#and here I am. not drinking. avoiding being around people drinking. not wanting to smoke. avoiding people in general

[cr0wc0rpse]

Hi guys . I’m once again being crushed by the realization that I am so lame and boring. I’m 20 and I don’t drink and don’t feel comfortable being around people who are drinking and don’t like smoking at events/around people and I’m so bad at socializing. Kind of hurts ngl

[absurdthirst]

The Songbird and the Spaniard {Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13K

Warnings: Mafia AU, 1960s, threats of violence, greed card marriage, mentions of communism (McCarthy-ism era), violent assault, anger, rough sex, loss of virginity, communication issues, mentions of infidelity, confessions, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Comments: Pero Tovar has a problem, he's being deported. So he solves it by threatening you to marry him. A marriage for a green card, quickly complicated by the possessiveness of the mob boss and the rough taking of your virginity.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The lounge is reminiscent of a 1920’s jazz club. It was the vibe that he wanted and what Pero Tovar wanted, he got. The velvet cushions on the chairs were always bearing the weight of people who wanted to come and have a good time. To gamble, smoke, drink and sometimes fuck in a club that was taboo because it had rumored ties to the mafia. Only people that know that it’s true are the people that work there. As one of the headliner singers, you are well aware of how dangerous the man you work for is, and you despise him. 

You smile at the crowd as you sing, your nerves fading as you serenade the drinkers, the gamblers, the lovers. You have been working at the club for a few years, hired by William, and you love it. The 60’s is in full swing and your mini dress sways around your thighs as you sing. Pero is sitting at the booth in the back, his dark eyes crinkling as he laughs at something William says to him, whiskey in his hand and cigarette in the other. “Boss. There’s a man here for you.” Rita, the coat check comes over to Pero, nervous since he has been cold to her since he fucked her a few nights ago in the cloak room. 

“Why don’t you send him over?” Pero asks, tapping his cigarette on the side of the ashtray. Rita nods and gestures for the man to come over. The man sits, setting his hat down on the table, “you’re a hard man to find Pero Tovar.” He says and Pero narrows his eyes slightly. “And who has been looking for me?” 

The man chuckles, “my name is Mr. Taylor. You’ve received letter upon letter from US immigration. You’re being deported. You arrived from Spain in 1937 as a refugee from Franco but you have failed to disclose if you’re a communist. You have ten days to book your ticket from the US otherwise we will remove you ourselves.”

Pero growls, stubbing out his cigarette and leaning over to grab the wad of cash out of his pocket. “How much to stay?” He demands. “I am no communist, I’m a business owner. This club.” He tells the bureaucratic prick. “I cannot go back to Spain, my life is here.”

Mr. Taylor snorts, “no amount of money will fix this. You have evaded me for too long. You have a week to get your affairs in order before I come back to escort you to your plane. I cannot be bought. We cannot have a communist here and you have not applied for citizenship. You will be leaving the US next week.” Mr. Taylor says as he stands up and hands the letter to Tovar. “One week. I’ll see you here or you will be arrested and detained.” He says before he spins on his heel and exits the club.

“Fuck.” Pero hisses, itching to reach for his gun but it would only make matters worse. William, knowing his friend and business partner, reaches over to take the gun from him under the table so none of the guests will see. “I told you that you shouldn’t ignore the letters.” He snorts, shaking his head and smirking slightly as Lin Mae watches from her sit across the room. His lovely bride is the security for the place and is far better at keeping the peace than even the threat of the mafia. “It’s an easy fix.” He tells the Spaniard easily. “Marry a citizen. Then you can stay.”

Your eyes find Pero and William, a man walking away from their booth, and you see the thunderous look on Pero’s face. He’s pissed off. You smile against the microphone, loving to see Pero not getting his way for once. The band finishes the song and you smile at the applause. “Thank you. I’m going to take a break but I’ll be back in five.” You announce and step off of the stage to walk over to the bar, ordering your vodka soda.

“What about Rita?” William suggests, the bastard laughing at the entire situation and making Pero want to smash his fist into his perfectly straight teeth. “Fuck no,” Pero snorts, motioning for the waitress for his section to bring him another whiskey when his eyes land on you. “Bitch’ll think that I really want to marry her and spit out babies.” He had avoided her after she had been clingy after the fuck in the coat closet, he doesn’t like that kind of shit.

“Thanks, Frank.” You smile at the bartender who  hands you your drink. You sit down on the stool and have a sip, glancing around at the club. It’s busy for a Wednesday but not as busy as the weekend. “What about…?” William jerks his chin over to the bar where you are sitting. “She definitely doesn’t want to have your babies.”

Pero snorts, his eyes sliding along the sleek lines of your dress and caresses every curve hungrily. “She would rather cut my heart out with a spoon.” He grunts, admiring the hatred you seem to harbor for him. It just makes him want you more. To possess you and watch you spit and hiss under him until you start to moan and writhe in pleasure. “That’s perfect.”

You set your empty glass down and make your way back to the stage but before you make it, Tovar steps in front of you. “Excuse me, Tovar. I need to get back on stage.” You huff, wondering what your boss wants. He’s been chasing Rita around the club lately so you don’t know why he is stopping you from getting back to your set. “I need to talk to you in my office.” He grunts and you roll your eyes, “don’t you want me back on stage?” His dark eyes stare at you, showing he’s not interested in an argument and you huff again. “Fine.” You stride onto the stage, whispering to the guitarist to keep playing until you come back. “Boss wants to see me.” You explain and Rico waggles his eyebrows. "As if." You wrinkle your nose and make your way off the stage, down the hall to Pero's office.

Sitting behind his desk, Pero wonders exactly what he needs to say to get you to marry him. Hating that he finds himself in this damned situation, but he needs to stay. He hasn’t been to Spain in nearly thirty years, his home is here and he’s not leaving.

“You know, I was in the middle of a set. William won’t be happy that I’m not out there getting the old men horny so they buy more booze.” You shut the door behind you to see what he wants.

“This is more important.” Pero motions to the chair in front of the desk and makes a show of pulling his gun out from the holster at the small of his back and setting it on the desk before he lights up a cigarette and stares at you for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to tell you. Being blunt is his nature and he decides to go with that. “You will need to be here tomorrow at ten in the morning in a white dress.” He orders, pointing at you with the cigarette held hand. “We are getting married.”

You stare at him for several seconds. “You’re fucking joking, right?” You choke. He stares back at you and you laugh, throwing your head back. Your chortles echo off of the walls of his office until you notice he’s not joking. “You’re not joking.” You choke again, “you’re not joking. Why- what the hell, Tovar? Explain.” You demand, shifting closer to his desk.

“You want to keep your job?” Pero growls, shooting you a dark look. “Fuckers from immigration are trying to deport me. You’re a citizen. We get married, I can stay and you can keep singing in my club.” He snorts. “And I don’t have to worry about you wanting to stay married after I get my green card.”

You shake your head, “I could go and get another job in another club. It’s the 60s. Women have freedom. I don’t have to be married and shoved into a kitchen anymore. I could easily get another job.” You scoff, unable to believe he has the gall to demand you marry him. Pero picks up his gun and aims it at you, making your eyes widen, “you can’t easily get another life.” Your stomach twists at the look in his eyes, cold and emotionless like he could pull the trigger and carry on about his day. If you don’t do what he wants, you’re dead. “O-okay. I- I- I’ll do it.” You whisper, eyes still fixed on the gun that you know has killed many men.

It should upset him that you would believe that he would shoot you, but it doesn’t. He’s getting his way and that’s all that matters. “Tomorrow.” He growls, slowly setting the gun down. “We get married so that prick can kiss my ass when he comes back to try to kick me out.” He smirks and takes a drag off his cigarette. “You can go finish your songs now.”

You narrow your eyes at him, knowing that you’ll do everything you can to make his life hell when you’re his wife. He doesn’t know what he’s signed himself up for. You won’t be some little wife cooking his meals and cleaning his apartment. You stand up and spin on your heel, not saying another word as you leave his office and go back to the stage but not before grabbing another glass of vodka soda. 

****

You sigh as you stand there, the only white dress you own goes down to your calves and it sways as you stand in the club, waiting for Pero who is late. He walks in and you huff,  “you’re late.” He chuckles and you hate that you like how he looks in the blue suit with his hair slicked back. He looks good. “I had to celebrate my last night of freedom.” He smirks and you scoff, “like you’re not going to fuck every whore from here to Harlem anyway.” You shake your head and grab your purse, “can we get this over with?”

“Eager to be my wife, hermosa?” There are witnesses milling around, so Pero grabs your waist and hauls you close to him. He can see the way your eyes widen slightly, your breath catching in surprise. You’re scared of him and while it might annoy him later, right now it’s useful. “Don’t worry, soon you’’ll be mi esposa and I will have you in bed screaming my name.” In order for Pero to stay, immigration must believe that the marriage is real, so he’s already sent guys over to your apartment to pack it up. You will come live with him.

“Screaming to get away from you.” You whisper, knowing you need to sell this otherwise you’ll be going to jail and he will be deported. Or you’ll be killed. His arms tighten around your waist in warning. You lean in to caress his cheek. He’s shaved and you press your lips to his cheek, your eyes open as you do it. “Let’s go get hitched.” You say with a smile on your face but your eyes burn into his.

The entire process is fairly simple, and it doesn’t take long before the two of you are standing in front of a magistrate. Pero holding you close and plastering a happy look on his normally dower face to prove that he’s wanting to do this and not just stay in the country.

You recite your vows, your hands on his and you are surprised when you see the ring he slides onto your finger. You didn’t imagine he’d have one and he hands you the one for you to slide onto his left hand. The magistrate declares you husband and wife and you don’t get a chance to prepare yourself as he leans in to press his lips to yours.

Your lips are soft, much softer than he imagined and the surprise parting them allows him to take complete control and kiss you like he wants to. His tongue sweeps into your mouth to take possession and map the inside with strong, determined strokes while your fingers dig into the jacket of his suit.

Your mind blanks when he kisses you so thoroughly. You never imagined him to be such a good kisser and you are disappointed when he pulls back until he offers you a cocky smirk that makes you barely refrain from glaring at him. After you sign the marriage certificate and Pero hands over some money, “to expedite this beautiful creature having my last name,” you leave the courthouse. “So, I guess I’ll wait until we meet with the immigration agent. I’ll see you at work.” You say, adjusting your purse and spinning on your heel to get away from him.

Pero snorts and grabs your arm, dragging you back against him. “Where are you going?” He demands. “I cannot have someone thinking this marriage is a sham.” You snort but he smirks at you. “My men are packing up your dresses and panties, hermosa. You live with me.”

Your eyes widen, “living with you? Fuck no.” You hiss and he shakes his head, “you have no choice. Unless you want to be six feet under.” His smile drops and you swallow harshly, “fine but I get my own room. I’m not sleeping with you. Or fucking you.” You growl, pressing your chest against his to show him he can’t control you.

While he might not have expected you to fuck him, Pero doesn’t like rejection. He likes to be the one to call the shots. Grabbing your chin, he hisses at you, his dark eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Who said I wanted you?” He spits. “I like soft women, warm and pliant, not a cunt so cold it would freeze my dick off.”

You wince at the way he grips your chin, keeping you close to him. “You have plenty of options you can pay for.” You hiss at him, “you can’t buy me. I’m doing this to stay alive.” You remind him, “let’s go. I want to change out of this dress and prepare for my set tonight.”

Pero lets go of your chin and snorts as he steps back from you. “That’s right.” He straightens his suit jacket and pins you with a dark look, almost glaring at you. “Remember who you are married to now.” He warns you. “I won’t tolerate you being a whore while you wear that ring.”

You want to spit back at him that you’re a virgin. You wanted to give yourself to the man you love but it looks like that won’t be happening anytime soon. You snort, “you don’t own me.” You try to rebel even under the dire circumstances. “That’s where you’re wrong, esposa. I do.” Pero declares and you huff, striding off to his waiting car without looking back at him.

Pero watches you walk away, admiring your ass and hissing between his teeth. You’ve made it very clear that you cannot stand him, yet out of all the women at the club, you are the one he craves. To tame you, temper you. Or maybe he just likes the spit and vinegar you give him, instead of just falling to his feet. Now he has you in name, but he cannot touch you.

You slide into the car and Pero follows, immediately lighting up a smoke when the car pulls away from the curb. “Can you open the window?” You ask and he rolls his eyes, rolling down the window but he exhales away from you. When you arrive at his apartment building, you’re impressed. It’s in a nice part of town. Certainly nicer than your place in Brooklyn, and you sigh when the driver opens your door after he pulls up to the curb. You walk in and the doorman greets you. “Harold, this is my new wife.” Pero introduces you, the cigarette long snubbed out but the smoke clings to his jacket. “Wife?” Harold is shocked and you lean into Pero to sell it, “we wanted to keep it private, you know, because of the baby.” You say, sliding your hand down to your belly and Pero hisses through his smile. “Come on, esposa, let’s get you settled.” He says and his grip on your waist tightens as you head into the elevator. “What the fuck did you say that for?” He growls and you giggle, leaning against the wall. “Wanted to have some fun.” You smirk and Pero shakes his head, “he’s going to know when you don’t get bigger.” He points out and you shrug, “shit happens. He doesn’t need to know.”

Pero lets go of you and stares at the numbers on the elevator as it goes up. Annoyed that you caused more drama than you needed to. Starting to regret this, but then he remembers that he has to have you as his wife, for his future here in America. “Mierda.” He hisses to himself and sighs when the door opens on the top floor, the penthouse suite of the building. “Home sweet home, esposa.”

Your eyes widen as you step out of the elevator, a view of Central Park ahead of the floor to ceiling windows and you are in awe of the luxury he lives in. "No wonder you don't want to leave." You murmur, taking note of the expensive furniture. You walk into the living room and find the door to the kitchen, gasping at the beautiful appliances and space that is almost the same size as your apartment. "Oh, I want to cook in here." You squeal, excited by the fridge and the top of the range stove.

Pero smirks, shucking his jacket as he listens to you go through the kitchen, exclaiming over the latest modern appliances. Even the microwave with the turntable and an electric can opener. He chuckles at your change of attitude but he doesn’t point out that it’s a wife’s job to make meals for her husband, knowing you wouldn’t appreciate that.

You turn to look at Pero as he walks over to the bar cart, "you want a drink?" He asks and you nod, "gonna need one after this morning." You take the glass of whiskey after Pero pours it into a crystal glass. You take a sip, "so where is my room?" You ask and he doesn't say a word as he escorts you down the hall to your bedroom, your things already there. "How did you- never mind." You scoff, knowing he's powerful enough to move mountains...just not regarding his immigration status.

He had anticipated you asking how the hell your things are all here, but you apparently figured it out. He smirks slightly and pulls out a key from his pocket to set it down on the table near the door. “This gives you access to the penthouse.” He tells you. “Don’t lose it.”

You turn to look at Pero after he sets the key down, “I won’t lose it.” You promise and he stares at you. Those dark brown eyes. If he wasn’t such a demanding asshole who chased women, you’d want him, but he’s too wild to tame. “I’m going to settle in.” You declare, hoping he gets the hint, and he does. You shut the door behind him and sit down on the bed. Your ring catches the light and you wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

It’s strange to have a woman in his apartment. He never has before. Not to sleep. His liaisons normally happened at the club or a lesser apartment he kept for activities, preferring to keep his actual home for himself. He pours himself another drink and listens to you start to move things around in your room and he huffs to himself. Deciding that he should just go back to the club and work so he won’t dwell on the fact that he has a wife and a sham marriage.

****

When you arrive at the club, Tovar is already there. He left hours ago and you thought you had to figure out how to get to the club on your own but you’re soon told by the doorman that there’s a car waiting for you. You arrive at the club and walk in, his ring on your hand, and your head high when you see Pero talking to the bartender, a glass of whiskey in his hand. You walk over to him, “hello, husband.” You greet him, wondering if he’s told the rest of the staff about his new status.

Pero lifts a brow, unsure if you were wishing for the staff to know and glances back at the bartender to see his reaction. “Vodka soda for my wife.” He grunts at the man. “Twist of lime.” He knows your drink, watching you more often than you realize and turn back towards you. “I’ve moved your set up.” He tells you. “You’re performing first tonight.”

“Why?” You huff, knowing that the crowd is always difficult for the first person on stage. He has the jazz trio who usually go first and they warm up the crowd for you. You hate being first. Frank hands you your drink, his eyes flicking down to the ring on your hand and he raises his eyebrows. You shake your head and sip the drink, turning back towards your husband for his answer.

Of course you would be annoyed. “So you can leave early.” He had thought he was doing you a favor, letting you leave the smoky club before the wee hours of the morning when you normally finish, but you aren’t appreciative.

