streaks in her dark hair, until she passed a coat off and left her behind. 

It was a chilly night, and she put on the fur collar leather jacket. Eddie frowned, disappointed; it hid the curves he was tracing with his eyes. Turning around, holding onto her seltzer, she looked out across the yard full of people mingling. Down below, a group of guys tossed beer boxes into the fire pit to get it going. Her night was winding down, and she was just waiting for her friend to use the bathroom so that they could leave.

Eddie looked toward TJ, talking his ass off and paying no mind, and he slowly backed away. A white claw was to her lips, which she quickly dropped when he approached her. 

“Oh, sorry, are you trying to get through?” she asked, pressing her belly into the rail to make room.

“Uh, nah. Nah, you want a hit?” he asked, holding the nearly finished joint toward her. 

She glanced over her shoulder and then looked up at him with a small smile, taking it. He watched as her dark cherry nails pinched it against glossy, full lips. The ember flared bright as she took a deep hit. 

“Thanks,” she said, strained. Holding the smoke in her lungs before blowing out. 

Eddie bit back an impressed smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Um, we’ve met. Have you changed your brake pads?” 

She tilted her head. “My brake pads? Wait… where do I know you from?” 

“You got an oil change about a month ago.” 

“Yeah? You work at the autoshop?” 

“Eh, well, yeah. Not for much longer—hopefully,” he muttered. “But-but I’m Eddie.” 

“Marli.” She smiled. “Well, that’s what everyone here calls me but—” 

“What do you go by?” 

“Mm, it doesn’t really matter,” she bashfully laughed. 

“Sure it does. Is it embarrassing or something?” He chuckled. 

“Nooo,” she snorted. “It’s Marlena. But no one pronounces it how I like, so Marli is fine,” she shrugged. 

“Marlena,” he said, in his best attempt at a Spanish pronunciation. 

“Close.” 

“Aw. I didn’t think that was so bad.” He said, leaning casually on the railing beside her.

She glanced over her shoulder again, wondering where her friend, Reina, had gone, only to see that she had been caught up talking to a guy of her own, too. She had only come out to loosen up after a long week. She didn’t intend to talk to a tall guy with a brassy bleach job and hand tats tonight.

The more they spoke, though, the cover didn’t match the material inside. He was intelligent in the topics he presented, and he never interrupted her when she had something to add. In fact, he even seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. 

When he first approached, she pegged him for a fuckboy. The more they talked that judgement faded away. Even the lazy drawl of his words, which she assumed was his way of sounding cool, was endearing. Now she caught herself giggling and focusing on how sweet he seemed. How handsome he looked, too, with high cheeks, pouty pink lips, dimples, and searching green eyes. 

“Marli!” 

She turned to see her friend waving her over. It seemed like whatever happened with her guy was a bust. 

“I think I have to go...” 

Eddie blew raspberries, disappointed. “Could I get your number at least, Marlena?” 

She blushed. He said it with perfect pronunciation the second time. 

“Hmm…” she considered. 

“C’mon, that wasn’t bad, was it?” 

“It wasn’t,” she said, looking at his lips. 

His heart kicked against his chest. To his surprise, he actually felt butterflies. “Could I kiss you?” he boldly asked. 

“You’re funny.” 

“I am?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I can be fucking hilarious if you want.” 

Marli bit her lip, but she couldn’t help tossing her head back and laughing. 

“Ah, see.”

She kissed her teeth playfully. “You can have my number. And then you can take me on a proper date.” 

“For real?” 

“Marli!” her friend whined. 

“Give me your phone before I change my mind,” she said, holding her hand out. 

He quickly snatched his phone out from the back pocket of the black cargo pants he wore. A photo of his daughter lit up on the lock screen, but he quickly swiped up and clicked his contacts and passed it to her. 

After adding herself to his contacts, she air-kissed the screen and passed it back to him with a departing wink. 

…

Eddie debated on how soon was too soon to hit her up. He also wondered what would make a good date. He hadn’t been on a date in a long time. And back then, it was going to pizzerias, going to the skate park, or seeing a movie. That seemed too juvenile now. He was 29, and he felt like he should know some intimate date spots in his back pocket, but he didn’t. 

The next night in bed, with no real date plans, he texted her anyway. 

–Hey, this is Edward.

After a moment, she responded.

–Hey, Edward.

–Eddie. You know from the party. 

–Yes… I know Eddie. What’s up?

He covered his eyes, ashamed of his own awkwardness. He’s never felt so lame. 

Text bubbles appeared. 

–So where are we going?

His eyes widened. “Shit,” he muttered.

–What’s your favorite restaurant? he typed quickly.

He silently prayed it wasn’t something out of his budget. 

–Do you know Trattoria Delicio? 

–On 59th? Yeah, that’s cool. Let’s go!

It wasn’t a terribly expensive Italian restaurant. It was a step above Olive Garden and a half step below the Cheesecake Factory. It was a place you’d want to put your best shirt on for. They set the date for the following weekend. 

The days leading up to it, they texted quite often. Asking about each other's day and finding things in common. Sharing what they’ve been watching on TV lately. Discovering that they listened to a lot of the same music. Eddie had a more underground taste. Most of the links he sent her were from Soundcloud, and some weren’t all too good, she had to admit. 

They didn’t get super personal, though. Just the basics, like their ages. Marli had just turned 26 in August. Since Marli knew what he did for work, he learned that she was a hair stylist. The details of each, they waited until they were face-to-face. 

“Are you really meeting him up?” Reina asked. 

Marli gathered her things from work space and tossed her tote over her shoulder. “Yeah.” 

“Have you looked up his criminal record?”

She rolled her eyes. 

“Seriously! You don’t think a guy who looks like that doesn’t have a past?” 

“It’s a date. One date. I’m not marrying the guy.” 

She shook her head. “Share your location with me at least.” 

“Oh, my god, Reina. Chill?” she groaned. 

“You don’t know him, Marli.” 

“That’s the whole reason for the date. To get to know him. Can I just have this? I haven’t gone on a date in forever! I know you mean well, I do. If it doesn’t work out, then so what?” 

She pressed her lips together, obviously she still didn’t approve. Marli shared her location to placate her then.

Eddie checked himself out in the bathroom mirror before leaving. He wore a grey flannel, dark work pants, and hi-top Vans. He ran some pomade through his hair and exhaled loudly as he felt nerves creeping up. He had never remembered caring this much. Any girl he had been with always seemed more into him than he was, so he hardly put in the effort he was making now. 

It was five minutes past 7 o’clock when he arrived. He was late, and dread actually washed over him. He could be chronically late, and to his detriment, he could be overly blasé about it. So the dread he felt was rare. To his relief, though, it was Marli who showed up late. Five minutes after he arrived. 

“I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t be, don’t be,” he said, giving her a half-hug. 

He smelled so good when he gave her a half-hug. Fresh and heady. He gave her a dimpled smile when she complimented it. 

She looked stunning. Her hair was in a perfect blowout, and her dark lashes were softly curled. In the evening light, he could see the amber and honey tones in her light brown eyes. When they were seated at a booth, he enjoyed how her boobs in her Bardot top rested nicely on the table top, too. 

“Have you been here before?” She asked, picking up a menu.

“Ah, no, actually,” he said truthfully. “My coworker told me it’s good, though.” 

She softly smiled. “Talkin’ about me with your coworkers?” 

“I had to tell someone. You’re a stranger.” 

She scoffed. “Really now?” 

“Like you hadn’t,” he boldly called her out. 

“Hmm. Maybe. What are you having?”

He finally took a look at his menu, realizing he’d just been staring at her before then. There were dinner specials advertised of an entree with a choice of soup or house salad for a fair price. 

“Uhm,” he rubbed his lips together as he made a decision. “This lasagna looks good.” 

“Where do you see that?” 

He flipped his menu toward her. 

“Oh! Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll get the chicken alfredo, though. Are you getting the soup or salad?”

He lightly chuckled. 

“What?” 

“I’m not having fucking soup on our first date.” 

She giggled. “Smart. That’s a huge red fucking flag.”

Once the waiter took their order, he placed a basket of sourdough rolls and garlic basil butter between them. 

“I remember you saying you’re between jobs or something?” she asked, buttering a piece.

“Thanks,” he quickly said when the waiter swung back around with their salad. “Um, technically, I am not anymore. I’ve finally got a callback from that new warehouse on Council—better pay. I start this Monday.” 

“Oh, congrats! I hope it goes well.” 

“Thanks.” 

When Eddie picked up his fork, she couldn’t help but stare at his large, tattooed hand. She also noticed how clean his nail beds were. The callouses on his palm made it clear he worked with them, but somehow they still looked soft. “Can I ask something?” 

“Sure, yeah,” he said, wiping his mouth after a bite. 

“Who bleached your hair?” 

“Uh…” he bashfully laughed. “Me.” 

She smirked, spearing lettuce. 

“Why?”

“Just wondering.” 

“Mhm. Your hair is so pretty. I should have known you were uh, uh—” 

“A hair stylist?” she added, mid-chew.

“Yeah, I knew that, sorry,” he said, nervously running a sweaty palm over his pants underneath the table. 

“No, it’s cool. My salon is a few blocks away from here—” 

“Your salon?” 

“Well, not my salon, no. Maybe one day, though.” 

Eddie smiled. “How long have you been a stylist?” 

“I started cosmetology school during high school. I worked at a salon in Forester straight out. Eventually, I specialized in fashion colors there. But um, I moved back here over a year and a half ago now. The salon I work at now is more… upscale, you could say.”

“Do you like it?” 

She shrugged with an indifferent smile. “Eh, better pay.”

“Right, yeah.”

“Have you been a mechanic for a while?”

“Almost hitting a year.” In fact, it was the longest he had held a job.

“So you’re into cars then?” 

“Into them?” he smirked. “I mean like them, yeah. Only as a hobby, but uhm… work is work.”

“Yeah, totally,” she nodded. “It can be like that sometimes. Even for me.”

“I’ve kinda had odd jobs,” he admitted. “I once had a job as a cook at a nursing home, until I got a job at Waffle House—“

Her brows shot up excitedly. “Have you ever had fights on your shift?” 

“Nah, I missed out,” he laughed. “I only got to see the aftermath coming to my 6am shifts. But I’ve had to help kick out some drunk stranglers, every now and then.”

“No World Star shit for you then. So what else?” 

“Uhm, one summer kicked my ass when I did roofing. I did landscaping with my cousin for a bit before, too. Sometimes I’ll log into Uber Eats and do deliveries for some extra cash. But, uh, yeah. Just to name a few,” he shrugged.

“So you’re good with your hands? I like that.”

She was being completely earnest, but he felt his cheeks warm hearing her say something borderline suggestive.

Their food arrived shortly after that, and they happily dug in. Marli even asked if he’d like a bite off her plate, and he offered his in return. 

“Get a piece of chicken, too,” she encouraged him. 

He felt himself beginning to relax. She was disarming in a way he wasn’t used to. She didn’t seem stuck up or too uppity like he initially assumed. He felt bad for thinking that, but she looked well put together and well groomed. He was used to being looked down on by people like that. Constantly being underestimated could really make you believe it was true. 

Being on this first date with Marli, for once, he didn’t feel judged. Well, she sort of judged his hair; he caught that. But he was dealing with a professional, he’ll let it slide.

“You from here?” He asked, as he helped put her leftovers in a styrofoam togo box for her. 

“Yeah. You?” 

He nodded. “Born and raised.” 

“Technically, I moved here when I was eight. I was born in Florida. My parents met on spring break in Daytona, but they’re both from here.”

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah, you remember watching MTV Spring Break in the 90s?” 

“They were on it?” 

“No, but they were somewhere in that crowd.”

“No shit? They sound fun,” he said, swiping his card in the table kiosk. Thankfully, he had a little money left from what he had budgeted for the date. She wasn’t a cheap date by any means, but he noticed she was very considerate in the way she ordered. 

“Eh, they were at least,” she muttered, grabbing her clutch.

Eddie glanced at her as he scribbled his signature in the card kiosk, trying to read her expression after the remark, but it fell neutral. 

As they walked out of the restaurant, he held her to-go box as they walked slowly toward the parking lot down the block. 

“You parked this way, right?” Eddie asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool.” 

Suddenly, he took her hand in his, leading the way. Just as she suspected, his tattooed hands were soft for a jack of all trades. She also noticed how her hand practically disappeared in his, too. Just being in his big presence, she felt an overwhelming sense of safety. 

“Thanks for dinner,” she said as they neared her car. “I had fun.” 

Eddie smiled. “Me too. To be straight up with you, it’s been a long time since I’ve been out like this.” 

“Is that what you tell all the girls?” she playfully asked, but she secretly wondered. 

“If there were any—they wish.”

They stopped at the driver's side of her car, and he slightly cringed, remembering the state of her brakes. It was a hazard on the road. A death trap, even. He placed her togo box on the roof of her car and looked down at her.

“So… Can I see you again—” 

“Yeah,” she blurted, and then bashfully laughed. 

His chest warmed, especially when she stared at the tip of his tongue brushing across his bottom lips. He didn’t ask this time. Instead, he cradled her head and heard the soft hitch of her breath as he leaned in for a kiss. Lips pillowy soft as they moved against each other. It wasn’t a timid schoolyard kiss, but one full of palpable tension finally breaking away as they gave into what they both had been thinking of.

“Oh my god,” Marli whispered when he pulled away. 

She hadn’t felt something so real, maybe ever in her life. She pulled on him for more, unabashedly making out with him now in the dark parking lot. Just before she could get fully lost in it, she pulled away, reeling herself back in. 

Eddie shyly rubbed his lips together, feeling them glide against each other from a mix of saliva and lip gloss. He hoped she would ask him to go home with her. His dick was practically pleading. 

“I’ll text you when I get home…” 

He swallowed. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

“Thank you, again.”

“Mhm. Maybe we can link sooner rather than later?” 

“Set it up.” 

“I will,” he smiled. 

Before she ducked into the driver's seat, he stole a kiss from her and shut her door. 

“Oh my, fuck,” she said, under her breath, when she felt her panties dampen as she sat down. 

The chemistry between them was certainly there from the start; she was just taken aback that it was so explosive. She could almost cry. Until now, she hadn’t realized she had been so deprived. He felt like a cool drink of water in the desert. 

Eddie waved at her as she backed out of her parking space, and his brows shot up at the awful screech of her brakes. “God damn, girl,” he shook his head, taking a hit of his vape, as she drove away.

He caught himself touching his lips. His feelings were everywhere. He felt happy? For a long time, he had just been going through the motions. Tonight, it felt like seeing land in the distance after years of treading water and trying not to drown.

[bafterhours]

Fair Trade

Synopsis: Living paycheck to paycheck, Eddie really wasn’t in the best position to date. Marli moved back to the city she was raised in, starting over. When Eddie sees her by chance, he couldn’t let the opportunity slip away like so many others in his life. Drawn to his rugged, silly charm, Marli was ready to explore love again.

Still, as they got to know each other there were pieces of them they hid away, afraid that revealing the truth too soon would ruin a good thing that had only just begun.

18+ Mature Readers Only

TWO

With his phone perched on a shelf, Eddie adjusted his camel colored Carhartt beanie in the front-facing camera and hit record.

He’d been on the job for two weeks now, and it was going well for him. Even if he had to go from busting his balls to freezing his balls off in the cold storage warehouse, it was worth it. He only had to answer to one person before the big boss. The rest of the time, he was driving a forklift where he was needed. His first paycheck was nice, too. It gave him some wiggle room, shedding some stress.

Tidying her workstation, Marli glanced at a client processed under the orbiting halo when she felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her stretchy slacks. Stepping away to take the bleach bowls to the washroom, she clicked the text notification from Eddie.

A video of him lowering a pallet from a high shelf began to play. As he carefully eased it down, he turned to the camera and flexed.

 “Forklift certified babe 🦍💪🏼” He wrote.

She blushed. She felt silly for crushing so hard, but he was so cute. They had met twice since their date. Once on his lunch break during the first week of his new job. The last link-up they had drinks during happy hour, which ended with them heavily making out in the smokers' patio before parting for the night. 

Their encounters were too brief for their liking following their first date. Marli expressed that they should hang out after his first week of work, but he mentioned that he’d be busy then. She just assumed that he needed space to decompress after the long work week.

While she would have liked to see him, they texted. And he called her at night, while his daughter slept soundly in his bed the weekend he had her, just to talk about their day.

As they got to know each other, he hadn’t mentioned being a father. She didn’t have children, and he wasn’t sure how she felt about them. He was stuck on how to casually bring it up without scaring her off before things really started. 

“You’re smiling extra wide. I hope that means my hair lightened well,” a client said, while Marli rinsed her hair out. 

“Huh?” she said, snapping out of thought. “Oh, yeah, it looks great!” 

“Uh oh.” 

“No, really, once I dry—” 

“I believe you, hun. So who’s the lucky guy?” 

Marli’s cheeks blushed deeper. “Oh god. Is it obvious?” 

“I’ve been around the block and seen a thing or two.” 

Marli lightly laughed, embarrassed, as she wrapped her client's hair in a towel and escorted her back to the styling chair. 

During a break, Marli posted a clip of her client showing off the dimensions of the low-lights and highlights she added to her hair to her Instagram Stories. She texted it to Eddie, too, sharing her day’s work as well. But then, she took a quick mirror selfie, holding a peace sign up at her booth to send. She figured he’d much rather see her, and based on the string of pink heart emojis he sent, she was right.

As a woman, she did her due diligence and searched him up on social media. There were none to be found. Although it was disappointing, she did find it quite attractive. An offline boyfriend was hot. He wasn’t out there posting cringey thirst traps for validation.

Still, her busy-body coworker, Reina, suggested she check for criminal records again. Unfortunately, he had one. She wasn’t even upset that he did; she was more upset that Reina was proven right. 

They were misdemeanor charges from his early twenties.

Possession of drug paraphernalia

Underage possession of Alcohol

Disorderly conduct

Fighting in public

Resisting arrest

Vandalism

Failure to appear in court 

Even learning that, the first thing that caught her interest was that his height was recorded as being 6 feet 4 inches. Also, the two model-worthy mugshots that were attached to his record. He was brunette in both. In one, he had longer, shaggier hair and bloodshot eyes that just intensified his green irises. 

Honestly, the only thing she worried about was whether he had outstanding warrants. She checked. He had none, thankfully. 

When Marli expressed that she would still see him, Reina twisted her lip. So, he had a past with a rap sheet, could be worse, she thought. Maybe the bar was in hell, but at the very least, there weren’t any charges for domestic violence. Or any other glaring red flags of the sort. 

She wasn’t going to write him off for dumb shit he did in his early 20s. As long as it remained in the past, it didn’t matter to her. 

…

In the lobby of his complex, Eddie made a quick stop at his mailbox after work. Nearby, a girl with a faded pink bob and septum ring tacked a flyer on the community corkboard. As he glanced over, he caught the words, “Night Market” on the page. 

“Hey, is this—”

The girl startled as he stepped closer for a better look, pulling her oversized headphones down to her neck. 

“My bad,” he said, raising his hands.

“What?” 

“I was just asking if this is happening at the same place they do the farmers' markets.” 

“Yeah,” she said, annoyed, like it was obvious.

“Would it be a good place to take a date?” 

She stared at him silently. For a moment, he wondered if she was slow to process. 

“I’m tryin’ to take my girl out,” he added.

“I guess?” 

“Right… Cool,” he said, giving her a strange look before stepping off to his apartment. 

Despite the less-than-convincing recommendation, he met Marli up at the night market at the park and told her the story. 

She laughed as they walked from booth to booth. “I think that’s just the Gen Z stare.” 

“What the fuck is that?” 

“I don’t even know. My coworker Reina is Gen Z. She has some really hardlined opinions on things when life and circumstance have too much nuance to be.” 

He nodded. “Do you want to grab a drink?” he asked, pointing at a mobile cafe built in a double-decker bus parked on the grounds. 

After Eddie paid, they took their hot drinks up top and sat front and center with an uninterrupted view of the park pond. People were treading on paddle boats across the water. Twinkling string lights wrapped around the trees along the path, where others threw in pellets for the plump koi swimming about. 

It was chilly out, but Eddie put an arm around her as they looked out over the park.

“This is cute,” she said, snuggling close.

As he lifted his hot chocolate to his lips, Marli took more interest in his hand tattoos. Every knuckle on his fingers was decorated. The one she was looking at had a butterfly with wings patterned to look like a skull on top of his hand. 

“Are you, like, super tatted up?” 

He glanced over at the hand adorned with a rose draped around her, and flexed his fingers. “Ah, I guess I’ve only been wearing long sleeves lately. But uh, yeah, mostly. Here and there,” he said, sheepishly running a finger up and down the side of his neck. Where permanently inked into his skin was: IDGAF.

While he seemed a bit regretful of that one, her eyes lit up with intrigue. 

“I noticed you have a few,” he said, pointing at a bobby pin tatted on the outside of her right wrist. “What’s this one, though?”

With the same hand he held his cup, he gently pushed her hair to the side to see what he only caught glimpses of. Along her collarbone was a delicate smattering of red ink sparkles. 

“I have this too,” she said, turning her head and gathering her hair away from her heavily pierced ear. Behind it was a 444 running down vertically. Turning a bit more, she showed off the pink bow behind her neck. “The rest are all small, too.” 

“Where are the rest?” he smirked.

She shook her head, amused. “I have a tramp stamp.” 

“The fuck you do,” he laughed. 

She just shrugged as if to say believe me or not as she sipped her raspberry mocha latte.

Eventually, she showed him her Instagram page: MadebyMarli. She scrolled down for a few seconds, and the screen lit up in punky technicolor. 

“See, I used to do stuff like this,” she explained. 

“Oh, shit! Can I see?” he asked, motioning for her phone. “What’s your favorite color?” 

“To color or like personally?” 

“Both,” he smiled. 

“Reds are fun to color. And pink for both. What about you?”

“Same.” 

“Pink, too? No, it’s not,” she snorted. 

“I swear,” he laughed. “Blue, too, like this one,” he said, pointing at a client with deep blue sea hair. “And Green. Sometimes orange, it just depends on the shade.” 

“A soft orange?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he said, handing her phone back. “I liked using those colors when I used to tag shit up.”

“Do you have an Insta?” she asked, casually as she tested him.

He shook his head. “No… I’m not on—well, I have a Facebook, but I only use it for Marketplace.”

“Oh, I was going to add you to my personal if you did,” she shrugged, putting her phone away.

“What do you post on that?” 

“I guess you’ll never know,” she teased.

“It takes like five seconds to make one,” he countered.

As the top of the double-decker began to crowd, they took a moment to take pictures at Marli’s suggestion. Eddie held his phone up, taking a photo of her with the pond in the background, when an older man tapped his shoulder, offering to take photos for them. 

Eddie felt a bit shy about it. Still, he wrapped a possessive arm around her waist and pulled her close, to which she looked up at him with a blushy smile. It made his heart skip the way her eyes twinkled, as if proud to have him at her side. At the same time, it overwhelmed him. He couldn’t accept it after years of contemptuous expressions towards him. He feared that one day, she’d look at him differently than she did now. Raising a hand playfully to cover her eyes, as if to shield her from him, she just laughed. 

Afterward, they held hands walking the path around the pond, sharing polite smiles with other couples on their dates. It felt odd to Eddie, knowing that if it weren’t for Marli at his side, he’d surely get leery sneers. In the distance, he could hear squealing brakes, and he looked down at her, amused. 

“Have you fixed yours yet?” 

She exhaled loudly. “No… about that, though. I actually got dropped off by Uber tonight.” 

“What? I could have—” 

“I know,” she sighed. “I didn’t want to make it a thing, but the other day they were being really sketch—” 

“I fucking bet. I can fix them—”

“No, no. I’ve been putting money aside for it.” 

“It’s really not a problem.”

“That’s sweet, Eddie, but really it’s okay.” 

He wanted to keep insisting. He was useful with this kind of thing; he liked to be useful. Still, people denied him that. It was his fault. Excuses after excuses, he didn’t give anyone a reason as to why they should count on him. Marli was only being polite. She didn’t know that part of him. 

“It’s getting cold,” she said, hugging his arm. “What time is it?”

Taking his phone from his jacket pocket, the screen lit up with a graphic of marijuana leaves now. “It’s almost nine. You ready to go home?” 

“Yeah.” 

He frowned at her answer. 

“Need a ride?” 

“Please,” she grinned, standing on her tiptoes for a kiss. 

He wasn’t prepared for a passenger. He was already embarrassed that his ride was basically a creeper van. She didn’t seem to care about that, though. Still, he made her wait while he “cleaned up” inside. Really, he needed to hide the photo he kept of his daughter on the dashboard. He kissed it before putting it away in the glove compartment. 

In a quiet neighborhood, he pulled up to the mid-century modern house she directed him to. Birchhurst was just 25 minutes outside the city center. He assumed she also lived in an apartment like most 20-year-olds living in an unattainable housing market. She had a nice home in an upper-middle-class neighborhood. Though it was noticeably smaller than the rest of the houses on the block, which were two stories. 

The woman jogging by with her dog late at night, was a testament to the safety people felt there, even with the rough city just a stone's throw away. Eddie helped Marli out of the van, and as he walked her to her door, the Altima sat in the driveway where it should stay, honestly. 

He kissed her goodnight on her doorstep, but just before he could step away, she pulled on his jacket. 

“Do you want to come in?” 

He bit back a smile as his heart thrummed with excitement. “Yeah?” 

“Okay, but I have to warn you… It’s kinda cluttered and—it’s my grandma’s place.” 

His forehead wrinkled. “You live with her?” 

Without a real answer, he kicked off his silver sneakers, hung his jacket beside hers in the small foyer, and followed her into the living room.

There, he saw old tasseled leopard print lamps, framed cross-stitch projects, and crochet doilies. On shelves, the mantel, and really anywhere you could place them, were Precious Moments figurines. 

At the center of it all was a new, modern baby pink sectional that didn’t fit quite in. 

“I’m working on this part of the house now,” Marli began to explain. “I just got this couch, like, two months ago. The other was covered in plastic,” she rolled her eyes. “And, don’t worry, my grandma isn’t here. That would be… fucking weird. But she left the house to me.” 

“Left the house—oh!”

“She passed.”

“Yeah… uh, sorry-sorry. What was her name?” 

“It was Yvette,” she said, looking away uncomfortably. “Uhm, go ahead and take a seat. Do you want anything to drink?” 

“Sure, yeah. Anything you got,” he nodded. 

Coming back, she took a seat next to him and passed him a wine tumbler. “It’s Franzia and Sprite." 

Ice clinked against the glass as he took a sip. He wasn’t one to drink wine, but doctored up, it wasn’t bad at all. “So… is this why you moved back?” 

“For the house? Yeah. Well, I used to live here. My grandma raised me.” 

Eddie nodded. 

“It was in probate forever. My dad was being a jerk because she had trusted it to me. But, I reminded him that—well, he’s kinda not shit,” she said honestly. “Not my fault, his own mother thought so, too.”

Eddie awkwardly laughed. 

“I’ve been planning to have a garage sale,” she pointed toward the dining room, where there were cardboard boxes on top of the table. “But the weather’s been so shitty… I might have to wait until spring.”

“You could probably sell some of that stuff on Marketplace.” 

“I don’t have Facebook,” she smirked. 

“Mhmm,” he hummed into his drink before sitting down on the glass coffee table. 

“Maybe you could help me?” 

He licked his lips and caught Marli’s gaze, darting towards them. “Maybe…”

“Maybe…” she echoed softly.

In the blink of an eye, they began heavily making out on the couch. In private, to their surprise, they both realized that they had been holding back a bit. 

Marli slid a hand down his strong chest. Which immediately slipped under his gray sweater to feel the defined abs she knew must be there. A little knowing smile tugged at his lips, and he pulled her onto his lap, spreading his legs wide for her to sit between them. 

He dipped his head down, kissing her neck and the top of her chest while his hand slipped down into her black leggings. He looked up at her, green eyes asking permission, and she granted it by hungrily pressing her lips to his once again. 

Passing a patch of hair, his two middle fingers dipped between her slit, making her hips jolt when he brushed past her clit. As he went lower, circling her entrance, he groaned pathetically into her mouth. She was so wet, from so little. It was all him, that’s all. A fierce surge of arousal rushed through him at the fact.

He coated his fingers in her wetness before reconvening at her clit again. Softly and slowly, he rubbed circles just to gauge her. The smirk on his face told her that he took pleasure in playfully antagonizing her. Impatiently, she pressed her hand against his, pleading for more pressure. He stopped teasing then, quickly moving his hand back and forth. 

“Like that?” he asked, voice thick. 

If her moans weren’t obvious enough, the way her body responded to him would tell him yes. Her hips rolled as the sensation built. Reaching to feel his dick straining against his pants, she let out a little surprised gasp.

“Baby girl, you got me so fucking hard,” he breathed, his hand unceasing. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” 

Marli tossed her head back as pleasure overtook her. His words pushed her past the edge. Hips sputtering, before stilling completely, as a moan broke free. 

“God, Eddie, fuck me!”

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked, through harsh kisses. 

“Yes. Fuck yes,” she whined, breathlessly. 

“Where’s your room?”

He rose. His raging bulge pressed firmly against her core as she wrapped her legs around him. She moaned against his neck as he started toward her bedroom furthest down the hall. 

Gently settling her on the bed, his fingers curled around the band of her leggings and pulled them off along with her lace panties. He licked his lips, eyes darkening at the sight of her glistening pussy.

