#i don’t know what i’m doing girl. barely know my way around this theater

[johntorrington]

toxic codependent familial dynamics this. toxic codependent romances that. what about toxic codependent coworkers. i can’t do my job without this guy here or i’ll kill myself.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Sorry, but I just had a thought and I’m exhausted and don’t know if I’m going to write anymore tonight.

Just Steve holding a slight grudge against Nancy after she pretty much calls his love bullshit in the bathroom. He feels lead on, he’s slightly bitter but he knows how to be discreetly passive if he needs to be. But thing is he doesn’t have the energy in him to be passive. If this had been before the monsters, and someone who he thought was the love of his life did what Nancy did and proceeded to end up dating the guy who she said not to worry about within days after getting into a fight, he would have probably done something stupid. Probably would have ruined her locker with mean words or something like that.

He wasn’t sure what he would do, he was exhausted and couldn’t think of what used to come easy to him. Or maybe he’s grown to realize how immature that was, how it didn’t even seem all that fun to do to someone. Just thinking back to spray painting slut on the theater makes his gut twist uncomfortably. Once, he used to be the one to climb up there and spray something even worst. Now the thought made him want to throw up.

And maybe the grudge he is holding against Nancy isn’t really a grudge. Maybe he has matured to realized that the grudge he held was within himself for how fast he had fallen. For how stupid he was for thinking the girl would ever end up with him. He should have seen the signs. How she defended Jonathan even after he took non consensual photos of him and her about to have sex. Which he still felt disgusted by, his skin still crawled uncomfortably around the little creep whenever he was close by.

Though when the time comes, he realizes he was holding a grudge against Nancy. When he falls harder for someone new he realizes within minutes that something was different about this one. Instead of smacking him in the shoulder and scolding him for staring to long, Eddie would pull his hair in front of his face with bright eyes. Would do something dramatic to snap Steve out of the trance he was in. Like lick his face instead of kissing him.

That was the other thing Steve discovered. In the moments where it was just the two of them, it seemed like every other minute time would stop and Eddie would be in the same bubble as him. Lost in the same spell that Steve had tumbled into, needing to kiss the other just as much as they needed oxygen to breathe.

Nancy rarely had those moments with Steve, and they had stopped right around the time she started hanging out with Jonathan.

And Steve does hold a grudge, for how she stayed with him longer than what she had to.

Eddie made him feel in love and loved. Whenever Steve watched the other man he could barely keep his hands to himself and the best part was Eddie didn’t care. Steve could bite off Eddie’s remaining nipple and the man would still let Steve do whatever he wanted to him. Nancy never trusted Steve and never earned Steve’s trust the way Eddie did within one week of knowing each other.

Eddie was the moon and Nancy had been the sun for Steve. The sun burnt his skin and left him blistered while the moon wrapped his arms around him and rocked him to sleep every night. While Steve worried about when the sun would explode, he never had to worry about the moon disappearing for to long. It always came back, no matter what happened. Even if Steve had been an asshole.

God was Steve in love. This was it for him. And maybe at one point he had loved Nancy just as much as he did Eddie.

But now, as each day passes he only finds himself falling more in love with Eddie Munson.

He slowly comes to the conclusion that his love was and will never be bullshit.

And when he finally sits down to talk to Nancy about it, he finally gets it off his chest. What had been bugging him for almost years before falling for Eddie.

“Nancy, we were bullshit. But my love, it was all real. Maybe not as strong as it is for Ed’s but I know that if … everything wasn’t such bullshit I could have gotten there.” Steve says softly to Nancy. Shortly after she confessed she still had feelings for him. He seen this conversation coming from a mile away, especially with how many one sided sparks happened between the two of them while running for their life’s on spring break.

And as he stands up, leaving her in her own shock. Letting her process that he was with Eddie, a man. He can’t help but feel proud of himself.

He didn’t intentionally hold this grudge, but he felt as if he got back at her the healthiest way he could. By maturing and moving on. And looking down at Nancy, he could tell that she needed time to do the same. Not to be with another man or date in general, but to just grow as a person. But that was no longer his problem. His problem was currently running up the steps of the trailer with what seemed to be a moving snake.

“Hey Stevie! Look what I found.”

Steve was in love, and it wasn’t bullshit.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hello, I have a request

One where the reader flirts with Spencer and asks him on a date, he is all blushing and stuttering.

Have a nice day!! 💖

plus size burlesque dancer!reader, wc: 648.

a/n: HEYYY so i don't know if you guys can tell but i'm dabbling in all kinds of au's and stuff? they're just so fun to write and really shakes up my writing :]

Spencer gives a shy smile to your co-worker at the ticket booth as he lets him in, bidding him a small but soft thanks.

Though the club had a few more hours until opening and he really shouldn’t be there, everyone knew the drill. Spencer tries to come and visit you before your shows just to get that one-on-one time with you before you’re all glammed up to go perform.

Perhaps Spencer should thank Penelope for choosing the BAU’s rare outing to be at a Burlesque club, because he met you, one of the prettiest dancers. It made sense that Penelope would frequent here, and now he found himself here often too.

He takes at the table he normally does when the bartender drying out glasses tells him you’ll be down in a second. Spencer takes the time to drag his eyes around the interior of the room. It looks so different during the day, the lack of lustful yet comedy ridden performances gives off the impression of a small theater.

Though you own the place, you don’t often sit on the sidelines, choosing to dance with your girls, though you try to limit the amount of dance numbers you give yourself so the others are able to have more stage time. You’re just selfless like that and it causes a swarm of butterflies to flutter around in Spencer’s stomach.

Spencer isn’t at all surprised when you approach him in a frilly robe, your face bare and hair pulled out of your face. 

“Spence, hi!” You always greet him like it’s the first time you’d seen him, your large smile on your face to match the excitement in your body. 

“Hey!” He says as he pulls you into a respectful hug. You make a point to deepen the embrace, giving him a squeeze. When you pull away, you almost melt at the sight of his cheeks blushed that admirable pink hue.

“Couldn’t wait until tonight to see me, huh?” You tease as you sit down next to him. “I wish I could,” He begins with a frown, “But I’m pretty sure I’m going to be pretty busy these next couple of days and I just wanted to tell you, y’know, so you don’t think I disappeared on you or something.”

You laugh that twinkling laugh that sounds like bells in his ears. “You’re such a gentleman, Spence. But thanks for letting me know, really. I look forward to our chats.”

“Yeah,” He admits bashfully, “Me too.”

“You know…” You began, “We don’t always have to meet here.” You’re nervous, it’s written clear as day all over your face and in the way you nibbled on your lower lip. “What do you mean?” Spencer asks with furrowed brows. 

“What I mean is, I'm asking you on a date and trying to not psych myself out of it.”

Oh God, Spencer’s heart was about to beat out of his chest.

“Y - yeah.”

“Yeah?” You asked in amusement. “Yeah, I mean no - I mean! I mean yes, I would like to go on a date with you.” His face flushes an even darker red through his stuttering, and a place of sickening endearment worms its way into your heart.

“Great!” You exclaim with a sigh of relief. “You know… I have a few hours to spare before the club opens. How about brunch?”

“That sounds good.” 

“Cool, just let me get dressed real fast and I’ll be back down in a sec.” 

He watches in admiration as you walk away and he smiles to himself, already thinking of ways to pay for your food before you do it yourself. You’re quite difficult when it comes to things like that, but Spencer feels like it’s a battle that he looks forward to, a fight that he wouldn’t mind having for the rest of his life if you would let him.

[igotanidea]

Jealous :J.T. x fem!reader

Summary/idea: by @littleprettykitten:

Suddenly i have an urge to ride Jason Todd, marking his neck with bite marks and scratching his chest, all jealous and possessive because someone was flirting with him. I want that hunk of a man mewling under me, saying my name like a prayer and telling me how much he loves me. I want bruises on my hips because he was clutching them too tightly and his teeth on my breasts and shoulders because that was the only way he could muffle sounds he was making.

So, here it is.....

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI!

***

„You know, usually it’s me who make you jealous like that. ….” She whispered grinding her hips more into him, causing a groan to escape his throat.

“I didn’t….”

“Sh, baby.” She pecked his lips, lightly, teasingly, pressing her body closer to his, nibble fingers running around his abs, chest and shoulders, barely touching, igniting his fire and the need for more “don’t talk….. just feel me….”

Barely a few hours ago they left the house, finally finding some time for the long-overdue date. The plan was simple – movie and dinner. Just spending time together with no rush, no fighting criminals, no patching wounds.

Well, it did not exactly go as it was supposed to.

Sure, they get to the movie theater, but from that, the things started to go downhill, making the date less than romantic.

“Can you go and buy the tickets, Jay? I’ll just take a quick stop by the bathroom.”

“Sure, princess. You go and powder your nose or whatever else you have to do.”

So she went. And when she came back, there was a unfamiliar girl talking to Jason and fucking twirling the strand of the hair on her finger, making doe eye at Y/N’s boyfriend, giggling in a way-too-friendly way.

“Are you here alone?” the girl smiled, putting a hand on his biceps. “It’s such a coincidence I am too. And I could really use some company. “

“I’m not really interested.” He muttered, moving away from her touch. Y/N was the only person in the whole world that were allowed to get this close to him.

“Why not? You seem like you are in need of a girl’s attention. Clearly you are touch starved and I know how to take care of a man.”

“I actually got a girlfriend.” He hissed

“ Really? She’s not doing much of a good job then” the girl laughed “besides, I don’t see her.”

“turn around!” Y/N called from behind, silent fury on her face as the girl spun and looked her up and down “now you see her.”

“I don’t see much.” The girl smirked, but before Y/N could start a fight, Jason stood up from his seat, wrapped an arm around her waist and led her straight toward the screening room, whispering soft, reassuring words in her ear and caressing her skin gently. That did not, however, stop Y/N from turning her head and throwing the daggers at that freak who dared to even come close to her Jason. She just smirked vindictively and both girls knew what that was supposed to mean. 

He’s going to be mine.

Well, over Y/N’s dead body.

Much to Y/N’s displeasure, the girl entered the same room and took a seat right next to  them. Oh, great, now the movie might as well not even exist. The only thing Y/N was able to concentrate on now was the smell of too much used perfume, slight, flirty giggling and annoying whispering.

“You know, I think you could play the main role in that movie” the girl whispered, not even trying to hide what she was saying to Jay “you are so much more handsome than the lead….”

“Could you just stay quiet?” he mumbled

“And so well-build” the girl continued, touching his chest “all muscles, so hot.”

“Will you stop this? I told you I’m not interested.”

“Come on, sunshine. You have a chance to take me home. Aren’t you at least a bit interested how it could be with someone who’s open to some experimentation? Not all vanilla?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Your girl, obviously. I know she can’t satisfy a man like you.”

“What the….”

“Enough!!” finally Y/N snapped and jumped to her feet, getting some shouting and cussing about disturbing the peace. Well she couldn’t care less.

“Y/N, baby, please sit down and try to relax….” Jason tried to calm her down, but she was past that. Her eyes were burning with rage and fury, possessiveness of him finding the way out.

“Relax? She’s trying to seduce you!”    

“And clearly it’s working” the girl laughed.

“Do you want to take this outside you little…..?!” before Y/N could finish that sentence one of the cinema worker appeared behind them and, well, to say the least, kicked them out. Awesome. One hell of  a date.

But frankly, it gave Y/N the opportunity to drag Jason back to their place and that’s how he ended up splayed on the bed with her straddling his lips and riding him like crazy, not allowing him to take any action or even a single breath.

“Baby….. princess…..” he whined grabbing on her hips and trying to force her to move faster. The slow, punishing pace she set was slowly making him crazy.  “please…. Don’t tease me. You know that girl there did not….”

“She was fucking flirting with you!” she hissed, pushing his hands away, pining them by his sides and slowing down even more making him throw head back in frustration “and you’re mine.” Leaning forward she started kissing his exposed neck, licking and biting hard enough to form a hickey. The sign of belonging.  In the most visible place he would never be able to hide. “I want you to remember that.”

“Y/N…..” he panted, once again trying to grab her hips, but being too whiny and putty and weak because of all her actions. He never needed to say a thing, the sounds, the groans and moans he was making telling her how much pleasure she was giving him. But…. She was possessive. She wanted more from him and wasn’t going to let go until he was completely falling apart beneath her. She wanted to make a mess out of him to the point where all he wanted was her , her body, her touches. She wanted to wipe the thought of the rest of the female race off his mind. He was supposed to think only about her.

“Do you want me to bond you?” her right hand started tracing patterns on his chest “cause I know how to do that my pretty boy. Unless you behave….”

“No…. no, please….. Ah, I ….. I want …. Y/N……”

“I love it when you say my name like that, Jaybrid.” She whispered in his ear, picking on the pace, skin slapping on skin, echoing through the empty, dark room.

“Y/N….” he whimpered, wanting more, more, more, but unable to ask her for it, settling on anything she would give him. Consumed by her. By the lust and need. And yet, still holding back. The way his face was twisting in pleasure, his eyes fluttering close, his breath hitching and how he was biting on his lower lip was telling her that he was fighting to conceal all the sounds she needed. Well not a chance.

“What do you want love?” one way or another, she was going to get them out. No matter the cost. And if biting on his earlobe, scratching his chest, grinding and circling the hips to create different angle and pushing past his limits was the way to achieve that she was not opposed to.  

“You…. I want you. Please…. So bad. More. More, please…”

“Tell me you love me.”

“I fucking love you. I love you. I am yours. Please, please…..Y/N. Y/n love, let me touch you. ”

“Jason…..” she whispered seductively, groping his pecks  “Jason…..” she was strong and the jealousy definitely spur on her dominant side, but she was still just a woman. With needs. And with her perfect man whining and begging for her.  And her control was slowly slipping. Slightly. “Yes. Touch me.” suddenly his hands were free, clutching her sides, pressing her closer, faster, further. Going in deeper, hitting that one spot where she needed him most.

“Ah!” it was now her turn to let out a moan. “Jason….”

“Y/N,….. Y/N…..” he chanted like a prayer, propping himself up, arms traveling to her back, trapping her  “I love you, I love you…. you….fuck,  so good.” Their sweaty bodies clung to each other almost like with glue, reaching for any part of each other they could possibly reach.

“Just good, huh?” she smirked, tangling fingers in his hair, pulling gently “just good?” her hot breath fanned over his sweaty, reddened face.

“Fucking perfect” he bit on her shoulder trying to muffle another groan and she shivered in pain and pleasure combined, tightening the grip on him, her hips moving on their own accord in the pace the legs were barely able to withstand. But she was far from giving up. She was going to catch her high.  

“Say my name again.” she commanded, breathily, being so close to the release. So fucking close. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Y/N.” his mouth travelled down her body, kissing her collarbone and sinking teeth in her the soft flesh of her breast, soothing the stinging pain with his tongue.

“Again!” she screamed throwing head back “Again!”

“Y/N. Mine. “

“Yes! Yes!” she screamed, holding him tighter “Jace, baby, god, please!” she was not going to let go before pushing him past his breaking point “Cum with me. Cum with me now! I fucking need you to cum! Inside, please, baby. Fill me!”

“Y/N!” at the end, overwhelmed by the feeling of her pussy clenching around him, his lustful brain finally helped him find enough strength to snap his hips against her, squeezing her hips tight enough to leave purple hand-shaped bruised.  “baby, my baby, my girl, my love.” He pressed his lips against her, kissing her frantically, with urgency and clashing teeth, throwing all his load inside her. So fucking deep, her entire body spasming in his embrace, nails clawing on his back, becoming one, not sure where he ended and she begun or the other way round.

“Y/N….” he panted pulling back and leaning his forehead on hers once his balls were empty and his cum was dripping from her pussy. “Baby….”

“You’re mine.” she managed to say “Mine. You hear me? Mine”

“Were you that jealous?” he raised an eyebrow

“Maybe. Maybe not. but fuck, you are just so hot whining underneath me.”

“I liked you on top.” He whispered leaning his head and pecking her lips gently, still keeping her in his embrace, their breaths slowly coming even.

“Really? Her eyes widened in surprise. “I mean of course you did. I am a fucking goddess.”

“Yes.” His flushed cheeks made this tank of a man look like a little, shy boy and damn, she loved that. She adored being the only one to make him this soft and submissive.

“We gotta do this more often than.”

@jasontoddsthickbabe - please forgive me, but I thought about tagging you.

[sturniozo]

Savage Love Part Ten

Matt Sturniolo x reader Mafia AU

masterlist

“What happened at work, dollface?” He asked me.

“I… I kinda… got fired.” I mumble.

“Why?” He asks as his hand caresses my cheek.

“There was something my editor wanted me to do and I told him I couldn’t and-“

“Did he try to sleep with you?” Matt asks sternly. “I swear to god I’ll-“

“What? No it was an article I didn’t want to do.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want to do the article and he said without that article I contribute nothing of substance to the paper so he fired me…”

Matt kisses my forehead and wraps his arms around me. “What was the piece about?” He asks as he nuzzles his face against my hair.

I bite my lip. I can’t tell him the article was about him, he’d think our whole relationship is a lie. “He wanted me to do an exposure piece. I just don’t feel comfortable ruining people for no good reason. I think there’s a difference between exposing actual bad people and just plain outing people’s personal lives.”

Matt kisses my head once again. “I bet you were the best writer they had. That papers gonna go to shit now. No one will read it anymore.”

I laugh softly and cuddle closer to him. “My pieces barely made it into that paper anyways.”

“I’ll find you a better paper to work at, okay babydoll?”

“You don’t need to find me a job Matt, I can do that myself.”

“I’d rather you have a job you can work from home from though, that way I can keep an eye on you.”

“Matt, no offense, but that was creepy.” I turn to him and laugh softly. My smile fades when I see the serious look on Matt’s face.

“I’d just prefer it if I knew where you were and that you were safe.” Matt shrugs and kisses my temple again. “I have some things to take care of here in a bit baby, so I’m gonna order you some lunch.”

“What do you have to take care of?” I ask. I bite my lip as I realize I don’t need to ask these questions for my job anymore. I just want to know him.

Matt sighs. “There’s a shipment coming in from Italy and I need to make sure they brought everything I paid for so that I can distribute it to my consumers.”

I blink. “What’s the shipment of?”

Matt shakes his head. “I’m sorry dollface but that’s need to know.” He kisses my head. “Let’s order you food now.” He pulls out his phone to order food online.

“It’ll be here soon. I have to go babydoll, I have to be at the airport in an hour.” Matt gets up from the couch. “Make sure you eat. And feel free to explore and look around. You’re gonna be here for a little while you might as well get used to the place.” Matt gives me a quick kiss on the lips before leaving.

I sit on the couch for a minute pondering what to do. I hear Matt’s car leave and I shrink back against the couch. It feels so uncomfortable to be alone is his big home. I look around the living room. Behind the couch is one of multiple pool tables in the house, and near the corner of the room is a poker table.

The tv is huge, like one from a theater. It sits above a beautiful mantel that looks like hand chiseled stone. The beautiful creation had carved roses and thorn filled vines that line the edges.

I must have been admiring the mantel for a long time since I hear the doorbell ring. It catches me off guard and I flinch and my leg slips off the couch.

I get up and head towards the front door. I open it to see a delivery man holding a bag.

“Delivery for Sturniolo?” He says and I nod. He hands me the bag and the receipt before turning around and leaving without a word.

I close the door and go to the dining room to set the bag of food down in the table. The interaction itself was weird, not like any one I’ve had with a delivery man. I look at the receipt to see what Matt had ordered and see the special instruction.

‘Don’t mess with the girl.’

I roll my eyes and set the receipt down on the table.

After eating a bit of the lunch I decided to walk around. I’m mostly curious what I could find. Even though I’m not on the piece about him anymore I’m still interested to know if he really is the Mafia boss or if this is all just misconstrued information.

I walk up the stairs and through the hallway. Most of the doors have been locked, the only one I’m able to get into is Matt’s bedroom. So I start there.

I have already seen most there is to see in Matt’s bedroom. But the door that leads to his office is still unseen by my eyes. I turn the knob, a little surprised it isn’t locked. I open the door just a bit and bite my lip.

Should I be doing this? Would Matt know? I swallow the saliva building up in my mouth from nerves and I enter the office. I turn in the light to see everything, but there’s almost nothing to see. Just a desk and a seat. There’s no papers or a computer, do extra storage drawers, no decorations of any kind. Just a desk and a chair.

The desk and chair looks like the ones you’d think your rich uncle would have. Beautiful maroon wood desk and a matching color leather desk chair.

I go to close the door when something catches my eye. Something under the desk. I walk closer and look under the desk and pick up the small metal key. I look around for a lock of some sort, something that the key must open.

Why would this be in the floor? I look through the drawers of the desk, all of them empty, except when I get to the bottom one. I open it and a gun slides around the drawer from the force of me opening it. I gasp slightly and immediately close the drawer.

I stand up and look around. Where did the key go? And where did it come from? There’s no way he just left it on the floor, is there? And why would he have an empty office with nothing but a gun?

Maybe Emma was right, I was being naive, and I shouldn’t have trusted Matt. Things do add up to him being in the Mafia.

But that’s not how you gather information, you can’t start with your conclusion and work backwards to prove it. No, I need proof of it.

But I don’t need proof anymore. I keep forgetting I stopped with that piece. I turn around and look over the walls. I trace my fingers over the wallpaper until I feel a dent in the wall covered by the wallpaper.

I take a breath. I can’t cut through the paper, Matt will notice and know I snooped. I bite my lip and trace along the dent, just to get an idea of how big the dent it.

I trace it up above my head and then back down to the floor. It seemed to be the outline of a door. Maybe that’s what the key unlocked?

But why would the key be on the floor? And why would the door be covered with the wallpaper? I shake my head. I shouldn’t do this. I set the key back down under the desk where I found it and leave the office, shutting the light off behind me.

I sit on the bed still unsure what to do. After a moment of thinking I walk out of his bedroom and walk along the hallway to where his office wall would be. I go to open a door that should lead to the room next to his office, but it’s locked.

I immediately go back through his bedroom and to his office, grabbing the key and going back out to the door. I take a deep breath before I slip the key into the lock.

I turn the key and the lock click. I turn the knob and open the door. The room is dark so I reach around the wall feeling for a light switch. When I finally find it I flick it on, and gasp at what I see.

I quickly close the door behind me and run down the hall and down the stairs. I rush to the front door and open it, just in time to see a car pull up. My breath hitches and I shut the door, hoping whoever it was didn’t see me.

I go back to the living room but remember how I left the room. I quickly go back up the stairs and go back to the room, shut off the light, then close and lock the door. I run to put the key back under his desk where I found it. By the time I’m leaving Matt’s bedroom I hear the front door open.

From upstairs I can hear the sound of two guys talking to each other, sounding like they’re bickering. My feet stay planted in place in Matt’s bedroom, unable to move.

Neither voice sounds like Matt’s which makes my heart race in my chest. I swallow the saliva building up in my mouth and slowly creep tears the door of the bedroom. I hear the guys make their way up the stairs and I see their faces.

They look just like Matt. Then I remember Matt telling me he was a triplet and lived with his brothers when we were on a date once.

I step backwards and the floor creaks. The guys stop talking and I stand paralyzed in fear. Do they know I’m here? Did Matt tell them anything?

My questions are answered when I hear one of them say “I bet it’s that girl Matt’s been with.” And then the footsteps get closer to the door. I sit down on the bed, now unable to stand as the anxiety builds up inside me. The door opens and I see the two guys fully.

They really do look almost just like Matt. I stare up at them and my heart races. “Matt said you’d be here.” One of them says. “I’m Chris, this is Nick,” he nods his head towards the other guy “we’re Matt’s brothers. You must be y/n then?”

I nod slowly.

“Matt’s told us about you. He said you’re staying here while he has your place checked for- ow!”