You huff, knowing he only wants you to leave early so he can chase Rita or one of the cocktail waitresses around. “Fine. I’ll go on first.” You down the rest of your drink and make your way to the stage, speaking with the band who are confused that you’re up first. “Boss’s orders.” You tell them and a few minutes later, you’re singing. You can feel his eyes on you, watching you from the front row. It’s not Pero watching you. It’s another man. His eyes burning into you, licking his lips as you croon to the song. You try to ignore him, finishing up the first set and you make your way over to the bar for another drink. 

“You sing beautifully.” A voice coos in your ear and you turn your head to see the man from the front row of tables. “Thank you.” You offer him a polite smile and he leans closer. “Can I get you a drink?” He asks and you hold up your still full glass. “Already got one.” He nods, “maybe when you’re done with that.” He gestures to Frank to get him another round. “So…what’s a beautiful woman like you, doing singing in a club? You should be in an expensive home, my home, having my babies.” He smirks, thinking you should be fawning over him but you wrinkle your nose. 

“I have a rich husband.” You flash your ring at him and he grabs your hand, “that’s a piece of tin. I could get you a bigger rock. And a bigger cock.” He chuckles, his other hand finding your back and his palm slowly slides down until it’s on your ass.

Pero had watched from his booth until the stranger had ordered you a drink. Growling under his breath when the bastard sends you a cocky smirk that makes him get up and start striding over to you. Feeling jealous and territorial over you, even if you are only his wife on paper. You flash him the ring but the bastard just scoffs. His mistake is when he touches you, making Pero see red as the hand reaches your ass and he decides he will break every one of the bastard’s fingers. Not bothering with niceties, he grabs his hand off your ass, not saying a word until the man turns in surprise and then cries out in pain when Pero snaps his wrist before letting go and slamming his fist into his smug face. “Didn’t your mamá teach you not to touch another man’s wife?” He growls, grabbing his neck and slamming his face into the bar before he can react, spewing blood everywhere. “My wife.”

You stumble back in shock, eyes wide at the blood splattering on the counter and Pero doesn’t stop. He gestures to Frank, “get it for me.” He demands and Frank nods, not hesitating to grab the hammer from under the counter. Tovar grabs the hand that touched you, keeping it pinned to the counter and the man cries out in pain from his broken wrist. “You need to learn you should not touch what doesn’t belong to you, cabrón.” Pero growls and grabs the hammer, bringing it down on the fingers of the man who dared to touch you. You can’t breathe, can’t do anything but watch as the violence continues, your husband smashing the man’s digits with the hammer while he screams in agony. 

“Pero.” You choke out, knowing you shouldn’t say anything for fear of your own safety but you need to stop this before he kills him. “Enough. That’s enough.”

Pero doesn’t stop until he has smashed all five fingers with the hammer, aware that the music has stopped and everyone is gapping in horror at the scene. The man’s hand is mangled, bloodied - ruined. His dark eyes slide over to your terrified face but he looks back at the bastard who has pissed his pants as he sags against the bar. Pero drops the hammer and grabs his jacket lapels to yank him closer, ignoring the man’s whimpers of terror and begging for his life. He’s pathetic and no longer the cocky braggart of a few minutes earlier. “Touch her again and I will kill you.” Pero hisses. “Look at her and I will carve your eyes out of your skull.” Sobbing, the man shakes his head. “I won’t, I won’t, please- just- just let me go.” Pero grunts in disgust and pushes him away, letting him fall to the floor as his men surround him. “Get him out of here.” He growls and grabs your hand to drag you towards his office.

You let him drag you to his office, still in shock from the display of violence. You’ve seen hints of it. A punch here, a shove there, but you’ve never seen anything like that. Pero shuts the door behind you, his chest heaving and you stare at him. “Why did you do that? I had it under control.”

“His hand was on your ass and you had it under control?” Pero roars, grabbing you by the arms and pushing you against his desk. Crowding you with his body and trying to get himself under control but he’s failing. Losing his mind at the idea of that bastard touching you when not even he has touched your ass. “No one touches my wife.” He growls, crashing his lips to yours violently.

You should push him away, you should scream at him, but the possessive way he kisses you, the way he owns you. It has you pushing yourself against him, gripping the labels of his jacket as you kiss him back.

He would stop if you pushed him away. That’s what he tells himself as he grabs your hips and throws you up onto the surface of his desk. Hungry for you, his veins still swimming with violence and passion, fusing together and coming out as lust. His cock is already hard and he drags your panties down after pushing your slinky dress up to your waist. Pero’s tongue maps your mouth brutally and he swallows your moans and grunts as he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the other between your thighs and pushing two fingers inside your cunt.

Your cry echoes off the walls of his office as he pushes two thick digits into your shamefully wet pussy. You should push him away, tell him no, but you can’t. His display, his animalistic claim over you has you needing more and when his fingers curl in your pussy, you gush with need and desire for your newly minted husband. “Fuck me.” You beg, not knowing what you’re asking for other than to feel more of him.

Your words snap what little self control he has. Growling as he tears his lips away from yours, he bites along your jaw and down your throat as he pulls his cock out of his trousers, the same ones he had worn when he married you and slots himself between your thighs. He doesn’t ease into you, he can’t. He drives into you with one harsh, demanding thrust and groans your name as he claims you.

Your scream is smothered as you bury your face in his neck, the pain of his intrusion fading after a few moments but he doesn’t stop, pulling out to thrust into you without giving you a second but you cling to him. The pain fading and you moan when he starts to feel good as he moves inside of you.

“You’re mine.” He hisses in your ear. “My woman, my wife.” He knows that after this moment of insanity, you will be spitting and striking at him again, pushing him away. For now, right now, you are his to take. To protect. His lips continue to kiss and his teeth continue to nip your skin. Gorging himself on you while he fucks the tightest little cunt he’s ever had. Groaning your name when you flutter around him, it just makes him fuck you harder, the desk shaking under you from the intensity of his thrusts.

Your nails dig into his back as you slide your hands behind his back under his jacket. His cock pistons in and out of you, his eyes black as he stares at you, words of possession falling from his lips and you shouldn’t find this as hot as you do. He’s an animal but your walls are taking him eagerly, gushing around him with each moan of your name. Your hands let go of him and you lay back on his desk, arching your back as you knock the pen holder and papers from the surface, your eyes closing as the pleasure builds in your belly, his pelvis rubbing just right against your clit in this new angle.

You are gorgeous and pliant under him. Yielding to him in a way he never suspected and he can’t even stop to tell you how sexy you are. Grunting as he holds tight to your hips and uses you as an anchor. He watches you, wanting to push more of those moans out of your pretty mouth as he rocks into you. Looking down to watch his cock push in and out of your cunt, he twitches and ramps up the pace, knowing he will cum soon. 

Your hands find purchase of the edge of his expensive oak desk, your chest pushed up and heaving as he fucks you hard. Any venom you had for him seemed to leave your body as soon as he starts fucking you. Your thighs start to shake and he grabs them, pushing them back towards your stomach, sinking even deeper inside of you. “Oh shit!” You cry when he hits something indescribable inside of you. “To-Tovar. I’m going to - I think it’s-” You can barely speak as his hips hit the back of your thighs and seconds later, you’re clamping down on his cock.

He hisses, eyes rolling back as your walls grip his cock like a vice, feeling the tingle at the base of his spine. Happy that he had made you cum and soak his cock before his own orgasm. You are so tight around him that he can only give another three thrusts before he is pushing deep, kissing your womb with his cock as he starts to paint your walls with his seed. Grunting and groaning as he fills you. 

You open your eyes to watch him as he cums, jaw clenched and eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks as his cum fills you up. You relax, slumping on his desk as he rocks through it until he stops, his hands caressing up your thighs and you shift to sit up as soon as he pulls out. You stand on wobbly legs, his hands gripping your waist to steady you and you manage to pull together enough balance to bend down and grab your panties, pulling them up your legs to keep his cum from dripping down your thighs. “I should - I need to get back to my set.” You choke out. His hand comes to grab yours but you manage to evade his grip, “wait-” He says your name but you’re already slipping out of his office, heading to the bathroom to process the fact that you just had sex with your maniac boss who is now your husband.

Pero frowns as he stares at the door you had left opened, confused by the way you had just run away like he was the devil. You had told him to fuck you, begged him, and now you couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Clenching his jaw, he tucks his cock away and looks down at his hand, the skin bruised on his knuckles from where he punched that asshole. “Hijo de puta.” He hisses, storming out of the office in need of a drink.

You step back on stage after you clean yourself up, another drink in hand, and you are starting your song as Pero stalks through the club to sit in the booth where William is. Your voice seems boxy in your ears as you try to focus on your performance but you’re constantly watching Pero. You shouldn’t have given in to him. Nothing good can come of it. He will be on to the next shiny thing when he’s done with you. When he got what he wanted: his citizenship.

“You made a scene.” Willam comments as Pero downs his first drink and then motions to Rita to quickly bring him another. He cuts his eyes back over at his friend and reaches out to take the Irishman’s drink. “So?” He grunts and William smirks. “Because he touched her?” He asks, making Pero growl, “she’s my wife. You would have killed him if she was Lin Mae.” That comment just makes the other man laugh even more. 

“So why is she watching you now and you are drinking like you are trying to forget?” He asks as the waitress brings another drink over with a sultry smile for the Spaniard that he completely ignores. She pouts as she saunters off and Pero stares down at his drink for a moment before he answers. “Fucked her.” he admits, tossing back the drink in one gulp.

William keeps his expression neutral to not tip you off since you’re watching but his eyes widen slightly, “you fucked her? You know…shit, brother. She’s not the type you fuck and walk away from.” William shakes his head and Pero snorts, slamming the glass on the table. “She walked away from me. Left before I could even tuck my cock away.” 

William sighs, “you better know what you’re doing. She’s not the kind of woman you fuck around. Not like Rita. She’s too good for you.”

His eyes find you up on the stage again, crooning into the microphone and he sighs. “I know it, cabrón.” He admits quietly. “I’ve always known it, that’s why I wanted her.” He pushes his drink away and leans back in his booth, watching you from the shadows as he was meant to do. You had the spotlight on you, he lived in darkness. He had let the darkness touch you because of his own greed and he couldn’t do that again. Not when you wanted to leave just as soon as he got his green card.  

You finish your set and take your place at the bar again, ordering a club soda, no vodka. You need a clear head. Pero doesn’t come over to the bar, and thankfully no one else does. You see Rita rush down the hall to Pero’s office and sigh, knowing that she will always be in his head. She’s a good time and you’re…complicated. When you don’t see Pero, you decide to head home. Grabbing your purse, you figure you’ll use the subway, leave the car for Tovar since he will probably be home late. You have a bath after you arrive back at his penthouse, soaking in the tub with a cigarette to relax and clean yourself after he fucked you. You’re sore, aching, and the hot water does wonders.

“Come on baby- I can suck your cock.” Rita pouts and licks her lips as Pero pushes her away. He had gone to his office after your performance, not interested in watching the band and the clingy bitch had followed him inside. Obviously not getting the hint when he told her to bring him a drink from the bar, she continues to annoy him. Wanting more than he is willing to give. 

“I’m married.” Pero shakes his head, waving her towards the door. “I’m not fucking you again, or letting you suck my cock.” 

“Come on baby. Don’t be like that. She doesn’t have to know. Why the hell did you marry that cold bitch? You could’ve had me. Whenever you wanted. I would’ve given you the world. Kids. Blowjobs.” She smirks, shifting to sit on his desk. “All you have to do is ask and I’ll be yours. You can keep your little wife but I want to be your whore.”

Pero narrows his eyes dangerously, pissed off that she would insult you. “Get the fuck out of my office.” He hisses. “You’re fired.” Her mouth drops open in shock and she gasps. “What? Pero- baby-” Slamming his fist on the desk, he shoots out of his chair. “Get out!” He shouts, making her flinch in fear. “Don’t ever fucking come back!”

She scrambles off of his desk, knowing the look in his eyes is one to not be fucked with. He’d never hurt a woman, his mamá would smack him from her grave, but Rita doesn’t know that as she rushes out of the office, getting her purse and practically sprinting out of the club in tears.

William walks into his office right after Rita runs out, staring at Pero like he’s lost his mind. “Tell me you didn’t-” He starts but the Spaniard cuts him off. “Fire her? Yes, I did.” He grunts, gathering his papers and stuffing them into a rarely used briefcase. “Cut her last check, pay her cash, I don’t fucking care, but she doesn’t set foot back in his club again.” 

William nods, “I’ll get the guys to give her cash. Jesus Christ, my friend. You have got it bad. You need to get this under control before you lose it all. Go talk to her. I’ll make sure everything is closed up here.”

He grunts, sure that his friend is being over dramatic. He’s not going to lose anything. Because of his marriage to you, he will be able to keep what he’s worked hard to build. Still, he nods and strides out of his office, needing to get home and find out why the fuck you ran away from him.

You are in a robe, preparing a cup of tea when Pero arrives home. Much earlier than you thought he would, and he sets his briefcase down on the kitchen counter. “Rita didn’t take long then.” You snort, pouring out the hot water from the kettle as Pero stands there.

He ignores the barb that you throw at him, watching as you make yourself a cup of tea. “You left without letting me know.” He grunts, wondering why you get under his skin as much as you do. Looking softer than you had before, he likes this look on you.

You turn to look at him, “I figured you were busy and I didn’t want to disturb you. I saw Rita heading into your office so I didn’t want to walk in on something I don’t want to see.” You shake your head, turning back to your tea, putting the tea bag in. “Do you need something?” You ask, not looking back over at your new husband.

He frowns at your back, unsure why you keep bringing up Rita like he was still fucking the girl. It was one time. “She’s gone.” He announces, “fired.” Moving over to the cabinet, he gets out another tea cup for himself since you didn’t offer him a cup.

You feel guilty that she’s fired but then you remember how she would brag about sleeping with the boss. “You fired her? She - she used to say that she was sucking your cock every day.” You hand him a tea bag, unable to be too cold to not help him with a cup of tea.

Pero snorts and pours the still hot water from the kettle into his cup and adds the tea bag with two cubes of sugar. “I fucked her one time. In the coat room.” He admits. “She didn’t suck my cock everyday and when she pushed me to fuck her tonight, I fired her.”

You shake your head, knowing you shouldn’t care. Not this much. “Why? She was offering herself to you on a platter. Most men would have taken it.” You stir your tea, looking down at the cup. 

“I’m not most men. I’m married.” 

You frown and look at him, “I never expected you to be faithful.” 

He scoffs, “my mamá would kill me. She taught me that you don’t hit women, you don’t cheat on your wife, and you protect what’s yours.” Your eyebrows raised, shocked at the way he has more morality than most men around. “I- I never would’ve - you seem like the type to love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

“When I was single, I fucked who I wanted.” He shrugged slightly and doesn’t mentioned that he wanted to fuck you and he had to marry you in order to do that. “While you had to marry me and despise me, I will not shame you with affairs.” He promises. “But I expect the same.” That is a warning for you and just a statement of fact. Anyone you slept with, he would kill.

You scoff, “you don’t need to worry about that. I’m not - that isn’t something I do. I was a virgin.” You confess and he frowns, “who did you lose your innocence to?” He asks, wondering why you’re telling him this. “You.” You whisper, staring at your cup of tea.

Pero freezes, dropping his spoon into his cup with a clatter and stares at you in horror. “I- you gave me your innocence on my fucking desk?” He rasps out, feeling horrible that he had not known nor shown you any kind of tenderness when he had touched you. “I- Mierda. I should have treated you better.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t protest and - and I wanted to see what all the fuss is about. I was saving myself for the man I love but with marrying you, it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen anytime soon so I figured I’d get it over with.” You shrug like it doesn’t mean anything.

Your words hit him like a bucket of water being dropped over his head. A stark reminder that you hate him. “Right.” He grunts, picking up his cup. “Now you know what it’s all about.” He spits before he turns and walks out of the kitchen stiffly.

You watch him leave and lean against the counter. You don’t know how you’re going to survive being married to Pero. He’s complicated and you regret your words. You sip your cup of tea and decide to take it back to your room. You’re Mrs. Tovar now and you will need to navigate your complicated faux marriage.

****

“I have to say that I’m surprised to see this.” Mr. Taylor’s lips are pressed thin in displeasure as he inspects the marriage certificate thoroughly, as if expecting to find it to be a forgery. “I was unaware you were engaged.” Pero arches a brow and leans back in his chair, taking this meeting in his office and blows a puff of smoke up into the air. “You did not ask.” He points out, his other arm wrapping around your waist and tugging you closer on the arm of his chair. “But you cannot deny I have taste.”