He quickly pulled his sweater off, and Marli's eyes widened, marveling at his definition. His strong, lean physique, covered in tattoos, that she could admire for hours. Tracing each inked line with her tongue. It was like he was plucked from a wild fantasy she had as a moody teen girl. That girl would be very happy that this was happening to her now. 

After plucking a condom from his wallet, he dropped his pants and crawled onto the bed. Marli lifted her top off, and his brows raised, seeing a silver barbell piercing through her left nipple. He hadn’t expected that. 

They hungrily kissed as he settled between her legs, tongues gliding against each other. He backed away, biting down on the black foil packaging, ripping it open. She took the condom, wanting to assist in rolling it down. 

She caught the impressive tenting of his boxers, but when he fully exposed the heft hiding inside them, she gulped. Veins stretched down his ample length; if that wasn’t impressive, the girth alone was overly generous. He was clearly God's favorite. 

“Holy fuck!” she muttered, staring back at him wide-eyed. 

He had a bit of a goofy, proud smile on his face until it dropped to concern. She looked… scared? Impressed? Disappointed…?

Marli clammed up. If he weren’t between them, she would have pulled her knees closed. Instead, they pushed comfortably against his sides. 

“Uhm… could we just do other stuff tonight?” she asked.

“Uh…” 

“Sorry.” 

“No. No, that’s cool. Yeah…” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. I’m here as long as you want me,” he assured with a kiss. 

She smiled, relieved. Glad he didn’t take offense or try to coerce her as some guys would have. Though bummed, he seemed understanding. 

When he suddenly got out of her bed, she got nervous. Was he leaving? 

He wrapped a hand around her ankle, pulling her to the edge of the bed, making her laugh. Wherever he was going, he was taking her. 

“Come,” he said, taking her hand and helping her to her feet. 

With his hands on her hips, he turned and sat on the edge of the bed. Gazing at her under his brow, his eyes flicked down to his left thigh.

“Right here,” he said, patting it.

It was a bit out of her scope, but obediently, she lifted a leg to straddle it until he stopped her.

“Wait, baby. Turn around for a second—I want to see your tramp stamp,” he chuckled. 

Marli laughed and confidently turned around to show it off. Loose, delicate cursive was scrawled on her lower back. It was more tasteful than what he expected to find.

“You didn’t believe me, did you?” she said, looking at him over her shoulder.

“Adore me,” he read out loud, and then dipped down to press a tender kiss on her backside. “I can do that. You’re so fucking gorgeous, Marlena, you make it easy. So fucking easy,” he confessed, breath fanning warm across her lower back, it made her shiver. “And I want you to ride my fucking thigh now.” 

His hands gripped her hips tightly, turning her so that she could press her heat against him. Finally, he thought, feeling her slickness as she moved her hips back and forth, helping her glide into a faster pace. He enjoyed watching her, using him for her own pleasure. He would change places with her doorknob just to watch her get off.

Like a fish drawn to something shiny, he sucked her pierced nipple into his mouth.  

“Oh, god…” she breathed through parted lips. 

“Don’t stop,” he demanded, as his hand finally wrapped around his dick, pumping up and down in the same rhythm as her moving hips. 

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, watching him touch himself. Though he’d love to be inside her, just seeing the desire in her eyes made him tingle as if he were. 

“Touch it,” he said, taking her by the wrist and guiding her. “I know you want to.”

He exhaled loudly through his nose, twitching as she took hold of him.

“Fuck,” she whined, astonished. Her fingertips hardly touched as she stroked him.

He leaned back on his hands, relinquishing control. His eyes fluttered closed as she rolled a palm over the sensitive head of his dick. “Yeah,” he smiled. “You know exactly what you’re doing, baby girl.” 

After a few more sensational strokes, he sat up, cupping a hand under her chin. Without prompting, she spat in his hand with no hesitation, making him chuckle. She was a dirty girl.

He took over, stroking himself with her saliva. “I want you to come,” he urged, letting her put focus back into herself. 

She pressed herself harder against his thigh and picked up her speed. Soon she was holding her breath, thighs shaking as she came undone. His core tightened, hand doing short, fast strokes at the head of his dick, and he followed her with a grunt. Aimed at her pussy, ropes of his cum landed on her and mingled with the trail of wetness she left on his thigh. 

She reached down, swiping some onto her finger, and brought it to her lips, tasting him. 

…

While washing up in the ensuite bathroom, he scanned all the hair products and skin care neatly organized on the sink counter. There was enough for five heads and five faces. Expensive. A bit high maintenance, too, if he was honest.

Stepping back into the bedroom, he finally took it in, where he sat on the bed. It didn’t look like a granny had once lived here. The walls were painted in a soft dusty pink, opposed to the yellowing floral wallpaper that still hung in the living room. It was tidy with modern furniture and hardwood floors with a white shag rug at the foot of the plush bed. It was a girly space, but adult. Bachelorette.

Marli, wearing a short black kimono, lit a few candles sitting on her dresser and turned on the sunset lamp sitting on her nightstand. Eddie lifted his gaze to the ceiling, taking in the soft orange glow that bathed everything.

“TikTok shop got me,” she explained, with an embarrassed giggle. “Do you want a hit?” she asked, holding out a wax pen.

“Penjamin,” he nodded, taking it from her as she crawled next to him. 

“It’s a she, and she goes by Pennifer.” 

“Apologies, ma’am,” he said, before taking a hit. 

He felt Marli scan his body and began giving her the tattoo tour she had been itching for.

“Some are better than others, obviously,” he explained after showing his WASTED tattoo. 

“When’s GTA 6 coming out?”

“Who the fuck knows?” he shrugged, annoyed about it. “But I had a homie with a tattoo gun, and I just let him blast me with shit he wanted to try out. That’s why I have these,” he said, pointing at a gathering of funky smiley faces. “I like the bunnies, though,” he chuckled. 

“Me too. They’re cute. What about this?” She asked, eying his back as her hand drifted across it. “Anger is a gift? Do you really think so?”

He lifted his arm and turned for her to get a better look. “At the time I got it, yeah… It was the only emotion I’ve ever felt in full,” he answered honestly. It was the first big piece he had ever gotten at 19. “It’s-it’s just a reminder,” he shrugged. “Anger isn’t my first choice anymore.” He was thankful that it was something he’d grown out of. Something that his daughter made him realize wasn’t true for him anymore. 

Marli kissed his shoulder tenderly, and then she suddenly ran her fingers through his hair. “You know if you tone this out—”

“You hate it,” he laughed. 

“I don’t hate it.”

“It’s the second time you’ve called it out.” 

“Because I see its potential.” 

“Mhmm,” he said, unconvinced. “It’s growing out now. I think I’m just going to dye it back. The fuckers at work have been calling me 8 Mile.” 

Marli cracked up, but not at him, with him. She lay down on her back, and he propped up on an elbow, looking down at her. He could see her piercing underneath the thin satin of her kimono and brushed his thumb against it. 

“Why one?” he asked. 

“The other one didn’t heal right, so I took it out.” 

He nodded. 

She tiredly rubbed an eye. “I’m sorry about earlier… I wanted to—” 

“Are you—uh, have you—”

“Eddie, please, the only virgin in this room is my hair.” 

He laughed. “I wouldn’t have cared either way…”

“It’s just been a while,” she admitted with a shrug. “And… well, babe, it’s fucking huge. You know that, right?”

“I always knew there was something wrong with me,” he said, pulling the tie of her kimono loose. 

She snorted, amused, as he walked his fingers down her sternum. They swiped left, brushing past her pierced nipple and right to her ribs, where a pair of cherries were tattooed. His fingers continued. Walking down her ticklish tummy, until they stopped right at the small triangle of hair waxed into shape. Her heart hammered in her chest. 

“Can I see?” he asked, looking at her with curious eyes. 

She licked her lips and nodded. He heard a soft sigh as he pushed a single finger inside her. She was so warm that he finally felt himself become annoyed that he didn’t get to really feel it as he wished to. 

When he added another finger, he realized her concern. It was snug. He began to move his fingers inside her, and as she panted, it seemed comfortable for her. His thumb brushed against her clit, and she began to writhe as he worked her. 

“You get so fucking wet,” he said, roughly. “So tight.”

He could feel her walls constricting his fingers. Still, he tested a third. She winced, letting out a pained moan. 

“That’s okay,” he said, retreating and leaving his two fingers. “I’ll get you ready for me. You want that?”

She nodded, unable to form words at just the thought of being stretched by him. As she swelled tighter around his fingers, he worried it might be impossible. Though he met resistance, he didn’t let up, and soon she soaked his fingers. 

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he breathed in awe. 

When she returned the favor, taking him into her mouth right after, he felt more at peace with his inevitable death.

…

Eddie woke before her. It had been a long time since he actually slept in a girl's bed after a hook-up. If he weren’t getting nudged out the door, he’d take off shortly after anyway, or make an excuse for the girl to leave his place. It was dickish, he knew that, but he wasn’t in a position to commit to more. Hell, he really wasn’t now either, but he really liked Marli. That much he knew for sure.

He couldn’t remember having felt like this since he met Amy. He just hoped this wouldn’t end the same way. And for that not to happen, he had to be better. 

Marli stirred next to him and moved away, overheating. Half asleep, she heard him enter the bathroom before drifting back to dreamland. 

It was an hour later that she finally woke up. The house sounded eerily quiet. She turned and was surprised to find herself alone. The bathroom light was still on, its glow bleeding through the partially open door.  

“Eddie?” she called out. 

No response. 

“Eddie?” she tried again, this time getting out of bed to check. 

The bathroom was vacant. 

“Eddie!” she shouted, with no results. 

She went to her nightstand, picked up her phone, and called him. It went straight to voicemail. Her heart sank. Fast feet took her to her bedroom window, and she quickly tore the blinds open. Looking across the yard, his van was gone.

“What the fuck?!” she said, angrily. 

She ran her hands through her hair, disappointed with herself. She should have known. She should have trusted her gut. He was a fuckboy. When he didn’t get what he wanted, he left. She was glad she didn’t give him pussy after all, still, her jaw hurt in vain.

After a quick rinse in the shower, she entered her kitchen to make a cup of coffee in her Keurig, only to discover that he had helped himself to some before bailing. She rolled her eyes, clipping her hair into a messy bun. 

“Asshole,” she muttered, tossing the used K-cup into the trash. 

As her coffee brewed, she thought she heard some metal clanking outside, but just carried on without another thought about it. Still pissed, she picked up her phone to text Eddie a scathing message. 

You fucking worm

She backspaced, huffing. 

So you’re really just going to leave me.

She backspaced again, scratching her head, trying to gather angry, scattered thoughts. 

Leaving me like that was wack as fuck. I really was really starting to like you, Eddie.

A knock at her front door interrupted her. She stood stunned for a moment. Then another knock snapped her out of it.

“Hello?” a voice said on the other side of the door. 

When she answered, there he was at her doorstep, with a rosy nose from the chilly morning breeze. He looked showered, wearing a black Thrasher hoodie under a heavy coat. 

“Where the fuck did you go?” 

“Sorry, I needed to pick up some tools. I didn’t want to wake you.” How upset she sounded, he regretted not doing so.

“I called you.” 

“My phone's dead. I didn’t realize until I already locked myself out of your house.” 

She shook her head and exhaled loudly. 

“I wasn’t ditching you, I swear. I just needed to grab a jack—” 

“A jack? For what?!” 

“Your car,” he pointed behind him. 

Looking past him, she saw that he had the front left tire lifted off the ground already. 

“I have what I need to fix your brakes.” 

“Eddie, you didn’t have to—” 

“I’m already doing it,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss. She was resistant for a moment, still annoyed, but couldn’t help but melt into him. “And I want to. Put on something warm, babe, and hang with me while I fix them.” 

She bundled up in a sweater set and brought out a camping chair and a Bluetooth speaker from the garage. As she chose the music, Eddie pulled out the first brake pad he was replacing. It was worse than what he saw at the shop. It was flat, to the metal now. He wouldn’t doubt it was sparking flames every time she braked.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he shook his head, showing her. 

She slightly cringed, embarrassed. “I’m just a girl,” she offered. 

“Ah, that excuse doesn’t work on this,” he chuckled. “Were you coasting on these?” 

“Yeah, I had to pump the brakes like a half a mile down the road before a stop.” 

He shook his head again like a disappointed father. 

When he wrapped up the first tire, she followed him to the other side of the car. He loosened the bolts, unclipped the horrific brake pad, and with each step, grease and grime spread further down his fingers.

“Who’s playing?” he asked when she switched to something completely different than Megan the Stallion.

“Pinkpatheress.” 

“Oh, yeah,” he sniffed, playing nonchalant. 

She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t know that,” she smirked. 

“Pain?” he said, proving her wrong. “I’ve heard it, I didn’t know who sang it. That’s the only one I know, though, so don’t quiz me.”

She just giggled at him. “How do you get your hands so clean when you’re not working?”

“How?”

“Your hands are never dirty. Most mechanics carry dirt under their nails; you don't." 

He paused, twisting his wrists, and looking at his dirty working hands. “Yeah, I don’t like the feeling. I take salt and dish soap and just scrub the hell out of them.” 

Her jaw dropped. “Salt? Doesn’t it burn?” 

“I mean,” he shrugged, indifferent. “Sometimes if I have a cut or something—”

“Eddie, they make sugar scrub that does the exact same thing.” 

“So you’re telling me to just use sugar instead?” 

“It’ll sting less.” 

“Got it, babe,” he nodded, amused. 

Once he fastened the last bolt on her tire, he righted himself. She followed suit, standing up and asking how much she owed him. 

“Nothing,” he said adamantly. 

“No, seriously.” 

“Seriously.” 

She frowned, but before she could continue, he spoke first. 

“Look, we’ll do it like this—since you feel like you have to repay me. You’ve let me fix your brakes, so I’ll let you fix my hair.” 

Her eyes lit up in excitement, hearing that. 

“Fair trade?” he asked. 

She pursed her lips, considering, and then nodded. “Yeah,” she grinned. “Fair trade.”

[bafterhours]

Fair Trade

Synopsis: Living paycheck to paycheck, Eddie really wasn’t in the best position to date. Marli moved back to the city she was raised in, starting over. When Eddie sees her by chance, he couldn’t let the opportunity slip away like so many others in his life. Drawn to his rugged, silly charm, Marli was ready to explore love again.

Still, as they got to know each other there were pieces of them they hid away, afraid that revealing the truth too soon would ruin a good thing that had only just begun.

18+ Mature Readers Only

ONE

Drills and air compressors sounded off. The automotive shop was ridiculously busy, but Eddie didn’t mind; it made the day go by faster. After pulling a compact SUV into the pickup lot, he walked back into the garage. He wasn’t in a rush, despite the mounting tickets. He was tired, and all he could think about was smoking a bowl on his lunch break.

In all honesty, he hated working at the mechanic shop. He hated his boss, Karl, who didn’t think much of him at all. He didn’t even try to hide the fact, either. Eddie wondered why he had hired him to begin with, but an extra pair of hands was just an extra pair of hands at the shitty chop shop. He put up with it because, well, he really needed the money. 

His only friend at the shop, TJ, whom he could commiserate with, had quit a few months ago. He moved on to a much better-paying job doing third shift at a cold storage warehouse. Eddie couldn’t do nights, but TJ informed him of a possible first shift that would soon be available and promised to put in a good word for him. 

He had been waiting for weeks now without a callback. It took everything in him not to quit and coast. But he had done that way too many times now. Hopping from one job to another. It would just prove everyone’s point about him. Damn it, they were a little right, though. 

“Hey, Eds,” an old coke bottle lens colleague called out to him as he was preparing to do an oil change. 

“Yeah?” he sniffed, wiping his nose on the cuff of his thick work glove.

“Look at these,” he said, waving him over. 

He looked at the nearly bald brake pads on a black Nissan Altima. It wasn’t a new model, but it was only a few years old, still in decent condition. 

“Shit!” Eddie hissed. 

“These bitches are about to give out.”

“What the hell they doin’? Driving with e-brake engaged?” 

“I don’t know. It’s a woman’s car; they know how to fuck anything up.” 

“Heh,” he pulled his ear awkwardly and stepped away then. 

Finally, on a break, Eddie was in the main lobby, standing in front of a vending machine. Grabbing snacks before he smoked himself out. There weren’t many options, and all that was left didn’t seem very appealing. He settled on a bag of plain potato chips and trail mix for the generic M&Ms inside.

As the trail mix dropped, it got stuck on the side of the drop chute. 

“The fuck,” he muttered, smacking the side of the machine. 

Behind him, the desk clerk was speaking to a customer, listing the diagnostics of their car. 

“Uhh…” He heard a long, exasperated female sigh. “That’s okay. I just need the oil change today.” 

“You sure? We can rotate the tires, but the guy who worked on your car stressed that your brake pads need to be replaced.” 

“Yeah, probably,” the woman said dismissively. “But just the oil change today, thanks.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure. I’ll even come back here to get it done, but I don’t have time for that today.” 

Eddie peeked around the corner, overhearing the conversation. The woman he saw taking her key fob back was not what he expected at all. He really didn’t know what to expect, honestly, but the brunette with a nice blowout and full cherry-tinted lips caught him by surprise. The shop wasn’t patronized by an attractive clientele—ever. For a moment, he noticed he had stopped breathing as he took her in. 

He shook his head to himself, as she would even give him the time of day. She was nicely dressed, in a black low-cut top and stretchy pleated slacks. She probably worked at a bank, he guessed. 

With a fleeting glance toward him, he nearly shied away, and she left. Even with her car off the lot, he could hear the brakes squeak even down the road.

…

“Have you heard anything, man?” Eddie asked into the phone pressed against his ear as he walked up to the school yard. 

“No, but your resume is on top of the list, dude,” TJ said on the other end. “I’m tight with one of the office girls—she’s kinda cute, actually.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine.” 

“Karl still busting your balls?” 

“He doesn’t bust my balls,” he grumbled. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” 

“I don’t know, man. I have my kid tonight, but she’s going to her mom's early.” 

“Ah, okay. Well, the cute girl from the office invited me out. You should come.” 

“Hm. I’ll see. I’ll hit you up.” 

“Alright, dog,” he said, hanging up.

When his daughter, Sarah, ran out of school, he was there behind the pack of parents waiting on her. Her smile widened when she spotted him. Taller than the moms and bleached blonde. 

“Daddy!” 

“Hey, lovebug,” he said, hugging her and taking her backpack to carry. 

When she climbed into the passenger side of his van, he buckled her in and shut the door for her. 

“Are you ready for your trip?” he asked once they were on the road. 

“Yeah. I asked mommy if you could come.” 

“You did?” he asked, surprised. “What’d she say?” 

“She just said that you couldn’t.” 

“Mhm. Yeah, lovebug, I’m sorry. But-but you two will have fun.” 

His relationship with his daughter's mother, Amy, was rocky to say the least. The love between them had long gone, so he couldn’t even imagine being confined in a car for the 2-hour trip with her. He doubted Amy would like that either. 

If it weren’t for Sarah, they probably would have cut all ties. Before separating, they had tried to work it out, but admittedly, Eddie just didn’t try hard enough for Amy. Sarah was three and a half then. That killed him, but he just wasn’t in a place in his life to be who she needed him to be.

Sarah was eight now, and though far from perfect, he was doing his best. Still, Amy always found something to be upset about. His best wasn’t good enough for her because he bordered on the line of general adult expectations. There’s no praise for doing what you’re supposed to do.

While he and Sarah were eating cereal at the breakfast bar the following morning, there was a knock at his apartment door to his surprise.

“Is that your mom?” He said, with a full mouth as he checked the time on his phone. 

They weren't running late in the slightest. When he answered the door, Amy let herself in. He noticed then that she had only come to scope his place out. It was an annoying habit of hers, especially now. He didn’t live in the most amazing place, but he had upgraded past the worst shoeboxes he’d used to rent. It was a little out of his budget, but he worked to live somewhere safer for his daughter to visit. 

He lived in a remodeled studio in a ten-unit brick complex on the first floor. Though secondhand, he had a comfy bed, and he made sure to have a pull-out couch. When his daughter spent the night, he slept on it while she took over his bed. 

“Taking off early?” he asked, after Amy told Sarah to brush her teeth and get dressed. 

“I wanna beat the traffic…” An awkward silence hung between them. “Uh, you have any plans this weekend?” 

“Me? Nah.” 

“Right. I wanted to tell you—if Sarah hadn’t spilled the beans already, that Roscoe is coming with us.” 

Amy had been with Roscoe for nearly a year now. They were acquaintances in high school and reconnected. He was a track jock then, and now he works as a high school cross-country coach. He had a son of his own, and from what his daughter said, he was an annoying little shit.

“What?” He raised a brow.

“Well, you know, we’re at that point now…”

“So you’re going to your hometown to bring him to meet your parents, then?”

“Well, yes, Eddie, that’s part of the trip.”

He scoffed. “Well, good luck to him.”

“You wouldn’t let Sarah around him if you didn’t think he wasn’t a good guy. Most importantly, he's responsible. Reliable.”

“Right, right,” he pressed his lips together, taking the jab. 

It didn’t feel good hearing that. Their relationship was far from salvageable. Both of them have dated people here and there, but learning that she was bringing her boyfriend to meet the parents, it was serious. He was regretting that he had sacrificed his weekend with Sarah for their trip now. 

“Just letting you know.” 

“Okay,” he said dismissively, rubbing his jaw with his knuckles. 

“I really like him, Eddie. Actually… more than that. Sarah’s being slow to warm up to him, but I think she will, too. It’ll work out in the long run.”

“The long—what do you mean by that? You know she’s my kid, too, Ames.” 

“I don’t mean it like that—”

Sarah had walked out of the bathroom then, interrupting them. What they didn’t know was that she could hear them despite talking in hushed tones. Suddenly, she didn’t want to leave at all. She clung to her father’s leg and whined while her mother tried to coax her off. Though it broke his heart, Eddie encouraged her to go and reminded her of all the fun she’d have at her grandparents', and she reluctantly listened. 

…

Eddie was being truthful about not having plans that same weekend. He smoked a fat bowl that evening, and was scrolling pornhub on his phone until he found something to his liking. With a hand inside his Adidas track pants, he hit play and watched a girl shine her naked tits with baby oil when his friend TJ called, interrupting him. 

He was out at the bar, wondering if Eddie was still coming. Feeling bad about his attempt to blow him off, he checked his wallet. He was good for a few. 

Lately, he hasn’t gone out as much as he used to. Not because he had lost interest, but because his income was tight. With rent, the electric bill, and miscellaneous necessities, he also had child support payments. Amy got him for five hundred dollars every month through the court. If it didn’t make him feel like a jackass, he would have contested it to reduce the amount, but he was also too prideful.

While sipping on a beer at the dive bar, TJ got a text from the office girl he’d been talking to, who he expected to meet at the bar. Instead, her text led them to a house party. Eddie didn’t mind the location change since there was a huge ice chest with drinks he didn’t have to pay for. 

After pushing around seltzers, he fished out a Modelo. He popped the tab and leaned against the railing on the back deck. While chatting with a few dudes who TJ knew from work, one of them lit a joint, which eased him enough to pull out his. Both crossed paths in the rotation. 

A lone joint now rested in between his fingers after the group had sufficiently indulged. He had been pushed out of the work banter between TJ and his coworkers. Instead of hanging on the edge of the conversation, he scoped the rest of the partygoers from the deck. The deck wrapped around to the other side of the house, and just before it turned the corner, he did a double-take. It was her.

It was the woman with the bad brakes he saw a few weeks before. She was dressed much more casually, in a chartreuse halter top, a black skirt, and knee-high boots. She was speaking to a girlfriend with chunky maroon streaks in her dark hair, until she passed a coat off and left her behind. 

It was a chilly night, and she put on the fur collar leather jacket. Eddie frowned, disappointed; it hid the curves he was tracing with his eyes. Turning around, holding onto her seltzer, she looked out across the yard full of people mingling. Down below, a group of guys tossed beer boxes into the fire pit to get it going. Her night was winding down, and she was just waiting for her friend to use the bathroom so that they could leave.

Eddie looked toward TJ, talking his ass off and paying no mind, and he slowly backed away. A white claw was to her lips, which she quickly dropped when he approached her. 

“Oh, sorry, are you trying to get through?” she asked, pressing her belly into the rail to make room.

“Uh, nah. Nah, you want a hit?” he asked, holding the nearly finished joint toward her. 

She glanced over her shoulder and then looked up at him with a small smile, taking it. He watched as her dark cherry nails pinched it against glossy, full lips. The ember flared bright as she took a deep hit. 

“Thanks,” she said, strained. Holding the smoke in her lungs before blowing out. 

Eddie bit back an impressed smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Um, we’ve met. Have you changed your brake pads?” 

She tilted her head. “My brake pads? Wait… where do I know you from?” 

“You got an oil change about a month ago.” 

“Yeah? You work at the autoshop?” 

“Eh, well, yeah. Not for much longer—hopefully,” he muttered. “But-but I’m Eddie.” 

“Marli.” She smiled. “Well, that’s what everyone here calls me but—” 

“What do you go by?” 

“Mm, it doesn’t really matter,” she bashfully laughed. 

“Sure it does. Is it embarrassing or something?” He chuckled. 

“Nooo,” she snorted. “It’s Marlena. But no one pronounces it how I like, so Marli is fine,” she shrugged. 

“Marlena,” he said, in his best attempt at a Spanish pronunciation. 

“Close.” 

“Aw. I didn’t think that was so bad.” He said, leaning casually on the railing beside her.

She glanced over her shoulder again, wondering where her friend, Reina, had gone, only to see that she had been caught up talking to a guy of her own, too. She had only come out to loosen up after a long week. She didn’t intend to talk to a tall guy with a brassy bleach job and hand tats tonight.

The more they spoke, though, the cover didn’t match the material inside. He was intelligent in the topics he presented, and he never interrupted her when she had something to add. In fact, he even seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. 

When he first approached, she pegged him for a fuckboy. The more they talked that judgement faded away. Even the lazy drawl of his words, which she assumed was his way of sounding cool, was endearing. Now she caught herself giggling and focusing on how sweet he seemed. How handsome he looked, too, with high cheeks, pouty pink lips, dimples, and searching green eyes. 

“Marli!” 

She turned to see her friend waving her over. It seemed like whatever happened with her guy was a bust. 

“I think I have to go...” 

Eddie blew raspberries, disappointed. “Could I get your number at least, Marlena?” 

She blushed. He said it with perfect pronunciation the second time. 

“Hmm…” she considered. 

“C’mon, that wasn’t bad, was it?” 

“It wasn’t,” she said, looking at his lips. 

His heart kicked against his chest. To his surprise, he actually felt butterflies. “Could I kiss you?” he boldly asked. 

“You’re funny.” 

“I am?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I can be fucking hilarious if you want.” 

Marli bit her lip, but she couldn’t help tossing her head back and laughing. 

“Ah, see.”

She kissed her teeth playfully. “You can have my number. And then you can take me on a proper date.” 

“For real?” 

“Marli!” her friend whined. 

“Give me your phone before I change my mind,” she said, holding her hand out. 

He quickly snatched his phone out from the back pocket of the black cargo pants he wore. A photo of his daughter lit up on the lock screen, but he quickly swiped up and clicked his contacts and passed it to her. 

After adding herself to his contacts, she air-kissed the screen and passed it back to him with a departing wink. 

…

Eddie debated on how soon was too soon to hit her up. He also wondered what would make a good date. He hadn’t been on a date in a long time. And back then, it was going to pizzerias, going to the skate park, or seeing a movie. That seemed too juvenile now. He was 29, and he felt like he should know some intimate date spots in his back pocket, but he didn’t. 

The next night in bed, with no real date plans, he texted her anyway. 

–Hey, this is Edward.

After a moment, she responded.

–Hey, Edward.

–Eddie. You know from the party. 

–Yes… I know Eddie. What’s up?

He covered his eyes, ashamed of his own awkwardness. He’s never felt so lame. 

Text bubbles appeared. 

–So where are we going?

His eyes widened. “Shit,” he muttered.

–What’s your favorite restaurant? he typed quickly.

He silently prayed it wasn’t something out of his budget. 

–Do you know Trattoria Delicio? 

–On 59th? Yeah, that’s cool. Let’s go!

It wasn’t a terribly expensive Italian restaurant. It was a step above Olive Garden and a half step below the Cheesecake Factory. It was a place you’d want to put your best shirt on for. They set the date for the following weekend. 

The days leading up to it, they texted quite often. Asking about each other's day and finding things in common. Sharing what they’ve been watching on TV lately. Discovering that they listened to a lot of the same music. Eddie had a more underground taste. Most of the links he sent her were from Soundcloud, and some weren’t all too good, she had to admit. 

They didn’t get super personal, though. Just the basics, like their ages. Marli had just turned 26 in August. Since Marli knew what he did for work, he learned that she was a hair stylist. The details of each, they waited until they were face-to-face. 

“Are you really meeting him up?” Reina asked. 

Marli gathered her things from work space and tossed her tote over her shoulder. “Yeah.” 

“Have you looked up his criminal record?”

She rolled her eyes. 

“Seriously! You don’t think a guy who looks like that doesn’t have a past?” 

“It’s a date. One date. I’m not marrying the guy.” 

She shook her head. “Share your location with me at least.” 

“Oh, my god, Reina. Chill?” she groaned. 