Nick interrupts Chris by kicking his leg. “Dude,” Nick motions to me. He mouths something to Chris and Chris seems to have a moment of realization.

“Just make yourself at home and… Nick and I will be in the living room if you need anything.” Chris says before leaving.

I let out a breath and stare at the ground. How am I supposed to leave with those two here? And how am I supposed to stay after what was in that room?

Tags: @stargirlsturniololover @sturniolobessed @eyelessdemon00 @sturnioloenthusiast @sturniolopookie @urmommysbathroom @qwertytit @whatever1021 @chrisfavoritepepsi @stramboli4life @sturniolosreads @timmyscomputer @iloveneilperry @chrisloyalgf @xxsadlovexx @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @nickmillersn1gf

[meowsgirldrawing]

Obey Me! Brothers as Fathers

Kinda part of that Poly! AU I’ve talked about before. So this can be read as either that or separate. The kids are all original characters, but MC can be read as any gender in this. Remember- this is Devildom so any way of kids happening could go. Either surrogate, magic ways, or natural so literally, anybody can read this. (Male, Female, Gender Neutral, whatever you prefer is all Welcomed <;3)

Not my best work, but I like it enough to post it. So yeah...

Enjoy^^

AOT Link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/46350262 

Masterlist- Link

Warnings?- Talks of violence (Satan’s), Use of the word Sl*t and derogatory terms/harrasment (Mammon’s) and that’s mostly it. Asmo calls someone a b*tch but thats basic Asmo at this point.

Lucifer--------------------- 

He feels the urge, the one he’s felt with his brothers for years. To sigh, to pitch his brow, an outward showism of his displeasure of the situation.

But he ignores it because he knows what reaction he’ll get from the little girl at his feet. She’ll curl up tighter, grip the plastic of her glasses tenser in those small hands of hers.

Practically achieve the exact opposite of what he wants.

He manages a silent sigh, joining her level in a kneel.

“Lillie..” The noirette head doesn’t budge much, if only, just to bury further. He doesn’t comment and instead runs a soothing palm across her back. Soothing out the creases along her small uniform. “What’s the matter? Do you no longer want to participate?”

The small crowd of parents in the auditorium is loud. If he were in his demon form, surely it would’ve been louder. Thankfully, this form allows him to hear his little one.

“....mnm…” Well. Barely.

“Darling, I can’t understand when your face is covered.” Gently so, when she picks it up, his fingers trail to cup her cheek. It’s damp. And continues to be so as new tears prick out and smear downward. His thumb rubs in little wipe-aways.

“..I dunno..I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” For a man known for such high power, his voice stays low.

“The stage..I don’t want to go up..” Her eyes dart to the theater doors in front of them then back.

“And why’s that?” A small part of him feels like it’s wavering on powerless and helpless as her bottom lip wobbles.

“Cause…Cause I-I don’t want to..to embarrass you.”

Stab. Twist.

His sigh spooks her but she keeps her chin high at him. She knows lowering it back down won’t help either.

“Darling, you can never embarrass me. At the very least not on stage.”

“I can’t?”

“Of course not.” Lucifer offers a smile, and brings his hand to her head, gently pulling out the tangles in small strokes. “You want to know why?”

Her brow furrows, seeming entirely confused. When she can’t think of anything, the same eyes as his spouse greets him again.

“Cause you’re my daughter. And what’s our family known for?”

“..Pride?”

“Exactly. I have never been un-prideful of you. And I never will be.” He takes her glasses, her grip falling without hesitation. Giving them a good cleanse from tears and dirt of the dangling coat on his shoulder, he pushes her long locks away, mindful of the pins, and slides her glasses slowly back.

Cheezy at best, and his spouse will be surely teasing him about it later, but it brings a smile to her face. One shy but growing.

He helps her up, patting off her patterned skirt and button up. And once she looks composed, his arm finds her violin. It was a few feet away, a hazard that thankfully didn’t come true.

“Now…Lillith..”The face of a suddenly new girl shines back at him as he turns around, violin stretched for her grasp. “Do you no longer want to participate?”

A similar gleam to the one of a certain human flickers as she takes it. “ I do.”

“Good.” He bends slightly, kissing the 7 year old’s forehead, “Then do me even prouder, my dear.”

Mammon--------------

A snort escapes him before he can even want to try and stop it. Why should he? This is comedy gold!

The other demon, one tight in some odd get up, is basically begging to get away from his fiery hellspawn.

A 15 year old girl. He’s pretty sure if she had better control of her power, she’d be using it to make that pale hair of hers turn into fire, really playing into the ‘You fucked up really damn bad” card.

Just like his little human back at home.

What brought this whole thing on?

Simple.

As the father-daughter duo just finished up a nice day of shopping, trying to look for a new outfit for her 16th next Friday, they decided to stroll pass on the lonely street on their laughter-filled walk home. Sweet Varya was just-a bubbling with excitement, her two shaded eyes brimming with possibilities. 16. Sixteen. The big teen! While Mammon was a tad solemn at the idea of her getting bigger, another year gone until the pending day she won’t need her dear old man anymore, he couldn’t help but share the excitement. His sole focus was her and not letting anything make her upset today.

And he was doing a remarkable streak!.....Until someone had to jump in and ruin it.

“Hey sl*t!”

Mammon’s head snapped, finding the demon leering from afar. His daughter rolled her eyes and tugged on his jacket, “C’mon pops.” She already heard enough of this at school. Just ignore ‘em and move on.

“Hey!” They’re quick, making it across the street, following in from several good meters behind them, “I’m talkin’ to ya, b*tch!”

Mammon wraps an arm around her, something he questions why he didn’t before. His glare is searing from under his hood. “She ain’t interested, pal.” He feels a wack on his arm.

The other demon just up and ignores him, “C’mon beautiful, ditch this f*cker already, yeah?”

It went similar to this for a good minute longer, the two trying to ignore their presence, even Mammon moving to stop and wanting to ape on their ass but Varya pulls him away, claiming he’s worth nothin’.

The demon, hearing this loud and clear, starts spitting insult after insult at Mammon.

Varya’s been very calm about this, praying to get home without dealing with a fight she knows her dad will win, up until the demon spats out his last insult.

“Scummy f*ckin’-”

Within mere seconds the demon was forced to the ground.

Aaaaaand here we are now.

“Who gives ya tha damn right to talk ta my father that way?!”

“Nani?!” The demon screeches.

She may not be facing him, but it’s little thought of her appearance.

Gold lacing her irises, maybe the same tipping into her snow hair that dangles past her upper torso, teeth bared and baby fangs out. Varya not fearing a ting of holding back. “My old man is someone yer very lucky thinks more than fights, cause if he were anyone else, you’d be more than sobbin’ on tha ground right now, ya soddin’ sot!”

‘Soddin’ sot?’ “Must’ve gotten it from Satan or Luci.” His mumbles don't reach either pair of ears. Huh..He should’ve  gotten some popcorn if he knew this was gonna happen. Okay, obviously he’s not happy with hearin’ his little girl get called derogatory shit, but her reaction now… by-his-previous-father get him a camera cause this is amazing.

Though all good things must come to an end…

His back pocket vibrates. As his daughter keeps backlashing obscenities in front of him, the demon forever continuing to cower under her wrath, Mammon hums a little tune while plucking the device up.

His arms adjust all the bags he grasps onto one arm, unlocking the screen, a nice photo of his sweet human and their hellraising daughter of course, and dragging up the messages.

My Treasure: Are you guys on the way yet? I got the noodles on the way.

His fingers go fast. He hears some added shuffling upfront.

Mams<3: Ya better believe it. Might take a sec tho. Yer daughter’s dealin’ with some shrub.

My Treasure: Get her to kick their ass later then, otherwise she’ll miss the food.

“Yo, darls. Yer mom’s/pop’s askin’ for ya. We gotta get home quick if we don’t wanna miss dinner.” He calls out, shoving back his phone.

“Yeah yeah..” Just when the mess on the ground thinks she’s finally done, tired of her torment as she spins on heel. She has little to no hesitation in proving him wrong. 

Twisting back around and slamming down a good, and I mean good, few inch heel right into the ground. 

Mere centimeters from their groin.

Mammon lets a low whistle ride at the sight of short cracks in the ground. Guess she does have good control.

The demon is whimpering, shaking from his very core as their pale face is stuck at the sight. Their eyes flick up, meeting that dangerous gold. “Try somethin’ like that again….”

“-And you’ll burn all their favorite toy collections?!” Howls Mammon.

“What?” Varya’s lips pull into a pout, “Not my fault I guessed right.”

“Oh yes! ‘Cause that just made it even fuckin’ better!” His laugh goes echoing down the street.

“What do you mean? ‘Even better’?”

Mammon keeps the voice the same, full of humor, “Just knowin’ how ya think of yer pops.” He says it so nonchalant too. “I’m glad yer startin’ ta think that now. Be a pain if ya didn’t.”

Varya’s smirk wipes away, a frown replacing it. She...wasn’t expecting that. 

“...Dad.”

His hand that was at the gate, ready to just push it and follow in, stills at her palm on his sleeve, “The hell ya talkin’ about?” Her head shakes as if she can’t believe her ears.

“That…that you don’t think I’m some scummy fucker?” He reiterates.

“I’ve never thought that of ya?.. It be stupid if I did.”

Mammon may or may not have cried in his spouse’s arms that night.

Leviathan-----------

He should web search:

Can human/demon hybrid children survive long times in water?

His phone is just casually placed on the sink a few feet behind him, wouldn’t take long.

Like 5…or 10…or 1 minute long.

……………..

How long does it take for a human to pass out again??

He doesn’t have a f-ing clue! Oh..how he wishes MC stayed longer, they’d know exactly what to do.

Pressing the towel against his tank top, bending into his knee, he ruffles up his TSL patterned night pants, dipping a leg into the water.

The tub was big enough to be considered a kiddie pool instead of a usual tub, but still just as deep. His son just had to convince him to use it for bathtime, and he also just had to convince him of how great it would be to add in lots of bubbles.

Yeah.. His hand tries to wats away some out of his path, very great…said no one but his son.

“Rhomb!” His whistle beats into the sizable bathroom, “Come out! Pappa can’t see you!”

You’d think the bubbles would keep out a child of Rhomb’s age from trying to diver under constantly, yeah? Well, thanks to Mc’s grand and lovely mind- seriously it was quite smart at the time-, they were able to get tear-free bath bubbles, as he did keep going under water.

In the few moment’s Levi’s ever had, he once again curses his more aquatic biology.

Keeping a tight grip on his rolled up pants- they may be rolled up, safely out of water, but you never know!- he carefully shuffles around the bath, eyes wide alert for any shifting waters.

He has to go slow, otherwise, he might end up with a snappy toddler and his aching tiny tail.

And that just be- wait..

Woh, there!

At one side of the tub, closer to the one with a mirror, a sliver of light purple slides up then back down again, quick as a whip.

Following the slight wave of the water, it’s suddenly more clear despite the constant bubble brigade, he can see Rhomb’s pattern.

Swim around the ring, stop at the mirror and turn clockwise or counterclockwise. Huh…

In rare moments, here and there, he can see that dark purple mop of hair on his head tease the surface, eyes hidden well. But not enough, Levi can see him watching him. A tilt of his son’s head through the wading waters and he’s off swimming again.

A shiver runs up his back.

It’s like a damn shark.

Oh come on, you stupid otaku! You’ve been the Admiral of Hell’s Navy for millenniums! You’ve fought in the Great Celestial War alongside your siblings, dealt with un-amountable and hellish enemies even after, are you really going to be afraid of a tiny, pipsqueak, guppy-looking-

Yes. Yes he is.

First rule of having a human/demon child, class-Fish-

Avoid the chompers.

But- The water sloshes against a higher part of his leg, the yelp-worthy cold shooting up his nerves, if not, more. He has to get his son out before the cold sets in and a grumpy toddler won’t be the worst of his problems.

With that and an affirming nod to himself, he braces a leg, summons up his tail for extra leverage and gets his game face on.

Funny, he should’ve really been paying more attention….he would’ve been able to see the glimpse of purple riding up behind him.

Time blip---^^^

MC returns home close to an hour later, tugging off their jacket and half-hazardly tossing the keys into the stationed bowl.

Their call echos in their lovely abode, yet goes unanswered.

When pausing at the kitchen doorway, it becomes clear as to why.

Set in one of the dining chairs is Levi, eyes tinged a bit red around the dark look he gives off. Hollow and defeated.

The poor papa flinches as their 3 year old’s teeth sinks further into the dark purple tail coiled around him and his blanket. Golden laced eyes leering up at Levi.

“...Should I ask..?”

Levi only mouths one word, ‘Help.’

Satan-----------

Libbey has kept her head down since being picked up.

The school called up her father, explaining her little incident with another student at lunch, claiming she violently attacked the poor other demon. Satan had no will to believe it until he saw the photos.

Before he made any real assumptions, he turned to her and asked her reasoning for this attack.

Now they’re driving, possibly home. She can handle a phone being taken away, most likely grounded from anything fun for the week suspension that’s been bestowed upon her, but she dreads the impending lecture.

Oh dear, would Lucifer join? Both in the same room? Giving her a lecture that could last her unknowing mortal/immortal life as they know it?

Where’s mamma/papa when you need them?

“We’re here.”

Gnawing her cheek, she bites back a groan as she lolls her eyes up.

She’s fully expecting to see the suspicious opening of their homey gates, maybe the rare glance of Cerberus minding the perimeter in his patrol, a sibling or two out and about making their chaos known to the world.

She doesn’t get that. Instead, she gets a nice and cozy looking cafe shop, a simple yet cottage core vibe sign planted on the front, with a giant, winking cartoon cat next to an equally cartoonish coffee treat. On the outside, there are various sets of outdoor furniture such as tables and chairs sat under colorful and patterned umbrellas.

“...Are we at a cat cafe?” Her lips are close to making her mumble as her eyes stray on the collared cats wandering around the windows.

“Yep” He pops the ‘p’, grabbing his wallet. “Come on.”

Libbey gapes at her father getting out. When her brain catches up, she’s already scrambling out of the car, calling out to him, “D-dad! But-but I got into a fight!”

“Yeah you did.” Satan’s going at a leisurely pace, eyes glimmering at the myriad of cats that await him.

“I fractured his wing!”

“Yep.”

“I gave him lacerations all over, even on his tail! That’s one of the most sensitive spots on a demon’s body!”

“Oh yeah..” His feet falter in their next step, then proceeds with as little as a thrown over the shoulder, “That’s correct.”

Libbey hands twitch for her hair, “He possibly has a concussion for what I did!”

“I would suspect so after getting tossed like a ragdoll at a wall.”

“DAD!” Her hand clings to his jacket, tugging him back, “Why are we here??”

“Why wouldn’t we?” He answers, adding in a suspicious tilt of the head, “You were only defending yourself.”

“But I-”

“Libbey, I need you to understand this.” His sleeve escapes but soon lands a hand on her shoulder, “You may have lost some control of your anger. It happens, but I know you know better too. I will never punish you for defending yourself, alright?”

His hand shifts, now behind her shoulder to start nudging. When she tries to object, still flabbergasted at his response, he’s quick to shut her possible words up with, “Now get inside so we can play with the cats.”

Asmodeus--------

Circle number 1,589

Circle number 1,590

Circle number 1,591

Circle number-

“We get it, Asmo! You’re worried! Now pipe it down and join our show or get out!!” Mammon practically hisses. He’s here to get away from his counting based job, not to do something entirely similar.

Asmo stops steamrolling in his 1,592nd circle behind the couch. Leviathan is too engrossed into the film to comment his own coequal tease. Truthfully, it would fall on deaf ears as Asmo doesn’t hesitate to roughly spin around, seething at the teeth.

“I’m more than worried! I’m fretting!!!” His fangs threaten blindly to a nonchalant Mammon. Said brother’s offer is an uninvolved eye roll, flicking back to the scene playing out on the flat screen.

Asmo’s chest lets out a great huff, marching right over and in front of Mammon, arms crossed.

A resounding moan shows his brother’s discontempt, edging his head left and right to try and see the screen. “Amso! Seriously?!”

“My sweet baby boy is out there with a possible witch-bitch, all alone without me or our darling, MC to back him up! Who knows how his…date..could have been raised?!” Hurriedly, his pacemarking starts right up again, this time doing odd circles around the couch, “They probably didn’t even bring him flowers!”

“Didn’t he do the flower thing?” Levi avoids Mammon’s swats and hisses. He scoots away from their kicking and whining older brother.

“YES! But that’s because I raised him to be the perfect gentleman!”

“And MC.” Mammon relents once.

“Yes- But who knows how that other child thinks??” His feet pause in their momentum for a preferable deride, “My baby must be miserable!”

“Why are you so worried about it anyway?” Mammon’s finger rubs at his ear before flicking, “The kid is 16, almost 17 now.”

“Besides, he’s literally half demon,” Levi swallows down, licking off chocolate, “After passing nearly every single test Lucifer and Satan have thrown at him about self defense, I think Quinn can handle himself.”

That has Asmodeus, the always extravagant diva, screeching to a halt. Ugh! Yes, he knows his son if more than capable to protect himself if need be. But- he’s talking about mentally. Emotionally.

Beel may be the one picked out as the most emotionally in-tuned brother, especially when it comes to the kids, but Asmo….Quinn is his diamond in the rough, one that he prides himself in protecting as his might lets him.

 Especially when it involves his own sin.

These two won’t get it… Asmo scorns a final look over his shoulder, before retreating from the living room.

Time Blipppppp

Quinn lets the door close behind him, locking it up before ringing and tossing his keys into the bowl of many,many personally designed keys plotted abutting the door.

His whistling follows him into the dubbed ‘Kids’ Kitchen. It’s just an extra kitchen made for the kids to keep Beel from raiding all the attendants in the household of food.

He pops open a cold pop, leaning into the island’s top whilst thumbing through his phone.

Quinn lets slip a muffled chuckle at the photos he and the-honest-to-the-all-not-mighty cute witch he’s been able to treat tonight. Such a shy one too, hiding behind his arm in between getting jumpscared by a raunchy horror attraction after the next.

In face of horror, they continued to give him a bright smile in the midst of their excited hopping, so he’s confident they enjoyed it just the same. He’ll make sure to bring them to a more relaxed type of date next time however.

The silence that is 2 AM gets barged open by an Asmodeus sized battering ram.

Frantic footsteps, that are the only ones Quinn can detect but not ready for, fly for the kitchen entrance. Asmo darts around it’s corner, and immediately throws arms around Quinn.

“QUINN!”

The teen stumbles back, smacking his pop down to keep from spilling. His free arm clutches his dad’s robe, begging for steadiness. “ Dad?! ”

Asmodeus pops up and his hands flag to Quinn’s face, “Are you ok? How was the date??”

Although the dramatic behavior from Asmodeus wouldn’t be new to him, it’s late . Asmo’s usually in bed by now, clinging to his routine like a lifeline if no plans are made previously. All for the sake of his precious skin.

Quinn blinks once then twice, “Uh..Great?”

Asmo gasps as if he’s found out the worst news, “That’s a question! I knew it!” He nearly breathes out fire, hands planting at Quinn’s shoulders, “I promise you, you can tell me what happened! I will never judge you, my darling. No matter what it is!”

But..he thought he already told him what happened technically? He and his date had a night all year around Haunted Circus. They never changed plans. Even if they did so, Quinn promised to let them know in case they needed to know location wise.

Resting his own hands on top of Asmo’s, his voice turns odd, “..We went to the Haunted Circus like I told you we would, ate ice cream, and some popcorn. Y’know, the usual?” At his father’s crossed features, he adds, “We never changed location. I would’ve told ya if we did, pops.”

It takes a moment of silence between them. Then silk pink shoulders drop, “That’s it?”

Quinn nods, brow still raised.

Suddenly it’s like he never panicked, never cried. His mood completely flips like a coin, all preppy and piper once again. He releases a long sigh of relief, and shines a smile.

Quinn gets pulled into a hug, arms tight around his shoulders, “Thank goodness!~ I was working up an icky sweat there for a second! I’m glad you had a good time, baby!” He pulls back for a second, eyes flashing in gold mixed with high pinks, “Right?~”

For the sake of everyone, including himself, Quinn just nods. Only for his deadpan face to turn into a soft smirk when getting yanked into a new hug.

Eyes roll with no real meaning as he circles his arms right back, patting his Dad’s upper back. “Pops.”

“Hm?” Asmo hums into his shoulder, fiddling with his jacket.

“They’re ace.”

His body stills, waiting a beat or two, then relaxes, “Oh.”

Quinn can’t help his chuckle, squeezing Asmo once, “I’m good. Promise.”

Asmodeus sighs again, this time it’s heavy and as if he’s just released all his worries at once, “I know…I just-” His body sags, leaning tighter on Quinn.

“I know, pops. I know.”

“I love you.” He whispers. Part of him hasn’t a clue why. Another definitely does.

Quinn copies, grinning into his shoulder, “I love you too, Dad.”

Beelzebub-------

She’s so tiny.

Is tiny ok?

He expected her to be big, considered at least a bit above average for humans. Not only for her demon blood, but for his, the father’s, size. He gets compared to Diavolo himself a lot, and even without those teases, he knows he’s a big guy.

Yet…

She came out so little.

6 pounds, 8.5 ounces. MC said that’s considered a little below average.

Fingers, so frail and so gentle, touch the hand that hovers near her.

Beel gulps, glancing to his side. Belphie leans on his cow pillow, watching the interaction with a soft look, lidded eyes. The same colored eyes match in gaze.

He decided to stick to Beel as MC rested, planting himself down and staying silent besides small sighs of usual sleepiness here and there.

It’s like he could tell his nerves spiked up at the single thought of being alone with the newborn. Like he couldn’t trust himself enough, silently hoping for MC or Belphie, or any of his other brothers who were hanging out in the room next over.

“You’re fine.” Belphie mutters. His hand lays by his coddling arm.

“She’s small.” Beel whispers. The shock hasn’t made an inch of moving yet.

“I know,” His lip quirks, “Ironic, huh?”

“She might have my eating habits.”

A snort comes at the word ‘habits’ before Belphie starts silently chuckling, not wanting to wake the sleepy girl. “The only thing Lucifer might hate.”

“She can stay tiny.”

“Maybe, some of them human kids do turn chunky quick.”

“She might be more human.”

The thought came to mind more after she was born. Before, it was different, if was like ‘Oh, she’s going to have human blood’ and that was it.

No, now .  Now it’s different.

Now it hit- stabbed- slapped him square in the face, just as much as her squishy image did when she was passed over to him so gently-like. All bundled up, curled in a small, whimpering ball of proof of his love for MC. A love that has taken hold of him and molded, no, extended vastly over the same little baby in his arms.

He’s not a poet by any means. Sure, he acknowledges his soft persona towards his loved ones, but never been a poet or writer. But, he could have sworn the moment reminded him so much of those books Satan or Lucifer have read aloud sometimes.

It stunned him just as much as it scared him.

“Yeah.” His twin offers up a shrug, leaning back, “That’s what happens when a human and demon have a kid.”

“She’ll be more vulnerable.” Beel feels a frown come on, staring down at the swaddled infant. He’s seen the other side of vulnerability. It’s scary, suffocating, you feel as if you can’t escape from its clutches no matter how hard you try. It’s even worse if a monster is the one…

He swallows, facing morphing into a faint grimace, if a monster is the one eating you.

Second nature takes over, Belphie’s hand swaying up to touch his blanketed arm. “Beel.”

The ginger doesn’t move his head an inch, but his eyes glance back up. Belphie’s soft look is gone, but it lingers, only just barely. His brother needs to understand.

“She’s not going to get hurt.” Belphie’s finger lifts, pointing at a sleeping MC, “For one, she’s got a kick-ass parent 1 over there, who’s been through hell and back with us, literally, to the point that people would have to kill them to get to her. And even then, gotta deal with their return.” And with a grin like he’s used to this joke by now, “I should know, honestly.”