“You certainly do, Mr. Tovar.” Mr. Taylor says, his eyes trailing along your form and Pero pulls you closer, his possessive nature on display. “He’s too sweet.” You murmur, leaning in to press your lips to Pero’s turning his cheek to ensure you can kiss him properly. His tongue pushes into your mouth and you pull back a second later, pecking his lips. “So…this has become a green card situation. One that I find to be very convenient since this is dated after our meeting.” 

Mr. Taylor tilts his head as he looks at you, “would you say your husband is a communist?” He asks and you scoff, “a communist? Mr. Taylor, my husband escaped Spain to avoid being in Franco’s army. He is a pure patriot to our country. He loves America. He loves freedom. He would never be a commie. He abhors the very ideology.” You explain, shaking your head and Mr. Taylor hums, his eyes darting back to Pero. “Very well. It seems that things are in order but any word of you joining a local sector of the communist party or if I get a whiff of anything amiss, I’ll be back.” He promises, signing a piece of paper and handing it to Pero.

Pero snorts and snatches the paper away from the little prick. “Then it will be a pleasure to never see your face again.” He grunts. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Mr. Taylor stands, packing up his briefcase and you offer him a hand, helping him pack up. “Thank you. My husband is very happy to stay here and I’m happy he is. Especially for our family.” You say, sliding your hand down to your stomach. “Congratulations.” The immigration officer says and makes a quick exit from Pero’s office. 

When he’s certain the man is gone, Pero tuts, “can you stop telling people you’re pregnant?” He huffs, taking another puff of his cigarette. “Why? It sealed the deal. He won’t deport the father of an American born baby.” You raise your eyebrows, “just selling our happy union, baby.” You coo sarcastically. Ever since that night that Pero took your virginity, you’ve barely talked. Just a few words here and there between meals and going to the club.

He snorts and shakes his head. He knows you aren’t pregnant, the box of feminine napkins in your bathroom making it clear you had bled since he had taken your innocence. He had been surprised to be disappointed by that knowledge but he hadn’t said a word. “I should get back to work.” He stubs out the cigarette and looks back down at the paper Mr. Taylor had left. “Are you singing the last set tonight?” He hadn’t taken charge of your times since that first night, giving you control over when you perform.

You nod, “yes. Me and the guys have been working on some new songs. I think the crowd will love them.” You say, grabbing your purse, “so I guess we will be divorced as soon as your green card comes in.” You walk out of his office before he responds, not wanting to hear the answer.

Slumping down into the chair, Pero hisses a curse and reaches for his cigarettes again. The silent stalemate between you two is apparently still ongoing and he doesn’t know what to do. He hates that you can’t wait to be away from him. Hates that you are counting down the days until you are no longer his wife.

You are nearly done with your set when your husband comes out of his office to sit down with William in their normal booth. He gestures for a drink to be brought over and you start the song you’ve been practicing with the guys. “Looking out to the morning rain.” You sing, your eyes sweeping across the crowd as you croon the song, “‘cause you make me feel like a natural woman.” You sing the line and look over at Pero.

His grip of his glass tightens as you seem to sing to him. Leaning forward and watching you with the intensity of a starving man hunting his dinner.  The low whistle beside him turns into an amused chuckle but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. “Still obsessed with your wife, I see.” William teases Pero. “Have you told her you love her?” He asks, making the Spaniard snort. “She wouldn’t believe me.” He murmurs, still watching you as you continue to sing the ballad. “Waiting to divorce me.”

You finish the song to a roar of applause, your eyes still on Pero as he stares at you and your set is over. You take a bow and thank the band before you walk off the stage, making your way over to Frank to get another drink. You feel him before you see him, his body warm behind you as he leans over to snub his cigarette out in the ashtray on the counter. “Are you ready to go home?” You ask him, turning your head to look at your husband. You’ve been traveling back and forth together since that night you took the subway.

“Yes.” Pero nods and glances at the bartender to make sure he doesn’t need anything. “Are you changing, or wearing your dress home?” Some nights you want to change, some nights you want to get home as quickly as possible.

“I’ll wear it home. I’m ready to get out of here. It’s been a long day.” You tell him and he nods, getting one of the girls to grab your coat and purse while you finish your water. William comes over to bid you goodnight, “have fun, kids.” He winks and heads over to see his beautiful wife who is running security. You snort at the Irishman and Pero holds your coat up for you to slide your arms into it. "Thank you." You murmur and he nods, escorting you outside to his awaiting car. "Did you like the new set?" You ask when he is beside you, the streets passing by.

“It was moving.” He loved it, but he also hated it, knowing it wasn’t for him. You hate him and he’s honestly expecting you to quit the club after you divorce him. “The crowd loved it. You did a great job.”

“Thank you.” You murmur, looking out of the window. You wanted him to say he loved it. It was for him. During your time living with Pero, you’ve come to discover the smallest details about him. He donates money to the families of the neighborhood he lived in when he first came to the States. They are struggling so he helps them out. He has noticed what food and drinks you like, ensuring that the housekeeper has them stocked for you at all times, even your toiletries. He listens to the radio intensely, especially love ballads. Something you never expected. Each day, he chips away at the hatred you had for him and shows you the man he is beneath the harsh exterior, the shell he’s had to build to survive in this city. You could even dare say you’re falling for him. That’s what makes this so sad. He will ask you for a divorce as soon as he’s able and you’ll be back in your tiny apartment in Brooklyn wondering what could’ve been if this was real.

The drive is silent and Pero wishes you would say something. Even if it’s to rage at him. The politely stiff, cold semblance of manners between the two of you irritates him. Making him long for the days that you would rage and spit at him. He drums his fingers on the car door and sighs when it pulls up in front of the apartment building. Neither one of you speaks on the elevator, and when the doors open to the penthouse, you move to step out. “Are you hungry?” Pero asks, breaking the silence and making you turn towards him. “I’m hungry. Thinking about making something to eat.”

You nod, “yes. Starving. I didn’t eat lunch because I was rushing to get my hair done for when Mr. Taylor arrived. I wanted to look my best for him.” You confess, “and for you. As your wife…pretend wife.” You add, making your way through the penthouse to the kitchen after kicking off your heels in the hall.

He hates when you make little comments about being his pretend wife. Rubbing it in his face that you don’t want to be around him but he forced you to. Feeling guilty because you are so obviously unhappy even living in the most luxurious apartment he could give you. He follows you and shakes his head. “You go change.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket and starts to unbutton his sleeves. “I will make us dinner. I know you want to get out of your dress.” You told him once that you enjoy dressing up but you preferred being comfortable and he agrees with you. You look gorgeous in the shorts and little shirts you wear around the apartment. Liking it better when you wear no makeup.

“Thanks.” You make your way to your bedroom, taking off your jewelry and you reach behind you to try and pull down the zipper of your dress. You’d barely managed to get it on earlier in the day. “Pero, can you help me?” You call out, grunting as you try again to pull the zipper down but failing.

Pero had been heating up the pan, the chopped vegetables and chicken the housekeeper had prepared labeled in the Tupperware. He sets everything down and walks towards your bedroom. He has stayed away from your bedroom and it’s the first time he’s been inside since you’ve moved in. Your back is to him and you look over your shoulder, almost giving him a come hither look that makes his cock twitch. “Your dress, hermosa?”

“Yeah. I zipped myself into it. Can’t get myself out of it.” You chuckle softly and turn your head so he can see the zip at the nape of your neck. His fingers grip the zipper and slowly he pulls it down. You can feel his warm breath on your back as your skin is exposed, his knuckles dragging along your spine as he pulls the zip down. “Thank you.” You whisper, closing your eyes at how close he is to you, you can feel the warmth from his body.

“You’re welcome.” He murmurs softly, resisting the urge to caress your waist. He is already half hard and steps back. “Chicken and vegetables good?” He asks, wanting to make sure you just don’t want some eggs or something.

You nod, "that's good. I'm starving." You say and let the dress drop. He is your husband so you don't care if he sees your bare back and underwear. You walk over to the dresser to grab some shorts and a t-shirt, feeling his eyes on you. "Are you going to make dinner?" You ask, turning to look at him after you pull the t-shirt over your head.

“Yes.” Pero spins on his heel and rushes out of your bedroom, cock pressing against the zipper of his trousers and he reminds himself that you haven’t wanted him to touch you since that one night he took your virginity. He goes back to the kitchen and moves the pan back to the flame.

You sigh when he leaves your bedroom and you head into the ensuite to wash off your makeup. By the time you arrive back in the kitchen, dinner is cooked and waiting on a plate for you. "Thank you." You smile at Pero, "this looks great." You take a bite and groan, starving after a long day at work and you practically devour the meal. Pero remains silent, watching you while he eats his food. "That was great. Thanks baby." You say without even thinking about it.

Pero nearly chokes on the bite of chicken, coughing slightly and he wonders if you are trying to torment him tonight. “You are welcomed.” He grunts and tries to not look at you, knowing he will stare at your pretty, bare face and want to touch you. He's thought about nothing else but showing you how he should have made your first time, but you’ve not wanted anything to do with him. Not that he blames you.

You stare at him, watching him eat, and it hits you. You love him. You don't know when that happened when you used to think the man was a monster, beating men up without a thought, and the womanizing. He hasn't been with another woman since you've been married, as per his word, and you believe him. Your eyes widen at the revelation and Pero is none the wiser. "When do you think your paperwork will come through for the green card?" You ask, leaning back against your chair.

Pero has a secret and it’s one that will piss you off. He’s had the paperwork for a week. He’s sat on it because he doesn’t want to divorce you yet. Hoping that some kind of miracle will happen to make you realize he would be a good man to you, you will never believe that. He huffs slightly and shrugs. “Hopefully this week. You will be happy, eh?” He smirks slightly, hiding the way it makes his heart hurt. “Have your freedom back and now that you are no longer pure, you can fuck who you want.”

Your heart shatters at his words, knowing he has used you completely. Your body, your heart, your nationality. “Yeah. I can fuck Johnny the new bassist. He keeps asking me to come over to his place.” You say, venom in your voice as you jab back at your husband.

Pero’s fork clatters to the plate and he pushes back from the counter so hard the barstool scrapes on the floor. Not caring, he dumps the dish into the sink, ignoring the way the plate breaks and he whirls around. “I’m going back to the club.” He growls.

“Why? So you can find someone to fuck? The virgin wasn’t enough for you? I gave you my virginity because I - because I wanted you and you’ve never looked at me since. Haven’t touched me even though I just practically stripped off in front of you. I know English isn’t your first language but fuck, do I need to spell it out for you? I wanted you to touch me. I have - I have been hot and cold but that’s only because I didn’t think you wanted me again and now you have the audacity to be mad because I want someone to want me.” You finish your rant, chest heaving as you stare at him.

Pero clenches his jaw, breathing heavily and he growls when he rushes forward and grabs you. “You think I don’t want you?” He hisses, shaking you slightly. “You hate me. You tell me every chance you get that you cannot wait to be rid of me and I hate that I was not gentle with you.” He confesses. “That I didn’t treat you like the fucking exquisite creature you are.”

Your eyes widen at his confession and you shake your head, “I don’t hate you. I never hated you. I hated how you behaved. The skirt chasing, the way you would speak to me. I never hated you. I - shit - you know what I hate now? The fact that I love you.” You choke, “and I thought you were the one who wanted the divorce. That you wanted to be rid of me so you could go back to your ways.”

“I chased skirts because I couldn’t have you.” He tells you. “I’m not a good man. I’m a killer, a thief, a liar, but you are the only woman I wanted so badly I would lie to her to have.” Your brow furrows in confusion and Pero shrugs. “Would have never laid a hand on you if you had refused to marry me.” He confesses.

You stare at him, absorbing his words, and you can’t help it. “You are an idiot.” You surge forward to press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks and you press your body against his, wanting him to know how you feel.

Pero grunts in surprise, expecting you to hit him, not kiss him. Wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly tight against his body and kissing you back with a hunger that shows you every time he’s ever thought about you.

You moan into his mouth, your hands sliding up to mess up his slicked back hair, your tongue sliding against his. You’ve thought of him every night since the night he took you on his desk. “Pero.” You whimper when his lips slide along your jaw, “I don’t care about - about - you being a good man. I just want you. The good and the bad. You’re a good man. You don’t let people see it but I do. I want you.”

Pero pulls back and he stares into your eyes. “Let me take you to bed, hermosa.” He begs softly. “Show you how I can touch you. How you deserve to be loved.”

​​You nod, “take me to bed, esposo.” You order, sliding your hands down to start unbuttoning his shirt, you want to see all of him. You want to strip him down and have him on a bed instead of his desk.

He bites his lips and watches you so he doesn’t grab you up and carry you into the bedroom to immediately undress you. “I love you.” He murmurs quietly, his eyes dark.

Your breath catches at his confession. Something you never thought you’d hear him say. “I love you.” You murmur back, caressing his chest once his shirt is unbuttoned. “I want you to make love to me, like a husband does.”

Nodding, he reaches for your hand and leads you towards the master bedroom. His bedroom. He wants you there. “I have never had sex in this apartment.” He tells you softly, hoping you understand the meaning behind it. “You are the only woman to be in this bed.”

Your heart thumps at the news and you smile, leaning in to kiss his clavicle once you’re in his bedroom. “I love you, baby. I need you.” You whimper, sliding your hand lower from his chest so you can squeeze his cock through his pants.

Pero groans and grabs your hand. “No, hermosa.” He growls softly. “You are my precious little virgin.” He tells you with a smirk. “You are going to strip off your clothes and spread your thighs so I can eat your pretty cunt.”

His words make you shudder with lust and you nod, letting go of him and stepping back to reach for the hem of your shirt. You pull it over your head to expose your tits to his gaze for the first time.

“Fuck those are pretty tits.” Pero groans, reaching down and palming his cock. “My wife is gorgeous and I am a lucky bastard.” He will try to give you sweet words, knowing you need them.

You love his compliment so you push your shorts down your legs along with your panties, stepping out of them to stand naked in front of him for the first time. “You are.” You smirk, “and so am I.” You walk backwards to his bed, crooking your finger at him before you lay down on his sheets. “Come on, show me what you got.”

Shrugging off his shirt, Pero drops it onto the floor and unbuckles his belt. Sliding it out of the loops and smirking as he watches you as he bunches the belt in his hand. “I should beat you.” He growls playfully. “For teasing me. Taunting me everyday.”

You scoff, “teasing you? I haven’t done anything. I’ve been a good girl.” You shift to sit up on your elbows. “You wouldn’t dare beat me. I’d get William to kick your ass.” You tease, spreading your legs to show him your pussy.

“Your perfume.” Pero groans, flicking open his pants to relieve the pressure. “It fills my apartment, driving me crazy. Your face, clean and make-up free is beautiful.” He reaches out and grabs your ankle, kneeling on the bed.

“Pero.” You look up at him as he hovers over you, his dark eyes burning into yours as his hand trails along your calf. “I want you. I need you.” You murmur, wanting him to know exactly how you feel.

He smirks as he nods. “You have me, hermosa.” He coos, fingers sliding over your knees and up your thighs. Humming as he combs through the neat patch of hair covering your cunt. “Now let me show you what I’m going to do with you.”

You moan when his fingers slide through your folds and your head tilts back, your eyes closing at how he’s making you feel already. “Baby.” You whimper when his fingers rub your clit. You’re already wet for him, you need more from him.

“I’ll take care of you.” Pero promises, flattening himself onto the bed and pushing your thighs farther apart. “I promise.” Winking at you, he lowers his mouth to your cunt and slides his tongue through your folds.

“Oh my - shit.” You hiss when his hot tongue flicks over your clit. “That - that feels amazing.” You confess, sliding back on your elbows to lay flat and you look up at the ceiling as his tongue laps at your cunt. You’ve never experienced this before and it feels better than any book has described it to be.

He hums, curling his tongue around your clit and flicks it sharply. Watching your tits heave and your hips rock down. You are exquisite and he’s eager to taste more. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he holds you open and licks deeper into your cunt.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, a moan escaping your lips as his tongue pushes into your cunt, curling while his nose presses against your clit. “Shit. You - it feels so good. Keep - keep going.” You order, feeling powerful that this powerful man is between your thighs, worshiping you.

He’s not stopping. Nothing in the world would have pulled him away from your cunt right now. He growls into your folds before he pushes his tongue deep into your cunt and presses his nose to your clit.

You cry out, thighs trying to press against his head but he keeps your legs open for him so he can tongue fuck you. His nose presses against your clit and he moves his head from side to side.