“You don’t know him, Marli.” 

“That’s the whole reason for the date. To get to know him. Can I just have this? I haven’t gone on a date in forever! I know you mean well, I do. If it doesn’t work out, then so what?” 

She pressed her lips together, obviously she still didn’t approve. Marli shared her location to placate her then.

Eddie checked himself out in the bathroom mirror before leaving. He wore a grey flannel, dark work pants, and hi-top Vans. He ran some pomade through his hair and exhaled loudly as he felt nerves creeping up. He had never remembered caring this much. Any girl he had been with always seemed more into him than he was, so he hardly put in the effort he was making now. 

It was five minutes past 7 o’clock when he arrived. He was late, and dread actually washed over him. He could be chronically late, and to his detriment, he could be overly blasé about it. So the dread he felt was rare. To his relief, though, it was Marli who showed up late. Five minutes after he arrived. 

“I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t be, don’t be,” he said, giving her a half-hug. 

He smelled so good when he gave her a half-hug. Fresh and heady. He gave her a dimpled smile when she complimented it. 

She looked stunning. Her hair was in a perfect blowout, and her dark lashes were softly curled. In the evening light, he could see the amber and honey tones in her light brown eyes. When they were seated at a booth, he enjoyed how her boobs in her Bardot top rested nicely on the table top, too. 

“Have you been here before?” She asked, picking up a menu.

“Ah, no, actually,” he said truthfully. “My coworker told me it’s good, though.” 

She softly smiled. “Talkin’ about me with your coworkers?” 

“I had to tell someone. You’re a stranger.” 

She scoffed. “Really now?” 

“Like you hadn’t,” he boldly called her out. 

“Hmm. Maybe. What are you having?”

He finally took a look at his menu, realizing he’d just been staring at her before then. There were dinner specials advertised of an entree with a choice of soup or house salad for a fair price. 

“Uhm,” he rubbed his lips together as he made a decision. “This lasagna looks good.” 

“Where do you see that?” 

He flipped his menu toward her. 

“Oh! Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll get the chicken alfredo, though. Are you getting the soup or salad?”

He lightly chuckled. 

“What?” 

“I’m not having fucking soup on our first date.” 

She giggled. “Smart. That’s a huge red fucking flag.”

Once the waiter took their order, he placed a basket of sourdough rolls and garlic basil butter between them. 

“I remember you saying you’re between jobs or something?” she asked, buttering a piece.

“Thanks,” he quickly said when the waiter swung back around with their salad. “Um, technically, I am not anymore. I’ve finally got a callback from that new warehouse on Council—better pay. I start this Monday.” 

“Oh, congrats! I hope it goes well.” 

“Thanks.” 

When Eddie picked up his fork, she couldn’t help but stare at his large, tattooed hand. She also noticed how clean his nail beds were. The callouses on his palm made it clear he worked with them, but somehow they still looked soft. “Can I ask something?” 

“Sure, yeah,” he said, wiping his mouth after a bite. 

“Who bleached your hair?” 

“Uh…” he bashfully laughed. “Me.” 

She smirked, spearing lettuce. 

“Why?”

“Just wondering.” 

“Mhm. Your hair is so pretty. I should have known you were uh, uh—” 

“A hair stylist?” she added, mid-chew.

“Yeah, I knew that, sorry,” he said, nervously running a sweaty palm over his pants underneath the table. 

“No, it’s cool. My salon is a few blocks away from here—” 

“Your salon?” 

“Well, not my salon, no. Maybe one day, though.” 

Eddie smiled. “How long have you been a stylist?” 

“I started cosmetology school during high school. I worked at a salon in Forester straight out. Eventually, I specialized in fashion colors there. But um, I moved back here over a year and a half ago now. The salon I work at now is more… upscale, you could say.”

“Do you like it?” 

She shrugged with an indifferent smile. “Eh, better pay.”

“Right, yeah.”

“Have you been a mechanic for a while?”

“Almost hitting a year.” In fact, it was the longest he had held a job.

“So you’re into cars then?” 

“Into them?” he smirked. “I mean like them, yeah. Only as a hobby, but uhm… work is work.”

“Yeah, totally,” she nodded. “It can be like that sometimes. Even for me.”

“I’ve kinda had odd jobs,” he admitted. “I once had a job as a cook at a nursing home, until I got a job at Waffle House—“

Her brows shot up excitedly. “Have you ever had fights on your shift?” 

“Nah, I missed out,” he laughed. “I only got to see the aftermath coming to my 6am shifts. But I’ve had to help kick out some drunk stranglers, every now and then.”

“No World Star shit for you then. So what else?” 

“Uhm, one summer kicked my ass when I did roofing. I did landscaping with my cousin for a bit before, too. Sometimes I’ll log into Uber Eats and do deliveries for some extra cash. But, uh, yeah. Just to name a few,” he shrugged.

“So you’re good with your hands? I like that.”

She was being completely earnest, but he felt his cheeks warm hearing her say something borderline suggestive.

Their food arrived shortly after that, and they happily dug in. Marli even asked if he’d like a bite off her plate, and he offered his in return. 

“Get a piece of chicken, too,” she encouraged him. 

He felt himself beginning to relax. She was disarming in a way he wasn’t used to. She didn’t seem stuck up or too uppity like he initially assumed. He felt bad for thinking that, but she looked well put together and well groomed. He was used to being looked down on by people like that. Constantly being underestimated could really make you believe it was true. 

Being on this first date with Marli, for once, he didn’t feel judged. Well, she sort of judged his hair; he caught that. But he was dealing with a professional, he’ll let it slide.

“You from here?” He asked, as he helped put her leftovers in a styrofoam togo box for her. 

“Yeah. You?” 

He nodded. “Born and raised.” 

“Technically, I moved here when I was eight. I was born in Florida. My parents met on spring break in Daytona, but they’re both from here.”

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah, you remember watching MTV Spring Break in the 90s?” 

“They were on it?” 

“No, but they were somewhere in that crowd.”

“No shit? They sound fun,” he said, swiping his card in the table kiosk. Thankfully, he had a little money left from what he had budgeted for the date. She wasn’t a cheap date by any means, but he noticed she was very considerate in the way she ordered. 

“Eh, they were at least,” she muttered, grabbing her clutch.

Eddie glanced at her as he scribbled his signature in the card kiosk, trying to read her expression after the remark, but it fell neutral. 

As they walked out of the restaurant, he held her to-go box as they walked slowly toward the parking lot down the block. 

“You parked this way, right?” Eddie asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool.” 

Suddenly, he took her hand in his, leading the way. Just as she suspected, his tattooed hands were soft for a jack of all trades. She also noticed how her hand practically disappeared in his, too. Just being in his big presence, she felt an overwhelming sense of safety. 

“Thanks for dinner,” she said as they neared her car. “I had fun.” 

Eddie smiled. “Me too. To be straight up with you, it’s been a long time since I’ve been out like this.” 

“Is that what you tell all the girls?” she playfully asked, but she secretly wondered. 

“If there were any—they wish.”

They stopped at the driver's side of her car, and he slightly cringed, remembering the state of her brakes. It was a hazard on the road. A death trap, even. He placed her togo box on the roof of her car and looked down at her.

“So… Can I see you again—” 

“Yeah,” she blurted, and then bashfully laughed. 

His chest warmed, especially when she stared at the tip of his tongue brushing across his bottom lips. He didn’t ask this time. Instead, he cradled her head and heard the soft hitch of her breath as he leaned in for a kiss. Lips pillowy soft as they moved against each other. It wasn’t a timid schoolyard kiss, but one full of palpable tension finally breaking away as they gave into what they both had been thinking of.

“Oh my god,” Marli whispered when he pulled away. 

She hadn’t felt something so real, maybe ever in her life. She pulled on him for more, unabashedly making out with him now in the dark parking lot. Just before she could get fully lost in it, she pulled away, reeling herself back in. 

Eddie shyly rubbed his lips together, feeling them glide against each other from a mix of saliva and lip gloss. He hoped she would ask him to go home with her. His dick was practically pleading. 

“I’ll text you when I get home…” 

He swallowed. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

“Thank you, again.”

“Mhm. Maybe we can link sooner rather than later?” 

“Set it up.” 

“I will,” he smiled. 

Before she ducked into the driver's seat, he stole a kiss from her and shut her door. 

“Oh my, fuck,” she said, under her breath, when she felt her panties dampen as she sat down. 

The chemistry between them was certainly there from the start; she was just taken aback that it was so explosive. She could almost cry. Until now, she hadn’t realized she had been so deprived. He felt like a cool drink of water in the desert. 

Eddie waved at her as she backed out of her parking space, and his brows shot up at the awful screech of her brakes. “God damn, girl,” he shook his head, taking a hit of his vape, as she drove away.

He caught himself touching his lips. His feelings were everywhere. He felt happy? For a long time, he had just been going through the motions. Tonight, it felt like seeing land in the distance after years of treading water and trying not to drown.

[sweetbillwriting]

In The Moonlight

Chapter 1

Description: Elysia has had it tough, but then she meets Henry, who gives her comfort no one else has. The problem is just that many others feel the same way about him.

Characters: An older Henry Pearl. Original character is played by Bill Skarsgård, in the movie Battlecreek (2017).

Warnings: 18+, heavy themes.

“Were you out tonight?”

My mom stood in her turquoise robe, staring at me while I walked into the kitchen, just dressed in a big washed-out t-shirt and panties. My wig wasn't on, and my short ash brown hair was for once not concealed. I blinked slowly because I didn't know if I should be honest. I hadn't expected her to hear when I walked through the door. It was a stupid thing to believe because she had heard me every time in my teens when I crept out at night.

“Ehh… Yeah… I just took a walk.”

I stared at the coffee machine while it poured a cup for me. I didn't want to see my mom's look; whatever she said, I would feel stupid, because I always did.

“I looked at the clock, and it was five A.M. when you came home. You must have been out for hours!”

She sounded worried and upset, so I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say because I had been out that long, and something told me I would do it again.

She sighed deeply but sat down by the kitchen table calmly.

“It's really nice that you go out, but at that time of the day?”

Now I looked at her because I wanted her to understand and I didn't want her to act like a worried teen mom again.

“It's nice. There’s no people around; I can think, and it's a good temperature. You don't need to worry.”

A kind guy followed me home. No, I promise, he was kind.

I continued to talk in my head. I wanted to tell her about Henry, but it was also such a wonderful feeling to have him as my secret. And if I talked about him, I would probably like him even more, especially if my mom got excited that I had actually met a guy I liked. That hadn't happened in ages.

“Okay… I can't forbid you to do it. You're a grown woman, but be careful. There are strange people in every town…”

"Yeah, I will, I promise.”

I gave her a calming smile before sitting down at the table opposite her, and she smiled back, but she gave me that worried smile she had given me so many times before.

×××

I wanted to meet Henry again, but I pretended that night I was just walking out to look at the moon again. It wasn't completely full that night, but almost, and it was also almost as beautiful. It wouldn't be strange if I wanted to admire it. I walked almost the same way again, past the rural houses and the big yards, but then finally I came to the fields. Just that walk took an hour; it would take more than thirty minutes for me to then walk to Henry's bench, but it took even longer because I got lost in the big corn field. Luckily for me, I had the moon as company but also my guide.

I was lost for twenty minutes before I came up to the old wooden bench by the path, but it was empty, though. I looked at it disappointed before sitting down with a sigh. I had tried to fool myself that I was just out for the walk, but I had in reality just had one goal. Henry. The disappointment ate me up from inside, and I felt both sad and also embarrassed. Maybe I wouldn't meet him again, and I would have walked for two hours to see him. He maybe was in a relationship or even gay. I had no idea. Still, the butterflies rented a room in my chest, and they flew around when I thought about his shy smile.

I cringed when I walked over the fields, dragging my hands over my face in anxiety, even though he didn't know how desperate I had been. I even muttered to myself how stupid I was. In the middle of my anxious walk I heard someone call out, and it made me stop in my tracks but also in my feelings. Should I run? Was it one of those strange people my mom had talked about?

“Elysia!” shouted someone again. It was a soft, clear male voice. Even if I had just heard the voice once, I didn’t scream, I knew it was Henry. I looked around with a beating heart, and far away I could see him come from the direction I was walking in, from the middle-class street. He waved a hand at me while smiling big. I hadn't seen him smile so big before, and it lit up his serious face and gave him crow's feet around his eyes. While walking towards me, he pulled up the hood of his red hoodie. I smiled at him, because he was so cute and also because the move felt like a shy one. He radiated warmth and friendlyness, something I didn't connect to men, so I stood still, just staring at him while he walked with long strides up to me.

“Hey,” he said with the same big smile. He left the hood up. I smiled back. I thought I smiled my regular smile, but my eyes were almost as full of stars as the sky. I looked in love even if I had just met him once.

“Hey, Henry.”

×××

He had been sitting at the bench earlier, reading, but had thought about me, so he wanted to look to see if I was nearby. He had walked the same way as the day before, but because I got lost, I had probably missed him. He wanted to meet me again, just as I had wanted to meet him again.

That night we talked more about books, music, and art. It was obvious he was an intellectual. He knew so many names, so many stories, while I just knew about modern romance literature, pop, and classical artwork. He wanted to show me what he meant, but he had forgotten his phone at home so we looked at mine together. It felt intimate to sit so close at the bench, but after having done that for five nights in a row now, it felt almost natural. Almost, my heart beat like a little drummer boy in my chest, though.

He never had a phone with him, so we always sat close together. I had understood he had tried to hide something from me with his hoodie, and the sixth time we met, he wore a knitted sweater that was stretched out at the neck. I could see an angry wound sticking up from the midnight blue sweater, and when I thought he didn't notice, I looked at it. It was obviously a burn mark, and it was probably much bigger than I could see. I analyzed his face and expression, forgetting he probably would feel my examining eyes. He looked up from the book he was reading for me. It was poetry, easy, beginner poetry he had brought for me so I could learn about it. I would have thought earlier I would think it was boring, but he made every subject interesting.

Henry looked back at me while I still looked between the scar and his face. He smiled doubtfully and laid down the book next to him. He looked out over the field, the moon, probably waiting for me to ask something.

“What happened?” I asked, carefully, afraid to say something stupid. I really didn't want to hurt him or make him believe I gave his wound negative attention. I sat with a wig on; I was not the person to judge.

He made himself comfortable on the bench and pulled lightly on his sweater’s neck so I could see more of the wound.

“I have a rare skin disease… It's the sun that has done it. I was young. Now I stay away from the sun.”

He smiled comfortably, but it carried sadness and shrugged. I didn't smile though; it was too much to take in and confusing.

“You mean you're, like, allergic to the sun?”

“Yeah. The UV light. It burns my skin and it can't heal.”

Henry had such a boyish charm, but at that moment he was just a confident man. It was obvious he had reconciled with his reality. What others thought was not in his purview.

“So this is my time. My day. The moon reflects the little sunlight I need.” He looked up at the moon again. I looked at his face with wonder, without looking back at the wound. I had thought he was fascinating before he told me, but this just made him more interesting. He was a man living in the night. In my romantic nonsensical day dreams I had imagined him as a prince of midnight, just showing himself under the moon, because it was the only time I met him. The daydream had some truth to it, and it made my heart beat quickly in my chest.

After a moment of silence, he looked at me but more seriously than I was prepared for.

“I know you're wounded too…”

I looked at him with big eyes and dragged my fingers through my wig's locks. I really thought people couldn't see it.

“Did you see it at once? Fuck, I spent so much money on it…”

I laughed to hide my embarrassment but also the feeling of anxiety. When I looked up at Henry, he gave me a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“The wig?”

“The wig?”

He actually didn't seem to understand what I talked about, and that made me just as confused as he seemed to be.

“I can… ehm—" The manly confidence ran off him like cold water and disappeared down into the ground.

“This will sound strange, but I can feel it… I can smell it on you.”

In my weakest moments I had always imagined that my cancer smelled like death, so hearing him say it out loud tore a hole in my chest. I stared at him hurt but also in shame. I stood up quickly, and he turned his eyes towards me just as quickly.

“I… I don't—"

I shook my head to try to control my tears, but they escaped my eyes anyway. Henry looked at me like he had never seen a human cry before. He may never have hurt someone before.

“I'm sorry for smelling like death. I'm sorry you have been forced for a week to—"

I cried hysterically, in panic, before turning my back towards him and running through the fields. I needed to get away from the shame, the hurt, and also those suicidal thoughts I had months ago. I needed to go home, lock myself in, and never go out again. I had really believed he accepted me, but he had probably just felt bad for me. The girl who was smelling like disease and death. The girl without hope.

I heard him shout my name, but I just ran. I'd rather be alone than with someone that forces themself to be with me.

×××

Somewhere inside me I knew that I destroyed my mom when I disappeared into hibernation, but it was so far away I couldn't see it as more than an empty fact that had nothing to do with me. She had come into my bedroom while I was lying in bed and forced me to eat. I didn't have an appetite, though, because I imagined that I could feel the smell of myself. I smelled like rotten flesh and metal. I didn't really know how death smelled, but that was what I imagined it smelled like, and it was what I thought my skin oozed.

My mom didn't understand why suddenly those thoughts were back and tried to make me realize I wasn't smelly and that I didn't need to shower two times a day, but I could just hear Henry's words in my head. Kind, sweet Henry. My chest ached when I thought about him, but it transformed to shame quickly by once again hearing his words in my head and seeing his awkward look at me over and over behind my eyelids.

I lay in my bed for a week, and at night I stared at the moon from my window. It had become half of its size while I had been locked in.

“Just you and me, again…” I said to the moon with a sigh while standing leaned against the side of the window. “Or does he watch you too? Is he out there?”

I whispered the last part, like I was even embarrassed in front of her. She had witnessed my and Henry's relationship grow.

I turned on the blinds before lying down in bed without knowing who was watching the moon too. If the moon could answer, she would have said he actually was sleeping, even if it was troubled. For once he had been awake in the daytime. To search after me. He couldn't search at night because he was the only one being up then. He needed others' help.

×××

I could hear the door bell ring even if I had my door closed. I was lying in my bed in just my light purple towel. I had just stepped out of the shower but felt tired at once. I heard my mom and listened to her confused voice. She talked with a man, but his voice just became a bassed mumble through my wall.

“My daughter? Elysia? Okay… Oh, at night… Yeah, I know she has taken walks at night…”

I understood it was Henry. I understood he actually was standing by my door during the day even though he shouldn't be out in sunlight. I could also feel in my chest, or maybe in my skin, that it was him. I had known it before my mom had even opened the door but hadn't listened to my intuition. I sat up in bed, continuing to listen even if my instinct was to walk out to them. At that moment I was so happy to have him that close again that I didn't think about what had happened the last time we saw each other.

“Henry? Henry Pearl?”

Not even I knew his last name, but it suited him.

“Stay here; I will ask her if she wants to meet you. I don't know if she wants to… Okay.” I could hear my mom close the door carefully.

My mom cleared her voice outside of my door before she knocked. I took a deep breath. Just when she had knocked, I had also heard Henry's comment from a week ago in my head again, but decided to wave it away. I needed to meet him again. Maybe he had an explanation. Maybe even a good one.

“Yeah?”

My mom opened my door slowly and crept into my room with big eyes.

“There is a tall man outside the door searching for you…!” She whispered even if Henry was on the other side of the door and could not possibly hear her. I nodded weakly. 

“Henry.”

“He says you have met six, seven times and you know him..!”

I took a deep breath and stood up.

“I don't know… A bit I guess.”

I should have just said I knew him to calm my mom down, but I wasn't sure I actually knew him. We had talked about the beauty in life but never about our own lives.

“A bit? Do you want to meet him, or should I call the police?”

I couldn't stop myself from laughing because my mom was probably the only one who would see Henry as a threat. Even though he was tall, he had a bad posture and mostly looked down into the ground. He looked anxious but not in a worrisome way, more like he thought he was in the way.

“No police, thank you. Can you tell him that I need to dress? I can't meet him in a towel.”

“You certainly can't!” Said she determinedly, almost with an upset voice, and I smirked at her, amused, when she walked out from my room. The nerves came over me quickly, though, but I didn't want Henry to wait too long, so I pulled on a pair of black yoga pants and a pink sweater. It was a bit too hot for August, but it was the only cute but relaxed thing I could find at that moment.

When I walked out to the hallway Henry stood there in the same outfit as he had when we first met. My mom had let him in and stood to the side, probably to guard him so he wouldn't take anything. It was silly, so I gave her a pointed smile so she would leave us alone.

“Hey…” said Henry nervously but smiled at me, surprised. It was then I realized I didn't have any wig on, and I dragged my fingers through my short hair self-consciously.

“It's really pretty. It suits you so well.”

I shook my head for myself while looking down on the floor. I felt my cheek blossom from the compliment but also to be with him again. He had searched me up, and that couldn't have been easy, so it must mean something.

“Is it okay that I come in?” He asked softly, and I nodded. 

“We can go to my room.”

Henry took off his well-worn sneakers, and to my surprise he pulled off his gray hoodie. He wore just a white t-shirt underneath. I looked away, though, because I was prepared to maybe see a burn wound, but instead I saw deep lines on his hips, traveling down to the black elastic of his underwear and his jeans. I wasn't prepared for him to look like that or for him to have quite sizable biceps. Even if I had thought about him romantically, I hadn't really thought about him sexually, but now, when I saw more skin than I had asked for, the emotions hit me in the face like I had run into a wall.

Henry fixed his clothes but also lightly scratched a burn on the inside of his forearm. It felt like a stress thing, and while he followed me to my room, I could hear him scratch the dry skin. I sat down on my bed after having made it quickly. I could see that Henry didn't know if it was okay for him to sit down, so I patted the spot next to me. He sat down and stretched his long legs. He braided his fingers together in his lap.

“I'm sorry for what I said… I didn't mean it in a bad way, and I didn't know you would react like that… You smell so good. I mean it. Ehm…” He dragged his hand over his face and rubbed his eye. “You smell like lavender. It's really calming and nice.”

I felt my stomach knot together as soon as he started to talk, but it was like it burned up when he said his beautiful words. A fire had been lit in my belly and warmed me up from the inside.

“I didn't know they were such loaded words for you. I just mean that I can feel like a dog sometimes, feeling emotions and so on just as clearly as a dog can smell…”

I smiled while looking down at his hands but also took in everything he said.

“I forgive you, Henry; it's just… A feeling that I have sometimes. That people can smell the cancer.”

Henry looked at me with big, regretful eyes.

“You smell so nice. I could smell you all day.”

I laughed at him, and it made him smile so his dimple got deep. Carefully he took my hand in his. It was big, warm, and safe. Such a hand you want to hold when you're sad. Or happy, just like I was now.

“But you can… Sense people's feelings and health?

Henry made a doubtful smile but still nodded.

“My mom had these sorts of “gifts”... I never really believed her, but then, when I had moved away I… I don't know, I felt them too. I don't really know what to do with it and… I think few would believe me. I didn't believe my mom.” He laughed awkwardly and hugged my hand in his.

“Maybe you don't believe me.”

“I do. I do. I mean… You knew. You knew about my disease.”

We looked at each other for a long time. It felt like a moment for a kiss, but instead he yawned widely.

“I'm sorry, I'm not used to being up this time of day.”

I laughed and tried to hide the disappointment. I really thought we would kiss.

“Me neither. We can take a nap?”

He looked down at my bed, and I could see how tempted he was. Even before answering, he had crawled away and laid down on one of my pillows. I laughed at him and made him smile wide again.

“Come here,” he said and stretched out his arms towards me.

×××

I woke up as the little spoon in front of Henry, who snored so low I first didn't hear it. His arm lay around my waist while I pushed his hand against my chest, between my breasts. In my sleep it had been nothing, but now it felt so intimate. It was years ago I even hugged a guy I was attracted to. A warm stream ran down to my sex by feeling his hips pushed against mine. I didn't want to move, but still I did. It was too good to be true. I sat up and looked down at him. My movement had made him stir, and slowly he opened his eyes and looked at me with the brightest eyes and his lips pouting. He was unbelievably cute.

I looked at the clock to think about anything else. We had slept for 50 minutes, and we had fallen asleep fast. It was probably the best sleep I've had for ages.

“Maybe I should go…” He sat up a bit groggy and licked his dry lips over and over. “Do you want to see me again?”

He looked up at me under his brows, and it made me giggle.

“Absolutely. But do you have a phone? Then we can exchange numbers?”

“Yeah, but I always forget it. Or it dies…”

He talked like he came from another time or at least was 80 years old.

“What?” He asked in a silly way when he saw me hold in a laugh.

“You're just… So different.”

He smiled amusedly and shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you want my number or not?” He pretended to be annoyed, but he was bad at it and couldn't hide his giddy ways.

“Yes, please, Mr. Pearl!” I joked with a British accent. “Just give me something!” I said like I was a starving Oliver Twist. It made him laugh so hard that he threw his head back.

“Yeah, yeah. Elysia Bauer, I will give you my number as long as I get yours too.”

Both of us giggled when we exchanged numbers, and I dared touch his hand and even his knee while we did it. He dragged his hand over my forearm, and where we said goodbye, he gave me a hug. It was our first one, and it felt so good my eyes teared up.

×××

It took some days for us to see each other again, but it was okay because we could actually set a time and we could even text a little. It was obvious he wasn't much for it because it became just standard phrases, but he did emojis, sometimes even a hugging one.

When we met three days later, he gave me a hug. A long hug. It felt so good, and even better it felt when he complimented my natural hair. I had styled it a bit to get texture but had also cut the bangs myself. It was actually cute, and he made me realize that.

I thought he maybe would have commented on my lavender scent, especially because I used more of the oil. It was the oil he had sensed before, and I used it every night to calm myself down. Now I would use it all the time.

Henry looked at the house on the street where he met me.

“These houses are pretty… I like the pink one.”

I giggled a little and nodded.

“That's my favorite too… I wish I could live in a house. And have a yard.”

Henry looked down at me while we continued to walk towards the outskirts of town.

“Have you lived in a house?

“All my childhood. Then my parents divorced, and I moved in with my cousin, and then… Yeah, the cancer…”

Henry nodded. It looked like he was thinking about something deeply, and a few seconds later I got to know what.

“Do you want to see my home? I've seen yours.”

In reality he had just seen my hallway and bedroom, but I wouldn't protest. It was exciting to actually see where he spent his time when he wasn't with me. He neither had a job, so he probably was home as much as I.

“I would love to.”

“I live a bit unorthodox, though.”

“Oh?”

“Or unorthodox; it's just the building that is a bit special. I live in a collective. We're fifteen people living together.”

“Fifteen?” There were a lot of people, and I could feel the apartment was crowded just when my mom was home. “How… Why do you live with them? I don't mean anything—"

“I've traveled around a lot, and I guess I found comfort there. They understand me and my needs, and we look at the world in similar ways…”

“Oh… That sounds nice.”

It didn't, really. I would have never lived with fifteen other people. For a moment I wondered if he maybe didn't have the courage to just tell me he lived in some sort of institution; maybe he needed help to care for his wounds? Then more realistic thoughts crept on to me. I looked at his profile when we were walking. He was smiling, and I got the feeling he was happy I seemed to accept his living arrangements.

We continued to walk over the fields to our goal: his home. We talked about what we had done those days we hadn't met. I had been at a work interview while he had gone away to Jackson to celebrate a friend and also buy new paint. The conversation was cozy and comforting, but I still looked around interestingly when we turned right on the path just next to the bench we had been sitting on so many times. We walked through the trees where I had seen the path end, when I had been sitting on the bench, but it continued a bit forward. I hadn't understood how small the area with trees actually was and was surprised to see the path open up after just 30 feet. I hadn't thought about what was after the trees, and I hadn't thought Henry lived so close by, but there it was, his home.

On a big open field, under the crescent moon, was a large white building. It was an old manor, so big it looked like a castle. Someone had been wild enough to build wooden towers on the stone building, and from a distance it looked like a Disney castle, but up close it looked like a project by an eccentric. In the dark it looked crooked and like it moved with the wind.

Henry laughed when he saw my reaction.

“It looks weirder than it is. It's because they've painted the towers both yellow and green on a white building. It was an owner in the 1930s that went a bit wild.”

I nodded and tried to take it in. It was beautiful though, like if Pippi Longstocking had a castle. I smiled at him and then saw the sign standing on the side. Henry saw what I looked at, and together we went up to it.

It stood on two legs to the side of the house, welcoming visitors. It was made of old brown wood but had a motif of a dark forest and a white, full, glowing moon. It was a beautiful painting.

“That's us. The house, but also us who live here,” said he with a warm smile towards me.

I read the cursive letters over the motif written in silver.

House of Moonlight.

×

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[spider-mann]

BILL SKARSGÅRD as EDDIE BARRISH Locked (2025) | Dir. David Yarovesky

[bafterhours]

was updating my masterlist page and somehow my whole theme just broke wtf?? 😩😵‍💫🫩

[bafterhours]

Enter the Chronoheart Series Masterlist

SYNOPSIS: Au!Bill | Timing is everything. Just before his big break, Bill met Paz, and with her in his life, everything seemed to fall into place. The timing felt right, until the weight of fame and notoriety became too much for Paz to handle, even from the sidelines. Despite their busy careers and distance, they always seemed to find each other through it all. Just when they decided to rekindle their relationship, and the timing felt right again. Paz disappears without a trace.