Before Beel can lecture him, Belphie side swipes his comment and continues, waving a hand to the door, “ 2nd, she’s got a whole squad of demon family members who’d stop at nothing to keep her safe, myself included.”

Beel watches his direction turn to him; he damps down the urge to squeeze his arms barely a centimeter, “3rd, she’s not only got more demons- including the King himself and his lame-ass butler, but a magical weirdo human, an angel and his dog. Plus-” Belphie smirks, a mix between soft and smug, as he waves towards Beel,

“She’s got one of the most soft-hearted, yet most unyieldingly protective Dad in all three realms, who’d I know already will succeed anytime someone so much as dares to breathe wrong in her direction.” With that, he crosses his arms and flops back in the chair. “She’s going to be fine, Beel. Everyone knows it, including you .”

Beel stares at him a second, processing everything. Thoughts swirl in his head, many wanting to disagree with Belphie, new ones ready to snap at those, and others that keep going back and forth between both groups.

Belphie doesn’t comment on his face, but Beel soon notices the eye widening and lip quirking.

He’s staring at his Frankie.

As soon as he joins, he gets why he can’t stop.

She’s looking up at him. Fingers gracing the pink and white blanket edge, gripping just a little in small fists before letting go; her mouth stays slightly open, as if vaguely gaping at the giant infront of her. Her hints of ginger hair peek through the blanket as she tilts her head faintly.

But the thing that has both twins stopping in their tracks,

The purple eyes. Tinged with the classical match of poppy red closer to the edge, they practically beam up, focused solely on him. For eons, the only other person the twin’s have known to have those eyes were each other. It was just about the only thing they had in common beside their brotherly love for each other and the people around them. Everything else had been different one way or another, from colors, to activities, to hobbies, to who they were as people.

Now someone else shared their eyes.

Beel feels his throat tighten for once. MC had been able to make him feel full for the first time when they met, a feeling that could barely ever change even if Beel himself tried to make it so. It seems that has extended too.

They hardly change effect as she suddenly grins, all gummy and squishy cheeks.

When her hand flies up, reaching for him, a shaky hand covers it.

He will protect her , Belphie’s hand pats his shoulder, a half chuckle/half covered sniffle meeting his ears, he promises.

Belphegor--------

“Papa” Patting at his cheek. More patting joins at his arm.

“Popi!” A whine at his right, echos that is the growl of, “Papa!” at his left.

Belphegor mutters a curse in the blessed Devildom tongue, shifting and flopping into a comfortable position. Away from his kids.

Behind him is a huff, Ryder hissing out, “Papa!”

“Papa is sleeping.” Waves off Belphie, tucking his arm back under his classic cow pillow. Too hyper for him. If the two didn’t look like him, both having a relatively noticeable amount of faded indigo hair, he’d think they’d be Mammon’s kids instead.

The noise dies down for a limited moment or two before two small bodies find themselves on him, one tugging at his arm while the other trying to annoy him by being as limp as possible.

“Paaaa!” River whines. Belphie’s eye twitches. His tail lifts, and goes on pushing at them. Shoo shoo. A drastically tinier tail swats back at it. Probably Ryder, he tends to keep his tail out more.

“Whaaaaat?” Belphie mocks dramatically in return.

Ryder, able to get the tail back enough, “We have a question!” the tail flicks and bops forward,  meeting his face. Sputtering, he fights it back, growling about ‘weirdo dad’. A smirk crawls on Belphie’s face. Ryder wacks the limb away again, glaring at his annoyance of a dad the whole time.

“What.”

It’s only now they pause in their annoying ways. The twins have a moment of looking at each other, sharing a silent conversation. Ryder looks insistent, small brows down in a frown. At the same time, River doesn’t glance around, but tilts their head with a pouty lip.

Belphie’s ready to close his eyes and sleep again. A hand pats his face. “Papa”

Lifting his hand, he covers their face right back. “River.”

Ryder does the talking, “ How are babies made?”

Nope.

Nope.

Nope.

His blankets dip further down as he rolls away, covering the back of his head with the giant pillow he’s always dragged around with him for major eons. “Go ask Mammon.”

Ryder’s huff flips with crossed arms, “ He said to ask you.”

“Yeah!” River’s tail swishes as he relaxes on the bed, belly flop style.

“Go ask Lucifer then.”

“He’s out with Uncle Diavolo.”

“King Diavolo!” Corrects River. But Ryder’s only response is, “Shut up.”

Belphie lifts the pillow for one second, flapping his tail at Ryder, “Don’t tell your brother to shut up.” A second later, he’s turning to River, “But don’t call him that.”

Again, with the small pout, but they sigh and nod. Although, it’s plainly clear it’s as reluctant as his morning schedule.

They seriously need to stop hanging so much with Lucifer. Loves his older brother, seriously, but he doesn’t need at least one of his kids mimicking him now.

It’s like a nightmare come true.

“Satan.”

“He started going on a lecture that we were too young to hear about it but-”

“Ryder asked him if that made him Lucifer’s kid.” Belphie snorts at River’s pointed finger. Ryder smacks it down without looking at him.

“We were kicked out of his room.”

Belphie’s face says it all. He’s amused. Not surprised. Maybe a tad impressed with their unconcerned attitudes about it. His kids are just as mischievous as him, quote unquote from MC themselves.

Poor Satan though, his co-CEO of Anti-Lucifer club.

Such shame.

Anyway-

“Asmode-” Belphie actually gives a good brain cell a turn there, then backtracks, shaking his head. Horror fills his mind at what Asmo could say, “Actually, don’t ever ask Asmodeus. I will catch you both if you do.”

His oldest twin scrunches his nose, the younger one sticks out his tongue and mocks a gag, “You think we’re stupid?” Ryder gapes.

“You think?” River echoes.

“How about Beel?” As weird as it is, Beel might know how to explain it the right way. And to kids nonetheless? Hell, he’d probably use the most oddly ‘child friendly’ way of explaining ‘it’ to a child.

“Out with Momma/Dad.” Both this time. River plays pattycake with the bed, patting his hands in a rhythmic motion.

Damn it. That means MC is off the list too. Ughhhhhh.

His head flies back under the pillow, “Then no.”

There’s a short growl before sudden weight falls on him. He groans, huffing into his pillow while River giggles out a call of their brother’s name then joins in at Belphie’s side.

“Tell us!” A proud demand from the hybrid on his back. Hands gripped into his hoodie, tugging and yanking with all his might. Belphie’s body did shift slightly, not enough however. “You don’t wanna know, kid.”

River half growls, “Yes we do!”

“Nah, kid. Seriously-” The two lock eyes. Their dad looks almost entirely serious for once. “You don’t.” There's been a handful of times their dad has looked serious, and for him to look close to it. They’re inclined to believe him.

They turn, opening their mouth to stop Ryder when he stumbles, somehow on someone’s back, and starts falling. A yelp escapes his lips, sliding as quick as lightning off their dad’s back and off the side of the bed.

Now the bed isn’t big. He’d probably get the most, a biggish bruise if he fell too hard.

Still, Belphie’s tail flies out, grabbing his son by the waist, and yanking him back to safety, back to him. Flipping back on his side, gently pushing River away a fair amount, he opens his arms and lets his tail drop the kid like an old fashioned airdrop.

Ryder would grunt at impact, if he wasn’t already swaddled by an unexpected hug by Belphie.

Wait,

 did I say hug? 

I meant trap.

 The arms around him are tough to beat, caging him in like a rat in a snake coil. As he squirms and snarls, desperate to get free, Belphie’s head plays with his hair, “Oh my sweet son. Oh my sweet boy.”

“DAAD!!”  

“SOOOO soso beautiful!”

“I’M A BOY!”

“You saying a boy can’t be beautiful?” He tsks, “Asmodeus is gonna be heartbroken.”

At first, River is laughing, been giggling at the sight since they saw Ryder safe. When eyes turn on them however, they’re immediately bolting.

Again the tail. Again the kid falling.

The twins are as different as the ying yang symbol. One is fighting for freedom, growling and hissing kiddie curses at Belphie; the other is giggling away and acting like they’re the same, but they’re really just snuggling in deeper and clutching onto Belphie’s left arm.

Noisy kids.  

Belphie smirks as he lets out another tease, furthering Ryder’s temper, his kids.

Heres the kids if people are interested- I will post more about them soon, so look out!

[rottenaero]

Nancy’s been having…

A week.

She hadn’t expected for her classmates to be murdered, or for Max to be the next victim, hadn’t known she was going to be the given a terrible vision,

Didn’t expect to like Robin.

And not just in the friend way, which the taller had been absolutely giddy when Nancy first referred to her as.

She liked her.

Nancy Wheeler liked her in the way that Lucas likes Max, how Hopper liked Joyce before he died.

This girl- Who she’d only really talked to more than once this week, she liked her.

And of course, they talked a little during the whole star-court situation, but Nancy was…

Snappish, a bit rude.

She’d also been a bit rude when she first saw Steve and Robin.

Nancy had thought it was because it was Steve, he’d changed and maybe she missed him a bit, wished it was her instead of Robin.

It was the other way around though, no matter how much Eddie and Robin insisted about the tension between her and Steve.

And she really wishes they would lay off this whole thing. She’s not interested, and Steve clearly isn’t either!

No, Steves interested in keeping everyone safe, making sure Max has her headphones playing, and making sure Eddie is out of view.

And Nancy,

She should be interested in Jonathan, how he’s doing since they couldn’t get ahold of the Byers before they stole the Winnebago.

But she’s not.

She’s interested in Robin, and the way every-time she moves her head slightly all her hair shimmies. The way she rambles when she’s nervous or stressed. The way she’s been listening to Nancy this entire time, not questioning her, and backing her up while still having her own ideas.

Her freckles, the black polish chipping off her nails.

She doesn’t interrupt her when Nancy’s speaking. When Nancy sat down on the couch in the back of the winnebago she was quick to snag the seat next to her.

And it was so-

Well,

Nancy would be lying if she said her heart didn’t flutter a little every-time Robin leaned into her side, or made sure that she was feeling okay.

Even back when they barely knew each-other, in their sophomore year when Robin ran to check up on her when she started crying in the theater.

Threatening to kick Steve out when she thought he’d done something.

They barely knew each-other, and Robin still went out of her way.

Nancy smiles, glances at the taller girl out of the corner of her eye. She’s humming something that sounds alot like Total Eclipse of The Heart.

And Nancy has the most vivid memory of the marching band playing it at one of Steve’s football games a couple years ago.

The way the group moved in tandem, the sound.

Her eyes were drawn to the brass sections, the way they were loud, but not droning out the other instruments.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Nancy blinks, and Robins staring at her. “You know, if this is Vecna, I really think you should tell us.” She says.

And she worries, always a tad bit concerned about what’s happening, always a little in-tuned into everything.

“It’s not, just thinking.” Nancy defends, and Robin leans forward, brow quirked. “About what?”

“Uhm, things.”

Smooth Wheeler.

Her light brown hair sways as she leans forward even more, halfway off the couch at this point. “End of the world things, or, like-“ She glances at the front of the car, where Steve is trying the smack Eddie from where he sits behind him whilst also driving.

She looks back. “-Things things.”

“Robin, it’s not like that. Steve and I are just friends.”

Robin tilts back a bit so she’s sitting like a normal person. She holds up her hands. “And I totally get that! What about Jonathan?”

Nancy sighs, “I already told you about Jonathan and I, what about you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you have anyone?”

Robins eyes are wide, and she shuffles away slightly. “I’m, uh, really not comfortable with talking about my non-existent relationships with anyone but Steve.”

“Non-existent?” Nancy brows furrowed. “You’re super pretty though, guys don’t ask you out?” Her eyes widen. “Or, wait, maybe you just don’t wanna get with a guy, or anyone. Gosh, I’m so sorry, you don’t wanna talk about this and I’m pushing-“

“No!”

The vehicle quiets, and heads turn to them. “…Way is Breakfast Club better than Carrie! It’s a work of art.”

They all turn they heads back to what their doing, before Robin hunches her shoulders, and leans her head in a little. “You think that’s okay?” She whispers.

“Not wanting a relationship? Yeah, not everyone needs one.”

“No, no, I mean…” She takes a deep breath. “Not wanting to get with a guy.”

Please don’t go the wrong way please don’t go the wrong way.

“I mean, yeah.”

Robin smiles, nods, and backs up. “Great, excellent, superb even.”

And it’s not sarcastic. Nancy smiles, bumps her shoulder. “Got any cute girls?”

Robin flushes and her freckles disappear for a split second. She stammers and looks around.

Maybe she can enjoy this. Just for a little bit.

[love-on-mars]

Im not sure what or where the source is so take this with a big ol grain of salt BUT ive heard mick apparently would show up to photoshoots with messed up lipstick bc he would be eating a girl out right before… So, what if reader was one of these lucky girls in that situation ;3? Probably around the time of shout at the devil or theater of pain, since that was when the crue were doing the most stage makeup :3 (thank u!!!!!)

HIIIII!!!! I’m so sorry this took so long writers block is kicking ass. I need to find out where you learned about this for….reasons…..

Anyways I hope you like it!

Warnings: oral (f! Receiving), mild language, mick being unholy.

Mick Mars x Reader

Lavender Lips (18+)

Having a rockstar boyfriend had its ups and downs. The best upside are you get to see just how sexy he can be in his stage outfit. It’s always a treat to see him on stage wearing it, but up close? It’s impossible not to gawk at him.

Mick sat in the dressing room, just having finished putting on his ‘Shout at the Devil’ attire, waiting for you to come in. You two met before he joined Motley Crue, during his Vendetta days. Your sweet yet mysterious nature allured him into talking to you at one of the venues they played, and he instantly fell for you.

You also had a very spontaneous personality, which he had a love hate relationship with. As much as he loved to see you have fun he didn’t want to just run off and potentially get lost, but it wasn’t always so bad….

As you walked through the door you went straight to Mick, admiring the costume and makeup he had on. You loved the demonic look it gave him, you especially loved the dark fuchsia on his lips.

“Don’t you look ravishing…” you teased, you had always wanted him to take you in costume, but hadn’t had the opportunity yet.

Mick looked at you up and down, you were wearing a black shirt and skirt with some fishnet leggings. Simple, but tempting for the ghoulish rockstar. “As do you, my love…” he purred, stepping towards you with a sly smirk on his face.

In an instant his lips were on yours, wandering your body hungrily. Whenever he wore his stage outfit it brought out a more confident and bold side of him, almost as if he was possessed.

Mick gently lifted you up to sit you on the dresser, pushing aside whatever was in the way. As his hands found your now dripping core you realized what he was after, “Mick we can’t…you have a photo shoot…don’t wanna mess up your costume do you?” You whined out, wanting to go further but knowing he had a job to do.

“Well, maybe I don’t have to for now…” he smiled, kneeling down to remove your skirt and fishnets, along with your underwear gently. He spread your legs to reveal your drenched pussy, aching for his touch. He looked up at you as if he was asking if this is ok, you smiled down at him giving the confirmation he needed.

Immediately he began to lap and suck on your folds, instantly attacking your clit. You jolted are the feeling, letting out a small whimper. Mick had always been a master at making you come undone within seconds, even if he was barely touching you.

He looked up at you to watch your face twist into pleasure, feeling your hands in his hair only Pushes him on more and more. The most unholy and wet sounds coming from where you both meet.

“Mph…Mick the photoshoot…” you moaned as he teased your clit. “They can wait, I wanna make you cum first.” He declared as he sucked at your clit harshly. Suddenly two of his fingers slid into your warmth, pumping in and out slowly. He quickly picked up the speed of his fingers as you trembled, your orgasm inevitable.

You put your hand over your mouth to try and muffle your moans and whimpers of pleasure as Micks fingers curled up to brush your g-spot, making your legs quake and your eyes roll back. “Such a sensitive little thing…it’s ok sweetheart, cum for me…” he cooed.

You screamed into the palm of your hand as you came, Mick lapping up as much of your sweet nectar as he could. He slowly stood up, and helped you put your clothes back on. As He admired your beauty, you looked up at him and began to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He said with a smile. “Your makeup is all smudged!” You exclaimed through giggles. Mick looked in the mirror behind you and shrugged. “It’s fine, make me look more demonic.” He smirked.

“Mars! Time to go cmon!” A man’s voice boomed outside the room. “Be back soon baby. Then we can have some real fun.” He said as he kissed your forehead.

As Mick walked into the set, the guys gave him knowing looks and smirks. “He’ll yeah old man! Get some!” Tommy shouted. Mick ignored him, needless to say the old man took his sweet time with his beloved, who said he couldn’t get some excitement every now and then?

[0-sparkling-lace-0]

~Sweet Thing~ (P1)

Hellooooo everynyan! How are you? Fine thank you :-) (oh my gah)

My name is Katie! You can call me Wink, though. I am by no means a professional writer, but I am however a Buggy slut, just as you fine fellow people. I felt a dramatic need to write something, and I hope you enjoy! Constructive criticism is more than welcome, and this story will eventually turn smutty. So MDNI! As far as warnings for the first part goes, use of shackles and blindfolds are present. Female pronouns are used, as this is very much self service.

I don’t know how many parts this will have, as I have a busy schedule, but I hope to continue this for as long as I am able. Also, I don’t know how many of you are also thirsting over Jeff Ward himself, but if so you should watch the lifetime movie “Manson’s Lost Girls”, the full movie is on youtube! Jeff plays Manson, and he’s even more of a psychotic killer than Buggy.

(Duh Katie, he is literally playing Charles Manson)

Anyways, enjoy!!

I wake up in my warm bed, surrounded by the warmth of my sherpa blanket that my mother gifted me before I left. I pull the blanket over my head and take a deep breath. It smells like home. Before the sting of the memories can be felt, I quickly throw the blanket off of me and take a quick glance at the clock. 2 pm. My shift at the local pub starts in two hours. “Ugggggh!” I groan dramatically and face plant back into my bed. I better get showered and dressed.

After making my way to the bathroom, I turn the squeaky knob of my shower. I quickly disrobe and make my way inside, sighing as I feel the hot water cascade over my body. Memories of what once was creep up on me as if they were behind the shower curtain, waiting. I shake my head, as if to shake them out of my brain. It works for now, but I know soon they’ll catch up to me. Instead, I take focus on washing, as if to wash it all away.

Soon I find myself before the pub, hesitating to walk in. “Do I really need this job?” I mumble before begrudgingly grabbing the door handle, making my way in, and walking behind the bar, finding my apron and wrapping it around myself.

I feel a presence behind me before I hear them.

“(Y/NNNNNN), how you doin today?”

I turn immediately and give them a faux pout. “The world is out to get me as always, Roy.”

Roy, an older man who helped me get this job and took pity on me when I found myself on this small, secluded island, smiles at me. Before he speaks again, I find myself thinking back to that day, 5 years ago.

~Roy had found me on the pier after I had just docked. An almost lifeless me stumbling about, gathering my things off of the barely afloat dinghy.

“Woah! Look what the cat dragged in!” I look to my right; an older man nursing a bottle of whisky had called out to me, and I scoff.

“Didn’t mean to upset you, dear! What is it that brought you here?” I pondered for a moment, too tired and weary to have a care in the world. I stumbled over to the old man before taking a seat next to him. I gesture to the bottle of whisky, and he hands it to me. I take a long swig from the bottle before answering him. “It’s a long story.” I hand him back the bottle. “I’ve got time, dear.” And so the story goes.~

“Dramatic as always, (Y/N). You should think about joining the local theater!" His words break my concentration from the memory, and I give him a chuckle. “When pigs fly, Roy. When pigs fly.”

He pats my back and smiles before making his way back to the kitchen.

The night goes on, much to my dismay. Every now and then I check the clock, each time praying and hoping to a god I don’t believe in to have made time move faster. I hate this job. The constant nagging that I’m not quick enough. Men from all walks of life that always seem to find the same words to say. The pay barely getting me by.

I hear the bell hanging above the door clatter first, before the door hits the wall.

“Well! What a cute little establishment we have here. Don’t you think, boys?”

My head quickly turns towards the entrance, searching for the face behind such a boisterous voice. My eyes land on a man with a pirate hat, with tassels formed from his blue hair hanging at the sides. His face is painted red around his lips, and blue points around his eyes. And his nose—is that real?

“Listen up, and no one gets hurt. Maybe, possibly. Probably not.” He chuckles to himself and his crew before sauntering over to the edge of the bar and taking a seat. The customers around him shy away in fear. “Who’s in charge here? Huh?” He yells, and no one responds. His eyes find mine, and leave just as quickly to scan my body. I feel a shiver run down my spine. Out of fear? Out of attraction? Fear, it has to be.

“Is it you, sweet thing?” He gets up out of his chair to walk behind the bar, eventually stopping before me. His green eyes pierce into my (E/C) ones, looking down at me.

I search for confidence that I don’t have while staring back. His gloved hand comes up to grab my chin, roughly. “Answer me!” I flinch at his scream before hearing footsteps running from the kitchen.

“Don’t!” My eyes drift over to where the voice is coming from, and I see Roy. The clown whips his neck around to see who dared to retaliate against him. “Well! What do we have here? Hmm?” He looks back at me and then back at Roy. My eyes catch Roy’s, my head shaking no, not going unnoticed by the clown, as he still has his hand around my chin. “What is it to you, buddy? You her dad or something?” He nods to one of his crewmates before turning his attention back on Roy. I watch as his crewmate walks up behind him, swiftly pulling him into a chokehold with one arm, bringing his free hand up to his throat, holding a knife.

“Stop!” I yell. The clown snaps his eyes back at me. “She speaks!” My lips form a frown before speaking again. “Don’t hurt him.” The clown laughs, a hearty and deep laugh, as if he actually finds what I said funny. “(Y/N)..” Roy growls in warning. The clown stops laughing, finding my eyes once more. “(Y/N) is it? What a cute name for a sweet thing! I’ll tell you now, (Y/N), I give the orders.” He whispers. “Buuuut, I’m willing to negotiate with you. What’s in it for me? Hmm?” I close my eyes, pushing away the thought that this clown dude might actually be attractive (once again). “What do you want that I could give? Money? Alcohol?” I ask, desperately grasping at straws. I hear him chuckle again. “That you could give? Well, well, well. You have a lot more to offer than money and alcohol, sweet thing.” His mouth finds its way to my ear, his hot breath fanning over my neck. “I think I might’ve just found what I want, actually.” His hand leaves my chin, and he starts to walk towards the entrance of the bar. Without looking away from his destination, he commands another one of his subordinates. “Grab her and bring her aboard.” Before being grabbed by a different crewmate, I hear his cackle once more. I look towards Roy, a frown on his face as he fights against the chokehold he’s in. “I’ll be back, Roy. I promise.” I yell as I’m walked out of the bar.

With one hand on the back of my neck and another holding my wrists behind me, I’m guided to a large ship. The sails adorn a skull with a bright red dot in the center. A picture all too similar to the man I saw before. He must be the captain of this ship.

Before I’m taken aboard, a bag is placed over my head, depriving me of my sight.

As I’m guided further onto the ship, I hear my own footsteps along with the cackles of the clown man's subordinates around me. “Buggy must’ve taken a liking to this one.” I hear a man say, with a gruff voice. “She must be his new plaything." A woman responds.

Buggy? The captain’s name must be Buggy. I store this information for later.

I hear the screech of a metal door open before I feel shackles placed around my wrists. “Wait here.” I’m shoved into the room, and I fall forward. The man who had his hand around my neck grumbles, and I hear his footsteps receding.

As much as I know the shackles have a tight bind on me, I try to force them open anyway. I pull and tug as hard as I can, and I give a harsh huff when I accept that it’s no use. I squint my eyes, trying to make out anything I can through the cloth of the bag over my head. I see the outline of a jail cell, the metal door I must’ve heard earlier. I look around the room some more, trying to find anything to use. All I see are some crates in the corner of the cell. My only choice is to wait and bide my time until I see the clown man again. Buggy.