He wants to devour you, to completely overwhelm you and make you cry out. He groans and doubles down on how vigorously he licks into you.

“Shit. Pe-Pero. Oh God. I’m - it’s good. So good. Oh baby, I’m gonna - fuck!” You cry out, thighs shaking as you cum, soaking his chin as you fall apart under his tongue.

Pero groans, lapping up every drop of your orgasm with the slow flicks of his tongue. Working you through the release until your moans turn breathless and you are squirming under his tongue.

Your fingers pull on his hair, “come here.” You order and he reluctantly pulls back from your pussy and he shifts up your body. His lips pressing kisses along your stomach until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth. You reach down to squeeze his cock through his pants, wanting to see all of him. “I want to see all of you, baby.”

It makes his smirk turn even more wicked and he pulls up to his knees to open up his pants the rest of the way. Standing on the bed and pushing down his trousers and briefs together to kick off.

Your eyes widen at the sight of his impressive length, uncut, and throbbing. You shift onto your knees, your eyes on him as you grip his cock, pushing the foreskin down so you can flick your tongue over the leaking slit. His groan emboldens you and you wrap your lips around the head, taking him deeper into your mouth:

Pero groans your name, pulling his hips back and making you whine softly. "You should not." He pants quietly. "I won't last."

You pout after you let his cock drop from your mouth. He shifts to kneel, grabbing your waist to lift you up onto his pillows and your hands caress his back, feeling his muscles move as he kneels between your hips. “I love you.” You murmur, “my husband.”

He hums, caressing your waist and he gazes down at you softly. "I love you too, esposa." He leans down and presses his lips to yours. "Now, I will make love to you." He whispers against your lips as he rolls the foreskin back and lines up to slowly sink inside you. Taking his time and pushing in a fraction of an inch at a time.

You moan as he pushes into you. You’re wet enough to take him but there’s still a slight pinch from the girth of his cock. “Oh.” You exhale, eyes closing as he pushes deep, rocking into you inch by inch until his hips are pressing against your thighs, your legs wrapped around him.

"You are so tight." He groans, softly, pushing his arms around your body and pulling you close. "I should have known you were pure."

You caress his shoulders up to his hair, tangling your fingers in to drag his face to yours, pressing your lips to his. His cock twitches inside of you and you whimper into his mouth when he pushes your leg higher up his hip so he can sink deeper inside of you.

Pero groans and kisses along your jaw. Slowly rocking into you and setting a sedate pace. Making love to you rather than fucking you. Kissing every inch of your skin that he can reach while he fills you.

He's taking over your senses, consuming your body with his and you moan when he picks up the pace a little. "Yes. Oh shit. You feel so good, my love. Can't believe - can't believe we wasted so much time. Could've been fucking each other."

He chuckles quietly and nuzzles into your neck gently. “I love you, mi amor.” He murmurs, loving how soft you are for him right now, how you are moaning his name.

He's so different from the man who roughly took you on his desk after destroying another man's hand. This Pero is gentle and loving, a man you're proud to call yours, and you rock your hips up to meet his, finding the rhythm he has set.

The violence is still there, simmering under the surface but he would never hurt you. He would kill for you, hurt on your behalf, but he would never put you through any kind of pain.

His jaw clenches when you start to flutter around his cock. His pelvis drops so he is grinding against your clit, and you grab his hand bringing it to your neck. You want him to squeeze, to show you that he'd never hurt you but he's capable of killing others who would do you harm.

His eyes widen and he nearly drags his hand away but you make a sound of protest. Making him keep his hand there and he starts to squeeze ever so lightly.

You moan when he starts to squeeze, giving you what you want. To know that he'd never hurt you, never do anything to harm you, has you clenching around his cock. You're so close.

You are like a vice around his cock and Pero groans your name, enjoying how dirty you are. How filthy his innocent little wife is. “I could snap your neck right now.” He growls, squeezing a little harder.

His words send you over the edge. The knowledge that he could kill you but wouldn't, has you soaking his cock and you moan his name, shaking beneath him as you cum.

It’s the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen. Watching you fall apart under him while he slowly rocks in and out of you. Sliding his hand from your neck to your cheek, cupping it gently. “That’s it, hermosa. Cum for me.”

You shudder under him, closing your eyes when the pleasure overtakes your body, and you whimper his name as he works you through it. He slows down, in no rush for this to be over, and you catch your breath. "I want to ride you." You murmur, pushing on his chest slightly.

“Really?” He groans at the idea and slowly pulls out of you. Turning onto his back and reaching for you again. Eager to touch you as much as he can now that things are different between you.

You shift, straddling his thighs and you reach between you, gripping his cock. You lift up to position him at your entrance and you slowly sink down onto him. He feels so much bigger in this position and you gasp, "goddamn." You murmur, "you gotta- show me what to do." You request, not wanting to disappoint him.

You could just sit on his cock and he would be happy, but he slowly starts to grind you down into him. Holding your hips and rocking you onto his cock and twitching inside you. “Fuck, amor.” He grits out. “So tight like this. My wife, riding my cock like a whore.”

You playfully slap his cheek, "only yours. Your whore." You smirk and lean down to kiss him, changing the angle inside of you, and you moan against his lips. You rock back onto him, picking up the movement from his guidance, and you gasp when he smacks your ass cheek.

He chuckles quietly and slaps your ass again. “Ride me then.” He grunts. “Make yourself cum on my cock.” He smirks. “Tomorrow you can ride me at the club. Sit on my cock while I do paperwork.”

"Yesss. Want everyone to know you're mine." You confess, shifting to sit up straight. Your hands on his chest as you rock your hips. "Fuck, Pero. This - it's so good." You confess, throwing your head back. Pero surges up, his hands on your back as his lips wrap around your nipple. He bites and soothes with his tongue, making you cry out. "Fuck baby. I - shit." You choke, your fingers tangling in his hair. His hand slides between you to rub your clit and you're gone. Shaking above him, you clamp down on his cock while he rubs your clit to work you through it.

Pero groans against your breast and takes over. The way you cum for him has him chasing his own end. Bracing his feet, he thrusts up into you harshly. “Te amo, esposa. I love you.” Pero starts to babble, losing control of his mouth. “You’re mine. Always mine. Never letting you go. Didn’t- didn’t want to tell you I have my paperwork. Didn’t want you to leave me.” He presses his face to your chest and moans your name, pushing deep and filling you with his seed in hot, pulsing waves of pleasure.

You collapse against him, panting to try and catch your breath as he fills you up and he kisses along your neck, relaxing beneath you. You take a few moments to recover until you are pulling back to look at him, “wait…you’ve had the paperwork?” You ask, a frown on your face.

Pero’s eyes slide away from you guiltily and he huffs slightly. “My paperwork came in last week.” He confesses, knowing you will be upset at him. “My green card is in the safe here in the apartment.”

You push back from him, sitting up, and you shake your head. "Why didn't you tell me?" You ask, pissed at him for lying to you. "I - I thought you'd leave me. I thought you'd want to divorce and I wanted to delay the inevitable." He confesses, "I didn't want to endure the heartbreak." You stare at his remorseful expression, those dark eyes soft with emotion and you forgive him. His actions were bad, but his intentions were good. "You stupid bastard." You murmur, cupping his cheeks as you lean down to kiss his lips. "No more lies. No more secrets. Otherwise, we are over. I can't handle your lies. I can handle everything else."

“Honesty.” Pero promises, holding the back of your neck to drag your lips back to his once more. He has lied to get you to marry him, hidden his true intentions from you, nearly killed a man for touching you - but the best thing of all is that he has managed to steal your heart. Pero Tovar is a dangerous man, but you are the songbird that has tamed him. He is yours.

[alexa-fika]

Fists for Family (Rayleigh x gn!child!reader x Shakky)

A/N: Here we go! Originally, this was going to be just Rayleigh with Shakky just having one line or one action, but we need that grandma action. Who do guys want to see interacting with a child next?

Dividers by @saradika

Rayleigh sat in the Shakky’s Rip-off bar, sipping his drink and speaking with his wife, when his attention was pulled away from her to a newcomer.

“Oh Dear, What did you do now?” He asks as he sighs, setting his glass down.

“So-rry Grandpa,” the small child drawls

Rayleigh raises an eyebrow.

“Reader, Did you get into another fight?”

“…yeah,” they mutter.

Rayleigh is quick to give them a quick slap to the back of the head.

“Ow! Grandpa, what was that for! Grandma Grandpa is being mean!”

Rayleigh gives them a hard look.

“To knock some sense into you, you always get in trouble like this, yet you never learn!”

“He’s right, Honey; you’ll get really hurt one day if you keep this up,” Shakky says exhaling the smoke in a thin wisp.

“But Grandpa, Grandma, they deserved it!”

Rayleigh shakes his head, looking at the child.

“It doesn’t matter if they did deserve it! You need to learn self-restraint! You don’t walk around beating people up whenever they wrong you!”

“Why not?!” they yell at him.

Rayleigh delivers a second slap to the back of their head.

“Ow! Grandpa, that really hurts! Grandma!” they call again, hoping she will save them.

She simply gives them a smile and shakes her head, holding the cigarette between her fingers.

“Good! I hope you remember that when you think of getting into another pointless fight for no reason again.”

They pout, rubbing the back of their head.

“I hope that attitude sticks around. Now, what was this fight about hm? Or should I find out later from an angry mob again?”

“That was one time, Grandpa! He was insulting you! And then went crying to his dad, who happened to be the mayor.” The child protests, crossing their arms.

Rayleigh raises an eyebrow.

“What was it this time?” the old man says, waving his previous statement off.

The child fidgets slightly at the question.

“Hm?” Rayleigh presses, clearly noticing the child’s reluctance to answer.

The child mutters something under their breath.

Rayleigh leans in, placing his hands together and resting his elbows on the table as he stares at the child with curious eyes.

“What was that?”

“…they were insulting you again.”

The old man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“That’s what started this?”

They nod, rubbing their arm nervously

He sighs, motioning Reader to come closer

They step towards him, still avoiding his eyes even as he picks them up, placing them on his lap.

Rayleigh gently puts a hand on their cheek.

“Look at me, reader.”

They glance at him.

“Do not let them get to you, Reader. I am not fragile, and you do not have to defend me every time they make a snide remark.”

“I know, but it’s not fair how they talk about you, Grandpa!”

Rayleigh smiles and hugs them tightly.

“I know it isn’t fair, but you must remember that people like that are not worth your time and energy. Let them babble nonsense about me and come to me with it instead. Do not let their snide remarks get to you, though. Okay..?”

“Good..and promise me you won’t go around hitting people when they say something you don’t like?”

“I’ll try”

“Hm, better than nothing.” The old man sighs and pats their head.

“Now let me see,” Shakky says, gesturing to their arm.

“But it’s gonna hurt!”

Rayleigh sighs and ruffles their hair.

“Stop whining; listen to your Grandmother.”

They groan, showing her their arm where a new cut adorned their skin.

Shakky humed as she examined the cut. It wasn’t a bad one, but it was still enough to require at least some sort of care-taking.

Rayleigh looked back at Reader and spoke softly.

“This is why you shouldn’t just attack people blindly just because you don’t like what they say.”

The woman looked at them for a moment before sighing and picking them up from her husband’s lap.

“You’re coming with me, and we’re going to properly treat that.”

“Rayleigh, could you pass me the rubbing alcohol? It’s on the cabinet over there.”

Rayleigh swiftly stands and walks to the bartender’s side of the bar, opens the cabinet, and grabs a bottle of alcohol, handing it to his wife.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you, Dear”

“Now don’t you worry, Reader, if you behave, then this won’t hurt at all,” she says as she puts her cigarette in her mouth and inhales.

Rayleigh nods and smiles before Shakky starts pouring the alcohol over the cut, and he places a small bandage on it. Reader winces at the pain but tries to remain still.

“There you go, dear. It’s not a big cut, so it will be good as new in a few days, As long as you don’t get into any more fights.” Rayleigh comments

The old man turns to shake a finger at the child sternly, but the scolding is just an act as he tries to hide the soft chuckle.

The child giggles at his grandpa’s antics.

“Thank you, and sorry.”

Rayleigh laughs and ruffles their hair.

“Just don’t let it happen again, sweetheart. I do not enjoy fixing you up after a fight.”

He remembers something and glances toward the child in his wife’s hands.

“So, did you win?”

“Of course I did; I’m your grandchild, after all,” she grins, giving him a peace sign.

He laughs and gives them a quick kiss on the forehead,

“That you are. I expect nothing less from my grandchild.”

Shakky shakes her head with a smile on her face, kissing their forehead as well.

What should I try next? I really like these child!reader scenarios, do you guys like them or would you prefer other scenarios? Romantic maybe? Or maybe platonic friends?

[everygayhere]

may the fun commence

Here is the second part so i decided to finish and just post it today hopefully you guy enjoy it its a little bit longer then the last one. Also sorry for the long wait. gif not mine.

summary: Y/N a college student who is traveling to Malibu beach and have a fun vacation and maybe get to know her crush Marlow a bit more, while also avoiding Tara the most annoying person. Little does she know that maybe more interesting paths await her at this beach house. Tara carpenter a free spirted women who likes to have her fun drinking and hanging out with friends and avoiding the one person she knows won't be here Y/N.

warnings: drugs, swearing.

could this mean something new maybe?

part 1, part 2

As Y/n enters the house she can feel the vibrations of the music through the floorboards. A force pulls her towards what she assumes is the kitchen. “Okay so what would you like to drink?” Alva turns to Y/N holding a cup in her hand. “Uh nothing?” y/n questions well looking at Alva who is looking at her with a ‘really look’. “Okay well i'm just gonna mix something up for you then”. 

“Don’t Alva I really don't want to drink tonight especially if I want to smoke something good tonight”  Y/N respondes looking dead serious. “Okay then well there's some weed up in my bedroom last door on the right up stairs” “thank you Alva”  Y/n responds smirking, well walking away, as she’s walking through the crowded room she bumps into someone almost knocking them down but before they could fall she grabs them by the waist and pulls them up. “I’m so sorry are you-” oh hell nah why god why me, it could have been anyone but her please for the loving hell. “Oh Tara, you seem fine, well i’m gonna go now”  as Y/n goes to leave Tara carpenter makes a snarky comment “yeah no i'm perfectly fine thanks for ruining my mood, i mean who the hell invited you.” 

Instead of commenting back Y/n just shakes her head and walks away heading up to Alva’s room looking for weed. As Y/n makes it to Alva’s room she starts looking around in her bag and her room until she finds her tin. “Yess fucking finally” Y/n shouts well shacking her fist in the air well she opens the tin she checks her pocket for her lucky lighter, when she finally feels the shape of it in her pocket she pulls it out well also pulling out a pre rolled blunt. Before she lights the blunt she looks around the room and sees the doors to the balcony. Turning around and heading towards the doors she gets out onto the balcony, when outside she notices the beautiful view of it facing the front of the house and that the balcony also wraps around to the left and right of the house. She heads to the left of the balcony since it's more secluded and she’s able to see the beach and what people are doing at the back without being seen. 

As she sits down and gets comfy on the chair that's there she pulls the blunt up to her lips and pulls her lighter to the end of it and lights the blunt. Taking a nice long puff and staring out at the ocean. After a few moments she starts to relax, pulling out her headphones to listen to music before she takes another puff. Well she has her headphones placed on her head and over her ears, she hears the sweet melody of Alienated, by Zyan. Closing her eyes and taking another puff. Y/n starts bobbing her head to the song and singing along. 

“Try to think away the pain,

 made that age - old mistake, 

tried to disconnect my body, 

from my soul, from my soul” 

Little does she know someone is walking out the balcony through their  doors, well walking to find the perfect spot she neglected to notice that it’s a joint balcony where other rooms up stairs are also connected to it. So well she's singing to herself she doesn’t notice the person standing near them and looking at her with a shocked facial expression. 

See i feel alright already on my own, 

Can you let me be 

Intoxicated on my own 

Do I need to answer? 

Or right my wrongs? 

Am i home if i don’t know this place 

And i’ve been feeling alienated 

On my spaceship alone 

The person gets over the shock of Y/n being there as well as having such a beautiful voice. She walks up to her and nudges her shoulder. Y/n takes her headphones off her head not really caring, believing that it’s just her friend Alva as well as the fact that she is too high to care right now. As she turns around to speak to who she believes is Alva “Alva you know- TARA what the hell are- how long have you been standing there?” 

“Long enough to hear your ear piercing singing and to see you having a little depressive moment. Who do you think you are, the main character?”  Tara asks well, standing and crossing her arms in front of her chest looking down at her with an arch eyebrow. 