The aftermath of her disappearance sends Bill’s path spiraling off course. Then, on the third anniversary of her disappearance, he found himself drawn to the mystic shop where she was last seen. Sending him on an unexpected journey through time to find her.

♡chapter one ♡chapter two ♡chapter three ♡chapter four ♡chapter five ♡chapter six ♡chapter seven ♡chapter eight ♡chapter nine ♡chapter ten ♡chapter eleven ♡chapter twelve ♡chapter thirteen ♡chapter fourteen ♡chapter fifteen ♡chapter sixteen ♡chapter seventeen ♡chapter eighteen ♡chapter nineteen ♡chapter twenty ♡chapter twenty one ♡chapter twenty two ♡chapter twenty three ♡chapter twenty four ♡chapter twenty five ♡chapter twenty six ♡chapter twenty seven ♡chapter twenty eight ♡chapter twenty nine ♡epilogue ||UPDATED || Complete ||

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥

[sweetbillwriting]

In The Moonlight

Prologue

Character: Henry Pearl, played by Bill Skarsgård, in the movie Battlecreek from 2017.

Warnings: 18+, heavy themes.

Notes: This is a dark story but with the sweetest character, Henry Pearl. It's about an older Henry and my ofc Elysia. You will like this story if you like my story In The Dead of Night.

Over a day my face had changed. I'm serious! I had such plump, radiant skin. Then I celebrated my 30th birthday, and boom! I had never had dark circles under my eyes. I had always had apple cheeks; they were slowly disappearing, though, day by day.

“Don't be silly!” Said my mom with a laugh while I complained at the kitchen table. 

She had poured me a big glass of red wine while she made her special chicken pasta. I was just dressed in sweats, like I usually wear, but so was my mom, so just then and there my outfit wasn't special.

“You look great. You look 25!”

I rolled my eyes and sighed because I wish I were 25 or at least had the same privileges as a twenty-five-year-old woman. I complained then about ageism and sexism, but it was now that I really felt it. I still got a job then, even without an education, now it was much harder. My competition wasn't twenty-five-year-olds but other thirty-year-olds. Many of them had fancy diplomas or experiences from exciting jobs; I just had unfinished courses at community college, employment I had never taken seriously, and a year of sick leave because of cancer. I wish I could write that in my resume so people would get why I had so few references, but no one likes to read about cancer and no one wants to talk about it at work. Sharing my story would just bite me in the ass because they were afraid I would just talk about cancer. Like any survivor of that wanted to relive it. Weirdly enough, it wasn't the cancer that made me look older, though; it was the feeling of being 30.

“Have you searched for any jobs today, Elysia?”

It was my mom's constant question. My days had started to flow together, so sometimes it felt like she asked it several times a day.

“No… But I must be able to take a break? I mean, it's like a full-time job.”

My mom nodded with a strained smile. Her expression gave me a bad conscience, and in my lowest moments I wished that cancer had taken my life so she didn't need to think about taking care of a grown-up daughter. I didn't pay anything while living at her place. As soon as we had seen the x-ray pictures of the tumor in my head, I moved in with her, and there I stayed even after I beat the cancer. Maybe I should have felt life come back to me, and in adrenaline I would jump out into adventures and ambition, but I was just depressed. Maybe the cancer was gone, but I still questioned why I should live.

“Have you been outside today?”

One more thing my mom nagged about. Fresh air and human interaction. I felt she and the balcony were enough for those things, but she just gave me a pointed look when I said that.

“Should I go out in the daytime in this dump and show openly that I'm unemployed in an ugly wig—"

“Your wig isn't ugly!”

My mom was right; my wig was not ugly, and most wouldn't see that the long mahogany waves weren't mine. It looked like I had just been at a good hairstylist, but it was more impactful to say it was ugly.

I sighed and took a big gulp of the wine.

“This is a new town for you; you don't know anyone. I think you can find some way to come out without feeling so anxious. Just take a walk. Look around. I know the town is small, but you will like it. It's really beautiful.”

I looked out from the window tiredly at the late August sky. It got dark earlier and earlier. The days become shorter and shorter and my life more and more volatile.

My mom had moved to the town four years ago, when she met a new man. It was good for her to find her own life instead of getting annoyed at my dad's new life with a young wife and a baby. She needed to get away from it all and find her own life. She found a job as a nurse quickly and also an apartment. It was in a neighborhood both close to the town’s small center but also open fields. I understood why my mom liked it, but I would have preferred a bigger city.

Sadly enough, my cancer didn't just destroy my life but also my mother's. The man she believed was her dream man left quickly when a weak, puking daughter took all her time. To me she said he left for other reasons, but it was obvious he wasn't prepared to be that support my mother needed. We stayed in the town, though, because neither of us had the energy to move again.

I often lay awake with a bad conscience for how my mom's life had become. I wondered if it had been different if I had died, but mostly I wondered if I could have done anything differently. Could I have saved my mother's relationship?

While tossing around in bed, the light of the full moon also bothered me. It actually shone so strong it shone through the blinds. I grunted loudly because the moon had always affected my sleep, but now it did it in one more way, in such an obvious way. I swore to myself when I stood up to fix the blinds, but the more I tried, the more of the light cascaded in as lines over my bed. It was just one solution to my problem, and that was to move out to the couch. I muttered irritatedly for myself when I took my pillow and felt the dissatisfaction move over me. I looked towards the window again. Ever since I had been a small girl, I had talked with the deadest objects, so for me it felt completely natural to have a need to tell the moon how it destroyed my sleep. I pulled up the blinds to be able to look at it when I berated it but stopped in my movement when I realized how close it actually was. The moon was gigantic and shone so bright my eyes had trouble regulating. I stared at the big celestial body that hung from the star-lit sky.

“Hello there,” I said a bit awkwardly to it and smiled crookedly. It wasn't like I didn't feel stupid talking with dead objects, but it just came natural to me.

“You look beautiful tonight… But damn, you’re shining brightly.”

I continued to stare at it and moved back to sit down on the edge of the bed so I could sit comfortably while I admired it. I imagined it being even prettier outside and how the colder, fresh winds would just enhance the experience. I could hear my mom's words about going out and looked between my sweats and the moon. It could be the perfect moment to actually do something she told me. It felt like the moment, because I wouldn't need to worry about my looks, others' opinions, or how the town’s life would stress me. Everyone was sleeping, except me and the moon.

×××

I just looked at the moon when I came out and didn't think about how I was walking. Some would have believed I walked in a trance by seeing me, but I looked at the moon, not only to admire it but because I was afraid of meeting someone. After just a few blocks I realized I was completely alone, though. I was walking among old but cute houses. It looked like a middle-class area but with a rural charm. The more I walked, the fewer houses lay on the sides of the walkway. The yards became bigger and bigger, and the houses got more and more of a rustic charm. It was obvious I came closer and closer to the outskirts of town and out in the countryside. I didn't mind though; it was amazing to see the big moon alone over the big fields. It was completely silent, and the air was high and fresh. I took deep breaths while I walked over the fields. It felt like it was the first time I breathed for real in ages. Slow, deep breath that I could feel in my whole body. I didn't care that the ground was damp and seeped into my sneakers. I felt a deep feeling of calmness and acceptance while walking over field after field, feeling the high grass against the palm of my hands. It was just me and the moon, or that was what I thought until I came out from a cornfield and saw a man sitting on an old-looking bench. It looked like garden furniture, but there it stood alone by a thin trail leading away to an unknown location. I stopped abruptly and stared at the man like I had never seen a human of the other sex. It was a long time ago I talked with one, so it was maybe not so far from the truth.

The man sat stretched out with his long legs crossed. His jeans looked well worn and even had a small hole on the knee. Big hands held a paperback book in front of his face so I couldn't see how he looked, but his hands were veiny but soft-looking. I guessed quickly that he probably was my own age. Maybe I should have been afraid; I was, after all, alone with an unknown man in the middle of nowhere, but at that moment I wasn't. I had survived cancer; if he wanted to kill me, well, it would just be ironic.

“Hello?” I said, carefully, while I stood on the other side of the trail. He lowered the book slowly. I could see furrowing brows but then also big green eyes. They were so big and clear that I could see the moonshine in them. It was obvious even before I had seen the rest of his face that the brown-haired man was gorgeous. He looked at me questioningly with pouty lips, and then he scratched his eyebrow with his pinky.

“Hey? Can, can I help you?” He stuttered and looked around. First it felt like he was afraid of me, but when he laid his book down and held up his hands, I understood he believed I could be afraid of him. It was nice of him to try to look disarming, but his big innocent eyes just made me smile. It was strange how comfortable he made me feel when I otherwise didn't even dare to go out from the door.

“No, no, I don't think so… Or, I've walked from town, and I guess I’ll just go back the same way I came?”

I saw that he tried to hide an amused smile because what I said was so obvious.

“I think it works like that…”

I giggled, embarrassed, because the more I looked at him, the more nervous I became, not because he was scary but because he was so cute. I rarely thought guys were interesting, but this guy had something special.

“Ehm, I understand if you just want to go home, but if you want to, you can sit down here next to me?”

For a moment I thought his cheeks were a bit pink, but the moonlight made his skin pale.

I looked at the empty spot next to him on the bench, and it made him move his book but also the little pocket flashlight he had used to be able to read in the dark. I looked at the moon and took a deep breath. I should go home because even if he looked nice and cute, I shouldn't trust him. I still sat down next to him. He moved away a bit from me and cleared his voice before stretching out a big hand with long fingers towards me.

“Ehm, Henry.”

I smiled warmly at his awkward ways and shook his hand.

“Elysia.”

Henry chuckled a bit, embarrassed, before looking down at the cover of his book in his lap. I giggled at how weird the situation was, but then we both sat quiet. Both of us looked at the moon and breathed deeply. It felt so nice to sit next to a man, to be with someone other than my mom, but also because of his aura. It was just something special with his energy. It was like it was warm around him but with something sparkling. If I should compare it with something, I would say it was like hot, carbonated cider. It sounds so weird, but that’s the only thing I could say would make me react the same way. I giggled again, like the carbonation tickled my cheek, but it was just something with him. When I looked back at him, he looked back at me with moonlight in his green eyes and a boyish smile.

×××

We hadn't said much to each other, but he offered to follow me the long way home. He stuffed his book in the back pocket of his jeans together with the flashlight and his hands in the pockets of his gray hoodie. I wore a similar one but with a zipper. I imagined how we looked together from afar and then at my wig. Carefully, I corrected it, self-consciously. Even if Henry seemed like a kind soul, I knew most guys weren't attracted to wigs. They wanted real, long hair to drag their fingers through.

“Are you from here?” I asked to think about something else than my own appearance. Henry looked down from his high height at me, then lowered his eyes to his feet again.

“No… I moved around a bit and ended up here.”

I could hear a southern drawl, but just in a few words. It was an accent that seemed to have faded away with time.

“What about you?”

“No, no… I'm from Atlanta, but my mom… Yeah, I followed her here.”

I didn't want to say more than that because at that moment I had never had cancer. I was just some ordinary girl he had met in the moonlight.

“And why do you walk around alone in the middle of the night?” Henry smirked timidly and made me laugh softly.

“You know, I can ask you the same thing.”

“Touché.”

I looked at his deep dimple while waiting for an answer with a teasing smile. Henry was quiet until he looked at me confused but showed he understood my silence by lifting his chin.

“Oh, I should start.” He laughed awkwardly. “Ehm… I guess I'm a night owl… Yeah…”

It felt like he had more to say but wasn't prepared to tell me. I guessed he had insomnia for some reason. Maybe heartache, or anxiety. Henry nodded a bit to himself but then turned to me with a smile, showing it was my turn.

“I just… To be honest, I just thought the moon was so pretty. I just… Felt drawn to it.”

I rarely said such phony things to guys, but Henry gave me the feeling that he wouldn't laugh at me, and he didn't. He just looked up at the moon.

“She's pretty tonight…”

I smiled with warm cheeks when I heard him say "she." It was something poetic in it, in just that simple choice of word. Still, it didn't feel pretentious; it more felt personal and loving, like the moon was his old friend.

I enjoyed the silence between us until we were back among the middle-class neighborhood again. Henry stopped there like he didn't want to walk any longer but gave me a final smile.

“I’m gonna turn back now…” He looked towards the horizon where the first sunbeams showed themselves. I probably looked a bit disappointed because he shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

“I have some things to do…”

“I understand, of course… Of course. But… I really… Ehm…” I laughed, embarrassed, because it was such a long time ago I had even appreciated someone else's company.

“It has been a beautiful night. Thank, thank you,” he said, collected, like words were simple to find but sometimes hard to say out loud.

“Yes, bye Henry…” I blushed when he gave me an awkward wave before I turned my back to him and walked towards the sun.

×

@kikibit @malenoradgn @a-differentbrandof-beans @forrealandjustsaying @useyourwandbro @turbotasticoo @keysandthesea @muchwita @hanamirandak @hamburger-sprite  

@loushaw131460 @lunaskye999

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[sweetbillwriting]

The Blackened Branches

THE LAST CHAPTER & EPILOGUE

Characters: AU Eric from The Crow played by Bill Skarsgård. The story is completely it's own thing.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: It took some time for me to complete this one. It's a real slow burn but also with heavy subjects. He just touches my depressive side. I hope you have appreciated the story, even if the happy moments have been few.

Thank you @b-afterhours for all help and inspiration 🤍

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN

EIGHT NINE TEN

I had succeeded in forcing Eric down to the living room, where he sat in sweats and thick socks along with a blanket. Still, it seemed like he shivered. Both Malek and I stared at him. He was so much skinnier. He looked weak and tired in a sickly way.

“He must go to a doctor,” said Malek worriedly while staring at Eric in horror.

“He doesn't want to.” I swallowed hard. I had told the same thing to Eric, who had just shaken his head.

“I don't fucking care. This is fucking serious.” Malek looked at me upset, but I just looked at Eric. I understood why he didn't want to go to the doctor; it was so obvious now when this had happened. It wasn't normal, and there was just one explanation. There was something weird with Eric, just like he had always said. I looked out from the window, where I could see dozens of crows sitting around our house. They were always there for him and now… I didn't want to think about it, but still I did. They wanted to take him somewhere else.

I dried away a tear before it had spilled down my cheek. I looked between Eric and Malek. It had all started when they had found those bodies in the forest… Was there a connection?

“Have you heard something more about those murders?” I turned to Malek, who gave me a confused look. It was an odd moment to ask, and I could see how he was about to tell me to think about Eric, but I continued before he had said anything.

“Just tell me!”

He furrowed his brows.

“Just that it was a man in his 50s and that they had found a chunk of hair that didn't belong to him. It belonged to a young man.”

I stood and stared at Eric because he had looked up at us. He looked at me with a pointed look.

“It was colored black,” continued Malek.

Eric and I stared at each other so neither of us noticed Malek's confused look at us

“It's the crows…” said Eric with a weak voice. I sat down next to him. My hands shook and my heart ached together with my stomach. Eric knew I wanted him to continue to talk without me needing to tell him, and he leaned against the backrest with his head while closing his eyes.

“I don't know how… They resurrected me… I don't know how…”

I tried to understand, tried to put away all logic.

“I think it's time to go into the ER. He’s obviously hallucinating!”

Malek had started to panic and moved closer to him, ready to lift Eric up from the couch. Malek wouldn't have a problem lifting him; he was probably much lighter.

“Malek! Stop! Just… Fuck. He's dead, okay?!”

I had never said those words myself, but now I screamed them in Malek's face. It wasn't so he would understand, though. It was for me. It was me who needed to accept that everything Eric had said was true. You don't lose 20 pounds in a few days. Just when I sat next to him, I could see how bony his knees were through the sweatpants.

“What are you talking about?” Malek scoffed with his hands on his hips. Eric looked at me again.

“I need to go back… To the forest… I can't think of anything else…”

×××

Malek and I rarely fought, but now it was loud and aggressive. We were in the kitchen fighting about logic, reality, and diseases. Malek wanted to go against Eric’s wishes and force him to go to a doctor to get treatment, but I had finally started to listen to Eric. If he said he needed to go back to the forest, it was what he needed.

“So you mean he's dead? And have been for thirteen years?? He had been at the hospital during that time, and obviously they found a pulse! This is fucking insane that you believe such bullshit! He must be mentally ill, and now he has started to affect you!”

“You have also said he's special! Please, you sucked his cock! Can't you see he’s different?!”

Malek dragged his hands over his face, obviously uncomfortable about the moment he greedily licked up Eric's seed from his abs.

“He's different, yes! Maybe, maybe it's something with his aura or something like that; I could believe that, but being dead? Why would even that be attractive??”

“Hayden…” A weak voice could be heard from the opening door, and I turned to see Eric leaning against the door frame like he didn't have the power to stand up anymore.

“Malek… This isn't normal…”

Malek opened his mouth to protest until Eric lifted his hoodie. We were used to seeing his muscular physique and random tattoos, but what he showed us made bile push up from my throat. His skin was white and even grey, and with just a light pull with his fingertips, it fell off in chunks. His skin was dying, rotting off his bones. The decay of his body had started, and he just continued to pull on the dead skin like it was a costume that needed to be removed.

“Oh my fucking God…” said Malek at the same time as I puked on the floor.

“Please just take me to the forest… A doctor can't help me…”

×××

I knew we were in a hurry, but I needed someone by my side, someone that maybe remembered more of the night of the murder than I did. My dad.

We left my puke on the floor and hurried away with Eric in the back of the car. His breathing was forced, and I could see in his facial expression that he was in pain. It would be a long trip to our childhood town, but it wasn't like we could bring him on a plane. I cried while I looked at him. For me it was obvious I would lose him, and I wondered if I could have saved him if I had just believed him earlier. He gave me a strained smile, though, and nodded to the sky in front of us. It looked like TV static. So many black crows covered the gray sky and made it impossible to see the sky in its entirety.

They were there for Eric. I didn't know if they wanted to save him or to take him to the place he belonged, but their presence seemed to calm Eric down and his breathing to slow down. He was sleeping. Breathing deeply and calmly, like he didn't have any problems at all.

×××

“What the fuck is this, Hayden? This can't be happening, this…” mumbled Malek while he was driving. He looked back at Eric in the rearview mirror. “You must tell me what's going on.”

I also looked back at Eric. I would betray his trust if I told Malek, but I also could see that this situation was different and Eric would approve if he were awake.

“He killed his mom's boyfriend when he was nineteen and buried the body in that forest…”

Malek's eyes got big, and he sat and stared out at the road. It was probably a lot for a cop to hear, especially when it was a guy that you had blown just a couple days before.

"Dad and I helped him. To bury the body, I mean. And… Something happens with the crows. I don't know… I haven't thought about it for a long time because I haven't wanted to see that it might be something supernatural—"

Malek made an uncomfortable sound and shook his head. He was as much of a skeptic as me.

“I know! I couldn't believe it either, but now… His body is decaying in front of our eyes.”

“So you mean he's dead?”

“Resurrected. Or something. I can't come up with anything else. And look at all these crows? You know the crows always come when he comes… They guard him or something and now… It's hundreds. They know something we don't.”

Malek sighed.

“They found that hair today… I guess you believe it's his?”

I stared out from the window because I had for a moment forgotten the strands of hair they had found. They had found Eric's DNA. They would be able to find him. The crows probably knew that; they knew what the cops had found.

“It is his… And for some reason his… the body of the man has decayed much quicker than it should have. It's the crows…”

I whispered the last sentence, the same Eric had said. I wish I could talk to them, find out what they had done the night of the murder and what was happening now. Did Eric die that night?

×××

It took eight hours for us to drive to our hometown, but we never stopped for a break. Eric stirred in and out of sleep. I wondered if he was in pain, but the sleep seemed to fix that. I looked out at the hundreds of crows and thanked them silently for making him sleep. It was probably the only way for him to survive the pain of losing his skin.

With my directions, Malek drove to my dad's store. I hadn't called him because he was always at the store during operating hours. I didn't know what to say on the phone, and it felt easier to just get him so he could see Eric's state.

I wasn't prepared for my dad to stand outside of the shop, but so did others too, looking up at the sky. It was the crows. People had reacted to the hundreds of crows flying together, covering the sky. Even if there was no place to park outside of the store, we stopped just in front of my dad. He lowered his gaze to the car, and when I climbed out, he looked at me worriedly.

“Eric?”

He understood. The crows had been the sign that Eric was close, and the amount was a clue that it was something serious this time.

“Just jump into the car!” I said, upset, and he nodded quickly. I was happy at that moment that my dad most often did as told.

My dad and I jumped into the car at the same moment, so I didn't see his expression when he saw Eric; I just heard his small "Oh my god." Eric was sleeping, though, so he didn't answer my dad.

“Is he dying?” He asked and dragged his hand through Eric's hair, like a dad should. His voice was wobbly, but he swallowed down his tears.

“How much has Eric told you about his… condition?” I asked while looking at my father, who made a face.

“What?”

“He… he smells. Like… Rotten?” His eyes shifted between me and the sleeping Eric. It wasn't really surprising that he stank after seeing what happened with his body underneath his clothes.

“But Dad, how much do you know?”

“About what? Is he sick?”

“I don't know… He says he's dead.”

Dad stared at Eric. I could forget my dad once upon a time had been a hippie, married to a new-age medium. My mom had left that period behind, but now when I looked at my dad, I understood he had believed those things more than my mother had. He nodded and dragged his hand over Eric's hair again.

“I guess that explains his attraction…”

Now Malek reacted and looked back at my dad.

“What do you mean?”

Dad looked at him. His eyes were glassy and confused but still accepting.

“There is nothing so alluring as death. The thing we know so little about.”

Malek stared at him, then at Eric.

“You mean you believe it?”

“Why wouldn't I? I remember that night.”

I turned around to look at Dad.

“I don't remember it all… Please, what happened?”

”I don't know what happened before we came there, but I remember the body… Strangled. Still, there was so much blood… Then in the forest he had that seizure and you passed out, but… but I saw it.”

“Saw what?” Said Malek, quicker than me. My dad took a deep breath.

“The crows… They ate him up. I have always believed it was just my imagination because just seconds later he was there. Alive and well. I never dared to talk about it with him because it just felt like a nightmare, a nightmare that has come back to me… Even if I didn't believe it, it felt like a sign that I would lose him one day…”

Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he left them without wiping them away. I looked at him with my own tears running down my face. I started to paint a picture of what Eric actually was.

Eric was dead, or resurrected, caught between life and death. He had died that night, eaten up by the crows and spitted out to something that wasn't completely human. But they seemed to love him? Why would they kill him? Crows were scavengers. Eric was probably already dead when they ate him. The blood. All the blood, as my dad said. It must have been Eric's, not his stepfather's, because he strangled him.

“Eric got murdered that night… He bled to death… Then saved by the crows in death…” I said it dreamily, like I couldn't understand it myself. Malek scoffed, but my father nodded.

“And they have guarded him since…” whispered my father.

×××

Malek parked by the old oak, and then we just sat there. Eric was still sleeping, so we had time to think about it all. I thought about everything Eric had said to me through the years. He had felt something was wrong; he had felt that he actually was dead. He couldn't remember the night of the murder because then I would have been sure he would have told me about it, but he knew anyway that he was dead. Now his body started to decay quickly. His body should have been in the grave we had been digging, but instead he laid his stepfather there alone. He had been saved by the crows and at the same time became their king.

I turned to Eric when I heard he started to take strained breaths again. His eyes were clouded by a white surface while his lips cracked with every breath. When he finally spoke, the blood was running thick from his mouth.

“Take me to the grave…”

The vision of him falling to pieces was the worst kind of horror movie, but in that moment we all acted out of love and adrenaline to help Eric. Like one body, we jumped out from the car, and Malek opened the door to Eric. He tried to move, but his limbs dragged after him like he was chained to the car, so even if he was bloody, smelled, and you could hear cracking from his bones, Malek lifted his long body up bridal style in his arms. I was happy having him there because I would never have been able to help him otherwise but also because it was obvious Malek loved him just as much as me and my father. None of us would leave him, even if we didn't know what to believe.

I took the lead, searching for the place we could have buried the body. It felt hopeless because it looked so similar everywhere, but then the police tape showed me the way.

The grave was just a hole and not even that deep. I remembered it as big and deep, but it wasn't even 3 feet deep. It should have been found easily, but the crows must have protected it. The crows that now sat around us on the ground. It must have been fifty that just stared at us where we stood frozen around the grave.

“Malek… Put me down…” whispered Eric. Or, it wasn't really a whisper; it was such a small strain of voice that working lungs couldn't create. We all looked at Eric doubtfully, but Malek did what he said and sat him down on the ground. His back was bent in an unnatural direction, and his arms hung lifelessly on his sides. Even if he now looked more like a mangled corpse, all of us just saw Eric. Amazing Eric. We didn't need to see him to see him. He was dead but the most amazing person we have had in our lives.

“I… You know it's my time… It has been for a long time.”

We stood and stared at him, but my dad cried loudly. I had never heard him cry like that. When I realized what Eric was saying, I felt the wrong feeling blow up, like it often did on me. Anger washed over me, and instead of crying and holding him close, I let out a roar and pulled his arms like I could make him stand up. Even my dad got quiet when we heard Eric's shoulder break. I stared at Eric's face, but he just looked at me with a calm expression even if his shoulder hung forward over his chest. He really was falling apart, and I couldn't stop it. I sat down next to him and cried as loud as my father. I couldn't say it wasn't true or that everything would be fine because even a light pull on his arm made him fall over like a scarecrow in a storm.

“Please Eric… Please!” I begged with my tears streaming. Eric looked back at me. He didn't cry, and I understood why. It was obvious he was drying out, and his skin looked like silk paper.

“I can't stop this, Hayden… They can't protect me anymore…”

I looked around at the crows that watched us but didn't have time to look long because Eric lay down on the ground. I wanted to scream and force him to stand up, but I had learned I did more damage if I tried to make it stop.

“I love you…” His words sounded dry and strained, like he didn't have any liquid left in his throat.

Even if I were afraid to break him, I lay down on top of him and kissed his dried skin. I couldn't stop it, so the only thing I could do was to love him when he was still there. His skin fell in flakes while I kissed him, and my lips met hard bones after just a few kisses. It was just a skeleton I lay on top of when I said how much I love him. I felt him take a deep breath, but after that he became completely still under me.

My dad was quiet and so was Malek because they had seen everything happen. They had seen Eric’s skin fall off from his bones, but they also saw his last smile before he kissed me.

×

Epilogue

Big green eyes looked at me. There was mischief and play in them but also darkness. I loved his eyes, my son's eyes. They were still so innocent and sweet, but I wondered if he would get the same depth as I had seen someone else have. The darkness hinted about that. It was the same darkness his father had in his eyes.

His father. His biological father. On paper Malek was his father, but both of us knew who the green-eyed, blonde boy’s real father was. It wasn't anything we really had talked about but nothing we had denied either. It was as obvious as the ground we walked on, and we didn't comment on that either. He was our son, though, by love, and when he was born two years ago, we named him together. We named him after the boxer who fought the night we met and also the first night all of us were together. Me, Malek, and Wilder’s father. Eric. It was a way to make him all of ours even if it was so obvious Malek hadn't been a part of the production.

Two-year-old Wilder sat in my lap, just having woken up from a nap, and looked at me with the same expression I had seen his biological father wear so many times. I smiled at him lovingly and pulled him closer to me, and we sat in bed together.

“Daddy?” He said and looked around.

“Yes, he's in the kitchen. Let's find him,” said I with a smile and put him on my hip while I stood up from bed. Our house was big, much bigger than our old one, so Wilder felt it took ages just to walk to the kitchen. He sighed dramatically on the way down the stairs, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

“Oh please! You can wait a minute,” said I with a giggle.

My laugh made Malek look out from the kitchen with a silly smile while rubbing his hands on a towel.

"Has someone missed me?” he said with a silly voice and walked up to us just as silly. Wilder laughed at him and stretched his chubby arms out towards him. Malek looked just as happy when he took his son in his arms.

Malek had put the grocery bags on the counter in the kitchen, while he played with Wilder in his arms, I put up the groceries in the cabinets.

“I met your mom; she wondered why you haven't answered when she has seen that you've been home all day.”

I grunted irritably because she always did things like that. Ever since we moved onto the same street as her, she has spied on me.

“I just want some alone time with our son—"

“I know, I know,” he interrupted me calmly. “You don't need to defend yourself. I understand.” He looked down at Wilder to see if he was okay even though I had raised my voice, but he just looked out the window toward the crows sitting on our patio furniture. For a moment we all were quiet, looking at them.

“Will you go to the forest today?” Asked Malek softly while I still stared at the birds.

“Yeah… Yeah. Do you want to join us?” I asked, because he sometimes did.

“No, it's okay. You two can go alone today…”

I smiled at my boys, but it wasn't the two of them at that moment that made my heart palpitate.

×××

I let Wilder go by himself in the forest even if it was hard for him. He fell sometimes, but he was so used to it that he just stood up, brushed off his little legs and hands, and continued to walk. It was sweet to see him act like a little grown-up, and I smirked to myself while he walked with his hands in his pants pockets. Over us flew five crows that he looked up at, which made him fall again, but again, he just stood up and continued to walk.

“We'll be there soon,” I said to him and lifted him up when he started to walk slower and slower, and then he also could look at the birds that lowered down the closer we came to the grave.

It was a long time ago the cops had investigated the place, but you could still see where they had been digging. They had covered it up when they couldn't find out who the man was and also when the black hair they had found from a young man disappeared. The only thing lying in the tube was dirt. The investigation hadn't led anywhere, and neither Malek nor I was surprised. The crows did their work well.