[melis-writes]

what's your take on michael and kay's relationship in the films? do you think michael actually loved her?

Absolutely, I do!! I've done so much research and analysis on them both in film and the book because I'm obsessed with them as a couple LMAO. I've written straight up essays on here. You can find them here, here, here, and here.

To sum up the most important parts from all of them to prove my point:

Michael also makes this clear to Kay after he becomes Don too. Michael reminded Kay countless times throughout the book that he wanted to marry her, that he wanted to slowly be transparent to her about the nature of his family first. He really worked on building the love and trust in his relationship with Kay because he believed in having a future and a family with her, with or without the family business.

Michael even thought about changing his last name (seriously) for the sake of Kay’s reputation.

Michael said gently, “Will your parents approve of me?” Kay shrugged, “I don’t care,” she said. Michael said, “I even thought of changing my name, legally.”

Kay came in after him and put her arms around his waist from behind. “When are we going to get married?” She asked. “Whenever you say.” Michael said.

Mind you, Michael is not in any way desperate to marry Kay or in an urgent need to. This is all solely built on the trust, affection, and bond they have in their relationship together. He mentions marriage a lot more to her than she does to him.

When Michael had returned home from Sicily, he told Kay that she was the only one he was ever “in love” with:

[Kay:] “Why do you want me to marry you after never calling me all these months?” [Michael:] “You are the only person I felt any affection for, that I care about. I didn’t call you because it never occurred to me that you’d still be interested in me after everything that’s happened. […] I want you and I want a family.” “You know, when I came home I wasn’t that glad when I saw my family, my father, my mother, my sister Connie, and Tom. It was nice but I didn’t really give a damn. Then I came home tonight and saw you in the kitchen and I was glad. Is that what you mean by love?”

He put his arms around her and kissed her gently on the lips. Her mouth was sweet and he gently pulled her down on the bed. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to make love to her and Michael felt an enormous happiness. He had spent the war years fighting in the Pacific, and on those bloody islands he had dreamed of a girl like Kay Adams. Of a beauty like hers. She opened her eyes and hen pulled his head down to kiss him. They made love until it was time for dinner and the theater.

Michael refused to listen to anyone else asked/told Michael he should get surgery done for the bits of broken bone in his face due to McClusky breaking his jaw, even 2 years after the injury healed on the outside of his cheek. Kay was the exception to this of course! Michael wanted Kay’s opinion, and subsequently “got his face fixed”:

She knew that Michael had done it against all his own inclinations. Had done it because she has asked him to, and that she was the only person in the world who could make him act against his own nature.

And lets not forget when he said...

“You were all that I loved and valued most in the world and now I’m losing you…I’ve lost you anyway; You’re gone and it was all for nothing. You need to understand that I had a whole different destiny planned for us.”

And keeping in mind these following points:

Michael could have remarried any time after his divorce from Kay and had more children/a second son.

Michael wore his wedding ring for another 10+ years.

Michael was still trying to win Kay, apologize to her, get close to her in TGF3.

Michael moved onto Kay barely a year after Apollonia’s death.

Michael referred to Kay as “his wife” even after she remarried.

Yes, in full truth I do believe Michael loved Kay. I believe he cared for her deeply and was in love with her to the fullest extent. Their relationship and romance as a whole is so much better fleshed out in the book than the film but of course Michael is also essentially two different people when you compare him to how he was in the novel versus the film. I get why he's portrayed differently, but it's so easy to gloss over the truth of him and Kay if you don't actually sit to think about what they had and what Michael held together for their future together. ❤️

[faerygal]

(Too lazy to copy the questions😞 it’s like 10:40pm and I spent my whole day sewing)

1.

My hobbies

My parents

My disability

2.

This was the only thing I had with my handwriting in it😭

3.

Peter Pan<3 basically all of Disney and 2000‘s Romcoms

4.

Läuft

5.

I wanted to binge fanfic and then I eventually just started putting my own stuff on here :3

6.

I hate all the little bigottet bubbles you can end up in but I also love connecting with like minded people c:

7.

I have several anxiety disorders but my worst fear overall is anything medical, surgeries, doctors all of that plus anything with bodily functions

I don’t need to know how it works as long as it’s doing what it should be doing.

8.

I have three reoccurring dreams of being SA‘d

9.

My mom took me to a presentation from an archeologist in a museum when I was roughly four and after a few minutes I told her the presentation was super dry (makes more sense in my native language tbh) and asked her to leave.

10.

100% YES

I practically never stop crying

11.

I can barely tell the difference between romantic and platonic, give me a break😭

12.

Fake it till you make it !! I fake my confidence all the time and it works super well for me :3

13.

Watching Gntm with my sister 🧍🏻‍♀️

14.

Confess

To like anyone ever (also to wear my slay outfits outside but I’m working on that)

15.

Warmth and love <3

16.

Loose a bunch of weight (minimum 20kg)

17.

Disneyland

My friends (I love my family but found family has a special place)

My hobbies

18.

Paranoid asf

Obviously yes!!

19.

SUNSHINE.

20.

STARRY NIGHTS.

21.

I‘m Muslim :3 (Ramadan Mubarak btw<3 half is over already)

22.

I love your smile, the effortless warmth you spread. Anytime you speak your words extend to touch my very soul. I love you.

23.

I hope you realize how horrible you are and that everyone around you hates you. I hope you learn and improve and I hope you stay the fuck away from me.

24.

My acting and singing, these are heavily intertwined for me :3

25.

Those two weeks between summer and autumn with nice temperatures and sunshine

26.

I could never choose I just love colors Idk

27.

None that I like

28.

Way too much stuff honestly

29.

I usually eat, it’s a shitty habit Ik😭 but I also become overproductive and drown myself in projects if I can

30.

Cats

31.

Messy asf

32.

Like two (the others auto-closed😭)

33.

Harp, theater (2 groups), choir, Bigband, bands(2, leadsinger), dancing(standard ballroom), sewing and generally crafting (soon also cosplaying, the first outfit is in the works)

34.

People saying tay only sings about her ex‘s

IDK IT JUST IRKS ME SO BAD

35.

I’ve been called naive so i‘d say so yes

36.

I think I’m way too honest and do too much honestly

I‘m really easy to read and I barely have secrets :3 (I have no perception of internet security)

37.

I am SO jealous of people around my crush it disgusts me

Like I need to sit down and be real for a sec. I‘m overthinking and being insecure wtf Is wrong with me. But hey I’m aware enough to work it out I guess? 💃🏻

38.

Obsessed with Cemetery girl -Icp rn

Idk I love it soo much

39.

Generally love the Click :3 Mark has my heart he’s my favorite bbg

40.

Anything I do is a bad habit probs

questions I think would be fun to be asked

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

show us a picture of your handwriting?

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

what made you start your blog?

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

what scares you the most and why?

any reacquiring dreams?

tell a story about your childhood

would you say you’re an emotional person?

what do you consider to be romance?

what’s some good advice you want to share?

what are you doing right now?

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

name 3 things that make you happy

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

favourite thing about the day?

favourite things about the night?

are you a spiritual person?

say 3 things about someone you love

say 3 things about someone you hate

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

fave season and why?

fave colour and why?

any nicknames?

do you collect anything?

what do you do when you’re sad?

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

are you messy or organised?

how many tabs do you have open right now?

any hobbies?

any pet peeves?

do you trust easily?

are you an open book or do you have walls up?

share a secret

fave song at the moment?

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

any bad habits?

(this post was stolen from @teenage-mutant-ninja-freak, since it couldn't be reblogged anymore)

[chuulyssa]

── ★ 𝐈 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐘 !

𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 — bsd men and public sex scenarios

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 — smut

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎──‎‎‎‎─ tw intended lowercase, public sex, exhibitionism, edging, begging, use of pet names (doll, love, angel etc), praise kink, cockwarming + fingering in fyodor's part, voyeurism + choking + nipple play in nikolai's part

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai x reader

𝗗𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗜 is always ready for sex, whether it be in the comfort of your bedroom or the last seat of a movie theater. you cannot physically count the number of times you've asked him to dick you down and he has cooed in reply, pulled you into a random corner, ridden your panties to the side and pried your legs apart with a smile. that, however, doesn't mean there aren't times when you have to beg for his fat cock. he is quite a nuisance, even when the two of you have to make it quick, locked up in a public room. he enjoys watching you flailing your arms around in a silent tantrum, unable to moan or groan or whine, afraid of being heard by others.

“now now bella,” he says in a sing-song voice. “if i give it to you now, and you end up being so loud that the others hear, it will be bad, won’t it?”

he watches you rub your cheek against his bare cock, throat dry from the hardness which he refused to let you suck.

“i’ll be quiet, i promise,” you say. “please please, can i have it?”

“you always say that, dolly,” he strokes your hair lovingly and you lean into his touch. “but we both know you never keep your promise. i would like you to hush for me, alright? we can be as loud as we want at home, but not here, hm? the president is in the next room; it’s a very important meeting, okay?”

you nod vigorously, and he chuckles.

“ah now you know i’m weak for those eyes,” he pulls you up and sits you nicely on his cock all in one go, clamping a hand over your mouth as your eyes widen at the forced penetration. “we’ve got an hour, baby. let’s make it nice and slow, yea? don’t want anything to spill or make a mess, hm? easy now, doll. ride me like a good girl, but quietly.”

𝗖𝗛𝗨𝗨𝗬𝗔 doesn't mind pissing off mori in ways more than one. he cannot recall how many times he's fucked you in his own office in various positions, and so messily too, just to see his boss's reaction. he, unlike dazai, doesn't have to be quiet though. it's his building, he can do whatever the fuck he wants, shove his cock down your throat wherever he wants. but he likes to go at a tantalizingly slow pace. he knows he can take his time. he's not gonna get 'caught'. his subordinates know better than to intrude on his business. it's just you, spread-eagled on the table, and him, rutting his hard cock inside you.

“you like it, yea? then why don’t you say it?” he groans in your ear. “you can tell me whose pussy this is, can’t you? why don’t you say my name, doll? whose girl are you?”

“y-yours, all yours,” you hiss and he gently pushes your face back into the mahogany table, the smell of fresh wood and sex clouding your senses.

“what’s my name?”

“chuuya–”

“chuuya what?”

“port mafia executive chuuya nakahara and the owner of my body,” you breathe. he's taught you to say that whenever he asks you that.

“good girl,” he says proudly, smile faltering for a second as he adjusts his pace. “you gonna come, baby? i can feel you. come, come on this cock, we’ll let it get on the floor and table, just to have some fun, yea?”

you widen your eyes, and he chuckles, gloved hand coming to pinch a nipple.

“no objections. mori's office or not, i decide what i do with my pussy.”

you shuddered. he's not afraid and it's seen. because after all, who's gonna fire him?

𝗙𝗬𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗥 isn't always the one to initiate sex, much less one in public. then again, your numb cunt and shaking legs are testimony of how well he does when he decides to. public sex for fyodor meant shoving you by your hair down on his cock, pretending to be interested in the ramblings of fukichi while you were sucking him off under the table. when he feels he has to reward you for good behaviour though, he allows you to perch on his lap, your panties shifted to the side as he nests his cock deep inside your warm pussy, offering his ideas while the others don't bat an eye at the unusual approach of the mastermind.

he drums his fingers on the table, sliding them down to pinch your clit. your eyes widen, neck snapping around to look at him as he continues to look ahead. from the corner of his sly smile, he mutters, “i’ve told you to stop moving so much, havent i, angel? or would you like to leave the meeting? i wouldn’t mind either way. you’re distracting a hard-working man.”

you frown at him. “i’m not moving around–” your angry whisper is cut off by a finger slipping inside your already filled cunt, stretching it out even more. you hiss loudly, fist clenching around his cape.

“quieten, printsessa, or i might have to send you away. you’re not being very good now. i’d like to have a word with you after the gathering departs. in private.”

you scowl and turn back to staring at a wall in front of you, when you feel his finger escaping your soaking cunt. sighing in relief, you barely anticipate the slight jolt of his hips as he forced his cock deeper inside you for the fraction of a second before bringing it back in place.

your eyes wander frantically to see if anyone noticed the act. nobody did, thankfully, or maybe they had learned not to intrude on his business. either way, you will pay the price for boredom in the next thirty minutes.

𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗜 is similar to dazai when it comes to enthusiasm related to public sex. he's into voyeurism, a bit much for your liking, but he swears by your name he won't do it if you don't like it. but you don't miss the way he casually lifts your skirt up to check your ass out, or how he sticks a finger inside your cleavage line to harden your nipples. he has always wanted to be free, and what defines freedom more than sex in the back of his car, where the windows are open and any passerby can hear the commotion, wild and alive like never before?

“but kolya, we have to be quiet, we can’t just–”

“hush, my little birdie. do as i say and you won’t be in trouble,” he lays you down comfortably on the seat before proceeding to bang the shit out of you. your meek attempt at stifling your moans by covering your mouth is unsuccessful, and highly futile, he thinks. “now why would you do that, my dove? why would you not bless my ears with your heavenly sounds? let me hear them, dove, please.”

“kolya–”

“yes yes yes love, just like that,” he coos praises into your ear. “but you can go louder, can’t you?”

his mouth sucks on one of your nipples, begging you silently to give him more, to say more.

“please tell me how i make you feel, dove. i might die.”

“so good, kolya, so good.”“yes dove, now can you tell the whole word how i make you feel? please? for me?” he fastens his pace to force moans out of you, hand reaching to your throat to make you say his name. “want the whole word to know you love me, dove. that you’re mine. all mine.”

and his demands grow sinister by the moment with threatening consequences.

“whoopsie, no dove you’re gonna have to keep it in for now. can’t let you come unless i see you beg for it, now can i?”

it was always a long night of satisfying sex with him.

[pwblogarchive]

May 2002

May 2, 2002

“i wrote a reminder to make sure i remembered to sleep through everything today.” 

it turns out i didn’t need the note. the sky is dark and open over school- if i didn’t know better i would think this might be hell. my core is copper.

i would kill to make it gold.

May 4, 2002

“you’re just a glorified mommas boy” 

spiderman- what a piece of shit. seriously so many complaints i’m not gonna list them all. from the shitty cgi to the people on the bridge “nobody messes with new yorkers” post 9/11 line. horrible. the only people into this crap probably never read a comic. thanks for ruining another piece of my childhood. enough being bitter about a movie haha. i’m going to american nightmare tonight and you’re probably not. too bad for you. oh yeah brand new smokes everything out there right now.

heart pete

May 5, 2002

“i saved latin, what did you ever do?”

i recieved my first hatemail for this thing- PRICELESS. it only adds to the narcissism.

okay after much flak for my attack on spider-man i’m gonna go for more and rate comic movies-

batman [tim burton you can’t go wrong]

batman 2 [see above comment]

superman [for nostolgia- hackman is great barely edged out x-men]

X-Men [the only good recent adaptation in my eyes- very true to the comic but at the same time not nerdy haha]

The Punisher [this thing simply beats ass, dolph lundgren word]

superman 2 [not as good as the first but still up there]

Captain America [so bad but so good]

superman 3 and 4 [tied for crappiness]

Hulk the tv show [only low on the list cause this is supposed to be movies but honestly i’d rather see this in the theater over the crap beneath it]

spider-man 70s version [it’s bad that this thing beat out the new spiderman cause its pretty much a piece of shit]

new spider-man

honorable mention- superman: quest for peace (sucked my balls) and Fantastic Four movie (i’ve never actually seen this but supposedly ben johnson the rock guy is made out of foam)

sitting in the computer lab= me wasting time thinking about how i am going to be far away from here in a van all summer.

driving home tonight= calling up everybody i know so i don’t drive off into the night by accident.

trying to fall asleep= thinking about you.

i bet i’ll be awake forever.

May 9, 2002

“a trophy wife in the parlance of our times”

yeah. i am sick. it sucks. tommorrow Arma is playing at Rubes for what may be our last chicago show ever- we’ll see. like anyone even cares. my birthday is on june 5 though i will be accepting presents all month. remember i like nightmare before christmas toys, live animals (no cats or dogs only scaled things), and i wear extra- small from everywhere but banana republic where i only wear a small.

at least you have your health.

pete

May 12, 2002

“i know i’m not your favorite record anyhow”

thanks to everyone who made the trek through madmax country to see us. i think we may have played the Orphans secret hide out. i hope noone got beaten up too badly.

also, please keep the anonymous slander and shittalking focused on me here. A. i am an egomaniac and it helps me feel like the world revolves around me B. Heather is a cool girl- shes probably like 5 years younger than who ever is talking shit- so stop or have the balls to leave your name.

come out an see us at hellfest, it is always fun- im sure we will have some suprises for everyone.

May 13, 2002

“somehow i think this was all a big mistake.”

and noone should ever feel this way.

May 16, 2002

“the score.”

star wars rules. girls do not.

May 18, 2002

“the phone is lying on the ground twisted and dead- off the hook. i look at it adoringly wishing it was you.”

sleep is such a good thing.

i wish i was better at it.

pete

May 19, 2002

“nothing you say or do is real to anyone” 

i woke up today and thought- i wish you would prove me wrong. and your lipstick tastes like shit. and you remind me of everyone else. and how i love to laugh at bad movies with you. i felt not dead for the first time in awhile when i sat out on my roof and watched all of the backyards. i yelled at the city but i don’t think you heard “be yourself, don’t ever apologize”. the phone is ringing. my feet are running up the stairs. i hope that its you.

May 24, 2002

“the greatest 21st century romance”

sometimes i wish i smoked- i bet cigarettes are like friends.

i wish you could buy friends in packs and then burn them.

i vaguely remember watching jacobs ladder when i was little. i watched it last night and realized my nightmares are exactly out of that movie.

it’s really strange.

when he said “there are five great kisses on record and this one topped them all” doesn’t it make you wonder what the other five kisses were?

sometimes i’m sure one of mine made it.

but then brandonbobbybagwell emails me and i feel relieved that i am just the same shitty boy who still lives with his parents.

May 25, 2002

“with friends like you, who need friends”

gordon gecko is pretty awsome.

we hung out the other day and he ate like 11 crickets.

it was so great.

i wrote the people at captain crunch today.

pretty good letter it included lots of swears and stuff telling them it’s about time he gets a higher rank than captain.

for the record vanilla coke is pretty great.

i came up with a scam that will get me 20,000 dollars by this summer.

it’s gonna rule.

so is the movie bottle rocket and the boxcar racer cd.

today will be spent painting my nails with whiteout and eating coco puffs for every meal.

i think i am mildy retarded.

May 26, 2002

spitalfield smokes. knockout was good and so was showoff. good show. once again got tricked into going to a party which once again sucked.

im gonna create a blog- if you’re lucky you’ll get an email. no more real stuff will be posted on here.

pete

May 30, 2002

“i wish i was drunk or dead”

i called mike from American Movie tonight- greatest guy ever. go watch this movie- you will not be disappointed.

fall out boy record will own you.

oh yeah and thanks for my birthday presents. you are always the nicest and i am always such a wreck- im sorry.

[casicroaks]

Tiffany Valentine has two things in her mind: love and murder. The origins of the brains behind the infamous Lakeshore Strangler and the string of broken hearts she left along her way to Chicago, interwoven with the development of the tempestuous relationship between her and a certain Charles Lee Ray.

CHAPTER 11

[ CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2 // CHAPTER 3 // CHAPTER 4 // CHAPTER 5 // CHAPTER 6 // CHAPTER 7 // CHAPTER 8 // CHAPTER 9 // CHAPTER 10 // CHAPTER 11 // CHAPTER 12 // CHAPTER 13 // CHAPTER 14 // CHAPTER 15 // CHAPTER 16 ]

NEW YORK, 1977

Most auditions took place in either small, off-Broadway theaters, or in little offices in apartment buildings. This one I took at a dance studio. Apart from the usual producers who’d conduct the interview, I had a crowd of Tiffanys around me, turning to watch me when I watched them, calling my attention each time I felt too awkward to stare right into the eyes of either one of the two men. I wondered if it had been intentional. Having an actress forced to be interviewed for ten minutes in a room full of mirrors meant she had to be particularly comfortable with feeling self-conscious.

“Remind us what your name is, dear.”

“I’m… My name’s Valerie. Valerie Day,” I stammered. Bad start. I shouldn’t falter. Shouldn’t doubt.

They checked the name written on the application. For a moment I panicked, unsure of what name I had signed with. “Please, take a seat.”

I did. I was careful my skirt didn’t hike up my thighs too much.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” one of them said.

“Not at all,” I smiled, wondering if I should cross my legs instead.

“Have you ever been in a film or on TV?”

“I haven’t, though I’ve had several offers.”

One of the men, the one in a grey jacket, stared at me in a way I didn’t like. Even without looking at him I could feel his eyes on me.

“Do you belong to any agency?”

“No, but I am friends with someone in the show business who looks after me personally.” ‘Friends’ was all they needed to know. “He found an agent for me.”

By that point I already had an audition uniform. They say you gotta dress for the job you want, so I dressed as neutral as I could, so every producer could see whoever they wanted to see in me. A plain white t-shirt, barely a bit of mascara and some blush. As clean a slate as possible.

“Is this work you do at your friend’s bar your main source of income?”

I fidgeted on my seat. “Yes.”

“You find that income to be enough?”

“I can cope, if I’m not extravagant.”

“Don’t you want to live fancy?”

“I mean, I don’t want to be poor…” I replied with a quirk of my eyebrows. “But I’m happy if I can afford to go to the movies.”

“Hm,” The man in the grey jacket wrote something in his notebook. I wringed my hands. “So, why do you want to be an actress? If not for the money, is it a matter of fame?”

What a stupid question. Who didn’t want to be famous? But that would sound too conceited.

“I want to have something to motivate me,” I said, raising my chin. “I want to have a purpose.”

“Do you currently feel like you have no purpose?”

I pushed my shoulders back. “I just want something more out of life.”

The two producers exchanged a look. “Alright. Let’s see what you got, Miss Day.”

I acted the lines I was given to memorize, which I had managed to fully memorize this time. I knew my memory wasn’t the best. And, admittedly, nobody I knew ever wanted to help me rehearse: the girls at the Playhouse were always too distracted with their own little dramas to pay attention to the script, Jamie and Colin and Ernie always laughed at me each time I told them about my dreams of stardom, and Cesar… Well, he had read with me once or twice, sucking on his cigar, lying on the bed with the pages folded in his hand. But with how little we saw each other now, I didn’t want to waste a single second of our time together by rehearsing silly lines.

The two men thanked me, and I left the room. I told myself I had a good feeling about this one. I told myself the same thing after every audition, even when I knew perfectly well that there was no chance I was gonna be called back.

I waited for the elevator, tapping my heel, trying not to chew on my bottom lip and get makeup on my teeth. The damn thing took a lifetime to get to that floor.

“Ah, Miss Day. Thought you’d have left already.”

I looked over my shoulder. The man in the grey suit jacket gave me a little smile. I smiled back at him. He adjusted a folder full of scattered papers under his arm. I could see my own little face in a black-and-white square, peering under a pink document. They hadn’t thrown away my application yet, which I guessed was a good sign.

“What are the odds this is my big break?” I asked the man, with a half-grin and a cock of the head, a little gesture I had practiced for another audition I had couple weeks ago.

The man chuckled. “You weren’t the worst we had today, don’t worry.”

I chuckled, too. With a little ding!, the elevator finally arrived, and we went in. I could see him still staring at me, out the corner of my eye.

“And you’re definitely not the worst-looking one we had today, either.”

“Thank you.”

His free hand slipped out the pocket of his pants. I glanced down at it, took a deep breath, and went back to facing straight ahead. Then I felt his hand close, too close –setting on the back of my waist –and going down, feeling me up.