“Just cause the song is a little sad doesn’t mean i'm depressed, ever thought about the fact that maybe i just like songs like this to listen too” “I mean not everyone likes to listen to happy songs all the time, when they're happy there's tons of different genres you know?” Y/n respondes with a scoff and turns back to face the oceana and places her headphones back on. 

Tara being more annoyed with Y/n ignoring her she nudges her again, Y/n takes her headphones off and turns back to her with an arch eyebrow. “I wasn’t done talking to you, I was also going to say that this is my spot, it's right outside my bedroom and I would like to have my seat back thank you. So if you could kindly get the fuck off my seat i would really appreciate it.” Tara gives a show of putting on an over exaggerated smile. 

Y/n just turns back and places her headphones back on her head and leans back in the chair. Tara scoffs and looks around to see another chair and drags it to when she wants to sit down. She turns back to see what Y/n is looking at, all she sees is the ocean waves crashing and scoffs. Then she turns to look at Y/n to see what she's doing and notices the blunt in her hand. Tara thinks that since she's on her side of the balcony as well as the fact the party is getting too much and wanting to just have a relaxing time she pokes Y/n. 

“Yes Tara what would you like now, you know i'm not going to move at any point right.”  

“Well if you don’t move or leave you better give me some of that” 

“What? The blunt? I don’t- I really don’t share with short people or people i don’t like”

“Ha ha real funny, but i’m not joking.” 

“What are you going to do if i don’t do any of that” 

“Scream”

“.....Scream?” 

“Yes”

“You wouldn’t do that, plus what could you possibly scream” 

“Fine. HELP OH MY GOD HELP THERE’S A-!” 

Y/n covers her mouth. “OKAY! Jesus, fine you can have some. You psychopath, what the hell is wrong with you.” 

“Mmmh mmmh hmm” 

“What?” 

Tara looks at her like she's an idiot, looking at her hand that is still covering her mouth. 

“Oh.. right sorry” 

“I said i’m not a psychopath i can just charm my way of getting things” 

Y/n looks at her annoyed “i’m not a psychopath i can just charm my way of getting things” she mimics Tara like a child and scoffs shoving the blunt towards Tara. “Just take it and shut up, puff, puff pass okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah i’m not an idiot” 

“Okay could have fooled me” 

“Oh shut up” 

Y/n turns back facing the ocean with only one ear listening to her music well the other is listening to tara so she knows when she's done with the blunt. As she's facing the ocean and listening to her music she can also hear Tara take an inhale. After a while she puts her hand out to get the blunt so she can have another hit. 

Tara places it in her hand as Y/n takes it, Tara watches her as she pulls it to her lips and takes and inhales, holding it for a few seconds and then slowly blowing out then leaning back and handing the blunt back to her. Tara takes it from Y/n's hand and brings it to her lips taking another puff. It goes on like this for a while Tara staring at Y/n’s side profile and checking her out  looking at her well she leans back in the chair. The blunts ends up running out with Tara taking the last hit well Y/n marranites in the high she’s having. When Tara takes the last puff she looks up in the sky staring at the stars. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird that some people believe that there are no aliens. I mean we’re living organisms on a floating rock in the middle of space, not only that but there are other planets and different galaxies out there and yet some believe there are no aliens.” 

“How high are you Tara?” 

“High, but I’m being serious about it. There’s no way we’re the only living things throughout the entire galaxy.” 

“Huh.. I mean you’re right on that point. How about I do you one better.” 

“Oh yeah like what” 

“We as a society have only ever discovered 5 percent of the ocean and the ocean is huge right?”

“Yeah” 

“Well what makes you think us and animals are the only living thing on this planet like the ocean is huge and you don’t think any aliens are in the ocean? And if there are no aliens in the ocean which we couldn’t know is exactly 100 percent correct. What makes us think that other sea animals don’t live in the other 95 percent of the ocean or even further down in the ocean. I mean we don’t have the supplies to enter the deep ocean either, we as humans would be crushed by the amount of pressure down there. As well as our machines. I mean it’s even scarier if you think about the fact that we also have a second ocean underneath our ocean in the earth's crust which is 3 times the size we have above the surface. At this point I really do believe that Meg was right about the fact that the megalodon is in the lower parts of the ocean just unable to break through the minerals that's above them to make it to the surface of where we humans are. Plus the added fact that aliens could be living in the ocean as well. We’ve  also discovered more of Space than the ocean.” 

“How high are you?” 

“High”

“Yeah I can tell. This is probably one of the strangest topics i heard and talked about” 

“Well you started it” 

“Is that why you keep looking at the ocean” 

“A part of it. I also just like watching the waves crash into each other. It's both chaotic and somewhat peaceful like they seem to move all in one smooth motion depending on reflection, refraction, and diffraction. Not only that but they move in sets of seven and each time they start off bigger and grow smaller until they ultimately diminish and break when meeting with the sand. Like if you look out right now you can see them coming in sets of seven and the fifth to the seventh tend to be the bigger ones and that's why I wait till I catch one of those, and other surfers.” 

“Do you always look at things from a scientific perspective?”

“No, that would be boring. Plus I'm only interested in some science. I’m more into movies like how they're made, who made them, who’s in them, shot types, settings, dialogue, lighting etcetera. That's why I'm taking the media communications course majoring in film. To me that’s more fun to actually go to class and learn about compared to science which I can just look up and read in my own time.” 

“You’re weird. I don't think I have ever met someone who’s actually reading science in their own time for fun. I mean I read fictional novels for fun but only sometimes most of the time I'm partying or watching something.” 

“I don’t just read science that would be boring as hell, I also read fictional books, poems, I surf, I watch movies, tv shows go on tiktok instagram and sometimes party.” 

“Okay”

“Plus it’s mostly just the ocean” 

“Why the ocean though?” 

“Cause why should i worry about space if i’m never going to be there in real life, the oceans different I’m at the ocean most of the time and it closer to me then space is and other galaxies, I’m not saying i never read about space im just saying i don’t look into as much cause i’m not in a rocket ship.” 

Tara looks at Y/n thinking about what she said, realizing that in fact she is making sense. “Okay what else do you think about?” 

“Why, so you pick at it more?”

“No because it’s kinda interesting when you explain what you think about”

“Well there’s the theory of the multiverse that Marvel talks about with Loki and the Doctor Strange movie with Scarlet Witch. The theory is that when we dream it’s another reality we live in, so for example I could go to bed tonight and dream about me being a famous rockstar and that could be real in a different reality. That I’m just fading into one where another variant of me is awake and living their performance life. Then I could have a completely different dream the next moment which is another variant of me in a completely different reality. Then again there are these theories of if you dream about someone it means that their your soulmate or your in their dream and you’ll be together soon or some shit like that, which could take the whole, when you dream it’s a gateway to another life in a different multiverse to a new level you have to think about. Like is it a message being sent to you that in that multiverse you’re dating that person and they really are just your soul mate or are you just dreaming about them because you can’t stop thinking about them. Which would destroy the whole dream gives insight to your other life in another multiverse thing. I mean that could just mean your brain is taking your deepest thoughts or most recurring thoughts and using them for a dream. There is another point that there are thousands of different multiverses out there that all steam off our reality  or so we think like how can we be so sure that our reality is the real one. Like what if we believe that this reality of ours is the real main one and yet we’re not like what if we’re just an add on to the real reality `growing and making our own timeline because we made a different decision compared to the actual reality. That’s also another theory to the multiverse: we make a new multiverse everyday when we make a new, different choice because we differed from what the original timeline was supposed to make. For example what if you weren’t supposed to stay out here and talk to me but go inside but you didn’t so now we’re in another multiverse we created from our choice. Kinda like those choose your own path books with different outcomes.” 

“Wow okay never thought of that and now i really am tripping i mean what the hell Y/n goes on through your brain?”

Y/n turns to Tara “so you were going to nit pick at my thoughts huh?”

Tara turns to look at her “well i wasn’t expecting that big speech” 

Y/n stares at Tara “sorry” she then turns back to the ocean one last time before looking at her phone for the time “shit it’s 4 in the morning and i need to ask Alva when i’m staying tonight, i’ll uh… see you around. Bye Tara.” 

Tara looks at her getting up “yeah it is pretty late, see you around Y/n i guess and uh bye” 

Y/n leaves to go and find Alva to figure out where she’s sleeping. “Alva hey you awake?” 

“Huh… Y/n omg there you are i thought you left yeah I’m up” 

“Cool, so where am I staying?”

“Oh right, so since you like your own space and don’t really like staying near other people which i still find really weird. I made sure to leave the pool house to you and don’t worry I cleared it all out so it’s all yours since there's enough rooms in the house.” 

“So i get to keep my normal room then in the pool house? And not share?”

“Yes that is what i just said no? What type of best friend would I be if I didn't leave my bestfriends normal spot locked up for her. I mean you are basically family and you did clam that spot for yourself very early on. You have your keys to it right? I don’t think anything in there has moved since the last time we came up to my parents' beach house.” 

“Yeah, I still have my keys. Thanks Alava, I'll see you tomorrow whenever I decide to leave the pool house. Goodnight and I love you.” 

“yeah , yeah goodnight dork and i love you too.” 

Y/n makes her way to her car to grab her stuff and then heads to the pool house through the back. No knowing that Tara is still on the balcony and watching her enter the pool house that was locked when they arrived.  weird she thought isn’t there like other rooms in this big house as Alvas owns for Y/n she continues to watch Y/n as she enters the door and sees the lights turn on at that moment she decides to head to bed for the night. Still thinking about why Y/n is in the pool house by herself. 

Y/n enters the pool house and is instantly hit with the nostalgia of the place where she spent her time by herself at night when hanging with Alva and her family. The walls lined with all the posters of her fazes in her life and the photos of her and Alva through their friendship. She chucks all her bags to the floor, locks the door and heads for a shower, after that she heads to bed.

[noforkingclue]

Loyalties Chapter 16 (Tommy Shelby x reader x Alfie Solomons)

Warnings for this chapter: mentions of sexual assault, suicide, murder

Alfie Solomons tag list: @hp-howartsexpress

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you were avoiding me.”

You stiffened and looked around but couldn’t see anyone around. Tommy’s chest was pressing against your back and you resisted the urge to lean back against him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Mr Shelby.”

“And you’re still refusing to say my name.”

“Good to know that you can listen.”

The two of you were in a quiet, secluded corner of Alfie’s bakery and you mentally cursed yourself for being so stupid. You knew that the Shelby’s were in London to do business, you should’ve expected that you would run into Tommy sooner or later. You should’ve made sure that you were never alone. You let out a gasp as Tommy gripped your arms and spun you around, pressing you against the wall.

“You came to London.” you said quietly

“Clearly.”

“Why. I hope not for me.”

“And why would you think that?”

“Because we-”

You were interrupted by Tommy roughly pressing his lips against yours. You let out a whimper and struggled against him. He broke the kiss but pressed his forehead against yours.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Mr Shelby.”

“I already was.”

He pressed another rough kiss against your lips. You pulled your arms free from his grip and put them against his chest. You knew you should push him away and yet you didn’t. Tommy smirked against your lips and took a step closer. This time you broke the kiss but Tommy’s lips remained close to yours.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” you said

“Then tell Alfie.”

“How do you know I haven’t already.”

“Because he still wants to do business with me.”

Tommy cupped your cheeks and forced you to look at him. You wanted to pull away. You wanted to go back to Alfie. Yet something made you stay, unable to look away from Tommy’s blue eyes.

“You know where I’m staying,” he said quietly, “I want you there by nine tonight.”

“Why? I’m not fucking you again.”

“No. You’re going to tell me who you killed.”

“And will that make you leave me alone?”

“We’ll see.”

*

You didn’t know why you did what Tommy told you to do. But here you were, knocking on his hotel door. The door swung open and you pushed passed him and into his room. You walked to the other side of his room, hugging yourself tightly, as the door swung shut behind you. You didn’t say anything as Tommy offered you a drink. You took a large gulp before saying,

“I was a nurse during the War. Part of the reason why Alfie kept me on. It’s hard to find nurses who know when to be discreet.”

“I am aware.”

“I’ve seen some shit. People often forget about that. Obviously not as much as soldiers but still…” you trailed off and shrugged, before taking another large gulp of your drink, “enough.”

To your surprise Tommy remained silent as you spoke. He was sitting on the edge of the bed drinking and smoking. You started to pace up and down the room.

“We saved lives,” you continued, “and yet soldiers saw us as free game. Free from VD. They felt entitled,” you spat the word, “to us. Some of us gave in. After all, not many options out on a battlefield. Some just felt sorry for the soldiers. And others,” you took a deep breath and shook your head, ��didn’t have a choice.”

You walked over and re-filled your glass. You knew you shouldn’t be drinking this much but you needed it to get through what happened. The only other people who knew were Alfie and Harry. You were taking a big risk telling Tommy this.

“Her name was Penny,” you said, “sweet girl. Too sweet for the line of work but she wanted to do her bit. One of the soldiers took a liking to her and she was too nice to tell him to fuck off. Maybe she felt sorry for him, can’t see why myself. Wounded in battle or not, he was a fucking cunt.”

You drew in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly.

“Anyway, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He fucking raped her and nobody did anything. She couldn’t fucking cope. I was the one who found her body. So I did something about it. I drugged him and smothered him. It was too good of a death for him. No one fucking questioned it or maybe they just turned another blind eye. At the end of the day it was just another death to them. Just another casualty of war.”

You slammed your glass down on a table. Tommy lit another cigarette and offered it to you. You took it gratefully, glad to have something to distract yourself with.

“And do you regret it?”

You looked sharply over at Tommy. His gaze never left you and you said,

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’ve had people die on me but he’s the only one I’ve deliberately killed.”

“And would you kill again?”

“Does that matter.”

“It might do.”

“You sound like Alfie.”

“Is that a compliment.”

“I’ll leave that up to you to decide, Tommy.”

You had caved. You finally uttered the one word that he had wanted you to say. You stubbed out your cigarette as Tommy stood up and approached you.

“And will you be coming back?” he asked, “to Birmingham.”

To him.

“I might be.”

“I expect you to.”

You grimaced and shook your head. You walked towards the door, half expecting Tommy to stop you.

“I’m sure this won’t be the last time we see each other.” you said

“It won’t be.” Tommy said as you walked out of his room

*

The walk back to your home was uneventful. Then again, working for someone like Alfie did grant you a level of protection. You let out a sigh of relief when you finally got home. You closed your eyes as you rested your head against the door and slid to the ground.

“You did what I told you to do.”

You opened your eyes and looked up at Alfie.

“Yeah,” you said, “I did. Didn’t feel right though.”

“Not fucking meant to.”

Alfie sat down next to you and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“And you sure you want me to go back to Birmingham?”

“Fucking told you to, didn’t I?”

“Right of course.”

“Only this time, I’m sending your cunty brother with you.”

“Harry isn’t a cunt.”

“Sure he isn’t, love.”

[kit-kat-katie]

I love you, but you love him, and he loves me

A/N: Sometimes I forget that the things that I say have a tendency to age like milk... apologies for the lack of updates and fics. I've been drowning in schoolwork since the semester started and I haven't had much of a chance to work on an extended fic like Our Time. The current plan is to have this post up for February, put up a Johanna fic in April/May, and then finish up Our Time over the summer (hopefully). Anyways, here's some Clove fluff that's a week late for Valentine's Day! :D

oh, thanks for 100 followers! I am so happy that people enjoy my content without a regular schedule. thank you so so much again!

TW: underage drinking/smoking, brief mention of weed, small fighting scene, reader is put into uncomfortable romantic situation

Pairing: Clove x GN! Reader (Rivals to Lovers in 2x speed)

Summary: You love Clove. She likes Cato. Cato likes you. Your life is a comedic love triangle until your best friend's drunken disaster causes you to connect with Clove and discover something new about her.

“On your left.” 

Catelyn gives you a quick warning before flipping you on the back and slamming you against the mat. You squirm against her grip for a moment before spotting a weakness in her legs.

An opening.

You grab her leg and pull her to the ground before taking her hands and pinning them to the ground.

“Don’t count me out yet.” You sneer as she scoffs.

“Fucker.” She mumbles as a buzzer goes off in the distance.

You immediately jump off of her and offer a hand up, which Catelyn begrudgingly takes.

“Trying to impress your girl?” She raises an eyebrow before you shove her aside.

Clove’s staring at the two of you, well, just you since Catelyn’s stepped off the mat to grab a drink of water. Her eyes immediately drift off to look elsewhere as you let out a sigh.

You wish she’d look at you longer, as much as she looked at Cato.

It’s funny, in an ironic way.

You love her.