I sat Wilder down on his feet at the same time as the birds flew down to the ground, and for a moment he just looked at them and the ground under them; so did I, if I didn't watch my son. It didn't take long until he played with the crows, though, who mimicked his moves, jumping and shaking their wings. I had gotten used to how he interacted with them, so I hunched down myself and took out the candle from my jacket pocket but also the black velvet bag I had once found under Eric's bed. Even though it was still afternoon, I lit the candle, and then I spread out the things on the ground. The feathers, the pentagram, and the crystals, but also the little bag with a curl from Eric that I had saved from the night he left us, the only thing from him that still existed. I arranged it like an altar in front of me and shut my eyes.

“Shut your eyes, baby,” said I to Wilder, and I knew he did what I said because he had done it before. We had our eyes closed just a few seconds, and then we both felt what we were waiting for; the presence.

I knew Wilder had also opened his eyes, and both of us looked in front of us. Between the trees we could see movement. We could see the black-haired man, tall with broad shoulders. Eric. He wore that long coat he had the night of the murder but looked like when he was in his prime. Slowly he walked between the trees while the crows flew around him like guards. I could hear Wilder breath out next to me while his small hand hugged my shoulder.

“Daddy…” he whispered. Eric must have heard what he said, though, because he gave him a small smile before he started to walk away again.

“I love you…” Eric said with his soft voice before he walked deeper into the woods and left us behind.

×

@kikibit @malenoradgn @a-differentbrandof-beans @forrealandjustsaying @useyourwandbro @turbotasticoo @keysandthesea @muchwita @hanamirandak @hamburger-sprite

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[bafterhours]

Enter The Chronoheart

SYNOPSIS: Au!Bill | Timing is everything. Just before his big break, Bill met Paz, and with her in his life, everything seemed to fall into place. The timing felt right, until the weight of fame and notoriety became too much for Paz to handle, even from the sidelines. Despite their busy careers and distance, they always seemed to find each other through it all. Just when they decided to rekindle their relationship, and the timing felt right again. Paz disappears without a trace.

The aftermath of her disappearance sends Bill’s path spiraling off course. Then, on the third anniversary of her disappearance, he found himself drawn to the mystic shop where she was last seen. Sending him on an unexpected journey through time to find her. -part one here

Epilogue

In only the glow of a laptop screen, click-clacking away on a Word document, Bill watched the timer on his laptop turn to midnight.

February 13, 2024. 

Three years to the day after his fated journey through time. 

That was it. He no longer had any foresight into the future.

While it was nice to have some pocket money made on silly bets, what he really enjoyed was finally hearing Paz’s thoughts and opinions on things she had missed. In the years she was gone, he always wondered; now he knew.

As he suspected, not every day was the same as he remembered over the last three years. It couldn’t have. They were living in a parallel plane. Still, in this new timeline, they were shifting pathways with new decisions. This time around, he chose differently with some things, gambling with other possibilities just for some variation. 

He won a lot of the time. A past opportunity that had slipped through his fingers even returned to him. Only this time, he wasn’t considered for Hutter, but now he was Count Orlok, the vampire of all vampires, in Nosferatu. 

Paz was so excited for him, but still she bound his books and journals of research to keep the dark energy from leaking out.

“You know,” she said, seeing him, or not, behind the decaying, garish prosthetics under his regal overcoat. “It’s gross.” She circled, scanning him from top to nasty, wretched toe. “But… In some weird way, I’m into it.” 

“You are,” he said, shocked, in his own voice outside the one he painstakingly curated for the character. “I’m rotting.”

Later, he’d learn, tons of people would share the same sentiment. Pennywise had some freaky fans, but he thought being a corpse would provide a different result. There was something for everyone, apparently, and it wasn’t his place to yuck someone’s yum. 

With that, he was thankful that these last three years weren’t full of grief and confusion, like they once had been for him. If anything, they were substantially happier. Much happier. In both his steady career and, most importantly, his personal life.

He was a father now. To a 22-month-old baby girl, Anaïs. 

He didn’t say it out loud then, but he remembered the day she was conceived. He just had a feeling. Paz woke a few weeks later with her own feeling, as well. It wasn’t morning sickness yet, but one quiet morning, she caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror that gave her pause. She just looked… different. There was a glow, a certain soft aura she hadn’t seen in years. 

The pregnancy test sat on the sink counter while she prepared for the day as normal. It took incredible restraint to finish out her morning routine without a peek, but she wanted to stave off possible disappointment until she couldn’t any longer.

Bill was home, too lazy to take a trip to the gym that morning. Instead, he opted to do sit-ups in the living room just to say he did something—anything. As the morning sunrays flooded in through the industrial windows, he rose and stretched his back when he heard a choked gasp and fast feet coming down the hall.

He laughed, overjoyed when Paz showed him the positive test, tickled that he was right. When she excitedly jumped into his arms, he caught her, holding her tight, and couldn’t help but feel humbled and happy with gratitude that they were having their second chance.

Anaïs was a beautiful baby girl with full lips, a whole head of dark hair, and big, inquisitive brown eyes. She looked just like her mother, and in an instant, she captured his whole heart just the same.

After traveling through time and all the hardship, his respect and love for Paz were immense. But seeing her become a mother was beyond description. There was a point early in their relationship when he could easily see their life unfold this way. Most people could feel overwhelmed by the thought, but he felt a calm deep in his soul. He knew he had picked the perfect person to have a family with. To finally experience fatherhood and give Paz something that, at one time, she believed she’d never have given him a crazy amount of pride. 

The arrival of their daughter also showed him that they were in charge of their destiny. She was the mortal link that tied them to this new version of the world they once knew.

As he squeezed his tired eyes shut and blinked, his thick platinum wedding band glinted off the screen light as he continued typing. His first wedding anniversary was soon approaching. 

Paz meant it when she said that she didn’t want to wait any longer. A baby and a wedding, it didn’t matter what came first. It just so happened that they did. 

Since returning, time just felt too precious to waste. It is often said that time is the only thing you can never get back. Having such an extraordinary opportunity to defy that, they made every second count.

Their wedding was held in the English countryside, at an estate that sat in the valley of lush green rolling hills. The stone exterior clued to its centuries-long establishment. It was practically a castle and was beyond old money.

While Paz had a whole team preparing her in the cottage at the edge of the property, Bill dressed into a classic black YSL suit at the manor. Of course, he was first at the full-blooming rose garden where the ceremony was taking place. The guests greeted him with endearing smiles as he walked down the aisle, with a sleeping Anaïs in his arms. She wore a little white dress to match her mother and hardly stirred when Uncle Gustaf, graciously, took her. 

He didn’t dare peep at his wristwatch as he stood in wait at the altar, but he knew Paz was running behind. His beating heart settled once the string quartet began to play, announcing her arrival. The guests rose at attention. Paz stood at the start of the aisle and couldn’t help but match his wide grin. 

She was jaw-dropping gorgeous, wearing a sleek, ivory cat-eye bodice gown. It featured a long train that followed behind her, accompanied by a dramatic cathedral veil to match.

The English rain threatened cocktail hour, but the heavy grey clouds passed them by in time for the reception. The skies were clear as they sat under twinkling stars in the conservatory. Where friends and family, jubilantly celebrated love and the flowing open bar. 

Even if she slept through the whole ceremony without a care, Anaïs made sure to be awake for the festivities. Clapping her little chubby hands, she stood in her father's lap, screeching excitedly as the disco lights swept across the room to the beat of the music. Franco with his connections in the music world hired two well known DJs to play for the night. 

Carrying a bottle of champagne and her heels in one hand, she clung to Bill’s arm as they hastily cleared across the courtyard, snickering. They snuck out of their own party. It wasn’t like anyone would notice anyway. It was early in the morning, and the party could still be heard going strong long behind them. 

Once in the clear, their pace slowed. He took her hand then, leading the way as the other held a fat celebratory cigar. 

“So… what’s it like being a married man again?” Paz asked.

Bill looked down at her with a playful smirk. “Second time’s the charm,” he said smugly.

“Pfft,” she rolled her eyes.

“Was it everything you wanted?” he asked, as they cut through the side of the manor, shrouded in darkness. 

“And more.” Paz smiled, hugging his arm. “It was perfect. I’m so lucky.”

“You kinda seemed nervous about the fire dancer earlier,” he laughed. 

“I had to sit and smile while he threatened to set everything on fire! Why would Simon even think of that as a wedding gift?”

“Ah, I don’t know. He’s just like that. It was… kinda cool,” he said, wryly. “How would it have looked for you and Layne?”

“Mm. He was Irish Catholic. So most likely we would have had it at a chapel. Better optics with a religious angle than just getting married at the courthouse, you know.” 

“Shit… your mom would have loved him,” he chuckled.

“She loves you,” she said, undoubtedly. “If she weren’t on grandma duty, she’d still be forcing you to dance even more than she had,” she laughed.

“That lady can dance,” he sighed loudly, exaggerating exhaustion.

He could see their chariot waiting to take them to the cottage. Really, it was just a black Land Rover Defender that came with the property. Taking his opportunity, while still under the cover of darkness, he pressed her against the stone wall. Cradling her head as he kissed her passionately. A hand dropped between them, sneaking underneath the short skirt of her reception dress, and pulled her panties to the side. The cool metal of his wedding band pressed against her heat, making her breath hitch. Fingers teasingly circled her entrance, before pushing in to give her a taste of what it was to be a married woman, before giving her the full experience at the cottage. 

His fingers stilled over the keyboard when he heard a faint cry from the other room. Then he heard the bed creak as Paz woke before he could get up to check on their daughter. He was in the sitting area of the suite they had been living in for a few weeks now. 

Paz softly shushed her daughter and soothingly rubbed her tummy, settling her back to sleep as she lay in the pack-n-play. 

“What are you doing?”

Bill slightly startled, having been deep in thought when she suddenly appeared.

“Shit…” he whispered. “Is the baby okay?”

Paz cracked a smirk. “She's fine. It’s late.” 

He was expected at the ass crack of five on a new location set. The clock was nearing 1am.

“Yeah, one second,” he said, resuming. 

“Okay…?” 

“Wait, baby,” he said just before she left him. “Do you remember the name of the youngest kid in that hippy troupe we met at the creek?” 

“Cosmo?” 

“No, the youngest that they made hold on to their weed.” 

“Oh, Moses.”

“Yes! Moses,” he said, typing away again. 

He was drafting an outline for a script about the vagabond children they had met. Creating a whole story around them and expanding on who they might have been. Something about being with them touched him. He led a privileged life, and while being on the road sounded fun in theory, he couldn’t last in the way those kids had to. 

“I’ll be right there,” he said, looking away from his laptop, only for her to join him on the couch and rest her head on his shoulder.

“It was Arlo, Juniper, Sol, Moses, Cosmo,” she yawned and pointed at his screen. “It’s Sol, like the sun, not Saul.”

“Ah, shit, I’ve been writing your dad’s name as a placeholder,” he chuckled, rubbing his tired eyes. 

“I thought you were going to start writing this after the shoot?”

“I got… inspired.” 

“You’ve been thinking about today?” she asked, looking up at him. 

The whole day prior, he was unusually quiet. Even though he tried not to show it, he reflected on the anniversary of his first journey through time. Remembering how desperate and lost he had been, and how far he had come from that. How good things had been since made him question if what had happened had even happened at all.

He exhaled. “Technically, I’ve been thinking about the past.”

She rolled her eyes, reached for his laptop, and shut it. Darkness engulfed them. Pushing it off his lap, she placed herself there, straddling him. Her tongue found its way into his mouth. When she harshly ground her hips down, he slapped her ass hard, coaxing her to continue a while more before he stood with her around his waist. Strong arms settled her down on the couch, and he roughly tugged her tiny sleep shorts off. When he plunged into her, a sharp gasp left her lips at the abrupt intrusion, only to be soothed by the even rocking of his hips. 

“Oh, fuck! Harder.”

He pistoned into her like she begged for, and she took it gleefully. When suddenly, that same knowing feeling he had when they conceived their first child overtook him. It radiated from deep in his chest.

“Look at me,” he said, holding her chin, slowing his thrusts. “I want to remember this.” 

Her eyes fluttered open, appreciating his long, deep, purposeful thrusts, leaving her jaw slack and speechless. Soon her back arched off the cushion, their breaths shallow as he made love to her. So tender. So reverent. She pulled him closer, unable to get enough.

She could feel him tense. On the edge, his hands balled into fists on either side of her head. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, taking him even deeper. The connection they shared was like nothing else. Otherworldly. It transcended time. She knew and felt exactly what he did. She was so sure. But most importantly, she was willing.

…

2029 | Five years later

Backstage at the first Academy Awards Ceremony, now hosted at the Peacock Theater in Los Angeles, Bill was having a light chitchat with his co-star, Semara Weaving. Whom he worked with on the remake of Claudetta, just a year and a half before. 

This time, he landed a larger role, as the Duke, the love interest of the Countess. It was due to premiere in two months, and tonight they were introducing the star of the original, Marcia Patton, for an honorary lifetime achievement award. 

The icon's appearance became the talk of the night. It would be a rare appearance for her. Since the mid 2000s, she had lived a quiet life in Switzerland and had only agreed to a few sporadic cameos that required ultra closed sets. Quite honestly, as she aged, she decided to bow out with a better lasting impression for the public.

Which was quite ridiculous. She still looked incredible, but that’s just how she was. A part of her knew she aged more gracefully than many of her counterparts. That’s why the stage crew rushed around, stressed because she chose to be fashionably late instead of standing in the wings for her cue.

A stagehand, with a hand pressed against her headset, urgently waved for Bill and Samara to follow them. The orchestra began to play softly and then gradually increased its tempo.

“Three. Two. And…” the stagehand pointed a finger to the rafters before charging it forward. “Go!” 

Across town, Paz was hosting a watch party with friends and family at a bungalow suite at the Chateau Marmont. Everyone gathered around the TV, clapping and laughing once he appeared, looking rather dapper in a Tom Ford suit that made him look ever broader than he was. 

Paz gasped. “Look, it's daddy!”

Their two daughters sat in her lap, Anaïs and her sister, Solveig, who was two and a half. Both were amazed with wide eyes. They looked so much alike, though Solveig inherited her father's mossy green eyes, which stood out against a rim of dark lashes and her olive complexion.

They were much too young to watch anything their father had starred in, so seeing him on TV was fascinating. Anaïs, especially, found it both funny and quite perplexing. How’d he get in there?

After perfectly executing a very flattering introduction, the camera panned away from them and toward the main screen, where the highlight reel of Marcia’s career began to play. As the lights dimmed, they were ushered off stage. Bill remained backstage, watching as some surviving peers shared a few words about Marcia. One, to his surprise, was Harper Gaines. Still as cool as ever, wearing haute couture Givenchy. 

“This could have been me tonight, if Marcia hadn’t beaten me for the iconic Claudetta,” she playfully quipped. “I remember being upset, and yet I couldn’t help but feel elated and honored that I was even a contender. Most importantly, it lit a fire in me to keep going. Hone my craft. It helped keep my focus away from dating skinny British rockstars… I dated a gamut of lousy home-bred rockstars, instead. Thanks, babe! You’re a legend.”

A chorus of laughter from the audience came with adoring applause for her.

And finally, the woman of the hour walked across the stage. Even at 89, Marcia floated across the stage with pageantry grace. She wore a silver dress that looked luminous under the limelight. Still true to herself, she had voluminous hair. Only now it was a snow-white, sleek, styled bob. Bill looked out toward the stage, drawn to her magnetism as the rest. God, did she look even tinier than he remembered as she stepped up to the mic. 

“I am honored and grateful to the town that made me,” she began after thanking everyone. Her aged voice still carried such a cute lilt. “Frankly, I wasn’t born for anything else. I couldn’t be anything else—nor did I want to,” she smirked. “I was meant to be on the silver screen, to be seen, to be heard, to connect through magnificent storytelling, but most importantly, to make magic. I am truly the luckiest girl in the world! And it’s been so very lovely. Thank you. Thank you.” 

With a hand to her heart, she bowed her head humbly. Her eyes then swept across the room, soaking in the audience standing in fervent ovation, and she blew a departing ruby kiss. 

The comedian emcee dutifully approached, offering an arm for her to take, and escorted her off stage when it cut to commercial break.

“Aww, I loved that!” Paz said, with a smile.

“She still looks-looks good, too,” Juliana added, before taking a sip of champagne.

“Who is she, mami?” Anaïs asked, clambering off her lap.

“A really, really good actress from back in the day,” Paz said in time before she ran to play with other children there. Solveig whined and slipped off her lap like dead weight, to clumsily follow suit. “It’s almost time for bed,” she called out to them, but she lightly shrugged, bringing a cocktail glass to her lips after it fell on deaf ears.

Backstage, Bill straightened up, hands clasped in front of him, as Marcia slowly continued down the wing, politely greeting people who lined the wall as if she were a royal. In fact, he even saw a curtsey or two. While waiting for his turn, he took a glance to his right and did a double-take. William Junior stood there, holding fur-lined white leather Chanel mules for his mother to change her heels. He looked remarkably like his father. Fuck, he resembled Bill a bit, too, in a weird way. But no, that was William Sigrid's son; he inherited his distinct bulbous nose. 

Samara also waited with him and was quick to greet Marcia as she approached. They both shot compliments back and forth, though Samara remained gracious and humbled in her presence.

When it was his turn, Bill confidently stepped up to Marcia instead of timidly standing in wait like the rest and introduced himself to her. Finally, meeting her as Bill, his real self, something he tried his hardest to make her see. When her head tilted all the way back to meet his eyes, her sparkling, glass blue eyes glistened with a hint of familiarity, which surprised him. It made his breath catch in his throat unexpectedly.

“Oh, my!” she giggled, bashfully. “You look a lot like my late husband.” 

“Ah, sorry,” he said, pressing his lips together. Being compared to Willian, with what he knew, put a salty taste in his mouth. It wasn’t a compliment in the way people thought it was.

“No need to be sorry, dear. He was handsome. Can you believe he looked even better dead?”

“Mother.” William Junior shook his head and strained an embarrassed smile toward Bill.

He laughed. She still had her interesting dark humor. “Your speech was great. It’s such a pleasure to meet you. My wife and I are looking forward to reading your memoir. We’ve preordered it.” 

“Oh, you’re too sweet! Too sweet. Thank you. It’s got it all, honey. Maybe… I should say sorry, too, for that,” she winked. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she reached out to give a parting shake. 

Her hand was so tiny in his, and they both marveled at the fact until she tilted her head to the side.

That look in her eyes returned, making him involuntarily hold his breath. Caught again. It was the same look she gave him when he officially broke things off with her. He tried to make it very clear that he wasn’t who she thought he was, and something finally clicked for her to see the truth in that. He was an imposter, a stranger, but it was too unbelievable to accept. Even terrifying.

“It’s nice to see you again, Billy,” she said, with a soft knowing smile. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, honey?” 

His heart skipped. For a moment, he could see the young woman he met all those years ago. Even her eyes sparkled with youth. “Yeah-yeah. It has Marsh. A very long time.”

“Are you still with her?”

“Paz?”

She nodded.

“Of course. Absolutely. We’re married with two beautiful daughters. They’re my everything. My magic, you could say.” He smiled.

“Ah, when you boil it all down, that’s really what it’s all about, honey,” she said, patting his hand as she still held it. “You look complete. I’m grateful you found your way back.”

Even taken aback, he began to thank her for the sentiment, until she blinked. As if coming back to herself after a spell, she cleared her throat. She gently dropped his hand and gave him a polite smile. One you’d offer a complete stranger.

“I’m looking forward to seeing the movie. You were a great choice for the Duke, in my opinion,” she winked. “Have a great night, dear.”

“Thank you. And-and you, too.” 

“Honey,” she motioned toward her son. “My slippers, please.” 

Bill was finally able to take a real breath once she left on her son's arm.

“Have you two met before?” Samara asked, after witnessing their interaction. “It was quite sweet… like two old friends meeting again.”

“Ah, a long time ago,” he shrugged. “Do you want to get a drink?” he asked, pointing toward the lounge bar. 

“You’ve read my mind!”

…

Under blinding lights on a blue carpet lined with white petal flower bouquets, Bill and Paz posed together. With a possessive hand on her waist, she turned, showing off the backless dress she wore, and he proudly tilted his chin up as he draped a hand over her rear like a prize by his side.

Shortly after the awards, they attended the world premiere of Claudetta together. The early reviews received it rather well, so it was an exciting affair. 

Just before the third act, two reserved seats now sat vacant.

“Which ones did you do?” he asked, as they slowly perused a row of original costumes from the film. 

They were on loan for the premiere, and now that most people were glued to their seats in the TCL Chinese theater, Paz could finally have a moment with them. The garments were all pristine, lying as they should, and the dyed fabrics were still vibrant. She was shocked that there were no guards around to protect them. They were only on platforms and bodices, behind a measly red velvet rope.

“I helped with the monsignor's vestments,” she pointed at the purple garment. “This indigo gown Marcia wore, though, still looks so damn good. Wow,” she smiled proudly. “I pricked my fingers so many times…” Her voice faded, and she quickly looked around them, making sure the coast was clear. 

Employees were buzzing around, but she went for it. She unclasped a rope and passed it to Bill, who gave her an odd look. 

“Paz?”

“Shh. I just want to check for something.” 

She crouched as best she could in her Mirror Palais dress and flipped the hem of the blue skirt, eyes traveling up a side seam. Just a few inches up the lining, was a small cluster of rust-colored dots. Embarrassment crept up, recalling how clumsy and incompetent she felt for staining the gown.

“It’s mine,” she gasped. “It’s the actual one I made!” 

“Holy shit,” he said, raising his brows.

“Excuse me? Can I help you?” a theater employee asked, fastly approaching. 

“She dropped an earring,” he thought quickly. 

“I’ve found it,” Paz straightened, touching her ear, before sheepishly stepping out of the off-limits area. “Sorry.”

…

A few weeks later, they were back home in Sweden. It was a nice, sprawling house in the archipelago, where they could see the water from the highest point of their backyard. 

They moved in four years ago, even with some construction still active on site. It was kind of a crazy operation, but Bill managed to get the contractors to finish quickly. It helped using Paz as an excuse to tug on their heartstrings, because even if she was away on a work trip in Italy, she was nearing her last trimester with Solveig then. It just really needed to be done before she returned, and they understood.

Instead of stressing, Paz began to feel nostalgic about her first proper home in LA. In the past, she tried looking it up on Zillow, but it had never been listed. While in the car on the way to a meeting, to her surprise, it showed up in a new search.

Bill was checking the progress of the solarium when he felt the urge to pull his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, it buzzed in his hand. Opening Paz’s messages, he scrolled through the screenshots of a home's interior with no context, when a FaceTime call interrupted him. 

“What-what am I looking at?” he asked, looking at her on his screen when he answered. “Is that your old place?” 

“Yes! The flippers fucking ruined it! Everything’s gray?!”

His shoulders dropped. For a moment, he stressed that she was reconsidering the choices they made for their home with generic bullshit.

What they had was the perfect home. Even with things going so well for them, it also felt so surreal. Almost as if it could all be gone again in the blink of an eye. Here, on their plot away from everything, they finally felt stable. Most importantly, they felt established in this realm. 

At the edge of the property, they were foraging for mushrooms and looking out for anything else of use with their daughters. 

“This is really good for tummy aches,” Paz explained, crouched down and plucking leaves of wild spearmint. “Smell it, it’s nice.”

Anaïs put her nose into her mother's palm and agreed with a pleased smile. 

“Pick a few more for me,” she encouraged. “We only take a little bit; you should always leave some behind so it can keep growing.”

Bill was a few feet away with Solveig, carefully sitting her up on a tree branch. He held her with one hand while he took pictures of her with a film camera. She giggled, excitedly, donning his beanie, when suddenly her face fell. When her little bottom lip quivered, he brought her down. Though secure in his hold, her little arms clutched his neck and wailed. It was time for a nap. They returned home with a nice little haul, though.

After the girls went down for a nap, they picked up their phones from the kitchen bar. They had been left behind. After living in the 60s, one thing they appreciated was the sense of freedom that being disconnected felt. The obligational weight of always being available was gone in a way they didn’t have in the future. So they made it a point to unplug when it felt appropriate.

Paz took a seat next to him in the solarium, tossing her legs in his lap. Both silently scrolled their phones. Paz was texting her sister when Bill straightened up and leaned forward. His brows were knitted together as he rubbed his lips with his hand. 

“Shit,” he said, under his breath. 

“What?” Paz asked softly before bringing the straw to her homebrewed lavender vanilla latte to her lips. 

“It’s Marcia. She-she passed away like… almost two hours ago.” 

She choked on her drink, coughing until her eyes watered.

“Christ, baby,” Bill muttered, patting her back.

She managed to settle a bit. “What!?”

He showed her the Instagram post from Variety of a black and white image of young Marcia with the dates 1940 to 2029 written below. She didn’t make it to her 90th Christmas Eve birthday.

“For real?” Paz asked, clearing her throat.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, chewing his lip. “Damn…” 

“Are you good?” Paz worried. She couldn’t really read him.

“I mean, it’s sad, baby. It is. It’s just… when I met her, again, there was a second where I think she knew exactly who I was. She remembered me.” 

“Really?” 

He nodded.

“Did she seem ill?” She wondered out loud.

“No. No, she seemed totally fine to me—besides that moment. Why?” 

“Hmm, well, sometimes when people are close to death, they can gain spiritual insight. Usually, they see familial spirits to help guide them to the other side. But it can manifest in other ways.”

“Maybe…” he said skeptically, twisting his lip. “The look in her eyes, it was the same as when I broke things off with her for good. She knew I wasn’t who I said I was, but she-she, I guess, brushed it off.” 

Paz’s brows rose. “Interesting.”

“Yeah!” 

“You felt caught?” 

“For a moment, yes,” he chuckled. “I thought she would scream in fucking horror. But, uh, yeah, damn...”

“Hm. Let her transition be easy,” she said, holding out her drink to tap his water bottle.

Maybe it was petty not to voice it, but she was glad that Marcia recognized him. She could tell it always bothered him that he never could be authentic with her. It was real closure.

…

vegasgranny: Learning all this has been very disappointing. My father worked in Hollywood. I was a little girl then, but I remember meeting WS at a lavish pool party held by The Ramseys. I found him quite nice, if not a little shy. He was there with another woman. Gorgeous lady. They shared their fruit tray with my sister and me. 

b0ddie0ddie0ddie: @vegasgranny Sigrid was a habitual cheater. It’s not brand new info. But him being at a Ramsey party is sus. They’re basically old Hollywood Epstein class types. The fact that your father brought you to their parties is fucking disgusting.

Since Marcia’s passing, her memoir had flown off the shelves, and they were grateful that they had preordered it. She wrote candidly and certainly laid it all out, no holds barred. Dropping the polite, meek, sweetheart façade she presented to the public. The title was even a little tongue-in-cheek, mocking how the public saw her.

America’s Sweet Tart – A Memoir 

In it, she revealed several bombshells, which set the twittersphere and the like ablaze with hot takes and discussion. She spoke of her body image issues that stemmed from her pageant days. The grueling days on set when there were fewer regulations. The terrible sexism she experienced and the awful ‘gentlemen's club’ that existed at the studio. 

One that hit the news cycle heavily was the truth of William Sigrid's death. The public had been made to believe that his overdose was accidental. Death by misadventure. It was a shock for the public to learn that it was a cover-up and that it was very much intentional.

Just as you felt sorry for him, she spoke of his misdeeds. How terrible he was to her. Even dropping the fact that he was a bad lover.

He hated everything because he couldn’t stand himself. So he lashed out against anyone who couldn’t fight him. As harshly as it’s put, I believe he simply was incompatible with life. Marcia wrote. 

He had a darkness that he couldn’t run from, and it probably even followed him to the afterlife. I pray he never reincarnates—if you believe in that kind of thing.

The only good thing he’d ever done in his life was giving me my beautiful, good-hearted son. I know at this point, you’re wondering why I assigned him as a Junior. Well, my only explanation was that it was just the times then, and I was still under the influence of the concoction given to me at my twilight birth.

Learning I was pregnant with Junior just a month after William’s death almost made me mad enough to be commited. From the pain, confusion, and shock, I can not remember much from that time, unfortunately. 

Later, through extensive therapy, I discovered my trauma had an acronym. CPTSD. Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which can cause memory loss. It’s unfortunate. 

It should have been a happier time for me, yet William also ruined that in his final selfish act.

I hate much of what he has done. From the very moment he courted me, he lied to me. He hurt me, cheated, and violated me. He wasn’t the man I had fallen in love with, even to the very end and thereafter. 

Still, I reminisce on the good times. I can not help myself. That man was charming. It's easy to make him the villain, but if I believed that my whole life, then he would have won. It’s very complicated to say the least. But you don’t have to make sense of it—I do.

I will say this one last thing about William Sigrid: at times, he was my champion. He believed in me when I felt I had no voice. Hollywood was such a different beast when I began. Having him in my corner helped tremendously, of course, but he also encouraged me to stand up for myself. Even when I was scared out of my wits, he gave me confidence.

It was so very rare when he was genuinely kind, but he really shone in those moments. I wish there were more. I think a good man was itching to emerge from him, but he suppressed it with such stubborn force. I’m sure I am only one of the very few who were lucky enough to have a glimpse of that man. A glimpse of what could have been.