My first thought, barely repressed before it became an impulse, was to pull out my switchblade and tell him to back the fuck off. I wasn’t really confident I had nailed this audition, so I didn’t have much to lose –that is, unless he decided to rat me off and make sure no other casting director in the city would even have me. I had heard from other girls, while retouching our makeup and waiting for our shift to start, who knew other actresses who had that happen to them. Maybe that was what made me stop myself before I could really give in to that first gut reaction.

But more than that I knew that, if I took the switchblade out my bag, I might not be satisfied with just giving him a scare. It was never enough. This was New York, for God’s sake, it wouldn’t be the first time someone threatened him with a knife. I might just be a bit too brash, too eager to go one step beyond, and sink the blade into his chest. Then, I might stab him a few times more, since I had already started. Maybe I’d stab him enough times that there would be no way for him to get out of that elevator alive, and maybe then he’d think again before groping a girl without her permission. Maybe I could kill him, and rid the world of another fucking asshole, and in the meantime also find a way to scratch that four-year-itch.

I did nothing. I just stood still, gritting my teeth, waiting till the elevator reached the ground floor. Once it did, I hurried to get out, with one hand grasping the handle of the switchblade inside my bag, the other digging my nails on my palm.

I lit a cigarette as soon as I got out onto the street. I knew I should have been proud of myself, for reigning it in, for being in control –but God, what I knew was different from what I felt, and I felt like shit, furious at myself, knowing I should have done something . If I was lucky, me not doing anything would end up with a further consideration for the role, which was, admittedly, a shit bit part I wouldn’t miss terribly if I didn’t get. Not that I had any real hopes the man in the grey suit jacket would think well enough of me to really pick me just based on me staying still while getting groped. If men were that easy, I would be swimming in tips from the clients at the Playhouse.

Duane, my manager, finally decided to show up, running his fingers through his stupid perm. Most of the time he just dropped me off and fucked off, but every once in a while he’d pretend to care and stay around for a bit longer. Of course, that was if the audition went by quick enough. Cesar had hired him to help make me a star, but I had the suspicion Duane either wasn’t paid enough to make more than the minimum effort, or that he was paid just enough for him to want to keep his job for as long as he could.

“Did you dazzle their socks off, princess?”

“There you are,” I said, turning around to face him. “How come there’s nothing yet?”

“It’s a tough market. Everyone wants to be the next big thing.”

“But it’s been a year already –and I only had two shitty background ad roles!”

“Well, let’s see what we’re working with, shall we?” he said, counting with his fingers. “You can’t sing, can’t dance, you can barely remember your lines, you have a bad disposition, you don’t play along—”

I had ‘played along’ just fine, back then in the elevator. But I knew that if I complained about it, Duane would just laugh and say I was being bitchy.

“Oh, so a ‘bad disposition’, huh?” I said instead. “This is the fourth audition I went to, just this week!”

“Well,” he sighed. “That’s just showbiz, baby.”

We walked a couple more blocks, towards where he had managed to park his Ford Pinto. After a couple steps he finally stopped right on his heels, and stopped me as well, pulling my arm. I huffed and yanked my arm away. Why couldn’t people just keep their damn hands to themselves?

“Alright. I’m gonna be brutally honest with you, more honest than I could ever be with Cesar,” he told me. “So brace yourself.”

I took another drag of my cigarette, looking away. Whatever it was, I knew it wasn’t gonna be good.

“Listen, Vicky—”

“Val—”

“Yeah, yeah, Val. I thought you’d be a bit sharper, smarter. Now,” He put his hands on my shoulders, and gave them a squeeze. “Do you really, really, really believe you have true untapped potential?”

“… Yes,” I said, closing my hands into fists, nodding furiously. “Yes, yes, of course I do.”

“Well, you’re living in dreamland,” he said, leaning forward. I could smell the tuna melt he had for lunch. “You gotta be realistic, keep your expectations reasonably low. Nobody here hires chicks like you. You don’t… You just don’t have it –that star quality.”

“I can reinvent myself,” I said quickly. “I can do anything I need to—”

“If there’s something that was made abundantly clear, princess, it’s that you don’t have the cunning nor the instinct,” Duane said in a weary tone. If he was tired of this old routine, he could imagine how I was feeling. “You got a pretty enough face, good enough to charm the boss. That might get you a bit part in some ABC sitcom.”

I scoffed.

“But come down from any fantasies you might have of a stage break. You’re not gonna get any casting calls of that type any time soon.”

“Isn’t that what Cesar pays you to do?” I exclaimed. “To get me something?”

“I’m not a damn miracle worker.”

Excuses, that was all Duane gave me, excuses and bit parts for roles that I just couldn’t get into, no matter how many times I read the lines to myself, no matter how much I practiced my smile and my tears in front of the little mirror at the shared bathroom. I should just tell Cesar to fire him and get me someone new.

“Besides –come on, Val. Look at you,” he insisted, gesturing at me. “Never the right brands… You look like ragged JCPenney on a good day. If it weren’t for the trashy, wrong-side-of-the-tracks look you manage to pull, nobody would give you the time of day.”

“ Trashy ?” I almost yelled. Worst thing was, I knew he was kinda right. And, normally, I wouldn’t even care. I liked how I dressed. Just because I didn’t look like he wanted me to…

If only I could wear the expensive clothes Cesar gifted me. But I couldn’t risk it. I had to protect their resale value.

“… God –Val!”

“I’m sorry…!” I mumbled, pulling myself away from him. “I’m sorry… I thought you might like that—”

“ Like that!?”

Cesar rolled off me and sat on the edge of his bed, examining his neck on the many mirrors surrounding us. I looked away, at my own reflection, and quieted my breathing. His place was always so quiet. Even up there, though, in his penthouse, overlooking the city, I could hear the sirens.

“Jesus…”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“Did your last boyfriend like to be bitten?” he asked, touching the barely-there dent left by my teeth with the tip of his fingers. “Or was that right now just you feeling adventurous?”

I looked down, running my hands over the slippery white sheets. I didn’t do much when I was with Heath; I barely had to do anything, really, besides stay more or less still under him while he did his business.

“It’s going to leave a bruise…”

Put off by my little love bite, he pulled off his condom and got up on his feet. I looked down at the sheets wrapped around my leg. We had been dating for a long while now, but sometimes old shames resurfaced. For starters, I didn’t know what a condom was until Cesar and I had sex for the second time and he brought it up. He was absolutely scandalized by this, even calling me a couple pretty nasty things. I just didn’t know what to say. Guess I was lucky I never caught anything with Heath, all things considered. Cesar was always very concerned with cleanliness.

“What on Earth has come over you, Val?” he asked quietly, with his back to me, as he hopped into his boxers.

I laid on my back, staring up at the dark ceiling. “Come on, it wasn’t that hard… I just thought I’d like to try something different for once.”

“I didn’t know you liked that…” He ran his hand through his hair, flattening it down. His mouth shifted as if he was tasting something nasty but couldn’t quite spit it out. “… That kind of stuff.”

I just smiled and shrugged. “If you met me more often, you’d know that.”

“My dear, you know I’m busy—”

“You always say that…!”

“I’m just swamped. My head’s full with work, meetings, phone calls… I’ve two meetings before lunch. And lunch, I got with three business partners.”

I sighed, and rolled on the bed till I was down on my chest, resting my chin on my hands. “What about dinner?”

“Dinner…” He considered it for a moment. “I promised my mother I’ll be having dinner with her.”

“You could introduce her to me,” I said brightly, lilting my voice, taking care not to slip back into my real tone. “I’d love to meet her.”

“I don’t think it’s the right time.”

“What, are you ashamed of me, or something?” I joked before I could stop myself. “You think she wouldn’t like me?”

He didn’t answer. I frowned.

“So… Does that really mean we won’t be having dinner together tonight, either?” I pouted, changing the subject. “You owe me big time, sweetface. You got to take me out soon, or else I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Cesar smiled and looked away. He just didn’t take me seriously. But he loved me, I was sure of it. He spoiled me, respected me, and, every once in a while, took me out for dinner and dancing. He made love to me. He knew everyone worth knowing in New York. He was nice. He was tall. He was clean. We looked good together. But he had to know that something was wrong, something was missing. He had to feel it. If he didn’t, then he was even more selfish than I had thought.

I climbed off the bed, and stumbled into the bathroom to fix myself a bath. Didn’t seem like we were gonna do much of anything that night anyway.

“… I talked to Duane yesterday,” Cesar said.

I almost didn’t hear him over the sound of the burbling water. I just kept turning my fingers under the stream, waiting till it warmed up.

“You’re not going to auditions anymore.”

“What?”

I whipped my head around to see him standing behind me by the open door.

“I said—”

“Yes, I heard you,” I said with a frown. “But what do you mean?”

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously, Val. I’m making a whole investment to get you what you asked for me, but you’re treating it like a silly whim. You know, I don’t think you actually want to put in the work, to be an actress… I think you just want attention.”

“I do take it seriously. It’s what I want to do with my life… It’s all I really want to do,” I said, as honestly as I could manage to sound. “I mean, I’m not planning to stay a waitress for the rest of my damn life!”

“It seems like that’s the way you’re headed, by the way things are going,” Cesar said. “Unless you actually make an effort, Val, you’re not going to get anywhere.”

I glared at him, waiting for him to tell me he was just joking. He just kept staring down at the now-full bathtub. As if he couldn’t bear to look at me.

With a sigh, I dove into the water. I dipped my head in for a moment, let it warm me up, and then I came out again, opening my mouth wide to take a deep breath, eyes still closed, and I ran my fingers through my hair, wondering if I looked good while doing so. Then I remembered I had a full face of makeup, and I hurried to wipe the probably dripping mascara off from under my eyes. I stared back at him, waiting to see my clownish look reflected in his face. Cesar just stared right back through me, with the same empty expression.

“… At least you’re honest,” I said, trying to joke again. “Even though it’s to the point of being hurtful.”

At least there was that. I had heard some horror stories from my coworkers at the Playhouse, stories about cheating boyfriends and shotgun marriages, all things I thought just happened to other people. And I tried so hard not to be jealous. But it was hard to, admittedly, when I was spending so much time away from my boyfriend, the busy businessman, the important, admired, popular man. It took a lot of practice, to trust him as much as I trusted him.

“Did you ever have any faith in me?”

He scoffed, looking away from me.

“You’re not willing to start from the bottom,” he replied. “Even though it would really do you some good to be humbled.”

“Maxine didn’t have to start from the bottom,” I argued.

“That’s because Maxine’s friends with a big producer.”

“And aren’t you friends with big producers?” I insisted. “Can’t they do you a favor?”

“I’m not going to waste all my favors with my friends to advance your career, Val,” he said, in that particular tone of voice he used when explaining stuff to me. At first it hadn’t annoyed me too much; he was older than me, and it figured that he knew some stuff I didn’t. As time passed, it became less of a cute quirk and more like demeaning bullshit. Like calling me ‘kid’. Like I was dumb or something. “You know, you can’t expect others to simply hand stuff down to you. You got to make something out for yourself.”

“The whole thing’s rigged, Cesar! I can’t possibly be the worst actress they’ve had,” I cried. “You seen what passes for acting on TV? The sort of actresses that get their big break?”

“Don’t blame others for your own inadequacy,” he said tiredly. “It is extremely immature.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

He didn’t answer me. Instead, he turned around and went back into the bedroom, and took a cigar from his dresser. I stared at him, waiting for him to offer me one. He didn’t. I huffed and picked a cigarette from a little silver box he had in the drawer of a phone table beside the tub.

“Well, I might just start showing more skin, then,” I shrugged, tapping the cigarette on the porcelain edge. “Bet that’ll help me get some good parts.”

Cesar snorted. “Yes, go ahead and sleep with a casting director, to make sure to seal the deal.”

I shot him a glare. “You pig,” I cried. “I’d never do that!”

“I thought you said you do take this seriously.”

“Well, I—"

I blinked, unsure of what he wanted me to say to that. Framed by the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom, his dark silhouette against the brass lamps, Cesar lit his cigar. He was just being dramatic. He had to know how important this was to me. Besides, I bet he would have loved for me to be just as glamorous as his friends. Why wouldn’t he want me to become big and famous? Wouldn’t he rather have a star for a girlfriend, instead of a nobody?

My cigarette dangled from between my fingers. He clicked the lighter back off, and blew a cloud of smoke. I closed my hand, swallowing a curse.

“Whatever. I don’t care what you think,” I shrugged as I reached for the smaller plastic lighter I had left there in the drawer during my last bath. “I’m gonna be a star. You know why?”

Still shadowed, Cesar glanced at me, evidently not very interested in what I was saying. I grit my teeth as I lit the cigarette myself.

“I can be anything I want,” I said, and took a drag, and for a moment there I really believed it. “And I have nothing left to lose.”

His lips twitched in a half-hearted smile. Bringing the cigar to his mouth, he came back to the bathroom, crouched down beside the inground tub, and he dipped his hand in. The warm water swirled around my ankles. I closed my eyes and sighed, leaning my head back, waiting for a kiss. When I opened them again, Cesar was standing up and leaving the bathroom. It seemed he just couldn’t make up his mind.

“Where are you going now?”

“I’m still thinking about this offer… I’m going to head out.”

“Now? But I’m still here…!”

Cesar glanced at me over his shoulder. “You can see yourself out.”

“Wait—!”

He stopped, turned back to face me, and sighed. I bit my lip. All this time I had been waiting for him to bring it up, but it seemed like he had forgotten, too. That, or he was just too distracted at the moment by that damn business offer to really focus on me.

“Our anniversary’s coming up,” I said gently. “In about a month or so. Remember?”

Cesar thought for a moment. “Yes… Yes, I remember.”

“So, I was thinking, we could do something fun together,” I continued, trying to smile. “We could have dinner, for example… Without your mother –obviously.”

He said nothing for a while, but gave me an actual smile. It was better than nothing. “... Yes, that would be nice.”

“Would you take care of it?”

“Take care of dinner? I always do—”

“I mean, make a reservation somewhere fancy… Somewhere fit for an anniversary,” I insisted. “Somewhere romantic.”

“A dinner reservation.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “For Saturday. You think you can make it?”

“Saturday night?”

“Yes, Cesar, yes,” I repeated, rolling the cigarette up and down my fingers. “Please, sweetface… You know how important this is to me. I’m feeling so lonely as of late.”

Finally, he looked at me with something close enough to shame. He had to remember how awful I had felt when he had forgotten about my birthday. I had made enough of a hassle for him to remember it the rest of his life.

“Alright,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I’ll see what I can do.”

I frowned. What did he even mean by that? He was Cesar Romero –co-owner of the Playhouse, one if not the most exclusive nightclub in Manhattan –one of the main investors of a chain of restaurants I didn’t remember the name of –close friends with all sorts of Broadway royalty. What couldn’t he do? Any eatery in town would be groveling for him to patronize them.

“Look, Cesar, darling, if you’re not gonna even try, then I’ll take care of it and just make the damn reservation,” I finally said. “So don’t complain later if the place’s not up to par to your particular tastes.”

He disappeared behind the doorframe. One of the mirror doors beside his bed squeaked as he slid it open.

“Are you listening to me?”

No answer. My blood was boiling. I was about to scream his name, but I thought of something else, something I had been wanting to ask him for a while now. And it would do me good to rip off the band-aid right then, before the wound festered.

“Are you seeing someone else?”

This finally called his attention. He came back to the bathroom, now wearing an apple-green shirt. “Someone else?”

“Yes. Like, are you fucking someone else?”

Cesar just stood still, and stared at me as if I had slapped him across the face.

“For God’s sake, you once said I can be direct and say what I want,” I cried. “So, are you seeing someone else or not?”

“Of course I’m not!”

“Alright,” I smiled, and chuckled out of sheer relief. “Then it’s alright.”

He didn’t laugh. “It is very reassuring to see just how much you trust me,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d be this insecure, Val.”

I was losing him. I reached for his hand. He stepped back. He didn’t even let me touch him.

“Come here,” I said, forcing a smile. “Soak up with me.”

“No.”

“Come on…”

“And ruin my shirt?”

“So what? You got more shirts.”

“No, Val—”

“The water’s so nice—”

“I said no!”

I recoiled. Not out of fear, but out of sheer surprise. Smoking my cigarette, sinking back til I was almost touching the water with my chin, I wondered if I might have been pushing it a bit too far. Being too annoying, too insistent. My coworkers said it was quite the turnoff.

Cesar sighed, and finally got closer, close enough for me to finally see him clearly beyond the bathroom haze. “All I want, darling, is to relax after a hard day’s work… And all you want is attention, and noise, and thrills, and—”

“I thought you liked that about me,” I pouted. “My… My liveliness, or whatever. I thought you said I made you feel alive.”

“I guess there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing.”

Yes, I knew that, I knew that very well. I could easily remember my mother telling me the same, when I wanted one more cookie before bed, when I wanted five more minutes of cartoons, when I wanted to stay a little longer soaking in the bathwater.

He leaned forward, stroked my cheek, and finally kissed the top of my head. I held his hand tight, keeping him close by for just a moment longer.

“You love me… Right?”

Cesar sighed. “I do. Of course I do. But this is exactly what I mean with you being so needy, Val.”

Having said that, he pulled away from me. He left the bathroom and disappeared once more in the dimness of the bedroom. I remained still, listening carefully. His footsteps went beyond, muffled on the carpeted floors, farther and farther through the hall and into the living room, where I finally lost them. I looked downwards, into the steaming water. From between my legs, a thin thread of blood floated up to the surface.

Fifth Avenue was always crowded, even during office hours. It was a hot, bright, sticky sunny day, and I wished I hadn’t spent my last dollar, so I could still have enough for an ice cream cone. The storefronts had their little awnings fully stretched, under which several people gathered to escape the scorching sunlight. I passed by walls covered in ads featuring the models and actresses I saw at work, Carole and Mimi and Leanne, posing seductively, dressed, if at all, in the latest fashions. If everything else failed, I might be able to become a model. I heard it has an easier entrance than acting –though I didn’t really believe it could be that rewarding. Standing still just to be photographed seemed rather boring; then again, people do really do anything for money.

After a few more blocks I reached the big expensive stores, the ones that always had very few customers. I had another bite of my pizza while I window-shopped, swaying from side to side, finding the perfect angle through which I could catch a good look at the goods on the other side of the glass, without the pesky reflection of the real world coming in between. There was one specific jewelry store I always liked to pass by, which had tiny displays, as if only daring to show a peek of what they could really offer. The diamond rings glittered like a mirror ball, like the sequin-covered dresses of the dancers that came with the night. I let out a deep sigh. I wondered what they felt like, once you slipped one in your finger. The ones I had always left me with ugly green stains.

Just a couple steps from it, perfectly aware of the mindset of those shopping for such things, there was a bridal store. Another one I spent probably too much time staring at and daydreaming of. I sucked the sauce and pizza grease off my fingers, gazing at the white-wrapped mannequins, arms outstretched, like they were about to be embraced by their grooms. There were only a few days before Cesar and I’s anniversary as a couple. He had forgotten my last birthday, which of course had really bothered me –but I was sure he would remember this one special date, the day and month in which we had first kissed, in which we had finally become a couple. We’d been dating steady for quite awhile now. And, beyond the weeks without so much as a little surprise in my locker, I was certain that he still loved me just as much as the first day. It was just that he was just a busy man, I told myself. Of course a rich successful man like him would be busy.

Out the corner of my eye, I saw a cop having turned around the corner, patrolling the street. He glanced back at me. I gave a couple steps, still with my eyes fixed on the bridal displays, so it didn’t seem like I was doing anything suspicious.

I knew that my mother had married pretty young, around the age I was right then. I would have given anything to marry like she did, I thought, to have my photo taken like she did, with her bright, never-to-be-seen-again smile, on the happiest day of her life. I wondered if Cesar had ever considered if, in the three years we had been together, we should get married. Maybe I could even invite my family: once they saw just what a good catch I had caught, they would be proud of me, happy for me. I was sure my mother would love him for me. And, of course, Cesar would cut a striking figure in a fancy tux, and he certainly had the money for a truly unforgettable reception.

Still annoyed by the stare of that cop, I chased a hopping pigeon and hurried to cross the street to the next store, and gazed at a display of elegant summer dresses, at the brightly-colored chiffon and silk, draped so beautifully over the shiny plastic of the mannequins. I thought of the silver dress Cesar had gifted me. Still no opportunity to wear it. Last time I had worn something as nice as those high-end gowns was when I had caved in, last Christmas, and I went along with him to the opera, the first and last time we had gone to a show together –and it went as well as it sounds. I had fallen asleep halfway through, and Cesar had been so mad at me.

I thought of all the bands I had the chance to see at the Bowery, those times the money I got from the resales would allow me a little extra cash by the end of the week. Along with the times I went to the movies, it was really there, among the crowd, where I felt the most free. Once, at one of these gigs, this singer ripped up a wedding dress on stage –and after my initial shock –it had felt like a revelation. It amazed me, how she looked like just another pretty face that would show up dangling from a suit’s arm at the Playhouse, but she still had this edge to her, a magnetism and an energy I couldn’t quite place. I wanted what she had. ‘ Star quality ’, I felt was a good way to put it. Duane said that you’re born with it or you’re not: that it was the difference between a protagonist and a side character. Me, I wasn’t so sure. All I knew is that it was the life I wanted. No waiting by the bleachers for life to happen to me –I’d take the bull by the horns, doing what I wanted to do, instead of what others wanted me to be. All I needed was that one chance.

It was a bummer that I went to these concerts on my own, though. I was so used to hanging around Heath and Jack, and now I felt so alone.

“Hey! You!” the cop shouted at me from the corner of the block, making me jump. “Yes, you! Stop loitering—!”

“I’m just hanging around!” I shouted back. “I’m not doing anything—!”

He started walking faster towards me. I gripped the switchblade handle inside my bag –but didn’t take it out –just ran off, trusting that he was just trying to shoo me away. Not the first time it happened to me, and probably not the last time, either. If the stores didn’t want people staring at their displays, they shouldn’t have made them so spellbindingly beautiful in the first place.

But I definitely needed to stop wasting time. Cesar and I’s anniversary would be coming soon, and I needed to start planning how we would celebrate the occasion.

The sky was already dark by the time I got back to the Broslin. I glared at the flickering red neon sign, as if that would magically fix it. That night I didn’t have my shift: they were doing some remodeling at the Playhouse, or something like that, so the clubbers of Manhattan would have to find somewhere else to go. Me, I didn’t have much choice.

“Mama’s back, girls,” I said, opening the door to my room.

Neatly set on top of the non-functioning radiator was my little doll collection, my few true friends and roommates: a Crissy doll, a Cher doll, a Rock Flower doll (without the record, obviously, since I didn’t have where to play it), a Pork’N’Beans doll, and a rather tatty Lazy Dazy. Five wasn’t half bad for a starting collection, even if none of them were particularly rare. What I wanted most was this gorgeous Samantha the Witch doll I had seen in an old Sears Christmas catalog, but I hadn’t had any luck yet, finding my holy grail. Still, I saved the cutout of the magazine on the wall next to my bed, keeping me hopeful.

I gave a deep sigh, sitting on the cot and unbuckling my shoes. Hope didn’t come easy. Twenty-two days had passed without seeing Cesar. One time he had answered my payphone calls, and promised me we would have dinner together that Friday night. Friday night came, and he wasn’t at his office, and his secretary told me he had an emergency to attend to. After that, radio silence. And I was getting sick and tired of having to worry both about seeming too detached and seeming too desperate. I hated that guilt –but I still had it, that feeling of guilt to want so much. To need so much. Boys never like that in a girlfriend, girls hate that in a friend.

Someone across the hall was playing music from a radio, loudly, loud enough for me to hear it as clearly as if it was playing in my own room. It was a common occurrence. Some months ago, I would have still tried to knock on the door and tell them to keep it down –but I knew better, now. Nothing would change if I complained. Not that I could really blame them. Personally, if someone complained to me, I’d probably turn the music even louder just to spite them.