She loves him.

And he’s paused his sparring to walk over to you.

Probably to ask you on a date or to go drinking or to go do something with romantic undertones that you don’t want to do.

So he loves you.

Catelyn had egged the two of you on before realizing that you wanted nothing more than for him to leave you alone. You didn’t want to refuse Cato’s invitations - he was the choice for a Hunger Games tribute in the near future, and that’d piss off more people than your trickiness could outmaneuver.

Perhaps running through a nearby window would be the best way to avoid him?

…And he’s right in front of you.

You glance behind him, only to see Clove's jaw tighten.

Fuck.

~

An invite.

“That's all he wanted?” Catelyn teases as you make your way to the place where Cato always invited you after sparring practice.

It wasn't like the two of you were going to be alone. It was a tradition for the top contenders for this year's Hunger Games to engage in a few… adult activities before the Reaping occurred. This way, the two tributes shipped off could get to enjoy a little bit of adulthood before heading to the Capital.

It wasn't anything too awful, just some cheap booze and a few blunts to pass around. Any people that passed you all by would simply look the other way - who'd want to risk being harassed by a group of teenagers?

You didn't usually partake beyond a few sips from some cheap bottle of booze - someone needed to carry Catelyn home, after all.

When the two of you slip behind a pair of buildings, a few boys around Cato's age wave you over.

“Let's get this over with.” You grumble, hoping to spend this evening without uncomfortably resting in Cato's arms.

~

You failed.

Horrendously.

When you arrived, Cato threw an arm around you and hasn't let you go since. You're tempted to drink more so you don't remember what he's said or done, but seeing your friend nearly face plant into a campfire has you rethinking that decision.

As if matters couldn't get any worse, Clove arrived just in time to see Cato place a kiss on your cheek. She huffs before glaring at the two of you from a fair distance away.

This time, you notice, her glare isn't directed at you.

She's glaring at him.

~

Catelyn's barely able to stumble forward as you throw an arm around your shoulder. She excitedly points at a lamppost and tries to point at it, but she ends up falling out of your grasp and onto the barren road.

“Catelyn, c’mon,” You try to coax your friend from the ground, but she shakes her head, “We've got to get home before sunrise.”

“Nu-uh!” She slurs, face-down in the pavement.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose until you hear footsteps come from behind you.

“Need some help?” 

In all of her brazen glory, your knight-in-shining-armor (a black leather jacket, a plain t-shirt, and blue jeans), Clove, offers to help.

“If you don't mind, I know you might be busy with someone else.” You quietly say as she shakes her head.

“I wanted to take a walk to clear my head, away from everyone else.”  She grabs Catelyn from the ground, who whines like a petulant child, before you hoist one of Catelyn’s arms over your shoulder.

Clove does the same, and the three of you walk in silence until a biting question slips off her tongue.

“Do you like Cato?”

“Absolutely not.” The answer leaves your lips before you can refine the words with a bit more thought. “We're friends, sure, but I don't feel anything for him.”

Relief escapes her lips as she takes a deep breath out, then in. She smiles, as do you in return.

“Good, good. I was worried that you were into him.” 

“Why?” You stop, which causes Clove to stop.

“I thought- I thought I liked him, but I saw him kissing you and… I didn't like how it made me feel.” She blushes at her honesty as you bite your lip.

“If you like him, Clove, you can have him. I certainly don't want him.”

She harshly laughs before turning to look at you.

“Don't you get it? All of those times that I saw you two together, I thought I was jealous of you. Today, after seeing him draped over you, I realized that I'm jealous of him.”

Her confession leaves you breathless as you pause to consider her words.

She… likes me.

“Clove, I…” It's your turn to get nervous as you try to meet Clove’s unwavering gaze. “I really, really like you too.”

Catelyn, in a moment of drunken clarity, lifts her head up to look at the both of you before loudly sighing.

“Just kiss already, you idiots!” She lets go of the both of you to (not-so) gracefully fall on the ground as your arm finds its way around her.

You lean in to kiss her, before pausing.

“Is this okay?” You mumble, centimeters away from her lips. 

A mischievous smile slips onto her face as she answers by kissing you back.

You wouldn't have many nights like this again, but this night would always be special to you.

[astroprompts]

✧ —𝐁𝐎𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 [𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝟑]

“Darling, you're doing marvelously, I am so proud of you.”

“Just write a script for me, so I don't have to think for myself.”

“You better not have gotten your failure stink all over my important movie star clothes.”

“That is going to lead to some wackiness. You mark my words.”

“Hey, champ, I have a very important job for you.”

“Why does everything I love fall apart as soon as I touch it?”

“What legacy of ruin am I left with? What rewards have I reaped for the damage done?”

“You look different. Older. A lot older.”

“I'm not interested in being rebirthed. I'm still recovering from being birthed the first time.”

“I want to do things that connect with people, things that last.”

“If I'm going to sacrifice my journalistic integrity, it's because I'm having sex with a movie star.”

“How do you make something right when you've made it so wrong you can never go back?”

“Thanks a lot. Once again, you've been no help whatsoever.”

“What, you're just gonna stay at home and get drunk all day?”

“Let's get wrecked and get Shreked.”

“You're bright and you're funny and you're handsome and you're talented. But if you can't see that, then you're the biggest, dumbest piece of shit in the world.”

“If you get scared, look for me in the audience. I'll be there the whole time, laughing and cheering louder than anyone.”

“Thirty years I threw into this job, and it destroyed me from the inside out.”

“A lot of guys in your position wouldn't take gigs like this. They'd be afraid people would make fun of them.”

“If you care about what other people think, you're never gonna do anything.”

“Put the corpse on ice, I'm on my way.”

“I'm not avoiding you. I'm just making an effort to not be in a room alone with you because I am... Avoiding you.”

“You know, I think we're alike in a lot of ways. Sometimes that's great, but it also means we can bring out the worst in each other.”

“I just think maybe it's better, for both of us, if we keep things a little more professional.”

“It smells like a skunk skunked another skunk in here, then they smoked a joint. What happened?”

“Sometimes you need to take responsibility for your own happiness.”

“It takes a long time to realize how truly miserable you are, even longer to see it doesn't have to be that way.”

“I haven't seen you since high school. You look great!”

“My dumb best friend's getting married, so I'm here for the rehearsal dinner.”

“Boring regular people love it when movie stars show up and drink their alcohol.”

“This is not the time for one of your weird stories that go nowhere.”

“If you're lucky enough to find someone you can halfway tolerate, sink your nails in and don't let go, no matter what.”

“One day, you're gonna look around and you're going to realize that everybody loves you, but nobody likes you. And that is the loneliest feeling in the world.”

“I would seriously like to know what crawled up your butt, made a home for itself in your butt, started a family, lived a fruitful life, and then died up your butt.”

“When you do bad things, you have something you can point to when people eventually leave you. It's not you, you tell yourself, it's that bad thing you did.”

“Listen, I've been with guys like you before, and I know this thing works better if we keep a little distance.”

“It's so sad that when you see someone as they really are, it ruins them.”

“You're sweet. You shouldn't waste that on people who don't deserve it.”

“Are you sure this whole thing isn't just a semi-lucid fever dream from mixing the wrong pills?”

“It's so cruel to let people love you. All you're doing is promising you'll one day break their hearts.”

“We don't really have the kind of relationship where we talk about things.”

“Just because you have a shitty relationship with your family doesn't mean every other family has to have drama too.”

“Ugh! Why did I get my hopes up? Why do I keep letting you get my hopes up?”

“Do a girl a favor, don't break her heart by inches. Do it all at once. It'll save everyone some time.”

“Should we get dinner, or are you just thinking drinks?”

“Good luck finding another charming first-generation Italian immigrant with this kind of darling accent, who makes equally delightful malapropisms!”

“Is there a single woman you've worked with who you haven't tried to groggily thrust yourself into?”

“You're such a self-pitying masochist, I could say ten nice things and one mean thing, you would only hear the one mean thing.”

“Did you ever love me? At all?”

“You know that I don't do the whole love thing. Either you end up hurting someone or they hurt you. So, what's the point?”

“I do love you, by the way. I mean, as much as I'm capable of loving anyone.”

“I assure you the animated GIFs with which I describe this encounter shall be scathing!”

“You can't keep doing shitty things, and then feel bad about yourself like that makes it okay!”

“You are all the things that are wrong with you. It's not the alcohol, or the drugs, or any of the shitty things that happened to you in your career, or when you were a kid. It's you.”

“Your skin is so soft, it's like you murdered a baby and stole its skin. Your skin is murdered-baby soft.”

“Let's get higher than a stilt walker's dick!”

“If you have to listen to losers talk about their shitty sober lives, it's a lot more fun to be buzzed.”

“You're going to want to rush in there and do whatever you can to save them, but you have to stop yourself, because there are some people you can't save. 'Cause those people will thrash and struggle and try to take you down with them.”

“I always forget that there are more than just the six stars you can see in the Los Angeles sky.”

“In the great grand scheme of things, we're just tiny specks that will one day be forgotten.”

“The only thing that matters is right now, this moment. This one spectacular moment we are sharing together.”

“I'm poison. I come from poison. I have poison inside me, and I destroy everything I touch.”

“I have nothing to show for the life that I've lived, and I have nobody in my life who's better off for having known me.”

“What's your deal? I feel like you like me, but you don't like me, but you like me, and I don't know what that is.”

“Are you gay? You can tell me if you're gay, it's fine. This isn't the 1600s, or some places in the present.”

“I'm not gay. I mean, I don't think I am, but... I don't think I'm straight, either.”

[namusthetic]

Marauders' Era

The Slytherin Skittles

From the Marauders' Era fandom. Decided to lounge about in the Slytherin common room? Join the Skittles for a late night Slytherin chat.

Regulus A. Black

"From far away I wish I'd stayed with you, but here face to face, a stranger that I once knew.

I thought if I wandered I'd fall back in love. You said distance brings fondness, but guess not with us."

- Astronomy, Conan Gray

Doesn't ask for help

Overachiever

Covers his deep insecurities with a god-complex

Abandonment and trust issues

Suffers panic and anxiety attacks, the others know exactly what to do when it happens and huddle around him, holding hands and grounding him, until he starts breathing normally again and stops shaking

Protective of his chosen family

Instead of fighting to keep people in his life, he lets them go because in the end he thinks he's never enough to stay for

Hates loud noises and making noise when moving or walking

Deeply misunderstood

Tries to remain detached and cold as much as possible because knows he'd end up caring too deeply

Self-isolates when he doesn't know how to deal with his feelings, luckily, whenever that happens, the others storm his usual hiding spots and force him to go outside and enjoy himself

Escapes from his own thoughts by reading or listening to music compulsively

Barty Crouch Jr.

"I used to like liquor to get me inspired but you look so beautiful, my new supplier. I used to like smoking to stop all the thinking, but I found a different buzz.

The world is a curse, it'll kill if you let it I know they got pills that can help you forget it, they bottle it, call it medicine, but I don't need drugs. 'Cause I'm already high enough, you got me, you got me good."

- High Enough by K. Flay

covers his need for attention and approval with loudness and chaos

Fear of missing out

Afraid that people will forget about him and leave him behind

Avoids talking and thinking about his own feelings

Cannot control his emotions when overwhelmed

Hides it when deeply hurt

Clingy drunk, cries if left by himself

Has a soft spot for pets, especially dogs (once he even accidentally cuddled Padfoot without knowing it was actually Sirius)

Hopeless romantic when in a serious relationship

Incredibly intelligent, he just doesn't want to please his father in any way so he acts out

Jokes about his trauma in public, but ends up sleeping in Evan's bed whenever he has nightmares

ADHD kid

Makes dirty jokes all the time but is afraid of having a stable relationship and not being enough for his partner

Evan Rosier

"And hey, you, don't you think it's kinda cute that I (I) died (died) right inside your arms tonight? That I'm fine even after I have died? Because it was in your arms I died.

I cry in the afterlife, I cry hard because I have died, and you're alive. I try to escape afterlife, I try hard to get back inside your arms alive."

- Arms Tonite by Mother Mother

Calm and collected most of the time

Silent anger

Insomniac, spends the nights reading and listening to chill music

Deadly afraid of spiders, always asks Pandora to take them outside

Energy drinks and caffeine

If looks could kill

Tries to keep everyone from getting in trouble together with Dorcas

Doesn't pay attention in class but gets good grades anyway

Grew up too quickly

Joins Barty and Dorcas whenever they are tipsy and start a singing contest

Likes nights out with friends, randomly walking with no precise destination, a few drinks in hand and the warmth of chosen family around him

The observant, silent one

Always carries small perfume vials since he can't stand smells (sweat, cigarette smoke, etc.)

Pandora Rosier

"You don't have to be like everybody else, you don't have to fit into the norm, you are not here to conform. I am here to take a look inside myself, recognize that I could be the eye, the eye of the storm.

I am not my body, not my mind or my brain (ha), not my thoughts or feelings, I am not my DNA. I am the observer, I'm a witness of life, I live in the space between the stars and the sky."

- Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land by MARINA

Already figured who was going to end up in a relationship with whom years before it happened

Has a private gardening spot where she grows their own plants (especially herbs)

Follows the lunar calendar instead of the solar one, they all celebrate both new years with big parties

Wears long airy dresses with flower patterns and a dozen crystal necklaces and rings

Talks enthusiastically about everything she's passionate about with no restraints (and everyone loves listening to her talk)

Knows weird knowledge nobody knows from where

Walks Hogwarts' halls singing and with a spring in her step

Spends afternoons in the forest sketching fantastic beasts and feeding them treats

Loves making flower crowns, Regulus wears them whenever she makes one for him and hexes anyone who dares say something about it

Always has paint on her hands or face

Dorcas Meadowes

"Say my name, as every colour illuminates. We are shining, and we will never be afraid again.

And when we come for you, we'll be dressed up all in blue, with the ocean in our arms, kiss your eyes and kiss your palms.

And when it's time to pray, we'll be dressed up all in grey, with metal on our tongues, and silver in our lungs."

- Spectrum (Say My Name) by Florence and The Machine

Hates small talk and superficial friendships

Direct, immediately cuts straight to the point

Politically active against all kinds of discrimination and violence

Strong and determined to achieve what she wants

Ready to argue with anyone, anytime, anywhere

Knows exactly what she wants

Stays up late to read and listen to music in the common room

Has everything planned out

Neon lights and cocktails, loud music and cherry flavored lip balm

Travels a lot but is ready to return home immediately if one of her close friends needs her help

Elegant style, always impeccably dressed

Storms out of the dorm and takes a long walk whenever she feels she can't control her anger

Loves to listen to true crime podcasts

------------------------💚🐍

So I love the Marauders' gang, but (I don't know if you guessed it) I really have a soft spot for the Skittles. To me they feel like the ones who never really even had a chance to be saved, who were left to fend for themselves and to die just because of their families and house. They were damaged as much as the others but found no one to help them but each other.

[kharmii]

In the area where I live there are really only a handful of people still wearing masks its either leftist teen pupils or Karen looking women. Leftism and all that nonsense really didn't take off in the area I live even if the greater country cares a lot about leftism.

At the very least they are easy to recognize and here and are rare to spot in the wild and even easier to avoid.

Personally I never caught the virus. And I highly doubt the vaccine helped with that. I am usually preferring to stay at home and I think I am one of those people being immune to this whole thing from the get-go (and I worked in retail for the majority of the time, working with young children who sprayed their sneezes all across the room when they were too young to have memorized sneeze etiquette.)

But this isn't about me it is about weirdos still wearing masks and I chuckle to myself each time I see them. Hon things are looking good right now and no mask can help you save brain cells since you all kick them out when you joined the leftist cult.

It is comforting to live in an area where most modern day leftism is rejected or ignored... Makes me feel like real life really only has a handful of lunatics advocating for this bs and common sense still has a big space there.

I hope in the upcoming years all this nonsense will eventually die out and we have a new nonsensical trend people do that is less harmful than the current one.

Only just recently did some of the hardcore mask people stop wearing them at work. There are still a few people around, and I mostly see them when I'm out shopping.

I never got Covid either, or if I did, it was so mild it was hardly noticeable. Some people reported losing their sense of smell for a few days or having a scratchiness in their throats. I had that a time or two. It might be a mix of genetic luck of the draw and goodish lifestyle choices. I don't always eat the best, but I stay physically fit. I don't smoke or drink.

The thing is...I'm not the same person irl that I am trolling on the internet. I'm actually sensitive and considerate, and some people have even misinterpreted me as being shy. Years ago, at work, someone released a baby raccoon caught in a trap crying for its mommy, and a bunch of people assumed it was me. I was like, "What?! I didn't even know it was there!" (If it was me, why wouldn't they assume I still had it stuffed in my shirt like MY BABY RACCOON NOW!!)