They put their copies down on their respective nightstands for the night after that. They were quiet compared to the other nights when they would discuss the book or just chat about the past in general. A lot of what she described, they already knew, but it didn’t mean that their hearts felt any less heavy.

Paz sighed, resting her head on his chest, and closed her eyes, desperately seeking sleep. Minutes passed before Bill spoke. He had been lying there, twisting locks of her hair around his finger and staring at the ceiling. 

“Do you think… Do you think she’s talking about me near the end?” Bill asked.

“I was literally just wondering that… Do you believe he was ever nice to her after marrying her?”

He scratched his shoulder and shook his head. “He was always an asshole. Even if he was nice to her when they were dating, it was an act. He didn’t even fuckin’ know he asked her out!” 

“Ugh, I know!” she sneered, disgusted all over again.

“I think…”

“She is talking about you,” Paz said, brushing her fingers over his arm. “It sounds like you. I know exactly what she’s talking about.” She kissed his chest.

“Mm. She makes me sound good, at least,” he chuckled, sheepishly. 

“You made a mark. I would hope so, because William wasn’t eating her out the way you were. Or at all, actually.”

He blew raspberries. “Fuck off!” 

Paz laughed. She had to, or else, she’d just get jealous all over again. “I’m glad she said something. It would really have been for nothing, then.”

…

2031

It takes a long time to make a movie. That’s the part people don’t mention often. For Paz, it was the first project she helped build from the ground up. From a stolen manuscript to a book, to a script, to a screen, and everything in between. Once Focus Features came on board, pre-production began. Then everything had to align. The timing had to be perfect. 

Which was now. Devotion was in production, under the working title Tail Spin, with Bill starring as Abel. His brother-in-law, Franco, set to direct. It would be their first official collab. One, they were excited to embark together. Old promises were now a reality.

Devon Rhys, the author, was on set visiting and had stopped by Bill’s trailer to speak to him privately. He had a few questions for her, just to dig further into the character he’d already painstakingly put research into.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” Devon said, agreeing with a point he made. “But he hides it well. This is essentially his second chance. The cult his father headed failed, and he resents that. He’s tried to assimilate after being freed from the cult by the authorities, but he’s never quite deprogrammed.”

“He’s a bit arrogant in his way of thinking, I noticed,” he chuckled. “I mean, he thinks he’s Christ."

“It’s egomaniacal, definitely,” she mused. “But he joined the support group in earnest. There’s something in him that knows how he thinks isn’t correct. It’s warped. I don’t know if I mentioned this in our emails, but I’m sober. For thirteen years now.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that. That’s something to be proud of.” 

“Sometimes,” she smirked. “But thank you. It was my going to AA that inspired this. The steps are heavily ingrained in religion. For me, it did what it needed to do, but” she grimaced.

“Not your thing?”

“Nooo,” she snickered. “Anyway, being at those meetings, there are very vulnerable people there. And since this particular group in the book is all survivors of religious abuse, well, recovery is very tricky.”

“Right,” Bill nodded. “He just found an opportunity there, it seems. But he makes people do a lot of things that he doesn’t even like for himself. I know it's a control thing—” 

“Ah, yeah. Another big thing with cults is sex.” 

“Mhmm,” he raised his brows.

“But he doesn’t like it, you’re right. To become the better version of what his preacher father was then, he had to-to… well, for lack of a better phrase, strip them down to nothing.” 

“He likes humiliating them, too, but he contradicts himself a lot. He wants to be better than his overzealous father, but—”

“He's worse.” 

“Much worse,” he chuckled. “Fun to play though.” 

“It’s been fun to watch!” Devon shyly laughed, embarrassed that she said that out loud. “You’re terrific as Abel. Honestly, it’s a bit strange to speak to my character outside the pages like this.”

“Even without the black hair?” He said, mussing his hair, with a smirk. His hair was longer than usual for him, past his ears, and styled boyishly.

“I like what they chose. Less emo, more unsuspecting.” 

“Yeah. As long as it’s not the high and tight, he was forced to have his whole life.”

There was a knock at the door, calling Bill back on set. “Ah, I still have questions,” he said, standing up. “Has my wife invited you for dinner with us?” 

“She did,” Devon smiled, following him. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Okay, great-great.”

Devon Rhys was excited to be on set during the support group sessions. At a point where the group dynamics were beginning to skew. Abel, up to this point, was just a body in a chair. Unbeknownst to the others, he was observing them and silently calculating. Now he was opening up, selling them a melodramatic tale of his life, making sure to toss in points of commonality with his victims. They were swayed and awed by him by the very end. Especially the character Mary, portrayed by Inde Navarrette, who would later become his number one devotee.

“Hell yeah, okay, he’s killin’ that,” Franco murmured, watching from his monitor. “Can we do it one more time, Bill?” he asked, speaking into a mic.

He nodded as the crew came in to reset the scene around him. “You just like looking at me.” He winked and then retreated into himself. Bringing forth Abel, crossing his arms and changing posture in an orange school chair, he sat waiting for action. 

Just outside the old church gym in the hallway, Paz and Loch watched the monitors as the scene commenced. Even though they were inside, it was nearly as cold as it was outside. The building owners failed to mention that the HVAC system wasn’t up to par. Even so, Paz shrugged off her puffer coat, feeling uncomfortably warm, then sat back in her equally uncomfortable chair. 

On a monitor, the camera slightly zoomed in, and there was a faint, dubious tick from the corner of Bill’s mouth. Pleased that he had captured the room, hook, line, and sinker. 

“There it is,” Paz stated proudly. 

“I think he got me, too. I’m about to drop trou.” Loch said.

“Please, don’t.” 

“Hold it. Hold it. And… CUT!” They could hear Franco shout.

Loch lightly laughed. “Want to rewatch that?”

“Yeah,” she said, shifting in her seat once again. 

“We can find you one that’s more comfortable,” he said. “One that’s lower to the ground, maybe?” 

“If it’s too low, I won’t be able to get up.”

“Then be like that, I’m trying to help you.” 

Her jaw dropped. “David!” 

“I take it back. I take it back.”

“Yeah, you better.”

A PA passed Bill’s coat to him as he watched the playback with Franco.

“The zoom is very Kubrick,” he said, crossing his arms, trying to warm himself up.

“In post if we creep it in, I think it’ll be dope,” he said, fist bumping him. 

“Uh, what was it in the last take that you liked?” Bill asked curiously. 

“Oh, it was just as good as the second,” Franco smirked. “I needed some of the others' reactions to you to tighten up.” 

He excused himself then and made his way to Paz in video village. He wanted to check on her. He only saw her in the very early morning and had been busy all day since.

On the way there, he ran into Franco’s kids, Serafina and Cisco, munching on fries from Crafty. Today, Lasso Burger catered. Before he traveled to 1966, he’d never even heard of it; it didn’t even exist in his old life either. Now they are all over the country and rival McDonald's.

“Tio Bill!” Sarafina and Cisco exclaimed when he approached them.

“Hey, I didn’t know you guys were here,” he smiled, accepting their hugs as they asked where their cousins were.

When he spotted Paz, she was away from her post, chatting with a member of the wardrobe team, who was showing her pictures from her phone. At times, he could find her with the wardrobe department, just hanging out. If they let her help, she would. He slowed his pace a little, giving the girl the time she needed before stepping away.

Feeling his presence, Paz didn’t need to look up to know who had walked up behind her. She pressed her back against him and melted, while his hand snaked from her waist to her round, pregnant belly.

“I was about to ask why you weren’t wearing your coat,” he chuckled, feeling warmth radiate from her. 

“I had a hot flash,” she rolled her eyes, turning around to hug him, and smashing her cheek against his chest. 

This baby came as a surprise to both of them. They were so busy with their careers and wrangling the two they had, they began to believe that they were done. They had even gotten to a place where they were okay with that. The universe thought differently, though. 

“Besides that… you feeling okay, though?” He asked, giving her a quick kiss. 

She had just reached her sixth month of pregnancy, but unlike the others, this third baby had been more of a doozy.

She nodded. “I’m okay, baby. We’re okay. He’s been moving a lot. I think it’s the orange juice I drank,” she laughed.

…

There wasn’t a moment that Bill didn’t know where Paz was. Though he knew he’d never lose her again, he still carried a bit of that fear. Of course, she always let him know where she’d be, sensing that anxiety. It was very understandable. However, there was also Find My Friends available to keep him in the know, too. Still, that sometimes didn’t feel enough. 

When he entered his trailer, he locked the door behind him and sighed loudly. Turning on a brown noise machine, he lazily took a seat on the couch. Lacing his fingers over his abdomen, he dropped his head back, and his eyes fluttered closed. He sat still as a statue, taking deep, even breaths.

Paz was across town tonight. Having a dinner meeting with a textile distributor and her assistant, April. A different April, but the fact that she found someone as suitable and competent as her old friend and collaborator felt like a blessing. And maybe her name helped her application stand out, too; there wasn’t a doubt about that.

Apart from producing, she also ran a children’s clothing line. It started humbly, making outfits for her niece Serafina. Then, after having Anaïs, she really got into it more. Sewing away during bouts of intense nesting.

Eventually, encouraged by compliments on the vintage baby clothes she made in modern color palettes, she took the jump into the retail fashion sphere. She named it Moon Dream Baby, and the tiny, precious clothes sold remarkably well. 

Last year, she launched a 90s line, and that was a big hit. So now she was preparing for a second launch. It would also feature a few adult-sized clothing options, after nostalgic millennial parents expressed wanting to match outfits with their children. 

“That colorful teddy pattern as little overalls would be so cute,” said the textile rep, Brittany, taking a sip of her white wine while Paz silently passed swatch samples back and forth with April.

“Do you have any more celestial patterns?” Paz asked. No matter the line, there was always a moon motif.

“Yes! But not with me, I have the mock-ups on my iPad.” 

Paz returned to her meal and chewed slowly. She could really scarf the whole plate down, and it was taking so much restraint not to.

“I looked through our inventory and chose the few that didn’t give Spirit Halloween witch,” she said, flicking through the file.

A strange feeling settled upon Paz then. Not because what the rep said was slightly derogatory, though. They didn’t know what she knew. And the table certainly didn’t know that a spy was watching and listening in on them right now. 

Brittany smiled, turning the iPad towards her, but Paz turned her head, almost disinterested. Instead, she stared suspiciously toward empty seating nearby. Her expression faltered nervously, seeing her clients lips pressed with annoyance.

“Uhm, if I can be excused for a moment,” Paz said, with a strained smile. “April, could you?”

“I got it.”

Paz grabbed her handbag and smoothed her long, flowy skirt down after shimmying her pregnant belly out of the booth. Going the opposite direction, she started toward the bathroom. 

Bending down at the waist, she checked if the stalls were empty, and when she saw a patron stare back at her wide-eyed and awkward through the door crack, she scurried into an empty stall. 

Once the toilet flushed, and the click of kitten heels disappeared behind the sound of the shutting door, she peeked out of her stall. The coast was clear. At the sink, she dug into her handbag for lip gloss as if that was the whole purpose of her trip. When she looked up to apply it in the mirror before her, the reflection revealed Bill standing right behind her, as she suspected.

“Girls only,” she snarkily said.

Over the years, they had played around with remote viewing. Especially him once he got it down. The more they did it, the clearer things would be. 

Together, they discovered that they could actually see themselves and each other's presence in reflective surfaces rather than only feel it. That made it more fun. As they continued, voices became clearer, but there was a slight caveat: the viewer couldn’t project a sound. Only a few times could he actually project a word or two, but that took some energy and focus that could forcibly rip him out if he wasn’t.

“What is it?” She asked. 

He just shrugged. She watched his lips move, trying to read them, when a very lagged, “Bored,” came through. 

“Bored? Really,” she said, whipping gloss from the edge of her bottom lip. 

He shrugged again. 

“I told you where I’d be? Maybe check on the kids with the nanny?” 

He silently laughed behind her, and then tilted his head as if to say, should I?

“They’re okay,” she smiled. “I’ll be home soon.” 

“Late,” he managed to project, but she had to read his lips for the rest. “Night shoots,” he mouthed, reminding her.

“I know… You can text me this, you know.” 

He smirked, shaking his head. She focused on his moving lips again. 

“Running behind?” 

He nodded.

She rolled her eyes, annoyed. That was just going to make more work for her in the morning. Between this film and her clothing line she was trying to square everything out before her due date.

“Why?”

He mimed, crossing his arms and shivering, before pointing at his ass. He was filming nude scenes and had been freezing his ass off. Paz laughed out loud as he performed, when the door swung open, startling her.

An elderly woman gave her a strange, worried look, but proceeded to a stall. She walked straight through Bill, unknowingly. He frowned and shoo’d her away, before sticking his tongue out at Paz.

She blew him a kiss in the mirror, and when she reached the door, she felt his energy dissipate behind her. 

Privately, Paz still practiced. Though her time with her great-grandmother Aracely was brief, she finally found direction with her craft. When she started, she was a bit directionless. She dabbled with this and that, but didn’t feel any real connection with anything she practiced. When she met Zedna, secretly she was excited to have someone show her the way, only to discover that she wasn’t really interested in her take either. Aracely showed the true path for her. A real focus. One that had been waiting for her. Curanderismo, holistic healing. 

She navigated it her way, though. She had a trick or two up her sleeve when Western medicine just didn’t cut it. She gave suggestions to friends and family on occasion. Though reluctant, yet still out of options, they’d try and report back, thanking her for the tip. 

That’s what it was all about for her now. Just connecting with what Mother Earth had provided to heal. 

Bill remained supportive as she delved into her craft. Meanwhile, he dove into a lot of quantum theory literature and the like. It was his way of coping with what happened. The more he did, the more he began to realize that science and spirituality had more in common than he thought. They were all just different paths to the same unknown source. 

…

It was the middle of fall in Sweden, and the family was back home with the newest addition to their coven—a baby boy, Thiago. He was five months old and a spitting image of his father.

Bill was up in the early morning, tending to him, so that Paz could have a whole nights break. He rocked him in his arms and leisurely paced the living room, holding a bottle to his lips. Despite the baby waking every two hours, it was a quiet night. He stared out to the clear, blackberry sky from the floor-to-ceiling windows admiring it for a moment, until his son spat out his bottle.

With a cloth over his bare shoulder, he gently patted his son’s back to burp him when he heard a deep rumble. Sleep-deprived, he gave his son a surprised look until he realized it hadn’t come from him. The rumble sounded again, and this time it lightly shook the house.

He turned his head toward the skies and saw a storm form from nothing. His eyes widened, reminded of the same scene he had witnessed from Paz’s old house in California. Before him, dark clouds billowed and bubbled from a point in the sky, like a punctured tire. When lightning branched and pulsed like veins within them, he saw it. A stormy anatomical heart hung in the sky. He rubbed his tired eyes, wishing it away, hoping he was just seeing things, but the scene only morphed into a full-fledged storm.

When Thiago finally burped loudly, his focus returned to him, ignoring what he had seen. He held him much closer, grounding himself in his innocent energy. In his gut, though, he didn’t like what he saw at all. 

Lightning flashed as he laid Thiago down in the bassinet, close to Paz’s side of the bed. Instead of slipping in next to her, he silently stepped down the hall to check on their daughters. They had their own rooms, but when they insisted on sharing one day, it was too sweet to deny their request.

Peeking in, his heart sank when he noticed that Solveig’s bed was empty. When his eyes quickly swept over to the bed on the other side, he found her sleeping next to Anaïs. Along with toys, they were obviously playing with instead of going straight to bed like they were supposed to. A soft smile broke his worried expression then, seeing them safe and sound.

Rain pitter-pattered against the house until the early morning light. Bill hardly caught a wink of sleep after what he saw manifest in the skies. Also, because Thiago woke again, needing a change. 

Paz stretched against him, humming as she stirred awake. Her hand drifted down his bare torso, while she lazily planted a kiss on his shoulder. He relaxed, waiting for her hand to disappear into his dark gray sweats. Instead, her fingers annoyingly tickled the hair on his lower belly as she paused. Once she registered the sound of rain, she felt the odd energy in the atmosphere. She had a sinking feeling and raised her head to look at him.

“It’s raining?” she asked, looking perturbed. She’d checked the weather app before bed and it didn’t call for rain. “Let me check on—” 

“I’ve checked on them, baby,” he assured her with a kiss. “It just appeared,” he said, taking her hand and pushing it into his sweats, impatiently.

Her hand wrapped around his semi-hard flesh without second thought. “Like… out of nowhere?” 

A deep hum purred from his chest as she slowly stroked him to life. “I saw it, yeah,” he breathed. 

Pulling her on top of him, his hands slipped underneath her black negligee to grip her ass as she sank, taking him all in. Early morning sex was risky now. It had to be done quickly and efficiently since the girls liked to barge into the room. They were so in tune, though, and knew every hot spot to touch, or lick, or nibble. 

His hand quickly clamped her mouth shut. Stifling a loud, involuntary moan when he lifted his hips, pushing deeper. He replaced it with his mouth, kissing her passionately as he pumped into her, until he twitched and pulsed, warming her up from the inside.

He felt sleep trying to take him after that. But looking at Paz, she was still clearly pondering the rain as she caught her breath. Her eyes shifted back and forth, and when she opened her mouth to speak, she closed it. She was afraid to express what she felt. For Bill, it was obvious what she wanted to say. Not even some sex could help them skirt it.

“Is it them?” his voice rasped. 

“Yeah,” she said, beginning to climb off of him.

“Stay,” he said, taking a firm hold of her hips, still seated inside her. “But why—”

“I-I don’t know, baby.” 

“Did they come for us? We did something wrong,” he suspected. 

“No… no. I don’t know how I know, but I don’t think the rain was for us.”

When Paz returned from the bathroom, Bill was lightly snoring, asleep at last. She smirked and got ready for the day. Once, dressed in loungewear, she picked up Thiago from his bassinet, with a happy smile matching his.

“Hi, mi corazón! Were you waiting for Mami?” she cooed, kissing his chubby cheeks. 

Even with a strange energy looming in the air, things proceeded as normal. No need to freak out until they found out what the time keepers were up to.

It was after lunch, and at the upright piano in the den, Paz sat with Anaïs helping her practice until she got fed up. Since she woke, she seemed irritable, which wasn’t usual for her. Being nine, she craved independence these days. Paz didn’t fight her today and instead let her watch Matilda. A film she’s watched obsessively since she was four.

“I love you, Anï,” Paz winked at her. 

She grumpily shoved the disc in the DVD player, but still, she bashfully smiled.

A lot of the kids' media was old. Or at least old to them, their parents grew up with DVDs. If anything, they should be happy they didn’t start them with VHS tapes. It wasn’t like they weren’t ever on an iPad. It was unavoidable, but they wanted to stress the importance of taking care of things. Slowing down, especially. Something that Paz and Bill realized they had taken for granted when they lived in the 1960s.

Solveig shortly woke from her nap, with frizzy French braids. She was unusually sleepy today, but her spirits remained high. She was their rambunctious child, always happy and always getting into things. 

While they were preoccupied, she sat on the floor nearby, folding laundry with Thiago, who was having tummy time right next to her. One perk about having a children’s clothing line, they technically didn’t have to pay for clothes. The downside was that they had too many.

Stomping through shallow rain puddles during a brisk run, Bill hit his U-turn point and started back home. He stopped briefly, looking out across the water, toward the same spot in the sky that he had seen the stormy anomaly. The day looked like any other. People, plans, and the earth still turned. He shook his head. Something was up.

When he returned home, he made the girls a snack for them to enjoy with their movie.

“Papa, can T-go play with us?” Solveig asked, wiggling around on her bottom as she nibbled a slice of cheese.

“Hm, I think he’s busy being a baby right now.”

Anaïs giggled. “All he does is sleep.”

“That’s all you did, too,” he laughed, patting her head.

They whined after telling them he was taking a shower, but he promised to be quick. Meanwhile, Paz was sitting on Solveig’s bed. After putting her clothes away, Juliana facetimed her. They chatted while she packed for a trip with Daniel as she nursed Thiago. When the call ended, she got sidetracked, stuck scrolling idly on her phone until he had fallen asleep.

After putting him down in his bassinet, she checked on the girls, who started playing dress up with repurposed prototypes from past collections of Moon Dream Baby. 

“I want to be the witch princess!” Anaïs argued. “You were it last time.”

“No, I wasn’t!” 

“You can be a kitty princess, instead! It’s better.” 

Paz smiled. Watching them just reminded her of growing up with her own sister. Even if their arguing felt nostalgic, she didn’t like it when they did. 

“Are you two going to be okay?” She pointedly asked. 

They went mum and wide-eyed after being caught bickering. 

“Yes mami.” They both said, even if they quietly argued with their eyes still. 

“Okay… talk nice. Mommy has to work, so you know where to find me.” 

Staying back a moment, she watched them dress up. Solveig put on a cat ear headband, and Anaïs wore a polkadot shirt over her head, acting as a hood for a cloak.

Paz actually tried to get work done, but she just couldn’t focus. The day still felt off. It even felt as if she were being watched. Even if she knew in her gut the mysterious rain wasn’t a warning to them from the time keepers, it was a warning nonetheless. 

Choosing to trust her instincts, she rose from her seat and closed the door, leaving it open just a crack. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached for a brass key that rested atop a tall antique cabinet that housed her apothecary. As she gathered the appropriate ingredients, her phone buzzed on the desk.

She sighed and picked it up. Again, she got distracted and scrolled through Twitter instead of responding to Max. She shook her head, annoyed with herself, but just before putting the phone down, her timeline refreshed. 

The third tweet from the top, made her jaw drop.

Bill was washing his face clean after shaving in the sink when he heard her. It made his stomach flip. 

“No! What the fuck?! Nooo!” 

He almost threw the ensuite bathroom door off the hinges the way he opened it. When he saw Thiago asleep in his bassinet, he caught it just as fast before it could slam into the wall, waking him. 

“Fucking how?!?” Paz cried, gripping a fistful of hair. 

“How? What?! What happened?” Bill said, standing in her office with only a black towel wrapped around his waist.

“She’s here.” 

“Fucking who?” he huffed, frustrated. “Fuck. You scared the shit out of me,” he said, running a hand down his smooth face. 

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s Zedna! Look!” she said, putting the phone in his hands. 

A tweet from a celebrity pop culture account posted paparazzi photos of Zedna on a night out with an established actor on her feed. She had come to live her life as the actress she always wanted to be, apparently. 

“What the fuck is this?” Bill said angrily. “Is this for real?” 

Paz shook her head, her jaw clenching. “She came here. To this realm last night.”

His nostrils flared. “She’s un-fucking-blieveable,” he spat. “We worked hard to balance ourselves here. She could topple it over fucking with shit again.”

“I’m not trying to defend her—”

Bill pressed his lips, tilting his head stubbornly.

“I’m not. But she’s connected to the time keepers in a way… in a way even we can’t fathom. We know exactly who she is, though. Our memories haven’t been messed with.” 

“And everyone else?” 

“Probably so, but… god damn it, Zedna.” Paz groaned. 

“Don’t-don’t say her name. I don’t want her to Beetlejuice her ass here,” his eyes drifted to the cabinet and returned to Paz. “What were you doing?” 

“I just had a feeling. So I was going to reinforce our protection spells, but… I think I have to do a little extra now.” 

“Like what?” 

“I’m going to have to cloak you and me—especially the kids. She can roam around this realm, but she won’t be able to find us.” 

“Okay, yeah,” he nodded. “Do your thing, and later we can buy a gun,” he said in jest, making Paz shake her head with an amused smirk. 

…

2032

The spells were holding up. The holidays came and went without an unexplainable occurrence to make them question their potency. Paz really gave it her all. Even calling on her ancestor Aracely for help. There was also a jar in the back of the freezer with Zedna’s name trapped in ice. It was a magical version of a restraining order.

Still, while back in the states, they heard murmurings about Zedna, the actress, through the grapevine. She had been fraternizing around and building up her star power. Bill worried that even with Paz’s spellwork, he’d inevitably run into her. Every industry event, or gala, he kept a watchful eye out.

Paz kept tabs. It was so bizarre when she found her Instagram. How was that even allowed? On it were pictures of her at events, nature shots from hikes, on-set selfies, and behind-the-scenes photos. 

She honestly looked great. She was always a pretty woman. Tan skin, high cheeks, and hazel eyes. And young. It was obvious to Paz that she had cast a glamour spell for herself. She wondered just how old she was now.

On her profile, there were also pictures of her little esoteric trinkets and pendulums. She wasn’t secretive about being a spiritual person at all. Based on the comments, it added to her appeal. 

After leaving the kids in Chicago with Juliana and Daniel, they found themselves in LA again. It was the end of Summer, and a series of press junkets and photoshoots were ahead of them before the premiere of Devotion. 

Leaving the restaurant, where they had dinner with Franco and Inde, camera shutters nearly blinded their way to the waiting blacked-out SUV. With Paz’s hand in his, he navigated them through them, standing tall with his strong chest puffed out.

The photos would find themselves online. Unfortunately, it would also find itself on Zedna’s feed. Spellwork was tricky outside the real world; the internet was its own realm with algorithmic spells and hyperlinked incantations. 

Zedna sat smoking a clove cigarette with a smirk in the luxury townhouse she was staying at. She kicked her feet up on a fur upholstered ottoman and clicked the tag that linked to Paz’s professional Instagram, pazvvillanueva, and she cackled wickedly. 

“Ah, I found you,” she said, scrolling through with her pointer finger. “Boring,” she grumbled. 

The majority of Paz’s posts were just promoting her projects and clothing line, but there was a sprinkling of red carpet photos. Other than that, it was strictly business. It was very guarded, too. Comments were restricted to people she followed and likes and shares were hidden. There wasn’t anything in her tags either. 

She hummed, blowing smoke, when a thought came to her. After discovering Franco’s Instagram, she scrolled through his short following list. 

“Goddess, I pray,” she murmured, trying to find a private account that could belong to Paz. 

There was a profile, with a crescent moon as the profile picture, that made her head tilt.

User: 000x0ps

Then Zedna blocked her.

…

Bill and Paz were lounging around after a busy day. He had a photoshoot with Paper Magazine and did an interview with Max for his podcast, Unverified. Paz also did a joint written interview with her brother about the movie and their long decade of working together.

“The girl interviewing us had seen the movie already, you know?” Paz said. 

“Yeah?” 

“And she kinda asked Frankie if it was strange to direct you nude.” 

He rolled his eyes, but smirked. “What’d he say?”

“He said there wasn’t much to see,” she laughed. 

“That motherfucker,” he cracked up. “And you didn’t defend me?” 

“I’m not advertising your big dick!”

He plopped down on the bed and crawled toward her, resting his head on her midsection, where he groaned tiredly. Paz ran her hands through his hair, while she took a quick looksee through Instagram before hitting Do Not Disturb and putting it away for the night. 

Being in LA, she had been monitoring Zedna's profile. She could be anywhere, and that was daunting. When she tried now, though, her profile didn’t show up for her. Suspicious, she changed profiles to her professional account, which she was seldom on, and checked. Her stomach dropped. She had over a hundred notifications from Zedn444 spamming likes to get her attention.

She clicked her profile picture, highlighted with an orange circle directing her to her stories, showing a single post from 16 hours ago. 

PAZ DM ME 🧿

“Oh my, fuck!” she gasped. “She found us.” 

She showed her screen, but the story timed out. So Bill took it and clicked it again. His eyes widened.

“No way,” he shook his head adamantly. “No.” 

They were out of bed then, standing around stressed and debating on what they should do.

“You contact her and then what?” Bill asked. “We had ten years unbothered. Why now?” 

Paz sighed. “I don’t know.” 

“I don’t want her around you. At all. I don’t trust her.” 

“I know you don’t. But she’s not evil, Bill.”

“She’s evil to me.” 

“Really?” 

He rolled his eyes. To him, it seemed she wasn’t taking this seriously at all. “Paz, it’s different now. It’s not just us we have to worry about. Our kids are coming to town in a few days. I don’t trust her. I fucking don’t.”

Paz took a deep breath. “I feel the same, baby. I would never put them in a position—”

“I know,” he cut her off. It didn’t need to be said, he didn’t doubt her that way. “It just worries me.” It worried him to death, in fact. 

“Me too. But…”

Bill’s jaw clenched, shaking his head. 

“Just listen for one second. If I DM her.”

He groaned and tossed his hands up, frustrated.

“Just one second! If I DM her. She’s going to ask to meet us. Say we do, we can tell her to fuck off in person. Otherwise, she won’t stop. Without meeting her, she becomes way too unpredictable…” 

Bill sighed, scratching his neck. She had a point. If they didn’t come to an understanding or draw a line through the sand, who knows what she’d do to get their attention?

“I don’t forgive her for what she did either, but she brought us back, too,” Paz said. “If it weren’t for us, she wouldn’t have the power to live her life like she always wanted. But this is our realm, not hers.”

Though he would rather not meet her at all, Bill puffed his lip and nodded. They had claimed stakes in this life. She didn’t make the rules here. They did. 

“Fine. Fuck it. Alright.”

While having cocktails at a rooftop bar, Zedna picked up her iPhone. Opening her Insta DMs, she giggled happily.

Pazvvillanueva: You summoned me? 

Zedn444: You just love taking your sweet time, don’t you?

Pazvvillanueva: Delete your story. Then we talk.

…

Tucked in a corner booth, a lit candle sat atop their table in the dimly lit restaurant. It was a fairly private place, where the staff was taught discretion, and a no-phone policy was strictly enforced for patrons. 