Apart from the dolls I had a bunch of clothes thrown around, a few more or less folded, some hanging from a nail on the wall between the exposed wires. Most were all crumpled on the floor, my jean shorts and my band t-shirts and my two pairs of shoes and my five different belts. Along with them, some still bearing the marks of my shoe soles after accidentally stepping on them, was my collection of magazines, and a few sewing projects I had abandoned and knew I should finish but I never found the time to, and in a corner, a small pile of books I had picked up during my thrift shop trips. Little pulp romance novels, mostly, but also a Betty Crocker cookbook (the same edition that my mother would check with once in a while back at home), a dusty bible to press flowers in, and three or four cheap paperback spellbooks I consulted with every week or so.

I had attempted to cast almost all the love spells I had found in them –except for one. The latest purchase had a chant I hadn’t tried yet, so I decided it wouldn’t hurt to try. From inside my bag I took out my compact mirror, and from inside the compact I took out a little braid I had made, out of hair secretly plucked from Cesar’s hairbrush in the bathroom of his penthouse. He’d be so weirded out if he found out about it. I was aware of it. Still, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Among a whole bunch of junk that had piled up from under my bed, I found what was left of a red candle I kept for my little spells. It had been so worn down there was only a couple inches for me to light up, to get a few seconds before the wick drowned in the melted wax. I needed to work quick. I opened the spellbook and went to the page I had dogeared. Once I read it to myself a couple times, like practicing the lines for an audition, getting the rhythm and the words just right, I finally lit the candle with my cigarette lighter, and could begin.

“ Let Cesar yearn for me, desire me. Let this love come forth from the spirit and enter him, ” I chanted, eyes tightly shut, and brought the braid of hair closer to the flame –until it caught on fire, and slowly burned through. “ Let him love me as he has loved nothing before. I love him, want him, and he must feel the same for me… Let him burn with love for me. ”

I repeated the chant two more times, until the braid had completely burned out and I was left with just a bunch of ashes on the tip of my fingers. Once that was done, I kept quiet, still, waiting. I don’t know why I always expected something to happen immediately –something I could notice, some shift in the universe.

Instead, I got nothing, not even a prickly feeling in my thumbs or a tingling down my spine. I huffed and threw myself on the lumpy mattress. I knew I should have lit the candle with an actual match, rather than my lighter.

Nights were for sleeping, or so my mother used to tell me. Not for me. Nights were for staying up and reorganizing your closet, or brushing your dolls’ hair, or brushing your own hair, or plucking little ingrown hairs in your eyebrows till you had to throw the tweezers out the window so you didn’t end up without any eyebrows at all. Usually, last year or so, I kept myself nice and still by fantasizing about the interviews I’d give, once I became a famous actress, the characters I’d play, the stunning gowns I’d wear for photographs. But lately those fantasies had been less and less defined. They all came with the little caveat of feeling like I was lying to myself, and not even in the fun way anymore.

I rolled off my side to lay flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling. A big fat black spider crawled across it, over the growing crack that spread around the dangling lightbulb over my head. It was a warm summer night, and the world was awake and sweaty and restless. The arguing couple next door was arguing even louder. I rubbed my eyelids. Laying there on the bed, with a wall in between, they sounded just like my mom and dad. I wondered if, without me in the picture, they had managed to make up.

The yelling was joined by the usual breathing and moaning from the other room next to mine, the one belonging to the whore who worked night hours, just like me. Luck would have it that I was home to enjoy her and her client’s little concert. I groaned, covering my face with the pillow. And apart of the noise they made, and the arguing couple in the other building, with my ear now too tuned to the racket to be able to ignore it, I could also hear the crying of a baby somewhere in the neighborhood, and some drunkard shouting curses on the street, and the sirens in the distance, the sirens that never left…

I needed something to keep my mind off of it, or I would go mad.

I closed my eyes and, between all the noise, managed to focus on the panting. He was much louder than Cesar ever was, but it was good enough. I didn’t need much, really. With one hand I unbuttoned my skirt, with the other I fondled my chest under my t-shirt. I thought about his soft hands, his soft lips, his soft hair. But Cesar never did it like I did. I shut my eyes a bit tighter, hurrying a bit, now hearing a hand banging the other side of the wall behind my head. I didn’t give a shit about how he did it, what mattered was that it was done. I brought my knees closer, took in a deep breath, and shoved a couple fingers in. A little too soon. I had to focus, dammit. Otherwise, I would just end up frustrated and with nothing but dirty hands and bruises on the inside of my thighs.

“Come on...” 

I wished I had a mirror to see myself with, to know whether I looked needy and desperate or if I managed to still look good, barely opening my mouth, arching my back, sprawled all over the dirty little bed. I wondered if Cesar would have liked to watch me like this.

My mind began to shift away from Cesar and his white silk sheets, to travel back to the hall, echoing with the radio music. The broken pipe that the hotel never fixed. I could feel the rusty metal of the pipe scratching the palm of my hand, its weight tensing my arm –and I would kick down the door of the whore’s room –and impale the two of them, nailing them to the bed. They’d let out a quick scream –and then, they’d finally shut up for good. I’d make my way to the room of the guy with the radio, and I’d grab it and bash him with it over and over, till it cracked his head open like an egg, his shriveled rotting brain spilling out like runny yolk. And then, I’d return to my room, pick up my shoe, open my window and smash the flickering hotel sign enough times to fully break it, and it would fall onto the screeching drunkard on the street with a loud crash and squash him flat in a beautiful burst of sparks—

I opened my mouth and gasped. It was a little orgasm, nothing Earth-shattering, nothing to write home about. But it was something. It was better than nothing.

I raised my chin, puckering my lips, checking my lipstick was even. There were a couple little lumps under the layer of blush on my cheeks –a mole near my mouth and a few old pimple scars, mostly, that one could only notice if one was looking for them, I hoped. I turned my face to the side, examining my profile, the slope of my nose, my chin. I had cheekbones, but nowhere near as dramatic or impressive as Cesar’s, or as Sally’s. I quickly rubbed and wiped the blush off my cheeks with a tissue, to reapply it a little higher, to at least make up an illusion. Behind me, the other goody girls in the changing room were chatting among themselves, talking about their weekend plans, the last movie release, how their families were doing. I glanced at them through the mirror. Laurie was leafing through a Cosmo, Suzy was brushing out her hair, Nancy was adding some glitter to her eyelids, and Sally hadn’t arrived yet.

“Who’s finishing their shift early tonight?” Judy asked. “Please someone spare me from having to walk back home alone.”

“You heard about Son of Sam’s latest letter, too?”

“Can’t believe he’s still out ‘n about, and that the cops aren’t doing anything useful ‘bout it...”

“Me and all my girlfriends, we give each other a call, soon as we get back home, just so we know we’ve not kicked the bucket yet.”

“Grisly stuff...”

“Has a thing for brunettes, that psycho, or so I’ve read.”

“Good thing I’m a blonde, then!”

I chuckled and agreed in silence before looking back at myself in the mirror. If I lowered my chin and looked up, my eyes seemed bigger, and my cheeks didn’t appear as chubby. I pressed my lips together. Maybe I had gone a bit too far, maybe I looked a bit garish. It almost looked like back when I was a kid, in front of the bathroom mirror, when makeup was still this wild, exciting grown-up thing to explore and master.

‘Back when I was a kid’. As I was that old already.

“Hey, you’re a Cancer, right, Val?” Laurie asked me.

“No—”

“Oh, right –Scorpio…”

“No, I’m a Sagittarius!”

“Oh,” she said, and shot me a glance. “… Wouldn’t have guessed.”

I huffed, leaning back on my chair and adjusting the uniform’s halter top, making sure my tits looked good. Sally had told me that I should buy myself a push-up bra: they usually went a long way to get extra tips. “So? What does the future have in store for me?”

“ ‘Positive planets will shower you with blessings this week. You’ll be able to make difficult decisions that will pay off in the long run,’ ” she read out loud. “ ‘However, your planets will be negative during the last few days of the week. You’ll become disengaged from your responsibilities. You won ‘ t be able to appreciate your work either. The good news is that powerful forces are working behind the scenes to help you achieve great accomplishments.’ ”

“What does that mean?”

“It means everything that goes up must come back down again.”

“You don’t need a cheap magazine to tell me that,” Suzy said, brushing her hair.

Laurie went on reading the Cancer horoscope. I kept pulling at my own hair, wondering what it would take for it to look better, less shaggy, a little more put-together. I knew someone in there had a pair of scissors. I was so fed up with my look, I thought I might just start chopping.

“What would be a good anniversary gift?” I asked out loud. It was ugly to realize that I didn’t know Cesar well enough to know what he’d like.

Among other options I was considering, I thought of doing a reworking of that one time I had tried to shoplift lingerie from the mall, back at Hackensack, for Heath. This time I’d actually pay for it. That would be a nice enough gift –me, doing my best to put a smile on his face, looking prettier than ever. Still, as much as I would like for him to show me off, it felt appropriate to also get him something that could be actually useful.

“Do guys like wristwatches?” I insisted, even louder, trying to call the other good girls’ attention. “I know where I could get him one. Or maybe one of those beautiful Italian leather shoes I’ve seen on the stores by Madison Avenue, instead. Or a shaving mirror…”

I’ve been curious to know what he looked like without that silly mustache of his for a few months now. A couple times, while he slept next to me, I fantasized about picking a razor from the bathroom and shaving it off. Not that I would ever do it, of course. But it was fun to imagine, especially during that weird in-between time, in which I wanted so badly to stay beside him but I couldn’t sleep and was just lying next to him, staring at him, memorizing every little detail of his handsome face, bored out of my mind.

“He probably has all the wristwatches he could ever want,” I huffed, turning back to my own reflection. “And all the Italian shoes, and all the shaving mirrors—”

“Oh my God –Jerry Hall’s leaving Bryan Ferry for Mick Jagger!” Laurie shouted, waving the magazine around.

They all gasped and flocked around her, trying to catch a peek of the news. I kept grumbling under my breath. They were all just jealous of me. They all saw the gifts that showed up in my locker, they all knew who the ‘C’ that neatly signed the cards was. They all wished they were dating someone as sophisticated and chivalrous as my Cesar.

“What size did you say those shoes were?” Colin asked me at the bar. “’Cause I got this friend who’d be interested in buying them from you.”

“I’m actually thinking about keeping them,” I told him, running my thumb over the edge of the glass. “At least, for the time being.”

Colin shot Jamie an impressed little glance, doing a funny grimace. “And here I was, thinking you’d want to get rid of all those things as soon as humanly possible… All those heavy, voluminous, annoying luxury trifles—”

“Where do you even keep your treasure trove, little mermaid?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I smiled with a quirk of my eyebrows.

Just on the edge of the dance floor I could see Jess, my bitch of a boss, smoking a cigarette, watching over the rest of the goody girls. I needed to get back to work –but I was still unsure whether or not to get the deal done with those silver stilettos Cesar had gifted me, or if to wait for a better offer. Whatever money I got with that deal, I thought, I could spend on an actually nice, expensive gift for him. Something he’d truly love.

“I was, um… I was thinking,” I began saying. “You know, because our anniversary’s coming up—”

“Our anniversary?” Jamie gasped, opening his eyes wide and gripping my hand. “So soon already? My goodness, how time flies…”

I chuckled. “Mine and Cesar ’s anniversary, you silly…  It’s coming this Saturday, and I need to know what I should get him... ‘Cause I want it to be special. Something he doesn’t have yet, something only I could give him. I want him to see just how much he means to me.”

“Doesn’t he know you’re half broke?”

“He’s the man, Val –he’s not only the man, he’s ‘the’ man… Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

“I bet he’s got a lovely surprise planned for you…” Ernie said.

“I mean, he... He forgot about my birthday last year,” I said with a little nervous laugh. “So… Maybe, if I don’t take care of it… He won’t, either.”

“What is it you expect from him?” Colin asked me, resting a hand on his golden-clad hips. “A marriage proposal?”

“That wouldn’t be half bad,” I admitted. “But… I don’t know what I’m expecting. I just want us to spend some nice time together—”

“Is he that good in bed?”

The three of them got snickering and giggling like schoolkids. I rolled my eyes and elbowed Ernie, the one standing closest to me. “I’m being serious. This isn’t just about sex.”

“Of course not. It’s about cold hard cash, too.”

“A side of sex’s not bad, though—”

 “One for the other, and with a surprisingly generous man—”

“Lot of girls would kill to be in your tiny shoes,” Colin said, glancing at the other goody girls in the crowd, their grinning faces as they deployed the whole set of fake laughs and praises to earn their tips. “If I were in yours, I’d just be thankful.”

“And you’re so lucky… Imagine getting so many beautiful things from your lover,” Ernie smiled. “You must really be his top girl, Val.”

“Truly, you got him eating out the palm of your hand, darling,” Colin said, letting out a deep sigh. “I simply wish I had that level of success with my own daddies.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, please –you don’t gotta play coy, Miss Val,” Jamie said with a sly grin of his own. “Nobody’s fooling anyone here.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I cried. Slowly, the realization hit me. “Jesus, you guys and your dirty thoughts. I’m not a gold-digger.”

“Right. And you just didn’t know that the guy was loaded.”

“He walked right into your trap, there’s no shame in admitting you ensnared him fair and square.”

“But… I haven’t ‘ensnared’ him, or whatever,” I quickly said. “I’m just his girlfriend. It doesn’t mean anything, that he’s got his money. I would’ve liked him anyways.”

Colin burst out laughing, followed immediately by Jamie, and then Ernie laughed a bit too, though he didn’t seem to really know what he was laughing about. “Sure, Val, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

I scoffed at him. Of course I would have liked him anyways. Just because the first thing I noticed about him was how glamorous he was, and that our first date was in his big expensive car, didn’t mean that I was with him for the economic perks. Just because I resold most if not all of the gifts he gave me for some extra pocket change didn’t mean that it was the only reason I hung around. After all, I loved him. And he loved me, too. Who cared if we barely did anything together anymore, besides dancing and fucking. Who cared what others thought when they saw me coming out of the backseat of his car. Who cared what the other goody girls thought when they noticed the white roses and the wrapped presents he left in my locker at the changing room for me. Cesar loved me. And I was not a whore.

“Fuck you all. You don’t know me—”

“We know enough, Val.”

“Yes… You’re like a little slut who doesn’t know yet she’s one.”

I elbowed him, harder than I had ever elbowed Bri, hard enough to actually hurt. Problem is, Jamie was much stronger than me. He just laughed as if he had been tickled.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that—!”

“Shut up!” I yelled. “Shut the fuck up!”

Ernie was the only one who stopped laughing, suddenly startled, to stare at me with eyes wide open in dumb surprise. As if it was a surprise that I didn’t like being called a slut. We were nowhere near close enough for any of them to call me whatever shit they wanted –especially not something I knew Cesar would get the wrong idea from, if he ever found out.

“Aw, donʼ make that face, Val,” Ernie said, pulling a strand of hair off my face. “You know they’re just joking…”

“I just worry… He might not love me anymore,” I said, about to pinch the bridge of my nose before remembering just how long it had taken me to get my eyeshadow looking right. “It’s stupid, I know, but… I feel I’m doing everything here, all the damn effort, and he—”

“All the effort?” Colin laughed. “Baby, all you gotta do is look pretty. You picked the wrong line of work.”

“Shush, Colin. Val, is there something wrong? Did something happen?”

I smiled at Ernie, the only good-natured one of the bunch. At least he tried to care for me.

“No, nothing really happened… It’s just a feeling I get. But I don’t know, I might be imagining things.” I was about to down my rum and coke, but thought it over. “He really must be just tired, and busy… I’m just being too desperate.”

“What do you care, how you come across?” Jamie asked me with a frown. “You’re living it up with the boss, least you could do is have some fun with it. And if he doesn’t like that, well, the king can get himself another courtesan.”

“Exactly. Just enjoy it while it lasts.”

“You just don’t get it,” I huffed, turning the glass in my hand. “It’s not like that… I really, really love him.”

“She what?”

“She said she loves him.”

“She what ?”

“I do love him. And…” I hesitated. “… He cares for me. Isn’t that the same as love?”

Colin scoffed, plucking a bag of ludes from my tray when he thought I wasn’t looking, or at least that I wouldn’t necessarily complain. I knew what they were thinking. I was just being pathetic, moaning over my long-term boyfriend, who gave me everything, who still thought of me enough to want to give me the world.

“I’m just… I’m tired of waiting for him to prove it to me. Really prove it, I mean,” I thought out loud. “So far, I feel like I’m… Yes, I guess –that I’m really just his… His mistress.”

‘Mistress’ sounded better than ‘personal whore’, but not by much. It still sounded like there was no affection there at all. And I knew that there had to be something else between us, something real, beyond an occasional fuck. You just don’t stay for so long with someone who only wants you in bed. He and I, we had a connection. That was the only way to explain it, back there on the dance floor, when we first realized that we had something going on.

“Cesar must have been right,” I finally said. “I might just be too damn insecure.”

“Here, baby,” Ernie said sympathetically, selecting a cellophane bag from my tray. “Looks like you need it.”

I shot him a look, but he was right. My mood swings had gotten worse than usual, and I didn’t have much of a choice if I wanted to stay sane. Dumping some on the back of my hand, I pushed it into a little pile with my nail, and snorted it down. Then I closed the cellophane bag again. After all, I needed to make some sales.

“Thanks, sweetface,” I said with a sigh, gesturing to the bar for another drink.

There are only two things wrong with blow: the bitterness and the comedown. The comedown can’t be helped. The bitterness can be softened with something with more of a sugary kick, most of the time. Never with alcohol –which only makes it worse: not just the taste, but the comedown’s even more awful if you’re also stone-cold drunk. It could keep me in a wonderful high for an hour or so, but it also messed me up to a point I was so wound up each time I got more than a minimum dose, I got sort of afraid of what I would do. Sometimes, it’s like I can only feel one emotion at a time.

It was not the best quality, but it was still better than the alternative of an aspirin and a tequila shot. Once the dripping bitter flavor was fully washed away with a whole glass of bubbly iced soda, I stayed by the bar and waited, watching the dance floor, for it to kick in. Sure enough, after a few seconds I got the tingly warm feeling in my arms and legs, announcing the high was coming. My face soon was warm too, slightly blushed, and I could feel myself glowing. I giggled, covering my mouth with my hand, and told myself to just enjoy it and don’t think about it too much.

Not that I had much choice, really. The euphoria was irresistible, and it had a special magical pull on my cheeks to force a big grin on my face. Suddenly I was happy, pure and simple, and it didn’t take long for me to start talking to a few clients, laughing and joking with them, as I turned friendlier, flirtier, easier to talk to, the employee of the goddamn month –I looked around, checking if someone else needed my service –to buy something from my little tray –and for a while I was hypnotized by the sheer beauty around me –as if it was the first time I saw it –as everyone looked better than ever, the men and women were jaw-droppingly gorgeous, sweat sparkling on slick skin like rhinestones, glamour-shot by flickers of purple and green light, dancing with slithering, smooth moves, and I closed my eyes, swaying along, because even the music sounded better, louder, clearer, and I danced, too, modestly at first, before really letting loose, and the walls flashed blinding red like a warning, and the women parted their lips in sighs and moans, as they raised their arms to the sky as if chanting incantations, and the men were like ghosts, all shadowed eyes and big gaping mouths and nothing to tell them apart under the bright blue light, and we all glowed, we all almost floated off the smoke on the floor, like walking on clouds, and I felt a necklace of sweat setting on my collarbone, my head becoming warmer, and by then I wasn’t even selling anything anymore I was just enjoying myself and trying my best not to think about him and I shook my head and bumped into the other dancers and someone told me something I didn’t hear, I just kept dancing, and the red lights pierced my eyes and the blue shadows kept surrounding me and moving closer and closer and I felt their skin against mine and I got the first twinge of panic that I tried to shake off but barely managed to, and the swirling sweet and bitter taste that was still nested in the bottom of my throat began bubbling up again in a ball of bile and I turned my head back to force it back down and someone shoved me and a wave of vertigo hit me like an incoming train and the dizziness didn’t get better after a couple minutes because it just turned worse and my racing pulse had become almost like a buzzing in my ears and I couldn’t find my way back to the bar for another coke and I kept on stumbling on other people and failing to grab onto their silky clothes and I got deathly afraid I would fall to the blinking dancefloor and with that I’d be tramped and ground into dust, I could feel my heart in my head and not in the good way, not anymore, and the eyes of the blue shadows turned to glance at me, and then they became stares, and then I was choking a scream, and the music kept blasting and the lights kept flashing in a way that was almost comforting despite everything and I managed to push my way out the dance floor and to the changing room, where I collapsed on a chair and grabbed my throbbing head and wished I had a joint or a rum and coke to wind down a bit.

“Val?” a familiar voice softly called out. “You okay?”

Sally approached me, her short hair dusted with sparkles, her tan skin shifting shades as she got away from the door and closer to the lightbulbs of the changing room mirrors.

“Yeah, I just…” I chuckled, patting the table in search of a forgotten cigarette. “It hit me a bit harder than usual, is all.”

She nodded, with a little smile on the edge of her glossy lips. It was rude to stare, but I couldn’t help myself. I sold goods to a bunch of actresses and models on the regular, but none were half as beautiful as Sally, for my two cents.

“… I heard you’ve got an anniversary coming up.”

“Yes!” I nodded, happy to know that at least someone had actually listened to me. “Yes, this Saturday night… I’ve already made the reservation for our dinner. And I think I know what I’m gonna get for his present, but…”

Sally blinked, lowering her head towards me, gently urging me to go on.

“… I’m… I don’t know if he’s even… I’m just a bit worried, you know?” I muttered, wringing my hands. “’Cause I think that he still loves me, but… But he doesn’t…”

How could I even say it, that he didn’t show it to me anymore? I was probably sounding like a whiny baby. I looked up at her, thinking about that nerdy four-eyed boyfriend of his she had so excitedly introduced us to. Despite his looks, she always had nice things to say about him. She was lucky. She seemed perfectly happy with him.

“I’m sure he does. You two have been together for a while, right?”

I nodded, squeezing my hands between my knees. I still felt my heart racing in my ears, but at least the world wasn’t spinning around me anymore.

“And he’s… He’s like the owner, or something, of this whole place, right?”

I nodded again.

“Maybe he’s just worried that you’re only in for the money… I mean, you’re his employee, in a kind of way—”

“But it’s not like that at all—”

“I know, Val, I know… But does he know?” she asked me. “I think that’s what’s important.”

Cesar had to know. I always told him how much I wanted to see him, how much I loved him, how important he was to me. If I only wanted gifts from him, I wouldn’t be so insistent. Yes, he had to know. But, in any case, it was something that he might need to be reminded of, every once in a while.

Sally patted my hair, which was probably a mess after all that wild dancing I had been doing. “You know what lifts my spirits, when I’m feelin’ down?”

“A bucket of uppers?”

She laughed. Sally had a cute, girlish laugh, sweet enough to be charming, not quite high enough to be annoying. It was difficult to imagine someone like her ever feeling down.

“I like to spend a day at the beauty parlor. You know, have my nails done, my hair washed, the full works,” she said with a wink. “It’s really nice to be pampered every once in a while.”

She fished a little piece of paper from the table, and made a gesture for me to turn around. I did so. She pressed the paper on my sweaty back, found a pencil somewhere, and wrote an address on the back of it, digging the tip so it would leave a mark. I felt it sticking like a rub-on tattoo.

“My friend works here, it’s the best you could ever find in Manhattan. Tell ‘em I sent you. They’ll make sure you’re treated right.”

She handed me the little paper, and asked me if I could read her handwriting all right. I laughed, and, surprising even myself, I gave her a tight hug and a thrilled thank-you.