If the people I worked with were decent, I might have suffered wearing the mask for a bit when asked, even though it was stupid, pointless, and ineffective, and I don't like wasting my time with stupid, pointless crap, especially if it comes with an uncomfortable sensory experience. My job is physically demanding, and I can't have restricted breathing. Someone sitting at a desk all day might not be capable of understanding that.

When Covid hysteria first hit, I still had a committed stalker, and I was working around a bunch of low lives who'd cackle around me like hyenas. Almost every day, I'd have to listen to this nasty, nasty woman mutter under her breath, "Huhuhuhuhuhuhuh.....you can't make comedy like this up!" every time I'd get harassed by the stalker guy.

-So then when someone accused me of 'dehumanizing them' for not wearing the mask, I went off. I've been dehumanized constantly my entire life, -sometimes by my own family- and nobody has ever given the slightest damn. I don't want to hear about how (so-and-so) lives a cushy, pain-free life and still feels 'dehumanized' because they belong to some 'marginalized' group, or because someone around them isn't towing the line to follow some group-think political agenda.

Again, if I thought people would actually die if I personally didn't wear a mask, then I'd wear one. If I was surrounded by decent people who treated me well, then I'd wear one out of consideration for their anxiety. -But I'm surrounded by narrow-minded goobers, some of which clearly don't believe their own bullshit and only were doing it because they cared too much about what other people thought. A couple people might have even got the vaccine for that reason.

Side note: I'm feeling a smidge pissy today because someone started drama at work after a long period of peace. About once a month, I'll heat up fish in the break room, either salmon or rainbow trout over rice. Keep in mind, the break room isn't a place where people hang out. Workers will heat up their food, grab their drinks out of the fridge, then go off and eat somewhere else. The only time we had people hanging out in the break room was when we had the two office workers shirking their duties and going in there to hide.

Around Christmas, the stalker guy made some comment like, 'Someone didn't like how you heated up fish yesterday.'

I replied something like, 'Someone can fuck right on off...'

Now today, I get a note in my workstation saying, 'Stop heating up fish in the microwave. Signed: Everybody :-)

I hung it up on the wall with a reply, 'If you don't like it, get a job at McDonalds where the food smells good. I only eat fish once a month. Get a life.' *circles the word 'everybody'* 'Like I've ever cared.'

I can't count how many times I'd be surrounded by dirty rotten low life scumbags cackling around me with an attitude like, "Everybody has decided....(this and that) about you."

As if I'm going to be like, "What?! You mean 'everybody' has an issue with something I'm doing?! Well then, I guess I'd better goddamn well change!"

This is that impossible standard of perfection I'm always going on about. Nobody cares that I'll clean out the microwave every so often, or bring in plastic cutlery everybody is free to use, or that I'm one of the few people who puts napkins over my food when I heat it up, so food doesn't splatter all over the microwave. I heat food up every day (fish once a month, every other kind of food the rest of the month). Nobody notices or gives a damn about anything positive I do. They have to find something to pick a fight about, and it's always something that's not that big of a deal.

[undertow-story]

CHAPTER 001

THE GAMBLE

I will admit... I am unconvinced that I am qualified for this job. These numbers are ludicrous even for the upstairs to offer, and whatever this guy has done has clearly gotten someone upstairs Very Angry....

Although, I would also love to stop sleeping in dumpsters and other bins that happen to be nearby... My fur deserves far better than washing up in whatever pond is in the outskirts of town.

Sachiel holds the paper in his grip, scratching at the long tanned fur on his chin.

Hm... and having a proper place to sit and clean my weapons would be ideal... No dirt getting right back into them after cleaning.... Ugh, whatever. I suppose I need to submit an ‘application’ first before I can muse the possibility.

He shuffled his way down the neon and gloomy street. Many shady persons lurked in the alleys and boulevards just beyond the main strip... But the market’s people were far from being the same. These people resided here happily (despite their living situation) and came and went as normal, some as always giving him odd glances. They were all just normal people, forced to live in a dangerous and unregulated place just because they weren’t ‘good’ enough. Sachiel didn’t understand it.

He looked up at the sign for his usual tavern. With a name like ‘The Hovel’ you wouldn’t expect it to be a very good place to dine or frequent. Surprisingly, it was actually quite well kept. Actually, it was the best kept bar in the entire Undertow if you were to ask Sachiel.

They also carried his favorite whiskey.

He slumped in through the door.

The very short, sunglasses bearing barkeep greeted him with the usual, “Hey there Fangs, what’ll it be?”.

Sachiel tossed his remaining coin at them, telling them to get him “The Usual, food included this time... with a request.”

“Request, eh? That’s unlike you bud, what’d’ya need?” They grinned, taking the coin and popping it into a lockbox below.

“Paper... Mhh, specifically one of those applications those thronies need for their hits.” He sat down at the counter, actively avoiding looking around at the other patrons whom he was aware had already started their odd glances.

The bartender gave him a chuckle and slid him a glass of his usual whiskey, an old one, a strong one, something with a hint of orange and smoke. They gave their coworker the food order, while rummaging below. “Oh-hoh, so you saw the notice. I’m surprised at you, Fangs, you don’t usually work for the Upstairs... what’s with the change of heart?”

Sachiel took the paper and started to fill in his information, name, experience, any previous hit with their invoice numbers... listed weapons? He huffed, struggling to talk and fill it in at the same time... His penmanship and focus were lacking.

“Mh, yeah... Look, Cy... I don’t like hunting you folk. Humans that is. I also however don’t like sleeping in empty dumpsters either. A hit like this could secure me a place to live in, finally... as well as replace my broken weapons.”

Cy smiled, it was always nice when Sachiel did refer to them by name and not just reply to what felt like no-one.

“Yeah we all dream of that one huh? I can’t blame you for wanting a place of your own. You've only been here a year and a bit now and still tend to be kicked out of bins. Not exactly the most ideal setup.”

“You’re telling me.” He scribbled, pulling out a set of crumpled and sad papers from his satchel. “I just hope I can A) get the job, and B) pull it off.”

“Ey, don’t worry about it Fangs, you’re a talented dude. Still glad I hired you before to take care of that ‘rat’ problem I had. Who’da thought all you’d need to clear the riff raff was just some cheap intimidation... Though I am glad you keep comin back here, does my business good to see your patronage, buddy.”

Sachiel sipped at his drink. “Do what I can to not be a nuisance.”

He finished up with his paperwork, stuffing his face with as much of the calamari he ordered as he could, then left as he usually did- silently and without much more to add to the room.

-

The application process was fairly simple. The Hunts were generally regulated by the people above, however anything requested from a persons of Undertow were marked with their own symbols next to the request file. All Hunters needed to be documented- and required invoice receipts in order to take on hits from wealthier individuals. As well, they were judged and graded on their hits based off their performance and how much damage they caused to surrounding areas, being docked accordingly.

Application desks were always found at a "Spire". Around the city were 8 Grand Spires. These spires connected the undertow to the guys up above ground. There was one in the middle, Alpha, then 7 around the outer areas of the other sectors. They basically were just support beams to hold the upper city off the ground and into the air.

Spire Gamma was the one closest to the place Sachiel generally lingered. This spire was also one of the most beaten down because it, and Theta, were near what was described as a ‘hot spot’, or an area where there was frequent 'entity' attacks.

Sachiel was wasting no time... He wanted this done and over with.

Dropping his application off and then sitting on a bench nearby, he refused to move along with the others who had also applied. It was easier than having the huntsmen workers come and find you... and he wanted to know sooner than later.

-

It didn’t take long, hits like this usually had a prompt response within 4 hours of the posting. If you missed it then it sucks to be you. A worker called over the loudspeaker, requesting Sachiel to the desk.

Not bad.

“Awrite Mistah Sachiel, lemme see ya ID.” The front desk lady held out a hand, she seemed quite old to be doing a job like this still.

... Mistah? Sachiel is fine... and I thought it was pronounced 'Mister'.

Sachiel handed over his ID. Thankfully these people didn’t care where it came from, just as long as theres a photo of you and a name that matched their signup records.

“Ohkay, Mistah Aethurt will see ya in his office, sweetie, head to the back I’ll open the elevator.” She boredly gestured to the other side of the spire.

...His office? Does that mean..?

Sachiel looked up, his ear once again turning backwards in concern.

I guess I get to know a little more about the upstairs.

Previous | Next

[inkedwingss]

Sensitive Abstractions I don't really like

to write

poems like this.

Threatening spaces like enormous mouths eating words, and they vanish, their consequences and repercussions erased - a lethal vacuum.

Silence is scarcely tolerable for a modern man.

I am not a modern man.

But I accumulate words feelings images sounds scars garments of distant dreams and certainties of tomorrow, just as I do with myself: I accumulate myself before hitting the next 'enter,' and thus avoid dissolving.

Diluted in others' rivers.

In another strange, bordering current: two waters meet and we have another river.

But I sail in abstract waters and drink from a river that cannot be stained.

Yet, I can feel like a hiccup, an interrupted sigh—my outlines fade, I am a soundless explosion.

A mixture of dust that was already here before, light, plasma, blood, bones, eyes, very silent; a supernova screaming in space.

How nice would it be if my contours only mimicked yours, eternal star.

My burden is to seek the record of the unfathomable in such simple forms of expression, so here I am, biting the bars of this flesh's cage, and I see: I am too free, too free to live without colossal, overwhelming yearnings.

I am a shipwrecked child, a piece of wood floating in the open sea.

Hypersensitive are my edges, especially the sharp ones—lend me your sandpaper, the coarsest, the stupidest, to compete on equal terms with my stupidity.

Hypersensitive are my gills; I suspect I should live underwater since in this time of ours the air and the earth are like smoke in my eyes and soot, so much sad-gray concrete.

Hypersensitive are my pages, each word like a prick of a sharp needle, each needle like a world of pains, each pain like people looking at me, hungry for justice, and I don't even know their names.

Hypersensitive in the memory of being found by a certain pair of eyes, two celestial flames that would melt the whole world with a glance; in their gaze, a precise arrow that doesn't miss the target, only in a blink

of an eye.

My heart was pierced and will forever bleed.

I wait contemplating the bottom of your sea, painted with diamonds shining for me, every night—my certainty: you'll come.

You will.

The colors are hypersensitive, the patterns on the tiles, the desires and cries for help, I write all this somewhere, you say things I can't understand and smile with my childish magnifying glass, like a kid with a binocular that is actually just a toy.

Hypersensitive, throbbing, I run and run, and search and knock on the door, not so gently because I am too desperate for that, I want to dissect existence and at the same time preserve its untouched mystery because in trying to explore it too much I know I would lose myself.

My taste is hypersensitive too, as are my eyes that absorb everything, and my ears that listen too much.

Hypersensitive is my tough skin that is thin, and seems like it will tear with the weight of empty words, vulgar laughter, eyes that should be luminous, and useless information, because they buy and sell and eat and give themselves as they please, and don't even look up.

Hypersensitive in crowded places where many destinies intersect and my eyes need to flee to the clouds, the only destination that matters.

Hypersensitive enough to live a farewell that already brings tears ten years before it happens.

Hypersensitive is missing the taste of touching the earth from the top of the mountain and the claws of the owl that never landed on my shoulders, the gallop I didn't hear, the places I never stepped on and the wind I never breathed in and perhaps never will.

My erased abstract lines let me wander around. I go up and down like an unregulated gauge according to the standards stipulated by the century of madness.

And I just need to walk on that path, so hold my hand, and hypersensitive I go up, dancing over the auroras, drinking from the source at the extreme north-south-east-west, and going up, I dissolve, in greater sensitive abstractions. Ivanna

(originally written in portuguese)

[brattyfrenchvampire]

It's been 1 month and surprisingly harder than I thought to not drink. We've gone months and even over a year before without trying. I think it's that finality that is difficult. It was easy when I had a choice and just said no. Where saying "I can't" or "I don't" makes me want to fight back for some reason. I suppose I felt I had more control when I chose when I drank versus abstaining. (I'm aware of how much that's an addict's thoughts.)

Alcohol is a tricky thing. For one it's everywhere and for cheap. Also, if you turn down someone's "gift" of a shot or drink they take it personal. I'm not even talking about the guys trying to get into anyone's pants. (Though they're annoying as well.) You have people from your own group that will order drinks without asking you. It's lightning fast, "here do these shots, also here's a whole drink...we're leaving in 5 minutes so you better slam it. It has red bull in it." Okay, yeah the last time I was at a bar I really didn't care for dude bros pressuring me. I actually can have fun without alcohol, besides I know my own pace best. I can drink fast but I don't chug. Idk it felt very disrespectful. (Besides this vessel needing to avoid caffeine for our heart. Yes, have an energy drink. It will give you wings when your heart flies out of your throat.)

Anyways, I might be hanging out with some of the group this week and I'm sure we'll end up at a bar or someone's house with booze and I'll have to tell them I don't drink anymore. I wish that was something that was more accepted. I don't care if they want to drink around me, I'll still hang out at bars with them, nothing is changing other than I don't want alcohol in this vessel. How does 1 sober person affect anyone's fun? I'm not policing what they want to do and put into their own bodies. I'm certainly not judging either. If they're that weirded out by it I can always have an edible or smoke. Like why does everyone have to do the same stuff?

It's horrible but part of me says that since I'm done drinking, I should have one last blow out. 1 more fun time. Why?! Non, it's a good thing the last time was so terrible. That's what I need to remember. Being dehydrated, having fucking neurologic issues, probably needed to go to the hospital. That's the reality of drinking. I always take it that step too far. I think I'm tougher than what I am. I've never had a drinking problem where it was too often. But why is it every other time I drink I go on a bender? That is a problem. The quantity, it's too much. It's dangerous even, I need to treat this vessel better it's fragile as is. I've had a couple nights I thought a drink or two would be nice. There was 1 night it was pretty bad, shocked me actually, as I never considered I had a problem with alcohol. I've made it a month, how can I even entertain the idea of one more hurrah? And throw that month away? This will be more challenging than I originally thought, but it's worth it.

[hyperexplosion]

Vent ignore - don't message either I just need write my thoughts out

I hate needing to do something with my hands when I get like this but not wanting to do anything

Like okay glad Ik why I feel worse worse

But also been feeling like this all month even on trip to see concert but that's just cause you know

When you sit in a car with people that are ahead of you in life.

Ywah

I'm just

I feel better off gone more and more each day passing

Ik I'm trying I'm trying study to drive so I can get somewhere

But I just it all feels pointless worthless idk

Maybe I'll lock myself away tomorrow toss my phone aside and just go quiet I just idk

I thought if I came here write my feelings cause I don't wanna vent and hotlines are shit and I'm writing on paper is better but I use most my journals for other things as I keep organized so I'm here

In a way this post won't be seen and will be lost

I also muted like so many groups cause I was getting anxious around so many people like cool glad you all are doing something while I'm laying in bed rotting again cause I have no goal or life I am holding everyone back

I am able to act all cool all chill but idk I need shut up rbh

I just

I don't feel scared

I'm a nuisance I make money by cooking dinner and I can't even save that money like I can't be trusted with money but buying things makes me feel happy for few seconds and right now I just wanna buy photocards and more albums hahahha

I don't touch my savings at least

I cut off so many people how many more do I have to cut off

I struggle to chat unless I feel connection with other but even then I struggle I try push away or I just can't fucking shut up about something on my mind I'm just really bad with people I have bad trust I struggle talk I can't speak or say words right I don't have proper grammar I struggle to talk about my interest and make them seem so interesting and get people into things

Like legit can't shut up about ATEEZ I bring them up every hour why can't I just be fucking normal human being and be likeable why can't I ask people to be here why can't I just fucking talk why can't I just keep possible friendships

I mean okay, this I don't want to I really don't wanna talk about this right now

I mean I have with my mom

And then I don't wanna tell anyone I'm feeling down cause then it feels like I'm being avoided or walking on eggshells

I'm just

I'm tired

This is longer then expected and not being put in tags cause there's a limit and I want low possibility of anyone seeing his

Why can't I just think of a positive future

Not even about weight anymore I'm like almost 30 and I have not nothing had no job my entire life - I didn't deserve graduate school cause I cheated and my teachers special passed me

I'm a fucking idiot. I am not joking when I say I am stupid.