“She’s fucking late,” Bill grumbled.

“Do you find it annoying as I do that she’s trying to go by Zedna only? We already have fucking Zendaya here.” Paz put down the menu she had been scanning through. “She’s coming through the door now.”

The door chimed, and they could faintly hear the hostess greeting before escorting Zedna to their booth. As she approached, they watched her with scolding, unimpressed expressions. They were both dressed in sleek black designer clothing. Bill in a quarter-zip polo beneath a blazer, and Paz in a form-fitting, off-the-shoulder dress. They looked incredible, but to her, they looked like stuck-up assholes.

“So,” Zedna smiled, standing in front of their table wearing a long, flowy embroidered dress. “Long time, no see.”

“Could have been longer,” Bill muttered under his breath as he motioned for her to take a seat.

Zedna side-eyed him, displeased as she slid in on the other side of the table. Once she settled, they all just stared at each other in the glow of the candlelight for a moment. 

“So… what do you want?” Paz urged. “Why’d you come here?”

“Hmm. Well, you made the future sound so nice, I wanted to see for myself. Could I have some?” she asked, pointing at the bottle of red sitting on the table. 

Bill poured her a glass and set it close enough for her to grab herself, then pass it directly. “It’s been over a year since you’ve been back. How much more do you need to see?” he asked.

“Time flies when you’re having fun?” she facetiously retorted. “I like what I have going on, honestly. But fine, okay… maybe I wanted to see you two.”

“You hardly like us,” Paz reminded her.

“I’d like to say—complicated,” she shrugged. “I… I used to peek in. I’m not a wicked witch. I wanted to see if you two were okay. It became a lot harder to do, and then after a while, I couldn’t at all. Your gifts have gotten a lot stronger, Paz. Irritating, but good for you.” 

“What-what happened after we left? Do you know anything about Mavis?” Bill asked. If he had to sit at a table with her he’d like all the information he could get.

“Ah, well, things finally returned to normal once you left. Mavis and I worked to return the other two that I accidentally banished through the ether, and then… she was just gone one day,” her gaze cast down, biting the inside of her cheek when she felt emotion well up. “She was hiding who she really was from us, you know? Watching our every move on behalf of the time keepers. After that, I took a break from it all. I went to auditions, and I got a few bitty roles here and there. For me in that life, I think that was all it was ever going to be. So I—” 

A waiter politely cut in to ask if they were ready to order.

“You can start with our guest,” Bill motioned to Zedna.

“What are you having?” She leaned toward Paz. 

“The salmon.” 

“I’ll have that as well,” she said, passing her menu to the waiter before he walked off. “So, as I was saying, I began communicating with the time keepers again. I did more research. Soon, I started hopping around.”

“To different times?” Paz said, concerned. “And what about the balance? You’ve been making a scene here and putting yourself out there for the world to see.” 

“Because this is where I was meant to be.” 

“Bullshit.” Bill shook his head. “People will start to wonder why you don’t age.”

Zedna rolled her eyes. “How old do I look to you right now?” 

He pressed his lips together; he had no rebuttal. She looked the same as the last time he saw her. He could say she even looked more refreshed.

“Exactly. Besides magic, there are plenty of cosmetic options I can happily deny.” 

“You had to come to this realm, though?” 

“This might come as a surprise, but it’s the best one there is.”

“Did you choose it when you sent us back?” Paz asked curiously.

“No, later, I learned that was the timekeepers doing. It’s almost as if they did a little course correction. Seeing you two now, it seems they knew what they were doing. You have your charms, so it’s still hard for me to know anything about you two. I knew your premiere was coming. I’ve seen the TV trailers. But only until a few days ago did I even know you were starring in it, Bill. But it’s not hard to guess what you two have done in the past decade. You’re married,” she said, staring directly at Paz’s engagement ring before giving Bill an impressed nod of approval. “Probably have a home in Sweden. Maybe an apartment in Chicago?” They had been discussing the possibility lately. These were hardly guesses at all. Finally, having them before her, she could read them. “Kids. Four? No, three. Two girls and a boy… for now. And a—” 

“Okay, stop. We’re not here for fucking parlor tricks,” Bill put a hand up, and then pressed a pointer finger on the table. “Why did you come here? For real.”

She looked between them both, chewing on the inside of her cheek again. “Could I have more?” she asked, pointing at the bottle again, to which he just pushed closer so that she could serve herself. “I know I was a very old woman when I met you, Paz. I felt like you could help me then, and I think you can help me now.” 

Her jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“You… you found us, so that Paz could help your career?”

“Well, she hired you for a project. Can’t she help anyone else? Look, I know what I did was wrong. But I fixed it. Excuse me for looking for a favor. Honestly, even having to ask is offensive.”

“You being here is offensive!” Paz snapped. “I don’t have to owe you anything. I gave you three years of my life. That’s enough.”

Zedna pressed her lips and huffed. 

“You don’t need me,” Paz continued. “I noticed that you’re doing fine. Your lineup is steady. Believe in yourself a little fucking more.”

“Easy for you to say, nepo sister and nepo son,” she sneered, before sitting back and sighing in resignation. “I’m sorry. I am. I just think that with what we know, we can benefit from it greatly.” 

“Zed, we’re fine with what we’ve made for ourselves here. It’s not worth messing with.” Paz stated, definitively.

“I understand. You two have a lot more at stake than I. I just… maybe we could be friends? Or… hmm,” she blinked her eyes rapidly, feeling herself tear up. “Maybe one day we can put it all behind us. Living with this gift has been very lonely. In every decade— in every realm, except this one… You two are the only ones who understand.”

Their heartstrings were pulled, despite their hard feelings. They understood the intense loneliness too well. It could be soul-crushing and alienating to be in a state where no one understood you because you were too ahead of your time. 

Bill swallowed and looked down at Paz, who sniffled her reddened nose. He felt conflicted. He wanted no parts, but he wasn’t heartless.

“If you decided to stay here right now,” he began evenly. “Maybe we can reach a place where we can finally be cordial.” 

Paz looked up at him, surprised. She thought he’d vehemently disagree with her proposal and tell her to fuck off like they planned. A small part of her wanted him to.

“No more time hopping?” Zedna asked for clarification. 

“No. No more,” he shook his head. “Our kids are here. There’s too much at stake for you to rip the fabric of fucking time on a mistake that didn’t need to be made.” 

She nodded slowly, considering. 

“I never had plans to leave,” Zedna smirked. “It took a lot of energy to find my path here. It’s… I don’t know how to explain, but it’s hidden. We live on top of and between two planes. And I understand you find me untrustworthy, but I hope one day I can prove you wrong. But yes. Yes, okay,” she put her hand out for a shake. 

Bill finally reached across the table and shook her hand. 

“It is bound,” Zedna said, bowing her head. 

Suddenly, the din of chatter and clinking of silverware on dishes in the restaurant roared back to life. The waiter, midstep, unfroze and arrived with their food without a clue he had been petrified. Paz looked at her wide-eyed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“That’s an unrelated trick, I swear,” Zedna quickly said with her hands up. “It was for privacy's sake. Everything I’ve said is honest.” 

“Maybe… don’t do that too much either,” Bill said, annoyed. 

“How do you even do that?” Paz asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. 

“Maybe one day I can show you,” she winked. “Before we dig into this beautiful dinner, I was wondering if I could have an invite to your premiere?” 

Bill pursed his lips. To her core, she’d always be an opportunist. “Fine, yeah.” 

“Thank you. You’re so kind!” 

They chatted on lighter matters as they ate. Zedna talked about how she had been adjusting as she passed a year since she traveled through the kaleidoscope tunnel. In turn, they spoke of their decade so far since returning, giving her enough, but not too much. They were still a little guarded, aptly so, but they knew in their hearts she wasn’t as malicious as their very valid feelings made her to be. Nobody at the table owed each other anything, yet without each other, none of them would have the life they all deserved now. One in which they all had to coexist. 

Dinner concluded on a better understanding, but it wasn’t without another trick up Zedna’s sleeve. This time, no magic was involved. She just picked up a phone before their dinner and tipped off the paparazzi so they could all be photographed leaving together. 

When their car pulled away from the total bombardment, Bill draped a hand over Paz’s shoulders, pulling her close to kiss her head. 

“If you hadn’t told her about vibrators, she probably wouldn’t be here,” he whispered in her ear. 

…

Bill answered questions down a line of press, one after the other, after taking photos on the red carpet. Paz was trailing a few people down with Esquire, speaking to them as an executive producer, when she was plucked out of the row by her publicist, who bumped her ahead of Bill, with Franco to speak with Rolling Stone together. 

“I’ll come back,” she said, waving at Max as she passed him by.

“Hello, Bill, how are you doing?” Max said, pointing his pink rhinestone mic toward him. 

Bill smiled, chuckling under his breath as he stepped up. “Hello, do I know you?” 

“No, not at all.” 

“At least not at work, right?”

“Exactly. So this has been a highly anticipated movie by Francisco Villanueva. It’s one with many interesting collaborations. One I find most fascinating is the family collaboration in this film. Could you talk about that experience?” 

“Uh, yeah, well, it’s been a long time in the making, really. Franco and I have been friends for twenty years, and we’ve been wanting to work together ever since. We just needed the right project. It was my wife, Paz, who-who, well, she got her hands on Devon Rhys’ book,” he laughed, giving Max a pointed look as he was the one to smuggle the manuscript from their old workplace. “But, um, how had it been? Yeah, it’s been great. I get to work with some of the best people I know.” 

“Any family arguments?” Max smirked. 

“I get along with everyone,” he said, putting a hand to his chest acting as if he’d never argued with anyone in his life. “That’s really a question for Paz and Franco.” 

Max laughed. “Tea! Thank you, Bill.” 

“Yeah, thanks, Maxi. Are you coming inside soon?” he asked, as the camera still rolled. 

“Are you saving me a seat?” 

“I’ll save you one between Paz and me.” 

“Ooh! Princess seat!” 

“Best in the house. I’ll see you inside.” Bill patted his arm and moved on to the next reporter. 

Down the line, Paz was speaking to an independent publication. “I understand you and Bill have a production company together, Chronoheart Productions. Are there any collaborative projects in the near future?” 

“He’s really hard to book,” Paz laughed. “But yes, we would like to. I think he wants to get behind the camera again.”

“Yeah! You’ve seen him transform and get lost in so many roles, does it ever feel like personalities get crossed?”

“Hm,” Paz wondered how to answer that. “Um, no? I mean, he’s my husband the majority of the year, and I guess you could say I have like two or three boyfriends for the rest. And they just happen to all be the same man.”

The reporter laughed when a commotion between the photographers could be heard. It made her and Bill glance over. Zedna had arrived wearing a very modern slinky black dress. Compared to how they met her in the 1960s it was shocking and obscene to see her dressed in such a way. She confidently basked in the flashing lights with a bright smile when she felt their eyes on her. She turned to them and winked.

…

It was an easy, leisurely day back home in Sweden after the busy premiere ruckus. In the backyard, he sat on the outdoor couch, texting his brother, who would come by for dinner later. Paz and the kids were close by, playing with the mud kitchen they had built for them. She always found it fascinating when her daughters paired certain herbs or flowers that went together. They had an instinct, they didn’t quite understand yet. 

“Those are pretty sprinkles, Sol,” she exclaimed, as she showered the top of her mud pie with lavender petals. 

Anaïs walked up to the porch, dusting her hands off, and curled up to the side of him. 

“You don’t want to play?” He asked, brushing her hair out of her face. 

She just shrugged against him. 

“Too babyish?” 

She looked up at him and nodded, making him chuckle. It also made his heart hurt a little. She was still a baby to him. Time was truly a thief. The other day, when she asked to try his black, dark roast coffee, he allowed it, believing she’d find it nasty, but to his surprise and disappointment, she liked it. That’s how it starts, he thought dramatically. 

“Can we play a game?” she asked, pointing at a deck sitting on the table nearby.

“The cards, again?” 

She nodded. Next thing she’s going to ask him for a cigarette, too.

“You think you’ll beat me this time?” He asked, chuckling as he followed her to the table. 

As he shuffled the deck, he looked out and saw Paz wiping dirt off Thiago’s face while Solveig laughed at him because he kept trying to lick the rag. He had to watch out for her, too. She was quite mischievous, but for now, she still enjoyed being a kid.

“Okay,” he passed the deck to Anaïs, “you deal.” 

“Seven each?” 

“Mhmm. Count it,” he encouraged. 

There was a slight rustle in the hedges nearby that caught his attention. He was about to ignore it when he heard a curious meow, and a white and orange spotted cat emerged. One green eye and one gold stared directly at him before pouncing onto the table.

Anaïs screamed, startled at first until it turned into excitement. Paz stood up, tilting her chin to see what was going on. Her eyes widened when the cat’s striking gaze whipped back right at her.

“Is… is that—” 

“It’s the cat!” Bill exclaimed in disbelief. 

“Cat?” Solveig said, running toward the porch. 

“No, it’s not. Are you serious?” Paz said, picking up Thiago and following suit. 

The cat’s gaze locked on Bill’s and bowed its head. As if to say, yes, it is I. 

“Is it a girl, too?” 

When Bill tried to look, the cat raised a paw, ready to thump his hand away. An flashed an annoyed glare that they were so disbelieving. 

Paz’s familiar had returned. But it was never hers to begin with; she was always Bill’s. She waited for him, knowing he’d come. She watched over Paz while he couldn’t. 

“Can we keep it?” Solveig asked. 

“Mm,” Paz pressed her lips together, hating to crush her hopes. “I don’t think she likes to be kept, baby.”

The cat jumped off the table, then did a round of figure eights around Paz’s ankles, and then jumped into Bill’s lap, bowing its head for pets this time. “No. Sorry,” he said as his daughters pouted. “She’ll just be around when we need her,” he said, sharing a look with Paz. 

When the girls asked to pet the cat, they allowed them. It would sniff their dirty hands at first and then obediently bow its head, taking the attack of pets. They were gentle, but there was no pattern to them. Still, the cat took it without complaint.

Late at night, while all the kids were sleeping, they were out on the back porch looking for her after she ran off to catch a crow. 

Pspspspspspsp

After trying to lure it back with a piece of sausage, they had given up. For a moment, they wondered if it even happened at all. But the kids being aware, helped prove to them it did. 

They sat on the outdoor couch, making out when she broke them up by jumping onto them. When they made space for her between them, she dropped the bit of sausage they had left out and began to eat it.

“It is you,” Paz said, stroking the big orange spot that covered half her head just like she remembered. “If you stick around you have to have a name now.”

She licked her lips clean and then crawled onto Bill’s lap, nudging its pink nose against his chest. 

“She wants you to name her, I think.” 

“Me? Hmm,” he cupped the cat's face in his hands and thought. As he gazed into its heterochromatic eyes, a telepathic image of a uniquely scared face showed up in his mind's eye. “Mavis?” 

She let out a pleased meow and pushed her face out of his hands to rub it against his chest. 

“Mavis? Mavis! Oh my god?!” Paz’s eyes watered, and she reached to pet her affectionately as she swayed her tail.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Bill laughed. 

From then on, they could always find Mavis patrolling and sleeping on the windowsill of their children's rooms at night. Keeping watch.

Since being back, it wasn’t even worth it to question the strange things that followed them. Meeting Paz, he knew she was special. He was drawn to her immediately; it scared him. Now, after everything, there wasn’t much that did. Instead, his life was filled with such magical moments. None of them could he have without her, and he wouldn’t change a thing for the world. 

In fact, he’d do it all over again. And again. And again. Shifting time and space for it. In every lifetime. On every earthly plane. Every iteration, only getting better and better each time because he’d always find her. Because with Paz, the magic will follow.

FIN

[thedevotchka]

This edit is POOR but apparently too explicit for TikTok (god they’d hate to see my fanfics) so I’m posting it here anyway, sorry

[sweetbillwriting]

The Blackened Branches

TEN

Characters: AU Eric from The Crow played by Bill Skarsgård. The story is completely it's own thing. 

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

“Hey, hey… Eric?” 

Malek had sat down in front of the crying Eric. As usual, he was faster than me. Maybe it was his job as a cop that had made his reflexes faster than mine. 

“What's going on?” Malek laid his hands on his knees while Eric dried his tears with his arm. 

“Fuck… I guess it came too close to home or something… It's just scary…” 

Malek gave Eric a confused look. He knew well that Eric was obsessed with death, even if he didn't know about his mental health problems. It didn't add up. Someone like Eric should be interested and write a dark song about it, but he cried like he was eleven years old, still abused and neglected. I looked at him worriedly, mostly because I was scared he would tell Malek too much. Chance knew about his disease, but it was just me and my father who knew what Eric had done. 

“Okay? I'm sorry… I didn't know you would react like this; I thought we all were interested. It's such an old case.” 

Eric nodded a little. Me, who knew him so well, could see him searching in his head after a good explanation.

“Yeah, I am… It's just that I lived in that forest a while.” 

Fuck. Fuck. Would he confess now? Tell his crime to a cop? I was relieved Malek just looked at Eric because my horrified expression would also make him wonder what was going on. 

“You did? Can you live there?” Asked Malek. He had never been in the forest, and just visited my mother’s place a few times. She liked Malek, but he wasn't really a fan of hers. 

“We lived in a trailer… It was just for a short while. I don't even think my mom owned it…” 

Eric dragged his bare feet through our rug. I started to realize then that he was kind of smart to start talking about his childhood. There wasn't a soul who didn't get uncomfortable and stopped thinking about anything else. Malek’s eyes always got glassy when Eric told him how it was to shower at our place, the first in months, or how it was to go home when he didn't have any other place to go. That was also one of the things that made Malek dislike my mother so much. Even if she “didn't know," she must have known. Eric was always full of bruises. 

Malek sighed deeply with grief. Just like everyone else, he wished he could have been there to save him. I was there but knew it wasn't so easy that everyone pictured it. 

“We don't need to talk about that case. You shouldn't relive anything from that time…” said Malek lowly and sat down next to Eric instead. Eric looked up at Malek quickly. 

“No, no… You should. It would be weird to not know.” 

I just sat and looked at them because when I thought of the crime, it didn't sound like Eric's at all. It was a grave from the 70s with two men in it.

“It's two men, buried there in the 70s. Like it's super old,” I said, looking at Eric intensely so he would realize it had nothing to do with him. He looked back at me but lowered his eyes. I knew it meant that he didn't take in what I said. He was already worried and couldn't stop just because I told him. 

“But aren't you interested? Your mom lives just there.” Malek turned to me, where he sat in the middle of us, and I looked up at him a bit, startled. I didn't think about myself at all at that moment, just Eric, so the question confused me. It was like I didn't have any of my own feelings. 

“Yes… Of course. But it's old, so it will not be anything or anyone I heard about.”

“But your parents were born in the 60s. They might have known who they were?” 

“Yeah, maybe. It was in the 70s after all…” I knew I repeated myself, but I really just wanted Eric to see the full picture, but he just sat in his own thoughts. What I didn't know was that he looked out through the window, seeing a crow land on our back porch railing. Eric didn't listen to facts; he read signs and listened to his feelings. 

Slowly, he stood up from the couch and stretched his arms over his head. 

“I think I'll take a nap… If that's okay?” 

“Of course,” said Malek with a nod. 

Even if I stared at him, Eric didn't look at me. I knew that he was in deep thoughts and that he probably didn't dare to tell me because I wouldn't understand. Still, I knew he would tell me after a while, anyway. It was too much for him to bear on his own. 

While Malek watched a series I didn't like, I walked up to Eric’s room. He had thrown off all his clothes, like he always did when he took a nap. I lay down behind him as a big spoon and kissed the Poe quote on his back. I thought he was sleeping, but when he pulled my arm around his waist, I understood he was awake. 

“It has nothing to do with you… It's super old…” I said again while hugging him with my cheek against his smooth back. 

“I know, but maybe they will dig more now? Maybe they will find him too?” 

I hadn't thought that far, so I didn't have anything good to say. Eric sighed deeply. 

“I'm so fucking tired… You should go before Malek wonders where you are…” Eric mumbled down on the pillow. I didn't want to release him, though, but when I understood he really wanted to sleep, I stood up from bed and left him alone. 

Both Malek and I left him alone, so his nap became 13 hours long. 

××× 

It was time for Eric to leave us. He needed to rehearse with the band before leaving to tour in Asia. They waited for him in LA, where Chance lived with his wife and two kids. The wife he constantly cheated on. No one in that band lived a perfect life. 

Eric was tired, though, too tired, and thirteen hours of sleep a day had become sixteen. I tried to force him up, but it was hard, and when I succeeded, he just ate and visited the toilet, and then he went back to the guestroom. It wasn't hard to see that he was depressed. Malek didn't question it, though; he connected it to him taking an overdose just weeks ago. I was annoyed because he didn't listen to what we were saying. The murdered man in the forest had been killed in the 70s, on top of that, together with another man. It had nothing to do with him. 

Malek started to become desperate when Eric had been like that for more than a week, also being five days late to his band’s rehearsal. He just wanted him to get up, to be normal, so on a Friday night he sat by the kitchen table rolling perfect joints. 

“He said he would get up if he got some weed…” he said when I stared at him from the door opening.

I wanted to protest because it felt wrong to give a depressed person weed, but I didn't. I also wanted him to leave his bed. Quietly, I went up to Eric's room and looked in through a crack. He was awake but stared up at the ceiling with tired eyes. I didn't know what he was thinking about, but I could already guess. I slept badly every night because I was afraid he would try to leave us. Leave us permanently. Sometimes I cried quietly just at the thought of him leaving me. 

I walked into mine and Malek's bedroom without saying anything to Eric. It was hard when he was like that, and I waited for him to become normal again, just like he had become miraculously before. 

While I sat on the bed, trying to distract myself with Instagram and TikTok, I heard the floor boards creek and then a light knock on a door. 

“Eric? I have it… Can't you join me in the living room?” 

It was Malek, using that soft voice he used when someone was sad or anxious. At first he didn't get an answer, but then Eric sighed deeply. 

“Can I just shower first? I don't smell that nice…” He tried to fake a laugh, but it sounded as fake as I knew it was. 

“Of course.” 

I knew what I needed to do while he showered and was happy to have a task. I would ventilate his room and change the sheets. I knew how it smelled when he was depressed. How the air was stale and sweat had dried on his sheets. I took my chance when I heard the shower start down the hallway. 

I believed Eric didn't keep any secrets from me, but he obviously had one. Under his mattress lay a black velvet drawstring bag. It was just a bit bigger than my hand. At first, I thought it was a charger case or something, but the things inside were way too small and rumbled around in my hand. I opened it carefully and looked down into the darkness, but I couldn't see anything. So I spilled out the items in my hand. Five black feathers, a silver pentagram necklace, and various crystals in different colors. I looked at it skeptically. Even if I was a goth child, I had never been close to believing in Wicca, New Age, or Satanism, but it was obvious Eric had fallen down that hole. It wasn't surprising when he was interested in everything else that could be connected to the darkness. I sighed but stuffed it under the mattress again, bored. Sometimes I thought he was silly. I didn't believe it at all, even if Eric had a herd of crows following him. 

I continued to make the bed before going down stairs, where it smelled of marijuana. Both my men sat on the couch. Malek was dressed in a gray sweatshirt and pants, while Eric simply wore a pair of black Nike track pants. His black hair was still wet, and the longer part behind his neck stuck to his skin. Even if he had slept for a week, he looked so good, especially when he took a toke of his joint between his thumb and index finger. He was an expert smoker compared to Malek, who looked a bit awkward with the joint between his fingers. 

I sat down opposite them in the brocade arm chair while looking at the table in front of me. Four lumpy joints lay next to the TV remote. I stared at them until Eric took one. I looked up at him where he sat with not only his own joint but also the new one between his lips. His fingers, with black, scuffed nail polish, held a lit match to the new joint. 

I knew it was for me; he had done it like that before, so I didn't react when he leaned forward and gave it to me. I took it even if I knew I wouldn't smoke it all and took a careful toke. I mostly did it because I was happy seeing him out of his room, and finally was able to be around his strong, mesmerizing aura. 

It only took a few, careful drags before I felt a bit more relaxed and all too brave. Meeting Eric’s eyes, I rested my gaze in the deep, dark ocean of them. I didn't even think about Malek, when I walked up to Eric to sit down between him and the armrest, resting my legs over his. Eric, also affected by the weed, dragged his hand over my wide-legged pants, then crept his hand in to caress my smooth calf. We didn't notice how Malek looked at us until he talked. 

“You have always loved each other.” It wasn't a question, because he obviously knew the answer. I looked at him while he tiredly sucked his joint. Eric looked at him too without saying anything. I removed my legs from his lap because it felt like the only right thing to do. 

“Since you were kids you have always loved each other.” 

Eric and I still didn't say anything, so Malek stubbed out his joint directly on the table and then moved closer to us. My first thought was that he would hit Eric, but his action was nothing I was prepared for. While close to Eric, he laid his hand on his cheek so he would look at him. He leaned in then with closed eyes, and softly he kissed him. Eric looked up, surprised, but when Malek leaned in again, he kissed back with an open mouth. 

I was not prepared for it. I’ve had dreams, or nightmares, about it, but had never thought Malek had it in him. He loved Eric so much, but obviously he did because they continued to kiss while I stared at them. Eric's hand lay on Malek's cheek, while his hand moved down to lay over the eye tattoo on Eric's chest. Malek had never been with a man, but I knew Eric had. So seeing him getting hard in his track pants didn't feel foreign until Malek laid a hand over the erection. Malek took a break to look at Eric; I recognized the look. The look he gave me when he was turned on, but now it was directed to another man, my man. 

“You're just so…” said he and took a deep breath before laughing. 

Eric looked at him doe-eyed with shiny lips. Malek liked it when I gave him an innocent look, but Eric was so much better at it. Even how he pushed away Malek's hand that hid his own erection and letting his fingers drag over his length pressing against the fabric. Malek laughed a little again but then turned his eyes towards me. He smirked teasingly while it felt like I gave him an upset look. 

I was upset, even though I could feel my heartbeat between my legs. He lowered his gaze when Eric's hand crawled inside his pants and took a firm grip around his length. Gay men I’ve known have told me that it was completely different to feel another man's grip than a woman's. I could hear how Malek felt the same. With his pants down by his feet, he let Eric's tattooed hand jerk his slick cock. I looked at them with big eyes, but mostly at Eric, who looked at me. 

My heart beat harder in my chest. Especially when Eric whispered, "Come here.”

I moved closer to him as if I didn't have a choice, but it was all my choice. I always wanted him. Malek gave me a look and lightly pulled at the hem of my pajama pants as I came closer to them. I looked to Eric to see what he wanted, and he just nodded. I slowly took off my clothes while looking at Eric, who pulled down his track pants and boxers. 

He was noticeably bigger than Malek, and I could see how Malek compared them. I wondered for a second if he would feel bad and want to stop. Instead he let out a low, “fuck” under his breath and took it in his hands. 

Eric leaned back against the backrest with his gaze up toward the ceiling. He remained that way, even while I sat between his legs, and even when Malek joined me. The both of us began to do everything to taste him. Only Eric could make a straight couple act like this. We more or less fought to be the one to suck his cock, to drag our hands over his abs and lick his balls. 

The two of us worshipped him like he was our god. 

××× 

You wonder if it was stiff between us after that? Actually, it wasn't. It was like it never had happened. Malek and I went back to being a boring married couple, while Eric went back to sleep all day. I thought about it, though, when I was alone. I wondered if Malek had just had a moment of sudden homosexuality, if he was in love with Eric, or if he just had been attracted to him for years.

I thought about all the guys around Eric, swarming around him like bees around the garden's most beautiful rose. I stood and looked at our rose bush that had started to drop its flowers. Autumn was coming, and I could feel it in my tired soul. I wanted to sleep all day too. 

Dad. I didn't even want to think the thought, but he had also been a bee around Eric. For many, many years. It even started when Eric was a minor. I shook my head in disbelief and disgust. My dad would never, but it was obvious he loved Eric at least as a son, or even more than his real kids. I needed someone to talk to that could understand, or even explain, my confusion. It was something with Eric, something more than I had believed. More than I had wanted to touch. 

××× 

“Hey honey,” answered my dad, quite neutral, even if he spoke so rarely with me. 

“Hey, Dad… What are you doing?” 

“Oh, I'm just putting up some records.” 

The vinyl trend had made my dad's shop flourish again, and it even was mentioned in several music magazines as one of the state's best. That he had Zeno's Paradox signing their records and doing acoustic performances didn't make anything worse.

“What are you doing?” He asked after a while of silence, like he wasn't that interested. 

“I’m about to make dinner… Just came home from work.” 

“Is Eric still in bed?” 

I was used to him being more interested in Eric, so I didn't get upset anymore and especially not now when my call was about just that. 

“Yeah… He eats some crackers every day, that's it, but Dad… This will sound weird, and it's not an accusation; it's just a question.” 

“Okay?” My dad sounded nervous, like he often did, even if he didn't have my mom in his life anymore or any other women either, actually. 

“Why is Eric so special to you? I know why he's so special to me, and you know that too, but why-” 

“Honey, I-” My dad interrupted me. 

“No, Dad. It's not an accusation. It's just a question, as I said.” 

He sighed in my ear, and then he fell quiet, thinking. 

“I guess, I guess, he makes me feel good? He has something drawing me in, something that makes me feel alive. I don't know how to explain it. It's like he has more presence than everyone else.” 