I arrived a bit earlier than usual to my shift at the Playhouse the next day, making my way to Cesar’s office. There I met up with his secretary, and asked her about his favorite restaurants, the sort of place she knew he would love. After some cajoling, she finally told me that my best option to win him over was to get us a reservation to Hulanicki, an exclusive place he only went with very close friends and the people he liked to impress. Sounded just about perfect. Heading back down to the changing room, I got Jess to allow me to make a social call, and I booked us two a table. And, when that was done with, I even took the time to go back upstairs to his office, and make sure that his secretary would write down and remind him of the date, place and time for the dinner reservation. There, I thought, it wasn’t half bad. Cesar had no excuse for not being able to make an effort and take a minute and do this sort of thing himself.

Next up, the gift. After much thought I had decided I would get him a cigar cutter: the one he had in his office had lost its edge, and I liked the idea of getting him something that he would use so frequently. I smiled to myself, gazing at the display of options at the counter of the shop around the corner, thinking about Cesar thinking about me before having a smoke. The little cigar cutter box was giftwrapped in silver plastic, I paid a little extra for a red bow to be tied around it, and once that was all done with, I shoved it in my bag.

Having taken care of that, I kept in mind that, once I got out the beauty parlor, I would have to pick up my shift at the Playhouse before I got to our reservation at the Hulanicki. I would dress up for once. I picked the only sundress I had, light and pretty, white and polka-dotted, which I had worn for a couple auditions where I had wanted to play the ingenue. It was cheaper than my boyfriend’s gifts, but it was a nice middle ground between what I liked and what he wanted to see me in.

And, of course, since I was confident there would be plenty of time to spend together after dinner, underneath the white polka-dot dress I wore the best lingerie I owned. Black lace push-up bra, stockings, garters –the whole shebang.

I had never been to a beauty parlor before –that was, as a customer. I had tried for jobs there a couple times, unsuccessfully. My mother would pay the place a visit once or twice a year, on her own, for the occasional primping and preening for a wedding or funeral. Most of the time she did her own hair and nails; I learned a good deal of what I knew from watching her. When I attended Heath’s home parties I learned a lot about makeup with the other girls who taught me. Stuff like hair, though, was my mother’s specialty. It couldn’t possibly be easy to turn deep black into bright even red with the same consistency she did.

“What’re you having, sweetheart?” one of the women there, with dark, sleek, straight hair asked me once I stepped in.

“The full works,” I said, following her to a chair. “Hair, nails, makeup…”

“Ooh, you got a special event coming up?”

“A special dinner, tonight,” I grinned. “And I need to look my best.”

The woman nodded and smiled, gestured to the chair for me to sit, and laid a black cape over my shoulders and chest. Once my hands were covered too, I dug my nails on the armrests of the chair, and hoped they wouldn’t notice. I still remembered when I had first tried to bleach my hair, how, even with a botched bathroom job, I still ended up looking like someone else completely. I could only try and dare to imagine how I’d end up looking once I left the place.

First off, they washed my hair: they got all the grime and grease out, shampooed and conditioned it, blow-dried it and brushed it thoroughly. Once it was nice and shiny, it was time for bleaching, to even out the color and retouch my roots. My head was soon covered in aluminum sheets. I giggled at my reflection, looking like a satellite. While the chemicals did their job, the stylist handed me a bunch of magazines and asked me what style I had in mind. Originally I’d just thought of going back to my choppy, uneven cut. It was easy to care for, and I liked the tough look it gave me, a real don’t-fuck-with-me kinda style. But, after leafing through the photos of models, I decided to take a chance and try something more romantic –soft curls, nice and voluminous, barely touching my shoulders. It was viable, since my hair had gotten rather long after such a while without a trim.

“—So he told me that I was being insecure. But I don’t know,” I finished saying with a shrug. “I think it was a logical thing to think… When there’s these long stretches of time between each chance we get to meet, when he’s never around for me to meet up with him, what else am I supposed to think?”

They all nodded, the stylists and their clients. The sun was already setting, filling the salon with a soft yellow light. I glanced at the clock in the wall: I still had a few hours left before the reservation at the Hulanicki.

“But what do you think?” a woman with feathered hair asked me. “Do you really think you’re being insecure, or dramatic, or whatever?”

“I… I think I might be, but… I don’t know. I’m just nervous that, whatever I’m doing, he’s gonna be annoyed by it. Or worse, ashamed of me—”

“Is he really ashamed of you?”

“Well, we don’t spend enough time out together for him to really show it—”

“But when you two are together, do you feel that he’s, y’know, ashamed of having you around?”

I opened my mouth to reply, before I realized I didn’t quite know the answer to that question. Of course, I didn’t want to believe that he was. But it wasn’t a matter of belief. I knew I couldn’t lie to myself about something like that. So I focused, staring at my reflection in the mirror, and went over the memory of his dark brown eyes, and of each time he had looked at me without a smile.

“He… He is,” I finally mumbled, as if finally knowing hadn’t hit me that hard. “I think.”

“And are you ashamed of yourself?”

“No. Yes. I think—”

“It’s not what you think, honey, it’s what you feel,” she said. “What do you feel?”

Shame was not the word… When he glanced at me over my shoulder when I suggested going out, I was angry. When he stared at me across the bedroom while I changed back into my clothes, I was angry. When he glared at me while complaining about my lack of manners, I was angry. By that point I was just really good at keeping my mouth shut, looking down, biting my tongue. Because I knew that, if I said something, then we would fight –and then that would mean I would say something he’d be really ashamed of, and wish he hadn’t picked me up that winter night. Cesar could feel however he wanted. I wouldn’t be ashamed of who I was and what I liked.

“I feel angry .”

“Good. Worst thing you can do in a relationship is to feel like your man’s too good for you.”

“Preach,” the woman with the straight hair sighed, gesturing up to the ceiling, and the other woman nodded along.

“Whatever you do, darling, do it with gusto. Never be ashamed,” the other one said, running the side of the scissor blade through the hair. “If someone tries to get you to do something you’d be ashamed of, either get proud real quick, or get going. Never give ‘em an inch.”

“Exactly,” the straight-haired woman nodded. “Shamelessness’ the way to go. It’s not something you can fake.”

“Most importantly,” she continued. “Never be ashamed of who you are.”

“Funny,” I chuckled. “My father once told me shame was our conscience telling us to rethink our actions.”

She laughed out loud, twirling her silver scissors, making them gleam. “Was your father a Christian, by any chance?”

“Catholic.”

“Figures,” she sighed. “Talk about shame. People who cream themselves at the sight of a bleeding, naked bound man—”

Another one of the women gave her a dismayed slap on the shoulder. I giggled, glad to have finally found someone who I could really talk to, even if I was supposed to pay them at the end and they weren’t really my friends.

While the dye did its job, they plucked my eyebrows and worked my nails. They wiped away the chipped red polish, cleaned and snipped the edges, pushed back my cuticles, filed them till they were all perfectly almond-shaped, and lathered my fingers with cold cream. After some doubts, I chose black nail polish, along with dark lipstick and smokey eyeshadow. A bit of darkness would make the silver dress look even brighter.

One of the women smiled, proud of her work, once she finished with my makeup. She gave me a piece of paper to press between my lips and wipe the excess off, pushed away my curls off my face, and turned me around in the chair. When I looked back at my reflection, it was as if looking at a real movie star.

“You’ve worked a miracle,” I said breathlessly.

“Don’t sell yourself so short,” the woman with the feathered hair laughed. “We can only work with what we have.”

“Thank you so, so, so much,” I told her, holding her hands and giving them a tight squeeze.

“Don’t ruin the manicure, now,” she said with a smile. “Go and have a good one, sweetheart.”

Back at the almost-empty Playhouse, I took out my little treasure trove from the roof of the bathroom stall and examined my options. There were all sorts of pretty jewelry, but if I was gonna go to this high-class, elegant sort of joint, I needed something that would make me fit in. Going with the silver, I chose a long, heavy silver chain necklace, with matching earrings. I almost chose one covered in rhinestones, before realizing that maybe that sort of thing could be seen as too gaudy. Not that I ever cared much about being seen as gaudy, but since I was going to go out with Cesar, I wanted to look like the sort of girl he could respect. No shame, just pride. I promised myself I wouldn’t even give him a chance to be ashamed of me anymore. From then on, not only would he think I was the most beautiful girl in the world: when he thought of me, the first image that would come to mind was of me in that silver dress, with the platinum curls and the dark lips, glowing like an old-timey movie starlet. Looking like we were meant for the other.

Gripping the accessories and the dress in my fists, I slinked back into the changing room. Nobody else had arrived yet. I hadn’t tried the dress on yet. At first glance, I trusted it would fit me nicely: I had been very wrong. It had a train that, while it moved beautifully when I walked, dragged too much behind me. It hung loose on the shoulders and the arms, but even with the pleats it was far too tight on my chest.

The door flung open. I jumped with a gasp. It was only Sally, thankfully, who had come early for once. When she saw me, she smiled, and I almost expected her to laugh –but she just raised her eyebrows at me, glancing up and down, probably admiring Cesar’s glittering gifts.

“Just be honest with me,” I sighed. “How bad is it?”

“I think this dress just doesn’t go with a bra,” she chuckled, leaving her handbag on her vanity. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, kind of,” I admitted, pushing my shoulders back, the fabric barely giving in.

“Here, let me help.”

Sally got off the vanity and walked behind me. For a moment I thought she’d try to fit the pleats of the dress a bit better, or maybe pull out a little sewing kit and tighten the shoulders, at least to make them droop less. To my surprise, I felt the tip of her fingers on my back. I held my breath. She unhooked my bra, and carefully slipped the ends of the fastening under the fabric, fiddling under the dress, sending a shiver up my spine, making my skin crawl with the sudden contact. I quickly threw my shoulders forward, picking the straps and pulling the bra off from under my arms. Sally brushed my curls off my shoulders. I was still holding my breath. Even more ridiculous, I was actually blushing. What on Earth’s wrong with me? , I thought.

“Let’s see, now…”

She moved back in front of me and turned me in front of the mirror. I kept staring at her for a minute longer, before remembering this was all for my anniversary look. My cleavage did look better now without the black bra peeking through. I pulled the hems of the neckline, adjusting it, asking myself whether I felt more comfortable than before or not. I really couldn’t tell. Even if it seemed nicer to look at, the shoulders still drooped limply, unless I pushed them back and kept them tense and stiff for the rest of the night –which I couldn’t really see myself doing.

“It just doesn’t fit right…” I insisted, pressing my shiny black nail against the little mole the makeup couldn’t quite cover. The more I looked at my own reflection, the more faults I found.

“You look so beautiful, Val,” she said gently. “I don’t think anyone will really notice.”

I couldn’t keep the pout on my face when she said that. Girls didn’t often tell me I was pretty –not since Heath’s house parties, at least. I had forgotten how nice it was, for someone who actually knows all the effort that goes into looking that good to comment on it. And Sally was probably one of the few other goody girls I could ever trust with knowing what real pretty was.

“Thank you, Sal.”

She smiled at me, her shiny eyes squinting behind a thick curtain of fake eyelashes, with one of those special types of smiles that aren’t condescending, aren’t threatening –that are just perfect. A movie star type of smile, the one that’d get you to buy something they vouched for.

“Knock ‘em dead.”

And, looking the best I’d looked in my whole life, clawing the bag where I had Cesar’s little gift, I hopped out the Playhouse and into a taxi.

The Hulanicki was this expensive, upscale restaurant, the sort of place you had to dress up to even be allowed through the front door. It had orange-carpeted corridors, cool and smooth marble walls, tall palm trees with leaves that became lost in the darkness of the high ceiling, and a soft warm golden glow on everything. There was a drinks bar, very similar to the one at the Playhouse, except that this one had a back wall made out of several mirror stripes. There were mirrors everywhere, actually: on the walls, peering behind heavy caramel-colored velvet curtains, on the shiny brass surface of the dim lights hanging over the little tables.

I arrived just in time for our reservation. Some people looked up from their dishes when I passed by their tables, but by their expressions they didn’t seem to think I looked out of place. There were a few other couples there, having entrées and sipping wine from their fancy glasses. Soft music played in the background, so low I didn’t really hear it until I sat down at the table and could relax for a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down.

“Would you like the menu, ma’am?” a waiter asked me.

“No, thank you,” I smiled. “I’m waiting for someone.”

The waiter nodded and left. I had a sip of water, drumming my nails against the stem of the glass, turning it and watching how the light refracted and made rainbows on the tablecloth.

A few minutes passed. I laid my hand on top of the little candle on the table, feeling the warmth, moving my palm down onto the flame as close as I could without burning myself.

An hour passed. The waiter asked me if I wanted anything while I waited, so I had a glass of wine, the most expensive one they had, just to feel like I was doing something important. I still finished it quicker than I should have, gulping it down and leaving a dark red ring on the white tablecloth.

Two hours passed. I finally stood up and asked to use their phone, and I called Cesar’s office. His secretary told me he was not there. I called his penthouse. He wasn’t there either. I went back to my table, making my best effort at steadying my breathing and not getting worked up.

Three hours passed. A waiter approached me and asked if I wanted another glass of wine. I tried to smile back and say ‘no, thank you’, but my lips were trembling and I could barely speak. I just shook my head. He left.

And, finally, I just couldn’t hold it in any longer –and slammed my fists on the table –finally realizing that no, he was not gonna come, that I had been waiting there for hours like a dumbass and that I was just making a fool of myself in front of the other customers.

Fuck that. Let them judge.

I cried, as loud as my lungs could allow, out of sheer fury. Anger was always better than tears. I punched the table once more, but that wasn’t enough –I needed noise –I needed movement –so I grabbed the tablecloth –and yanked it –sending the empty wine glass and the four different forks and the water and the bread basket flying all over, crashing wonderfully on the marble walls and marble floor, and the little candle landed on the carpeted floor, and a woman screamed at the sight of fire, and I got up on my feet and stomped away from the disaster as the waiters rushed to fix it, and in the chaos I managed to make my way out of the restaurant before someone could remind me to pay for the overpriced wine and a bunch of stale rolls.

One thing was a scruffy teenage crush, keeping me at arm’s length, never allowing me to dream too big about our future together. Another thing entirely was Cesar –who told me, over and over, just how much he loved me, how important I was to him. This was a real betrayal. This was a goddamn stab in the back.

There was a hot gust of wind, and a low rumbling of an engine. Right in front of the Hulanicki’s entrance I saw this white Eldorado, gorgeous and brand new. A man in a lilac suit got out and stretched his arm to hand the keys to a valet. I snatched them away before they reached the guy. I climbed in the car, slammed the door closed, and drove away before I could even think about it twice.

I turned on the radio and scrambled for a while, trying to find a good station that could have anything to keep my mind off Cesar. The kinda music he hated, no crooners or divos or sappy love ballads. I stopped when I heard something similar to the music of the house parties at Hackensack, and the rock shows at the Bowery. Something familiar, something comforting. I left the dial alone. The drumming grew louder, the guitar became noisier –and the anger I had boiling in me reached the breaking point.

And I screamed.

“ Well, you got the hands of a man and the face of a little boy blue… And when you stand you’re so grand there’s a case just for looking at you— ”

Good enough , I thought, my throat still aching from the strain, feeling the rumbling on the steering wheel. I punched the dashboard, thrashing my head, forcing myself not to cry, biting my lower lip hard enough to leave a mark. I passed a manhole –the whole car shook –and my bag fell heavy against my thigh. Half open as it was, a corner of the wrapped cigar cutter peeked out.

I grabbed his present and chucked it out the window.

“ Come like a lightning flash, a lightning flash— ”

Trying to find a cigarette, my fingers found a little emergency cellophane bag I had saved in my bag. And this was an emergency if I had ever seen one.

Faster –as fast as the engine would give. I zoomed past honking cars, raced past the busy center through familiar streets and towards Cesar’s place. With any luck, I would find him getting out of his car, and I’d step on it and crash into him and crush him completely, a head-on collision that would tenderize his flesh and shatter his bones and make his head burst against the pavement like a kid’s water balloon—

The sirens were tailing me already. It had lasted so little… But I should have known –it was the East Side –where most cops were, where it would be easier to get caught. I glanced at the car following me in the rearview mirror. But I wouldn’t brake. Let’s see them try to catch me. I grinned at my own reflection, and took a deep breath, bracing myself, tensing my arms. My mascara was running, my lipstick was smudged and had stained my teeth, my hair was wild and the previously picture-perfect curls now bounced and sprung in all directions, as if I had received a sudden electric jolt. I was already a mess; a little more destruction wouldn’t make any difference.

I stepped on the accelerator. I needed to push the machine as fast as it could go, and then some. I needed to feel something new. I needed to smash the fucking sound barrier. I needed to set the engine on fire.

And before I could realize it –I was heading right towards a storefront’s glass window –and I tried to swerve –turning the wheel under my clammy hands –but the Eldorado turned too late –too sudden –and it spun to the side –I flinched and covered my head with my arms –the windshield cracked –there was a loud metallic burst –and a million little shards of glass sputtered like champagne bubbles. I shut my eyes, barely remembering to keep my mouth closed for once. My body shook and slammed against the car door. My head hit the roof. A drop of blood ran down my brow. I managed to draw in a gasp of breath. It felt like I had split my skull wide open.

The loud metallic noises stopped. Everything I could hear was the radio, still playing, though just barely. The stereo had suffered some damage, too. Such a pity. Such a beautiful car.

“Ma’am?” I heard a faraway voice calling to me. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

I guess I was lucky I was wearing the seatbelt. I climbed out, slowly getting to feel the scrapes and cuts on my arms and legs. Many small ones, which I guess are better than a few large ones, than a few lethal ones. A bunch of little red dots, but barely so, nothing to worry about. It was as if the blood wasn’t even mine. Truly, I didn’t feel much pain at all –just a nasty headache, a heavy faintness, and a tiny swirling ball of bile at the bottom of my throat. I almost tripped when someone tried to help me away from the car, but I managed to keep my balance on the one heel that was still clinging to my foot.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m… I’m Alright.”

The sirens became louder. I recoiled at the flashing red and blue lights. And from there, it was like it always was. The cop sat me in the back of his car, drove us off to the station in a bumpy ride across the city, and asked me if I had been under the influence of any substances. I didn’t answer this time. I didn’t even joke around. All I wanted was Cesar.

“My call…”

The cop sighed, but allowed it. I walked up to the phone, dialed the number, and waited. Silence on the wire. The beeping of the machine seemed to mock me. I called again. Silence. And again. Silence. Minutes passed, and nobody answered.

“Alright, miss. Cell four’s free for you.”

I could barely react to the guy grabbing my arm and pulling me away. It just made no sense. Cesar never left me hanging like that.

“Wait –wait, please… I want to make one last call,” I said, finally snapping back to reality. “Please. Just one more.”

The cop shot the officer a look. He nodded. I hurried back to the telephone, and dialed a new number.

“ Hello? ” The voice sounded just familiar enough for me to recognize, but different enough for me to get me to realize what I was actually doing. “ Hello? Who is it? ”

It had been five years. Of course Bri’s voice would have changed a bit after all that time. I tried to listen for someone else in the background, like my mother washing the dishes before bed, or my father watching the late news. But there didn’t seem to be anyone there, apart from her.

“ Hello? ”

I don’t know what I was even thinking. I definitely wasn’t gonna tell my little sister I was calling from the police station. She’d tell my mother, the little snitch, and she would lose it, if her reaction to when I showed up in our neighborhood followed by a cop car was any indication. What would they even do? Pay the bail? Come all the way from Hackensack to pick me up? I hung up, closing my eyes. I should have tried to call Cesar once more. That’d be less of a waste of time than thinking I could get any help from my family.

“Alright, now, miss. Cell four.”

I’d have put up a fight if I wasn’t feeling so beat. Just like the last time I had been caught, a mugshot was taken, my fingerprints stamped, my full fake name and age registered, and when I was finally feeling a little more put-together, as if I was just waking up from a sudden sleep, I was shoved into the cell.

Sleep would have been nice, at least to kill some time and keep my mind away from the place. I was too fired up to even close my eyes. It was boiling hot in there. The sweat got in my eyes, slipped over the edge of my lips, tasting salty and smelling sweet. The buzzing of the fluorescent lightbulb over my head was driving me crazy. I picked at the scabs on my arms and the rips on my stockings, trying to think about what my options were, my mind too chaotic to fully focus on anything in particular. Dozing off for a while became too hard, with the light and the noise, so I took off my one broken heel and paced around the concrete cell like a caged animal, counting seconds, losing count and starting again. Apart from the buzzing of the lightbulb, the echoing steps of a cop down the hallway, rhythmic and regular like the ticking of a clock, helped me count the seconds better. When I got bored of that I ran my fingernails over the steel bars, from left to right and right to left, ruining the manicure but at least sorta entertained by the clinking noise. My feet had turned numb from pacing. If I had been allowed to keep my jewelry, I would have fidgeted with it, and it might have calmed me down some. Last time I had two cellmates, at least, to keep me distracted. I was alone that night.

Next morning, forcing my eyes open through the sticky mascara, the door was slammed open, I got up, and was let go. I had only been detained, they told me, for my own safety. The cops do love saying that, ‘for your own safety’. There would be a fine, though, they said. They didn’t give me back the jewelry, no matter how much I yelled and swore and tried to intimidate them. Instead of earning me another overnight stay at the cell, I put on the shoe and walked all the way back to Hell’s Kitchen, stumbled up the stairs to the third floor of the Broslin, and locked myself up in the tiny shared bathroom. Too late I remembered the little cracked mirror someone had stuck over the sink with bubblegum. The image it gave back to me was a real mess.

I still had remains of scabs I hadn’t managed to scratch off. I felt wounded and rough and scraped and ruined. A car crash of a person. A goddamn pity, all that hard work at the beauty parlor. My old self just had to come through. Like I could only be myself if I had some blood on me.

Nobody can say that I wasn’t owed an explanation. Part of me hoped that Cesar had had an accident or something, like I did: a damn good enough excuse for him not showing up.

When I went to work the next day, earlier than ever and determined to catch him this time, I saw Cesar climbing out the black car, parked in front of the Playhouse’s entrance. I smiled, fixing my hair, glad, on some level, to know everything was fine. And then, he stretched his hand back to the backseat, and a dainty hand took his. Out came a tall red-haired woman, dressed in an elegant satin blouse, a long skirt with a slit on the side, and expensive-looking lace-up heels. She was soon followed by a cute little boy, who held his mother’s hand just as tightly as Cesar held hers. I couldn’t see her face, standing as she was with her back to me, but by the gentle tone of her voice, it sounded like she was smiling. Cesar smiled back at her, leaned forward and closed his eyes and kissed her somewhere, hard to say whether on the cheek, on the top of her head, on her lips. My heart got caught somewhere in my throat, making it hard to breathe. For a moment I was back at that party at Heath’s house, with him smooching some other girl, while I stood on the sidelines and witnessed the crime scene. The victim of their infidelity. Indeed, commitment was hard to come by.

“Hi, sweetface.”

I startled him –and I could only laugh at his expression. If he had been surprised… But I repeated to myself that it was perfectly possible that the redheaded woman was just a friend of his. A model, an actress or something, just a good friend. Yeah, right. That’s what they said, right? They’re just good friends. Still, accusing without strong enough evidence was a gamble.

“Hi, Val…”

“You say I don’t take my job seriously…” I chuckled, looking at him over my sunglasses. “Well, here I am, arriving early for once.”

He gave me a nervous little smile. Would he be that nervous, if the woman had really been just a friend?, I wondered. The doorman opened the door for Cesar, he went in first, and I followed him through the hallway and behind a curtain to the backstage corridors to his office.

“You think I’m looking old?” he asked, patting the front of his hairline. I’ve always thought he looked pretty good for being more than twice my age.

“Who was that woman, sweetface?”

He finally turned around to look at me. “Excuse me?”

“That woman at the entrance,” I said coldly, pushing down all my anger. “With the boy.”