I can't learn by reading shit I don't remember anything I can't drive, and like how am I supposed work in a job when I'm so fucking stupid? Like math in my head? Non existing, am I going have to remember shit? Yeah but will it stay? Probably fucking not

My parents say they are proud of me but how am I making you fucking proud by doing nothing am I making you proud cause I'm bed rotting? That I did graduate highschool but it's all cause I got special passed and cheated? I'm not in college I don't have a job are you lying to me

Can I even cook or does my food actually taste gross

I have paranoia to the point a stranger fucking talking to me fucking freaks me out, I see shit, I fucking am so scared to be out alone I hear shit I'm so fucking jumpy

I'm scared to do shit and was told I was closeted child like yeah sorry I just don't like being out night this day and age and rather be home sorry I don't have a social battery that last forever sorry I don't wanna drink cause I get addicted and I want a fucking drink right now, or that I don't wanna smoke weed cause I already have bad paranoia or that I don't go to parties cause I don't like being surrounded by groups of people sorry I always feel left out in groups I feel awkward in groups1 sorry I don't agree with stealing sorry sorry sorry why keep me around then like even before paranoia and all that I just never liked parties I never liked groups I always been in set of three what do you mean you have 5 or more friends that's so many that's so many in a group what do you mean

Why keep me fucking around

I can't even have a conversation without crying I get mad so fucking easily cause I can't control my emotions and idk

And yeah I want get therapy and everyone makes it so easy but how can I when mom isn't doing good on money and I can't even keep a single fucking 200 in my fucking account

I don't even fucking have 100 and I expect myself to want see another kpop group fuclc I took out a fucking loan just to see teez cause maybe be my last show

I'm just idk this felt like it helped as it finally got me to cry since I haven't been able to but I'm still

I'm not scared anymore

I won't do anything I'm just going to lay here and try to get to sleep now

[deathfavor]

@unmachine​ said: Sorry for crashing at your place again. Sorry for filling your ashtray up twice as fast. Sorry for drinking your booze and giggling like an idiot on the floor next to you. Sorry for making every excuse for you to stick around, to make more time, to be deserving. Apologies apologies. Shame, guilt, desperation- it all starts to drain away. Just needed a little help from the aforementioned booze. Not even that much. His back would hurt tomorrow but that's fine. He's not about to hog Kazutora's bed too. He's got a hard enough head and a deep enough sleeper to make it through.

Not much changes when Eve drinks. It takes way more to get him even remotely buzzed. But he seems looser and speaks more freely (as if that's really much different from his sober state.) He rolls onto his side then his stomach, adjusting himself so he could see Kazutora face right side up. "This is crazy but I used to have long hair when I was younger. There are old pictures of me where I look dumb as hell!" he snickered. A hand outreaches, twirling a lock of his friend's hair on his finger. He glances down at it contemplatively. "Cause I was copying my brother. Long hair doesn't suit me though and I'm glad I chopped it all off... Brother... i'm pretty sure he hates me. I never figured out why or when it started, not that it matters. There's probably something wrong with me but I can't bring myself to not love him." An exhale through the nose and he drops his head back to the ground, releasing the other's long locks and rolling back over on his back to stare at the ceiling.

"I think it's because I'm better at loving things than I am at hating them. I gotta play at my strengths you know? It's hard being treated like shit sometimes but whatever... You treat me nice though...

so, thanks."

   It’s more for Eve that Kazutora has the drinks on hand. He’d been avoidant of drinking before Takemichi had shown up, whispering about Bonten and Mikey. Afraid. Afraid because it isn’t that the drinks make demons, it’s that it lets them out. And his have already claimed two lives as it was. Where others could say I’ll kill you as typical gang bluffs or just friends teasing each other, Kazutora can’t. But then he’d chosen to chase the dark shadow of Bonten, to surge back into darkness, and it’s easy. Easy to drink at a bar while pulling information from people, to break a face. It was even expected like many things. But drinking here is different than the bar. It’s more relaxed. Something that makes him think of summer nights that were still too hot with cold beers and an abandoned arcade filled with smoke. It’s nice. And it seems to help Eve a little bit.

   “  Yeah? "  Kazutora tries to picture it, but it seems at odds with the Eve that he knows. “ I used to have a really cringe hairstyle when I was real young. Same time I got my tattoo.  “  Anything to piss off his father, to be cooler, to be stronger. “ I think one or two pictures exist. Around fifteen is when I started the stripes. Never went back.  “  Outside of another ten years in a cell. He watches Eve reach out to toy with one of the loose strands, but he doesn’t stop him. Only observes as he seems to be lost in thought, in memories. He understands that well.

   He wonders what it must be like for Eve. To love in spite of that? Truth is that even now Kazutora can’t imagine that. Can’t imagine choosing to love when something seems to hate you. He’s always turned to hatred. To destroying anything that hurts him. Even... He watches as Eve sinks back down and rolls over, yet Kazutora doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull away as well, but lingers, close and watchful. 

   “  Nah. Believe me, I’m way more fucked up than you are. So hell even if there is something wrong, you’re doing better than me.  “  He offers in his own strange way of comfort. A solidarity perhaps in the face of being fuck ups. “  I can’t relate to that. But that seems better. I’ve always hated easier. Hated anything that hurt me. I wanted to destroy what hurt me, wanted things to suffer like I had. I hated this fucking world.  “  He admits, turning his head to glance out the window for a moment.  “  I did destroy some of it.  “ That was Kazutora. Destroying the few good things that came into his life along with the bad.

   He turns back to Eve at the thanks, thanks that he doesn’t feel he deserves. But it is offered to him. He still doesn’t know how to handle it. He’s not used to being thanked. “  You don’t deserve to be treated like that.  “  He answers quietly, Kazutora did. But not Eve. And then an old thought surfaces.  “  If someone does treat you like that, I can beat the shit out of them if you want. Make sure that they don’t. “  He murmurs, because even now he knows the language of violence. “  But uh. You’re welcome. “ He adds, before adding “ ...Thanks for keeping me company.  “  Especially now when there was no one else.

[valiantharpoon]

My Hollow Identity (Fiction?)

By J. (as told to V. H.)

The Interlude of J:

Hello to you, friends.

Go away. It's not ready.

You're not ready. I'm not ready.

...are they gone? ...no?

Breathe deep and pretend. It's just me and you. Or more accurately me and myself. A lens through which to view... me barking at shadows, strangers, etc. Their presence an irritation and a subtle anxiety inducing rage waiting to explode.

Breathe. Hold on to it. Let it go. Release it. Feel relieved that it's gone. Feel depressed that it just filled back up while you were calm. Realize that you are just a vessel. A shell. Husk. A bottle of power and poison. But all you need, crave, lust for is...

Opposite. Love and support. Care and attention. But even then it seems like I'm asking too much from you. Don't worry about it. I'll close the box up again. Forget I said anything. Sorry I brought it up. ...but am I? Half says one. The other says worse. Stop pretending in the mirror.

I see myself reflected. I don't know who that is anymore. It's the skin I hide within. It's the mask over the masks. I don't see anyone inside working the controls. All I see is my Hollow Identity. See what I did there? Brought in the title instead of it just being a theme. Oh. That's me deflecting again. Uncomfortable. But I can't change the subject. Hell, it's about me. Myself. The only one that rarely talks. The others just won't shut up. I don't let them. Keeps me busy and distracted. Life's sweet spot.

The dance of truth between the lines. Here is where I should tread. Not these mires of lost, warm, soft cope. I know I'm running. Falling on purpose. Hurting just to feel something. Something other than nothing or everything. These springs of emotion are not consistent. Geysers erupt ad nauseam and forceful. The public seeing either one of these is embarrassing. Even if I lean into the rage, hate, irrational fears and make entertainment out of it. I hate that. I hate that rage that serves so useful and disastrous. I hate the coldness that I feel on it's plateaus. I want nothing more than to be overwritten.

Breaking into yourself is tricky. The defensive actions are in place before you engage. The trains are offline. The stare becomes mid-range. The distance unimportant. The destination of this city in your head. That mall you wander. Those shops you browse. Those confused streets that lead everywhere but where you want. The gas-station of your dreams that is just as dirty as reality. The bricks that feel rough and red. The concrete and asphalt and dirt roads all with their scents and textures. You become familiar with the surroundings. You ignore the dozens of people floating around. Faces are pointless. Items are enigmatic. All you have is a destination to get to... but where is it and why? How much here is in there? I'm not a participant. I'm the camera minus the man...

Hollow again. The tone of empty gongs somewhere without. Or so you'd like to believe. The song of monotone is pulsing in your chest. It booms in ears and scars.

Who am I? A writer for sure. Everything else doesn't feel like the truest me. Shit. There I go. Trying to hold back tears. Not sure where they came from. Maybe I do and I'm going to ignore it for now. I'm at work and the others just drive by. Why do I have this need to bark harshly at them? Why do I criticize their every mistake? Could be from an upbringing that wasn't the best one. It tracks. Could it be from my trail of thoughts that led me up to these gallows built from my bones? Idk.

Not to mention my confused sexuality. Hey. I said not to mention that. It's private. It's a private thing about privates. Which one do you prefer? Do I have to choose now? Can we just get to know each other first? A drink maybe? A smoke? Something else to avoid this conversation? No? Fuck you. I'm sorry. Don't leave yet... We can still patch things up right? Please don't...

Stop making me feel things. I love it too much. Okay. Fine. Change of subject. Are you gay? What the fuck, dude? What the fuck do you care? How is this your business? Sorry. Why are you so defensive? You know why. Say it. No, I'm not gay. Not entirely. I love women. If they happen to have a penis, it's not a deal breaker. Why does that appeal to you? Mother nature and Mother issues. Can we please leave it there? I'll leave if you don't.

Apologies. Breathe deep. Stop arguing with yourself. It only takes over if you let it.

Squeeze me more. Let this brain juice leak to the floor. That floor so dark and abyssal. Yet solid and imaginary. Squeeze me and stroke until the ultimate clarity spurts all over my face and soul. I haven't had a sober year since junior year of highschool. That was not yesterday... So why am I still blindly wandering these halls? What secret do they hold? Must not think naked people. I'm not good at... There you go getting distracted by... ADHD. Belittling yourself because of trauma. Don't hide it anymore, bro. I'm here for you. Sure, that's what you said last time you left. What do you want from me? Idk either.

I want you. I want you to be you. I want you to be comfortable and confident. All the emotions are not going away. Just have to buy a better filter. Can use drugs for that? Technically. But not recommended. Deleterious effects and returns are abundant. Pharmacy says they have nothing for me. Check out the fancy stores. The ones with products overpriced and possibly a fad. Jump on them while they last. Supplies are limited. You're an idiot. Stop treating yourself like you know what you're doing. Liar. Internet garbage disposal that you are... Harsh. Sorry. The shadows crept in while I was focused on them. Couldn't stop laughing at the absurdity. Of course. Of life. Of... get on with it, man. Forward or something else.

You spoke of abuse. No. Yes you did. Maybe. Hard to say certain things. I know. I don't want to talk about it. Was it negative? Was it neglect? Something like that. Did she love you? I'll never ask her about it if that's where this is leading. Fuck that fucking cunt ass bitch. Easy there. Sorry. There's definitely a bit there. I'm not touching it right now. It's still on fire. Anything else? The neighbor kid. For fucks sake. No. Not him... It's not your fault. I know, right? He used you. I know. Can we please stop? You were like 9. SHUT UP!

Moving on as I seal doors and hatches behind me as I flee down the hallways that never move. Fuck that guy. It's okay dude. Sure. Whatever. Can we please get high now? No. You have to face yourself soon. I don't think I bought the right... Distracted?

Shit. Maybe another tangent will fix that.

You know you're not a real doctor. I know. I'm not a real person but I can still help you. Trust me? No. Sigh. Maybe... What's the catch? None. Liar. Bro. Sorry. You apologize a lot. Why? Comes with the territory. No choice as it seems. Bullshit. Everything has a chance and a choice. Find yours and spin. What do you think this all is about? Me? Sure. You? Definitely. Us? Yes. Why? Necessary. Ok, it's more compulsive than that. Doctor's orders.

The mall of dreams and of tangibility are often the same to me. Blank faces on stick bodies that live independent and close. My shell is made of sandpaper and razors. I can't even keep my closest friends. I'm a snarling dog biting his own leash just for show. But they don't see the show. They don't know how to watch it. Watch me. Like a freak. An adorable monster.

No matter how many layers of clothes I wear, I feel exposed. Afterwards, at all costs, I feel exhausted. Not of my own volition. Just satisfied to be done with shopping, chores, errands. Do you hate them? Objectively, no. I have no reason. No easy answers that don't come without layers of sarcasm and makeup. Then why? Fear. Fear and possible futures. I'm not ready for that yet. Sure. That's the... Liar.

So what conclusion have you come to? I'm still hollow. Angry. Sad. Frustrated. Things all in-between up and null. The points are attached and yet blood flows uncaring. I want to want to be around others. Has there been anyone? Not many. Too shy to approach. Too scary to coddle. It might not be that. That's how it resonates. Few get under my skin. Few with which to I wish I had more time. Much more.

Breathe and hold on to the doorknob. It will be okay. Will it? Maybe. Only one way to find out. Ready? No. Not yet. Don't want to be taken advantage of again. Don't want to be used like a single soft tissue. Disposable and elated. Are you still at the door? Yes. Open it. No. Why? It's not real. So? I'm not a doctor. No, you're not. So? What? Open it. What's on the other side?

Hello? You picked an awkward time to vanish. I didn't go anywhere. Sorry. Am I being needy? A little bit. You're not used to this and it's oddly satisfying. To what end? Maybe another tangent. The hillside is cresting. The sky isn't blue. Bela is dead.

You began this with an intent, right? Yeah. Why? Idk. I'm confused still. The switches and swirls dance in my brain. Thinking about that dance with her. It was a sad dance. I wasn't comfortable in that bizarre relationship. Two ships that skirt and fondle. Two ships on fire. Another ship nests in the distance. I didn't want that ship either. People that exist should be killed. Those that don't are spared. Just go away now.

You're still here aren't you? Yes. Have you run out of ammo and steam? Yes. Is it ready yet? No... but if I'm in charge it never will be so... No. You have to explain it. Don't want to. Too scary and complicated. Are you avoiding me? Of course. Comes with the curtains and the drapes.

There is no simple answer.

I'm... who knows?

Maybe another tangent.

Maybe another day.

My Hollow Identity remains loyal.

Someone reading this should...

Just go have fun and enjoy life.

I'll be there tomorrow.

Promise...

[detritvs]

it will be good and then bad and then its good again sometimes for years and i was making it farther than I ever could have dreamed

but now its bad again worse than it has been in a long time,

i made excuses to my school and to my job and to my internship as i slowly peeled my skin off in my room to transform into a shuddering maw of confusion, fear, dizziness. unable to parse how i can be where i am, how i can be who i am, inhabiting a body and a life i did not get to make a choice in, waking up after years of being pushed down and swallowed up by the other parts of me. completely alone in my newness, singular in my confusion, and unable to express to others that i hardly know who they are (or who i am, or rather who i have grown to be in the absence of myself). and anger, so much anger at having my life be taken away from me, at having my life be taken away from me, as the different pieces of me rage at one another and spin me in circles, dizzy and confused again and nauseated, just hoping to drink or smoke or cry myself into a hole and avoid any of me altogether. but I won't let myself, I won't throw away everything i've worked for, this has fucked it all up but its not unsalvagable, only lost if I decide to let it go in favor of a bottle or a knife. we can work together, me and me and me and me. we have always found ways to do things. we have always found ways to survive and push through and work around all the barriers that hold us back from achieving what we want to achieve. we just need to find a way to agree on what we want. i know its a compromise. i know we are so different. we hold so many different memories, emotions, we dealt with things in such different ways, and you, you had it worse than me. you had to handle the bad and so i could handle the good. i know that makes me scary to you. yes, i was scared of you, and i pushed you away. but it was wrong. you deserve to live and heal and make choices and be seen. i know you do this because you want to be seen. and maybe i feel this because im still scared you will do something scary. maybe i dont know if i wouldnt. maybe we need each other.

let me help you bring yourself to fruition. i know you want it, so badly, now that you're here with me. i know you feel the freedom and it rings in your ears like crack of thunder that shakes the whole house. i know you feel me feel the freedom and you try to jump in with me to tamper me down. i know you don't know the area yet, the people, the community, the rules. i dont want your opinion on these things. well, how are we going to move forward then? sitting here talking to ourselves on tumblr while we should be doing homework? fuck you.

we can't end this here. do your homework then. if you dont want to talk to me dont. iwant you to help. you seemed to like reading that stuff. i did, i think. but you put so much pressure on me, and i rmemebr that so much better than you do. i know you thrive under pressure, but i think i need somethign else. alright. i love that you told me that, and thats something we can definitely work on. i love you. i love you too.