Everything he said I felt too, and probably many other people felt it. 

“Why do you wonder this now?” He asked with careful curiosity. “And I know you know what I’m talking about.” 

I felt pressure over my chest, mostly of embarrassment to share something so private, so wild, with my dad. 

“Ehm… Something happened between us. And Malek.” 

“Oh, a conflict?” 

“No, no…” I laughed awkwardly but then took a deep breath. “Quite the opposite.” 

Once again my dad was quiet, so I understood he knew what I meant, or at least suspected the right thing. He knew Eric had also been with men, but he never put a label on himself, mostly because I was the only person he had been in love with.

“Yes, it is what you think… But I just want to understand how it could happen. How Malek could… Have you had such feelings for—" 

“What? No, no, God no!” He raised his voice, upset. It sounded like the truth, and I knew it was. He had always been an awful liar. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, this just confused me so much. How could this happen?” 

He exhaled deeply and made a sound like he realized something. 

“I hoped to never talk about this but… You know Diego?” 

Diego was my dad's friend. They had been friends for a long time, and he had a similar life to my father's, except that he owned his own electric company. 

“Yeah?” 

“Well… We met Eric one night a couple of years ago. Eric was like he usually is, you know, just friendly and sweet, nothing special but… Diego… Diego… Ehm, he got an erection by just looking at him…” 

I didn't mean to make a disgusted sound, but the whole thought made me uncomfortable. 

“Yeah… Eric told me that he actually tried to come onto him when I was in the men's room. I haven't heard from Diego since. You know he has been just a family man, so this is really out of character.” 

“That's really out of character! He's… I was sure he was straight! I haven't even thought of anything else!” 

“I think he thought so too… It's just something special with Eric.” 

“But what? That he makes men gay?” 

“Yeah… Have you ever talked with him? I know how you are, how you think you're always right, so have you ever let him really talk?” 

“Of course I have!” I was offended by his words, mostly because I knew they were true. 

“Even when he says things you don't like? He doesn't talk to me; I think he feels I'm too weak, but you, honey, you're strong. He probably wants to talk to you if you just listen.”

××× 

My dad was right. Eric had shown many times that he wanted to talk to me, but I had rejected him because I was uncomfortable. I knew I did that, but thinking about it, I felt awful because I wasn’t thinking about his feelings. I hadn't wanted to listen because I didn't know how I’d react, even when all he needed was someone to just listen. I could understand now why he now chose loneliness instead of being with me. I hadn't given him that comfort he deserved, that comfort a lover should give. 

I dried away my tears while I sat on mine and Malek's bed. I looked at my phone, checking the time. Malek would probably be home in an hour so I didn't have much time to talk with Eric to understand, but also mend our relationship. What had he tried to tell me when I had rejected him? 

It was hard to go to the guestroom knowing I would need to listen to his stories about death and the pain inside him. I had tried to tell myself it wasn't there, but Eric was sick. Eric had a mental illness that, in periods, took over his life. A mental illness that would some day make him take his own life; he hadn't just succeeded yet. 

I knocked on the door softly before I looked into the room. Eric lay under the burgundy sheets with his back towards me. Even if it was hot and stale in the room, he lay with the cover up to his neck, bundled up. I sighed when I saw him. He really was sick and would always be. 

“Eric?” I said lowly while sitting down on the edge of the bed. I didn't get an answer, so I asked again and shook him lightly. Eric made a tired sound. 

“Are you awake?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Can you turn around so we can talk?” 

Once again he made a tired sound and then sighed. After a while he turned around, but with struggle, like his body weighed tons. I was prepared to see his handsome face, to see big, charismatic eyes, but the gaze that looked at me missed its usual glitter, and his face was not my Eric's. In just days his face had become skinnier and paler. It looked like he had lost 20 pounds since I had really looked at his face. It was the face of a sick man, but it shouldn't happen so fast. It was impossible to lose so much weight in such a short period of time. 

“I think my body is dying…” he whispered after seeing my horrified expression. 

× 

@kikibit @malenoradgn @a-differentbrandof-beans @forrealandjustsaying @useyourwandbro @turbotasticoo @keysandthesea @muchwita @hanamirandak @hamburger-sprite

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[bafterhours]

Funny moments:

Double helix show when the lead singer kisses Alma’s hand and bill is watching from the office and says “ugh. Dickhead.”

When they have thanksgiving dinner and Bianca asked her to say grace and she starts laughing when Alma is beginning awkwardly to pray before realizing everyone’s looking at her and calls them fuckers lolol

In the epilogue when they’re being intimate without finishing throughout the day before his big proposal and he pushes her hand away from him and she gets mad and says “you’re fucking disgusting” and he laughs. Also when he said if she takes too long he knows what she’s doing up there lol

And then when she told bill about how she hooked up with some guy that he’d gotten in a fight with in high school after they kind of broke up and she went back home I think. Seeing my written out retelling makes it sound bad lol, I can’t find the chapter/scene lol but his reaction and response was so funny to me when I flash back to it

I know there’s more but those are the ones that really stick out to me right now lol

If you’ve been in a relationship long term with someone these kind of moments do find you in different situations with somewhat similar responses. More so I can relate with the feeling of these very human moments. I think that’s why I love your work so much. It’s so real and feels so.. it feels like real life moments I could absolutely find myself in or hear about from a partner or even a friend.

I’ve gotten jealous over my partner being hit on by someone else. Not a rockstar, but someone! And then pointing it out later on, insisting I’m not jealous and just making light conversation about the day in bed together, when we both know I was absolutely somewhat jealous lol.

My friends have pranked me before too, and I’ve done the exact same right back to them! Sometimes during events and holidays, sometimes just hanging out together! Bianca is the embodiment of women I love to be around and have as friends. Always joking and keeping the spirits of everyone alive by just being themselves.

I’ve been jokingly mad at my partner and said some of the same things Alma has. I even share a similar humor that she does. I would’ve said the same thing she did lol!

I’ve never done the last thing lol, but I have told my partner/friend things about my life that have made them react somewhat similarly as bill. Where they’re just like “Jesus! What on earth!” While still laughing with me and accepting all my crazy lore.

The dialogue is so perfect too. Not over done and weird. Very natural, which I can’t even begin to fully express my pure appreciation of, compared to so many other fan fic stories I’ve read over the years. Where the idea is so good but the delivery of lines, character/scene descriptions, (or lack thereof) throws me waaaay the fuck off. Like nice suggestion, but I think the fuck not.

A good and very extreme example of what I’m talking about can be compared to when I read Twilight for the first time and when it got to the description of his fucking body sparkling in the sun and it was described like “thousands of tiny diamonds”— I promptly looked up with a blank expression like I was in a fucking sitcom, closed the book with a resounding “thoop” that echoed in my room, put that shit into my bag to give back to my friend before telling her how I would not complete the book after reading that. She laughed and told me I had to finish it because it was hilarious. And so it sat on my bookshelf for an entire two years because we both forgot about it lol. Fool me once, shame on me. But fool me twice… nice try friend and Stephanie Meyer. Nice try lol.

oh my god! haha i think ill be revisiting these scenes this sunday! those are some good moments!! 🤣 thanks for sharing, im always curious if things land or not lol

i think what helps me write dialogue, is reading what i wrote out loud to make sure it even flows right or sounds like something that could be said!

i am a lover/hater of twilight, i read them when i was 11/12 so there’s a nostalgia component as to why. but TRUST MEEEE i have a dozen bones to pick with SM 🤣

thanks for sharing! and loving the character the way i do! i seriously think about them still to this day, kinda like peeking in to see what they’re doing haha

[bafterhours]

Phew! Holy fuck! I read all of Avenue of Sins and my god… forget that it’s even in the category of fan fiction— that’s a fucking BOOK. A NOVEL. A ROMANCE NOVEL. I cried, I LAUGHED, I mean I actually laughed out loud to myself, I yearned, I read and could imagine every single thing so clearly. I want to print this out and have this bound on my bookshelf. This needs to be out in the world physically. You’re a fantastic writer— I would BUY your stuff just solely reading this alone. Oh my goodness, I can’t even believe the whirlwind of emotions I went through with everything. It was a movie. A whole movie in my fucking brain.

Please don’t ever stop writing, I’m late to the party, seeing all your other works I’m absolutely about to dig into! But please don’t ever second guess yourself. You’re a writer. An actual writer. Please invest in yourself if you haven’t already. Submit this. Somewhere, anywhere. But please don’t let this just sit here on tumblr with 4 or 5 notes— please please please. This is too fucking good!

wow this is such an incredible thing to recieve!!! i so so so appreciate it, thank you!!

thanks for taking the time to read it and i’m so happy you enjoyed it! Bill & Alma will always have a special place in my heart. i still think of them constantly! thank you so much again. your praise is so encouraging! ♥️♥️

[bafterhours]

can the lovely anon who sent this incredibly flattering ask tell me what parts they laughed at? i like to think im funny sometimes so i’d really like to know lol

[bafterhours]

can’t wait to share my eddie fic with you all! as i finish the epilogue for ETC i just get more excited haha

[thedevotchka]

Hi! I’ve had this idea living rent-free in my head ever since I read the characters' alphabet thing (which is absolutely BRILLIANT, girl, you did an amazing job).

The Boy has managed to maintain a steady relationship with his girl but is forced to hide it from Shaman, of course. So, the Boy can’t see her as often as he’d like, but he is happy just to know she is in his life, and he falls deeper in love with her with every date. Sometimes he disappears for weeks, so his girlfriend misses him a lot and starts to feel a bit insecure. She tries to keep it to herself, but the tension grows, and at some point, she snaps at him.

I'm really curious to see how he’ll behave during a fight, considering he is non-verbal. Maybe in a fit of temper, she kicks him out (and regrets it almost immediately), but then he'll find a way to show her how much she means to him and gather the courage to confess his love somehow. I'm sure he'll come up with a sincere and spontaneous way to confess because he’s just so sweet, isn't he? Of course, she'll forgive him, and it would be cool if they ended up having some passionate make-up sex.

If you write this, please feel free to change any details as you see fit and take your time with it ❤️

Resplendent (Boy x Reader)

Summary: You’ve been going steady with the shaman’s apprentice for three glorious, secret months. Boy can’t see you as often as he’d like, but you’re the brightest light he’s ever known and he’ll do anything to keep you safe. Even if that means staying away from you sometimes. And you know it’s complicated, but you can’t help but feel insecure. When you see him accept a dried flower from another girl at the market, all your frustrations pour out at once and you snap.

Word Count: 4294

Warnings: NSFW, vaginal fingering, oral sex m&f!receiving

MDNI, fic under the cut

You’re watching at the window anxiously, as you so often are these days. People pass by, shawls pulled low over their faces as they shuffle past your house on their way home before curfew. You don’t want to be caught out in the streets after dark. Nobody dares break the rules, not after a decade of cullings. That’s how he gets away with it. That’s how your Boy slips unseen through the silent city, despite being a towering hulk of a man at 6’4. You spot the shift of his brown cloak across the street, briefly illuminated by moonlight as he darts between buildings, and you push your window open and step back as he climbs through with surprising grace.

His mouth is on yours before you have a chance to say anything, lips soft but insistent as he parts yours and sucks the breath from your lungs with a low gasp. Big, scarred hands lift to cup your cheeks, covering almost your entire face with his palms as his fingers lace into your hair and tug you closer, tilting your head to the side as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth and nips lightly.

Your body reacts to him instantly, as it always does. Heat rushes through you, your clit throbbing as arousal begins to kindle and slick between your thighs. You whine lightly into his mouth, and Boy untangles the fingers on one hand to skitter down your back and grasp a handful of your ass, dragging you against his firm body.

He finally pulls away from your lips to mouth ‘missed you’, and you push your hand against the stiffening bulge in his pants. “Show me.”

Boys eyes flutter closed for a moment, his brow furrowing in pleasure as his hips buck gently into your hand and the fingers in your hair tighten ever so slightly. You press your other hand to his cheek and his eyes open. “Show me.”

Boy watches your mouth make the shape, and the hand on your ass tightens, the strong muscles in his arm flexing as he lifts you easily against his body. You squeak in surprise as your legs wrap around his waist automatically, hands dropping onto his shoulders to steady yourself as your core makes contact with his clothed cock. Boy seizes your ass in both hands now, encouraging you to grind against him as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and watches pleasure flicker over your face. Because God, you’re pretty. The prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Resplendent. Having a very bright or beautiful appearance. Boy feels his cock twitch and leak against the heat of you as you roll your hips down against him, and your fingers travel up his shoulders and graze the sides of his neck before tangling in the short, sun-bleached strands of his hair. You pull him towards you, licking against his teeth until he releases his lip so you can suck it into your own mouth and trace the meat of it with your tongue.

Boy groans. He loves your tongue, he’s maybe obsessed with it. The delicate way you use it to trace his mouth or the veins on his neck. The feeling of it flicking against the head of his cock right before you take him into your throat. Transcendent. Going beyond ordinary limits; surpassing; exceeding. That’s how Boy felt, with his cock in your mouth and you on your knees, looking up at him with a hunger so intense it rivalled the aching pit of his own desperation.

You’re looking at him like that again, and Boy is about to release your ass so you can sink to your knees and show him when your head shoots to the side, to the open window, and Boy’s spine tenses.

“Whistle.” You mouth, and Boy drops you carefully to your feet, pushing you further into the room and away from the window as he looks out into the street. Jeopardy. Hazard or risk of or exposure to loss, harm, death, or injury. The hooded figure standing in the street below is small and slight enough to be a child, but Boy knows better. Knows the deadly shift in his gait, the tap of his staff against the bare earth. He doesn’t have to hear to know.

He turns, expression tight, and you nod. “I know. Go.”

Boy crosses the room, dipping his head to press his lips to yours and hoping, as he caresses his fingers against your cheek, that you understand. That he would stay, if he could. That you mean so much to him that he’d rather die than let anything happen to you. That he’ll stay away, if it keeps you safe. “I know.” You whisper against his mouth, and Boy feels the shape of the words against his mouth and the churning of regret in his stomach gets worse.

*

The sun beats unbearably hot on your back, and you duck into the shade of a canopy as you make your way through the market, purchasing your weekly staples and a few extra things for Boy. Three weeks. You hadn’t seen your Boy in three weeks. Not so much as a glimpse of him. No cabbages at the market, and the addicts of the city were getting… twitchy. Because no cabbages meant no little wrapped packages of dreamleaf, and that was what kept the most downtrodden of the population ticking over. The true trade of the Shaman, his real legacy. You hated that your Boy was mixed up in any of it. You hated that you couldn’t convince him to just leave, but you trusted him enough to know he had his reasons to stay. But knowing didn’t stop the ache in your heart or the pit in your stomach with each passing day.

You buy a cinnamon bun wrapped in parchment paper, the buttery, golden pastry flaking delicately as you slot it into your bag. You’ll place it in the window tonight, like the scent of the sugar might summon him. It would be a small price to pay to see him again. You’re thinking about feeding him the treat, about the feeling of the scar of his tongue prodding against your fingers as he sucks cinnamon from them, when you hear laughter. A high, sharp sound, so at odds with the low hum of tension that underpins market day and your head lifts to find the source.

The girl is a bright spark against a sea of brown and grey. Her blonde hair hangs over her shoulder in soft curls, and she bats her pretty, big eyes at a man as she twirls the stem of a dried desert flower between her fingers. You see the man reach for it, his big, tanned hand with the scarred fingers curling around the flower. Her fingers brush against his as she hands it over, and your stomach drops out with a sick jolt. You’d know those fingers anywhere. They’d been all over you, brushing over your cheek and pushing into your mouth and fucking you open more times than you could count. Seeing them touch her twists ugly in your gut, and you’re stomping across the market, shoving people out of your way with heat in your blood. The smile on the girl’s face drops as you approach, and you wonder just how monstrous your face must look to make her go so pale. The man turns too, face freezing in shock as you grab for his cloak and tug hard enough to tear the threadbare fabric. “Really?” You shout, slapping his shoulder with an open palm. “Three weeks.”

The Boy’s mouth opens and closes, eyes darting around the market and heart thumping hard at how many eyes are on him. On you. You’ve already drawn the attention of a handful of Van Der Koy guards, but for now they’re watching with interest rather than suspicion. For now. Boy has to get you inside somewhere private. He reaches for you, hand grabbing your wrist where you’re still hitting him. He hadn’t actually noticed, hadn’t registered the weak slaps of your palm against his shoulder through his own panic. There are tears in your eyes, and it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen.

“Three weeks.” You repeat, your lips shaking with sobs so hard Boy isn’t completely sure he’s reading you right. “You’ve been gone for three weeks, and then.” Your shoulders sag as you glance at the flower girl, and understanding lights in Boy. His eyes widen, mouth falling open as he lifts the dried flower. ‘This?’ He mouths, and you can barely even look at it as you nod. You’re staring at the ground now, and Boy tugs on your hand until you look back at him. ‘Home.’ He mouths. You shake your head. ‘Please’. He tries again, and your tongue licks out to wet your lips as you consider it. Boy’s eyes slip past you, to the group of guards that are still watching, and you realize just how dangerous you’re being, having this fight with him out in the open. How much danger you’re putting him in. So you let him pull you out of the market, following him down a winding maze of backstreets until he’s sure it’s safe to circle around to your house. He hovers at the door, and you push past him with a shove as you open the door and let him follow you inside.

As soon as the door is closed, a little of the tension bleeds out of Boy, and he sighs. You’re home safe. It isn’t over, because you’re across the room and your eyes are narrowed at him in a glare, but you’re safe. Betrayal. The act of disappointing a person’s trust, hopes, or expectations. That’s the look on your face, and it cuts Boy to his core. Boy presses his hands together, holding them out to you in a gesture of supplication. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth for a moment before meeting his eyes. “Who is she?”

Boy frowns, shaking his head before shrugging his shoulders deliberately. I don’t know. Never seen her before.

“She smiled at you like…” you sigh, shaking your head. “Shit. I suppose I can’t blame her for it.”

Boy takes a hesitant step towards you, breaking the clasp of his hands to push his hood off. He reaches for you, and you let him cup your jaw and trace the shape of your lips with his calloused thumb as he tries to push your mouth into a smile.

It sort of works, and you pull away from him as your lips tug upwards. “Don’t.”

Boy frowns, reaching for you again, and you take a step to the side to avoid his hand. “No. I’m mad at you.”

Boy swallows hard. He knows about anger. Knows how it feels to be on the receiving end of rage. But you’re not the Shaman, thank Christ for that. You’d never hurt him. And Boy absolutely hates that he’s hurting you. He reaches into his cloak, pulling out the dried flower. Some of the petals have come loose crumpled against his shirt, and they flutter to the floor. “I don’t want that. From her.”

Boy holds the stem steady and reaches for the remaining petals, stroking them as delicately as he can manage before holding it out to you again. ‘For you’, he mouths.

You swallow as your eyes dart between the flower and his face. His pretty, sincere face. “You… got this for me?”

Boy nods sharply, eyes lighting with pleasure at your understanding. He reaches into his cloak again for his coin purse, shaking it gently.

“You bought it for me?” Your mouth opens in surprise as warmth floods your stomach. The Shaman doesn’t pay him for selling his drugs. “How?”

Boy’s hands are moving again, complicated gestures that you think might be… chores?

“You worked for other people?”

Boy nods again. He wishes he could tell you properly. It would be so much quicker, if he could use words to tell you he’d mended fences and fixed a horse cart for someone from a nearby farm, and that he was saving every penny so he could take you away from the city for good. He wishes he could tell you that he’d seen the flower, a perfect, vibrant delicacy in a sea of dust, and it had reminded him of you so strongly he’d had to buy it for you. He knows your face would soften if he could tell you that.

“And the girl was just…” You swallow, feeling an embarrassed blush creep up the sides of your neck. “Oh.”

Boy twists his mouth to the side before taking another step towards you, holding up the tattered flower again. This time you take it, pinching the dried stem between your finger and thumb and bringing it to your nose to inhale. It doesn’t smell like much, the scent of the petals has long since dried up and it smells more like your Boy, like sweat and salt and the rich earth of the forest. You inhale deeper, trapping the scent of him in your lungs. “I’m sorry.” You say, lifting your head to make sure he catches it. Boy wouldn’t have missed a single syllable, with the intensity he’s fixed on you. His hand lifts to cup your face, and you don’t pull away this time as his thumb traces the seam of your lips.

‘I’m sorry’ he mouths, eyes full of sincerity, and you part your lips to suck his thumb into your mouth, laving your tongue against the pad of it in the way you know he likes. You watch as his eyes darken, his pupils expanding, and you don’t need to look down to know he’s getting hard. You release his thumb with a wet pop. “Show me.”

His free hand slips down your side, thumb rubbing circles into the bone of your hip for a moment as he lowers slowly to his knees in front of you and looks up through his lashes. You’ve always liked him like this, he can see it in the flush of blood to your cheeks and the way your whole body seems to coil tighter. “What are you doing?” You whisper, your throat bobbing as you swallow hard against a lump of emotion.

Boy raises his eyebrows, fixing you with a look that is unmistakable. Reparation. The making of amends for wrong or injury done. He presses his lips to your clothed centre, looking up at you with electric green eyes as his hands slide up to the waistband of your pants and hover.

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth and nod, and Boy drags the fabric down your thighs with careful, deliberate reverence. The scent of you hits him and his cock twitches in his pants, and he inhales deeply against the dampness of your underwear.

You whimper, your fingers lacing gently into his hair and scratching against his scalp in a way that raises goose bumps on the back of his neck. You tug lightly, and he looks up at you to read your lips as you whisper “Please.”

He needs no further encouragement, as his nose nudges against your underwear and his thumbs hook into the elastic to pull them down your legs. They join your pants on the floor around your ankles, and Boy holds your hip to steady you as you step out. His hand reaches for your calf before you can put your foot down on the ground, and his mouth curves into a smirk as he lifts your leg over his shoulder.

You’re grateful that he can’t hear the sound you make when the sharp point of his nose makes contact with the hood of your clit. It’s a primal, guttural groan. His hands tighten on your flesh, fingers splaying across the back of your thigh as he holds you against his face and wraps his lips around the bud of your clit, sucking it into his mouth.

Boy’s lack of a fully functioning tongue doesn’t matter so much when he buries his face in your cunt like he wants to suffocate there. The thumb still coated in your saliva presses against your entrance, a barely-there weight against your quivering hole, and your fingers tighten in his hair. Boy takes this as permission, pushing his thumb into you and pressing down against the sensitive flesh of your walls as he drags your clit lightly against his teeth before sucking hard.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling, cunt clenching hard around his thumb, and Boy withdraws from your heat to push two long fingers into you instead. He curls them inside you, probing against the tight muscles for the spongy, sensitive spot that makes you clamp down on him. His mouth curves into a smile against you as he drags his lips harshly against your folds, nudging his nose against your clit over and over again as your hips begin to rock forward. You’re grinding against his face, soaking him and whimpering a steady stream of filthy things he can’t hear, and Boy wonders whether he should make you mad more often if this is how it ends. Your arousal is leaking out of you, soaking down his fingers and pooling on his palm, and Boy resists the urge to drag his hand over his mouth. He’s never wished for a tongue as badly as he does right now. To push it inside you, to feel the tight, wet heat of you in his mouth rather than just on his lips.

You pull on his hair, trying to drag his face away from you as your orgasm approaches, but Boy’s grip on the back of your thigh tightens as he nuzzles against your slick, suctioning his lips around your clit and dragging it back and forth over his bottom lip as his fingers fuck into you. You moan as your orgasm washes over you, legs shaking and arousal soaking Boy’s face as your muscles flutter erratically against his fingers. Boy keeps sucking greedily, nipping at your sensitive clit and digging his nose against you until you stop rolling your hips up against his face.

He pulls back and gathers your arousal from his chin and his cheeks, running the slick palm of his hand against his mouth to coat his lips in you before releasing your leg gently back to the ground. And he’d be happy with that, if it was all you’d give him. But your eyes drop hungrily to the bulge straining against the front of his pants and the dark spot of precum where he’s leaking, and you hook your fingers into the front of his shirt, tugging on it until he gets the message and stands up.

Your hand is on him immediately, fumbling with the waistband of his pants and tugging his cock out to squeeze heavy in your palm.

Boy moans softly, pressing his lips together as his hips push against you, seeking friction. You reach for his face with your free hand, brushing the tips of your fingers against his cheek until he opens his eyes to watch your mouth. “I want to suck your cock. Can I?”

Boy nods enthusiastically as his cock twitches its agreement in your hand, and you rub your thumb over his leaking slit before releasing him and bringing your thumb to your lips to lick the salty trace of him. You turn then, and Boy is powerless to do anything but follow you like a lost puppy deeper into the house, to the little room at the back with your soft sheets and dim lighting. You push him down onto the bed, palm firm against his shoulder until he lies back on the mattress. He cranes his neck to watch as you crawl over his body, settling between his legs and wrapping your fist around the base of his cock again.

“Lie back.” You instruct softly. “Just enjoy it.”

Boy wants to tell you that watching you take his cock into your mouth is a really big part of the enjoying it, but at the sharp lick of your tongue against his slit his head falls back anyway, eyes rolling. You suction the fat head of his cock into your mouth, letting drool drip down his length to coat him and jerking him into your mouth with a loose fist. It isn’t long at all before his hips are lifting from the bed to thrust into your mouth, and you relax your jaw to let him fuck into your throat .

Boy makes a keening sound somewhere between a sob and a whimper, and you feel fresh arousal throb in your clit at the desperate sound of it. God, you wish you could hear his voice. Wish he could tell you how good it feels.

Ecstasy. An overpowering emotion or exaltation; a state of sudden, intense feeling. Boy’s mind is blank of everything now, everything but the wet heat of your mouth and the drag of your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock and the tight squeeze of your fingers wrapped around his base. He knows he’s taking too much, can feel the way your throat spasms around him as you try not to gag, but he can’t stop unless you stop him. And you’re not stopping him, bobbing your head and pumping him into your mouth and encouraging him with the vibration of your moans against his length.

Boy’s hands fly to your head, tugging on your hair as a warning, and you tap his thigh in acknowledgement, the silent language of touch the two of you have crafter over the months of your secret relationship. But you don’t pull off, sucking harder and taking him impossibly deeper into your throat, and Boy cums with a startled, rough cry as his hips snap against your face and he spurts his load down your throat. You swallow around him, breathing through your nose as best you can with your face pressed harshly to his cock, still pumping his length into your mouth to milk every last drop of his release from him.

When his fingers loosen in your hair and his hips drop to the mattress, you withdraw slowly, licking over his sensitive skin and pressing your lips to the swollen tip of his cock before releasing him completely and rising to your knees to drink in the sight of him. Boy is boneless, his enormous, muscular body melting against the sheets as his breath leaves him in harsh pants. The sheets either side of his thighs are rumpled and damp from how he’s twisted them in his fingers, and you can see the pulse of his blood thrumming under the tanned skin over his throat. He’s a fucked-out wreck and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

You crawl over his body, your soft chest pressing to his hard one as you press your lips to his. His arms lift to wrap around your waist, pinning you to him as his lips coax yours open, silently begging for your tongue. You lick against the inside of his mouth, and he lets loose a low moan at the taste of himself on your tongue.

It’s at that moment his stomach gurgles, announcing its emptiness, and Boy feels a blush heat his cheeks as you pull away from the kiss to tilt your head to the side, listening. Boy knows it makes a sound, though he can’t quite remember it. Your lips curl into a soft smile. “Wait here.”

Boy huffs as you wriggle out of his arms, shuffling into a seated position against your headboard and tucking his soft cock back into his pants. You pout as you return to the bed and see he’s covered up, and Boy rolls his eyes at you before fixing his gaze on the greasy paper bag in your hand. ‘For me?’ He mouths, pointing at it and then his chest.

You grin, climbing onto the bed and ripping the paper open to present the pastry to him. The scent of butter and sugar and cinnamon hits him, and Boy swallows hard. His lips part as your fingers shred a piece off the bun, lifting it to his mouth. He pulls the sweetness into his mouth, dragging the pastry to the back of his mouth to dissolve against the stub of his tongue, and his eyes roll back at the taste.

You sit cross legged in front of him and balance the open bag on your knee, shredding the bun into bite-sized pieces with your fingers as you watch his face contort in pleasure. And you’re not like… jealous of the pastry or anything, considering he’d looked just as blissed out when he was eating you, but you still press your lips to his between every bite, just because you can.

He’s watching your lips move as the last piece of pastry sticks to the roof of his mouth. He’s forgotten, momentarily, how to swallow as your words form the words. “I love you, you know?”

He can only stare at you dumbly as the words sink into his skin and wrap around his heart until it hurts. You love him. You love him back.

“You don’t have to say it. Or, you know, whatever.” You mumble. Boy squints at your mouth, not completely sure of what you’re saying.

Adoration. Fervent and devoted love. He cups your jaw in both hands and brings your face close to his, nuzzling his nose against yours before pulling back and mouthing ‘I love you, too’.

Taglist: @coryoslut @thewolfcubofkaermorhen @elyseesarchive @nqarxne @brightnessluvworld @loushaw131460 @goosegreenwood @lunaskye999@stvalent @devilslittlehelper @kikibit

[bafterhours]

HELL YESSSSS I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! Can’t wait for the epilogue!!!!

ahhh so glad you enjoyed these last chapters!! ♥️♥️ thank you so much!