“Oh. That was just Patricia.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

We arrived at the top of the stairs, to his office. He unlocked the door, took off his jacket, and took his time to answer.

“She’s my ex-wife.”

I could feel the blood draining from my face. “Wait –you’re married?”

“Divorced,” he corrected me.

“And you have a son!?”

“Why are you so surprised?” he said, as if I was being unreasonable. “What do you care, what happened before we met?”

I told myself he was right, that it was stupid to be so worked up over something so done and over with like an ex-wife. It wasn’t that what bothered me. It was the fact I didn’t know anything about it till now. No matter that it was a silly little thing, the fact remained: who had broken up with who, and why? Was it that they were just not compatible, or did something serious happen? Was there anything about Cesar I needed to know?

“When did you divorce her?” I asked him, even though I really didn’t want to know.

“Three years ago,” he replied. “Before I met you, if that makes you feel any better.”

“It does,” I sighed. Still –he had been married before. I don’t know why that possibility never crossed my mind. He even had a child. “Do you still…? Do you still meet with her, often?”

“With my ex-wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, yes,” he shrugged. “Sometimes. When I visit my son.”

“Do you think she’s pretty?”

He stared at me for a moment. “She’s… She’s very smart.”

“You didn’t answer me,” I insisted. “Do you have a picture of her?”

“No, not anymore.”

I wanted to ask him if he still loved her. I didn’t dare. I knew he would try to change the subject. And avoiding talking about her would be like a confirmation.

“It’s as if I didn’t even know you,” I said quietly.

Cesar sighed, running a finger over his mustache. “That’s rich of you to say. You never tell me anything about you, either.”

“Because you never ask.” Because he wasn’t even interested.

We both remained quiet. I sat on his desk, looking around myself, searching for any images of Patricia and her – their child. The only photographs he had there were glamor pics of a bunch of celebrities that he was friends with, signed by them, framed in gold and resting on expensive furniture pieces, among heavy curtains and the collection of stuffed exotic birds. I looked away from their glass eyes and white smiles to focus on the bigger picture, the largest artwork in the place, hanging above our heads. No matter what, each time I got a chance to visit Cesar’s office, I needed to take a moment to gaze at that painting. It showed a stunning blank-faced woman, smooth and white as if carved out of a candle’s wax, with golden flowing hair, standing gracefully on a seashell, floating over the water. There were other figures in the painting, but they didn’t matter much. I think Cesar thought the same: the light over the frame fell squarely over her, leaving the two others in the shadows. In this instance, I realized that what I had thought were bubbles blown by the same wind that swept her hair were actually little white roses. I wondered if that Patricia bitch looked like the woman in the painting. Maybe that was the type he liked. The type I should try harder to be like.

“Have you ever been to Cuba?” he suddenly asked.

“No…”

"Well, neither have I. But my parents, they used to own so much land back there… They were lucky to have had most of their money in American banks, when the uprisings came. And ever since I was a boy, they told me to be thankful for every single penny. To never take anything for granted,” he sighed, buttoning his shirt. “Life’s not cheap.”

“You got that right,” I said with a little chuckle.

“Anyways… I was thinking, I could get us a nice place in Puerto Rico. Similar enough to Cuba, or so I’ve heard. It’s sunny, it’s warm, it’s much nicer than grimy New York… Granted, it doesn’t have the luxuries Manhattan has as of yet, but maybe we can begin bringing some of that magic there.”

Moving somewhere together. I stopped breathing for a moment. Was he planning a life together already? He sounded completely serious.

“Don’t you think so, darling?”

I didn’t know shit about Puerto Rico. I just cared about one thing.

“Would you be staying in Puerto Rico with me?”

Cesar turned around to face me, and gave me a sorry little glance. “I’d… I’d have to come back to New York from time to time, of course. Business things. To solve some matters.”

And then he smiled his Clark Gable smile, and leaned over towards me. He knew how to win me over.

“But I’d come home to you. Wouldn’t that be nice, Val?” he smiled, stroking my cheek. “You’d love it there. It’s sunny and warm all year long... We could have some kids, too. A boy for me, a girl for you.”

I smiled back. His hand was so, so soft. “That does sound nice…” But I was finally having an honest heart-to-heart with him. And as much as I wanted to hear more about his future dreams, I wasn’t that stupid –and I knew he was just avoiding the question. “I don’t want to live in a big empty house in Puerto Rico, all alone.”

“You’d have maids, of course—”

“I want to be with you, Cesar,” I insisted. “Why don’t you want to be with me?”

“It’s not that… I want to be with you, my dear, the problem is that to keep this sort of lifestyle up, you… You gotta keep working. I’m not a Wall Street guy that can make the money magically multiply itself.”

“Then become one!” I said with a shrug. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

Cesar gazed at me, with a frown and narrowed eyes. “You’re truly ungrateful, Val.”

“Listen, I don’t really care if you’re rich or not… All I want is to be with you.”

“You liar. You damn liar.”

His words felt like swallowing a mouthful of bleach. “I mean it—”

“No, you don’t!” he cried. I remembered how Heath would never raise his voice at me. That was how little he had cared about me. At least Cesar cared enough to want me to listen up. “Good Lord, Val –do you think I’m an idiot? Why would you stay with me so long, if it weren’t for everything I gave you?”

I chuckled. “Because I love you! Isn’t it obvious?”

“You said you don’t even know me.”

“But I want to.”

Where I myself was concerned, there was not much to know. I was a boring little person, really, especially compared to the exciting clients of the Playhouse, and all the big names he rubbed elbows with. That had been the real beauty of New York. There, nobody knew me, and whatever lie I could weave was as good as the truth. It was all about fresh starts. I could say goodbye to Tiffany forever. Live the rest of my days as Val, Cesar’s lovely new bride. That would be the real dream come true. I could reinvent myself completely. Hell, I could even learn to like opera. I could learn to be someone that made Cesar happy.

But first, I needed to be honest. As soon as I got that over with, the sooner my new life could start. For starters, I needed to tell him my real name. He knew me as Val, but I needed to come clean to him –no more secrets, nothing hidden between us anymore. Hopefully that would make him come fully clean too.

“My real name is Tiffany,” I began saying, slowly, for him to understand, without any room for doubt. “And I’m from Hackensack, New Jersey. And I came here to New York when I was around fourteen. I’ve done some things that I’d rather not say, and there’s some things that happened to me that I’d rather not talk about either –but apart from that, I can be completely honest with you, if you just—”

“Spare me the soap opera, Val. Everyone’s got their own sob story… And I’m not interested in whatever your specific brand of damage is.”

So much for trying to speak honestly. “You just don’t give a shit, huh?”

“This is all because of the anniversary dinner, isn’t it?”

I scoffed.

“I’m sorry, alright?” he sighed, not sounding very sorry at all. “I didn’t know this was so important to you.”

I turned around to stare at him. “... Sorry?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. Can you get over it now, please?”

I kept quiet for a second –and then I laughed louder, higher, opening my eyes wider and wider.

“Oh, you’re sorry! You’re sorry! You’re sorry, yes, you’re so sorry! I can see exactly how damn fucking sorry you are—!”

“Stop these hysterics, for God’s sake!” he yelled, and grabbed me by the shoulders, and shook me around. I shoved him away from me. “What’s wrong with you? Can’t you behave like a normal person? Good lord!”

“Just tell me, what did I do wrong?” I demanded. “What did I do for you to just keep on giving less and less of a shit about me? And don’t you say it’s because you’re too busy, because I don’t believe it!”

Cesar glared at me. “If you’re not satisfied with the truth, that is not my problem, Val.” Leaning back on his chair, he ran his hand through his hair. “I work so hard for this... You know that.”

“Oh, yes, of course…” I said with a painful grin and a tilt of the head. “You’re the one who keeps the lights on, after all.”

“And you, you don’t work hard for anything. You’re pretty, you’re young… Life comes easy to you. You don’t know what real struggles are. That’s why your life is so full of nothing.”

I kept quiet. Avoiding his gaze, I fidgeted with the little chrome ball clicker toy on his desk. I knew it annoyed him, but the clicking was better than silence. I don’t even know why he had it in the first place –it must have been a gift from his mother. Surrounded by the extravagant decorations of the office, the ivory cigar lighter and the walnut list finder, it looked especially out of place.

“Why don’t you get an actual job?” he asked me. “Do something useful, for once.”

“Yes, bet that would beat laying around in a damn mansion, waiting for you to fuck me,” I hissed as I stared back at him, almost spitting the words out to him.

I waited for him to reply to that, see how he’d try and argue against the truth. Instead, his eyes went down from my shoulder to my hand, growing wider and more unnerved.

“Val… What happened to your arms?” he asked. My face softened. The horror in his voice was pretty comforting. It meant he worried. 

I frowned and looked away, hugging myself, but being careful to turn in such a way that the light of his desk lamp would show exactly what had happened. His chair screeched on the wooden floor when he pushed it back. His fingers traced the small red scabs that I still had, in little clusters, all along the side of my arms. I closed my eyes, and let out a little resigned sigh.

“… I had an accident.”

He got off the chair. “Don’t tell me—”

“Guess it was bound to happen, sooner or later.”

I was hoping he’d sigh, too, and kiss my scars, or pet my hair and click his tongue and tell me I needed to be more careful. Instead, he walked away.

“Whose car was it? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know,” he said, covering his eyes with one hand. “Good Lord, you’re truly a crazy, desperate little thing.”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

Cesar stared at me for a moment. And, in that moment, he might have believed me, just before deciding that he liked the idea of me trying to self-destruct for his own sake much more.

“I didn’t. I didn’t!”

It stung, the way he glanced at me, before he went on rubbing his temples. Pure, undiluted disgust. What I should have done was to tell him to fuck off, that I was being honest and that if he still loved me he would know when I teased and when I was telling the truth. Instead, I became nervous. I turned cowardly, and doubled down on being a crazy desperate little thing.

“I’m sorry. Alright?” I said, on the edge of a plea. “It’s just that… Cesar, darling, when you didn’t show up yesterday, I was so mad. And I needed something to take my mind off it, anything, and I saw this Eldorado, and I thought…” But I knew Cesar didn’t care for what I thought. “And I thought… That you might not love me anymore. Cesar, please, just tell me you still love me. However you wanna say it, just say it, please. You don’t know how much I need it.”

I shut my eyes, cursing myself, for being such a damn baby. Despite my anger, though, I hoped there would be a reward for my humiliation. A hand cupping my cheek, a little kiss on my head, a reassurance of any kind. I stayed still, waiting for it. It never came.

“Come on, Val, for goodness’ sake. You’re all take and no give,” he said tiredly. “All you want is to drain me and bleed me dry. You’re insatiable.”

Things were looking hopeless. Cesar sounded as cold as ice, far away from me, as if he had never even loved me in the first place. I refused to believe that it was the truth. I knew he loved me, I had all these memories to prove it. I had earned it. All I needed was for him to know how much I loved him.

“I know that the man’s supposed to be the one to make the proposal…” I said with a weak smile. “But if you asked me to marry you, Cesar, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

A last-ditch effort. But it wasn’t a lie. After all, if I married him, if we were tied to each other, eventually we might fall in love again. But then I thought of his ex-wife. Would she have thought the same, before their divorce? My mind went to my parents, arguing late into the night, and then to Janey, rocking her baby in her arms, telling me about Heath sleeping around with other girls. All the other girls that came before me, sitting in a line, like the goody girls in the changing room, one beside the other, fixing their makeup, waiting for their turn. All of us disposable. It was just a temporary thing. I would be another one for the collection. After all, what made me different? What made me special?

“What?”

I stopped the little chrome ball before it clicked again. Despite everything, I loved Cesar. I truly did. That was what made me special. But hadn’t his wife thought the same, the day of their wedding?

“I do love you,” I muttered. “If I didn’t love you, do you think I would want to marry you?”

He burst out laughing, a long, exaggerated, bitter laugh. 

“I’m tired of being your goddamn meal ticket, Val. I… I tried, but Lord –at least you could be honest with me!”

“But—”

“Get out of here,” he said, lighting a new cigar. “You make me sick.”

“Cesar, please—!”

His hand gripped my wrist before I could finish my thought. He dragged me out the office, dropped me right by the door, and slammed it behind me. I turned around and knocked and called his name. He didn’t answer. I told myself I was just making a fool of myself, crying out and calling him and throwing a fit. I brought my fists to my sides, and told myself that I was just making things worse. The secretary was right there, I realized. I shot her a glare. She lazily turned her attention back to her book, as if this was a common occurrence she was bored by.

I went down the stairs back to the ground floor of the Playhouse. I got out of the place, wandered off into the streets, and walked all the way past the rowdy corner junkies and the tired whores on Eighth Avenue and back to the Broslin. For once, I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t tired, I didn’t want anything, just to get away from it all. I only wanted to go home. But I wouldn’t find it with Cesar, not anymore. It truly felt like whatever he and I had between us had definitely rotted away, and I was just dragging the remains, smiling at it and kissing its festering cheek and sitting it upright when it slumped and pretending everything was alright. As if I was living in goddamn dreamland.

For so long I had thought I had earned his love fair and square. But, at the end of the day, I might just be unlovable.

Flicking off bits of chipped black nail polish, I waited for the light to cross the street. The noisy crowd passed me by, gently pushing me like a running stream. The answer came to me just as the red light changed. There were only two options now I had to decide whether to break up with him, or to give it time. If I let too much time pass, I knew he would be the one to end the relationship. After all, I was the one who always wore my heart on my sleeve, presented it on a silver platter for others to break… Well, not anymore. Even if I might still love Cesar, breaking up with him was my best shot to at least have a say in how to break my own heart.

And, despite this, it still made me furious to realize how I was, at least a little bit, still in love with him. If he suddenly turned back into the old Cesar, the one who had seen me and picked me up from the streets, like a fairytale princess, and taken me to his enchanted palace, then I would forgive and forget everything in the blink of an eye. I was so fucking weak. Realizing this led me to consider killing him, like I had done with Heath. That way I’d test it and see if it really managed to hurt me; to tell myself that this was not really love, that this was just a silly teenage crush. But I had sworn to myself I wouldn’t kill again. I couldn’t risk it. And besides, one thing was Heath –a deadbeat mechanic from the suburbs –and another thing entirely was Cesar –millionaire, sophisticated, well-connected, the sort of guy whose death would make the evening news. The sort of death that could spark an investigation.

Death was not an option. Breaking up... I could pick that one, and there would be no casualties. I’d be devastated, yes, but I’d get over it. I had gotten over Heath, after all. I had gotten over Jack, who hadn’t even been my boyfriend in the first place. I sniffed and wiped my nose, walking faster. It was just sensible. We wouldn’t go anywhere together, not unless one of us changed in some way. And I wouldn’t. I did everything I had to: I was loving, and devoted, and even tried being understanding and patient. It had gotten me nowhere. And I would stay nowhere, if I stayed with him. It was comfortable, still, I guess. I was used to this sort of life by now. But if I wanted something else, something more, I needed to stop being so complacent. It would take guts. And I could be gutsy. I could be strong, if I tried. So what if I ripped my own heart out and tore it apart and stomped on the pieces to show Cesar just what he had lost. Broken hearts are momentary pain, I repeated to myself. The loneliness I was feeling, waking up by his side, was not worth it. I could fix my own heart, stitch it back together into something pretty and presentable, in time for my next crush. Next time would be better. I would be smarter, with thicker skin. I would learn from this and come out wiser. If I kept that in mind, maybe it would hurt less.

My mother used to say that actions speak louder than words. Cesar told me he loved me. But he rarely showed it anymore. I rarely felt loved.

Maybe that was what had happened to her and to my father. A couple months of pure bliss, a wedding to remember, and a couple of months later they became strangers again. Wasn’t it fucked up? How could something as important as love wouldn’t last forever?

Still –I had to try. What else could I do?

“Don’t tell me that Cesar isn’t here,” I told his secretary before she could open her mouth. “Petey downstairs said he’d just arrived.”

“He left his coat in,” she said plainly. “But then he went back down. Unless you want to keep me company, your best bet is finding him somewhere around the dance floor.”

I was just about to walk the stairs back down to the dance floor, when a doubt popped into my mind. “How did you know about the Hulanicki?” I asked her. “Does he order a lot of lunches from there?”

“He took me there,” she said, her eyes fixed on the page. “Back when I was his sweetheart.”

“When was that?”

She finally glanced at me. “Before you.”

“When he was married?”

She didn’t say anything to that. She didn’t need to. She just passed the page.

Cesar had cheated on his wife. Was that it? Was that the reason he felt so detached lately, that he was really just cheating on me? The mere idea made my blood boil, of course, but there was also a sense of relief. If the problem was him, then that meant it wasn’t that I was unlovable: it was just that he was the wrong one for me. Then again, I hadn’t found any solid real proof of his cheating. It could very well had been that I was just imagining things. After all, he had cheated on his wife, and that didn’t necessarily mean he’d cheat on every single partner from then on. Right? That didn’t mean he’d cheat on me. Right?

He wouldn’t have told me about moving to Puerto Rico with him, about having two kids, a boy for him and a girl for me, if he hadn't had any thoughts of a future with me, after all.

Because Cesar’s committed, I thought as the music got louder, trying to argue myself out of breaking up with him. And his commitment, that was more than what I could say of most other men. Might be the only time I’d find that in a man, too. And yet, when I tried to think about my future with him… Well, he wasn’t there. I saw myself in a big, beautiful sunny villa, surrounded by swaying palm trees, full of hundreds and hundreds of blossoming white roses. Sitting in a wide living room, among the roses, on my own, leafing through a magazine. Picking up the phone to call him, getting an ‘I’ll be home late today, darling’. Eating alone. Swimming alone in the backyard pool. Wasting away the hours, watching TV and drinking white wine and popping pills and candy. And, when Cesar got home, what would we do? He didn’t watch TV, and he didn’t like the music, the movies, or anything I liked. When we had kids, I could already imagine our discussions with him disagreeing over how I raised them. It was scary, how easy it was to imagine him becoming less and less in love with me. I made an effort to focus on the perks of staying with him (financial stability, a big bedroom all for myself, good hearty breakfasts, a huge closet full of gorgeous dresses, an army of maids fit for a queen), but none of these things seemed all that nice after thinking about them for more than a few seconds.

I was used to being alone. I wanted that to change. More than anything, I didn’t want to be alone anymore.

As committed as Cesar was, so far he wasn’t any help making me feel less alone. Especially if I went along with his plans, keeping me away in a platinum cage outside the States. Hell, I didn’t even know Spanish.

Even worse, I thought about whether I could do any better; yeah, any better than Cesar, a successful, handsome, caring gentleman. Of course I couldn’t do better. If I eventually became a star (and despite how much I tried to believe in it, there was no guarantee of that, for sure), I’d have to travel to movie sets, to premieres, to interviews. I couldn’t do that if I was in Puerto Rico. And I would have even less of a chance to see Cesar. And, after all that, with the distance, he’d end up cheating on me. I was so certain of it, suddenly I got furious, as if it had happened already. There had to be something wrong with us, if I could imagine it so damn clearly. Maybe Cesar still loved me –but he didn’t like me at all.

There was still a job I had to clock in to. Cesar wasn’t immediately visible on the dance floor, so I had to assume he was somewhere on the booths, talking with his friends and business associates. Not that it mattered much. My mind was made. I would get a better job, a well-paying one, not one keeping me hand to mouth. I would get a better job, and a place of my own. I would find myself someone good for me, someone who liked me. Someone I could be myself with.

I told myself all of this like a mantra, a promise to myself, to distract myself from the decision of breaking up with Cesar –who had given me so much, who had loved me so dearly.

I made a plan in my mind, a sort of script. I could not show any weakness. All my words had to be delivered firmly and without a shadow of a doubt. Much like at the auditions, really, except this wasn’t gonna be pretend.

My reflection stared back in the changing room mirror. I had made up my mind. Now, I had to trust I would stick to my choice when the moment of truth arrived.

The other goody girls had already changed into their uniforms, styling their hair, doing their makeup, sharing the latest news. It figured I should do the same. I rolled out a tube of red lipstick, and applied it slowly, carefully. I covered it with lip gloss. I took out my palette and brushed my eyelids with pink dust, and drew a thick black line over the edge of my eyelashes, before applying the mascara. And, once my cheeks were rosy and glittery and I was looking pretty again, I stared at my reflection and forced a smile, grinning wide, in the exact way that Cesar disliked.

And then I started crying again.

 “What’s the matter, Val? Stabbed yourself in the eye with the wand again?”

I wiped the warm tears from under my eyes before I messed up the eyeliner. “No, I’m… I’m going to break up with Cesar—”

“Why? Did his wife find out about you two?” Eileen asked.

“What?”

“You dumbass. He’s divorced,” Suzy said. “It’s all above board.” 

“Then why did you split?”

“We haven’t yet,” I mumbled. “I’m leaving him—”

“You got someone better?”

I shook my head and sniffed. “No… And I don’t think… I ever will.”

“Then why the hell are you splitting?”

“I just… I don’t think he loves me.”

“So what?” Suzy said with a shrug. “As long as he keeps you on the payroll…”

“I just wish I knew why he got cold on me…” I sobbed. “He used to want to spend all his time with me. We used to have fun.”

“Men get bored eventually, Val. You’re not the first—”

“And won’t be the last.”

“But still… He missed our anniversary. I had reminded him of it. I don’t know how he didn’t realize how important this was to me. How much he mattered to me,” I said, swallowing my tears, shutting my eyes and focusing all my strength into gulping down the sadness. “I don’t know why he got so angry at me, when I said I would marry him.”

“Marriage?”

“Oof—”

“He got angry?” Eileen asked. “And you really don’t know why?”

“Let me put it in a way you’ll understand: you wouldn't marry a man just for being rich…” Suzy said in a high mocking voice, gesturing with a nail file. “But, my goodness, doesn't it help?”

I stepped back. “I’m not a gold-digger.”

“Right. And you just didn’t know that the guy was loaded.”

“Please, girls, I think we should go a bit softer on Val,” Nancy said gently. “I mean… You can't bang the guy and cash his checks and at least not try to believe you love him.”

The other goody girls laughed. I blinked and scanned their colorful faces, trying to find someone, anyone, who could back me up. Something to keep me grounded.

“What’s so difficult to understand? You just gotta sell your ass,” Suzy said, pulling down her lower eyelid to brush her eyelashes with the greasy black wand. “You’re basically already selling it to King Cesar, up in his ivory tower.”

“Everyone here does it,” Nancy added with a shrug. “It’s just what you do to get a little bit ahead. You know, nobody’s gonna judge you for it.”

I frowned at her. My anger was already simmering. “You don’t know that.”

Eileen chuckled. “Those without sin cast the first stone, yadda yadda—”

“That’s not me,” I snapped. “I’m not a damn slut.”

There was a sudden silence. The heavy thumping of the music that was already starting sounded like faraway thunder, announcing a coming storm.

Suzy turned around, and shot me a glare. “What, you think you’re so much better than us?”

I did. But I didn’t want to say so.

“You really do, huh?” she insisted, getting off her chair, walking up to me with her arms crossed. “If you’re too good for this, then why are you here? Why aren’t you living the high life, instead of slumming it with the rest of us?”

“You think I want this?”

Suzy scoffed. “I think you’re just lying to yourself, baby.”

That was it. I gave her leg a hard kick. She opened her eyes wide, in pure outraged shock, and pushed me off the chair. I stood up –and without hesitating for a second –I shoved her to the floor, straddled her waist, grabbed her by the hair, and knocked her head against the concrete. She screamed. The other girls started yelling, moving back, forming a circle around us. Suzy snarled and reached out to grab my own hair –but I bit her hand –she screeched –and I punched her, first her big mouth that would never shut up, and then her nose that was constantly bleeding and now finally had a good reason for it, and I was almost about to grab her by the neck and start to choke her out… Realizing what I was about to do, someone, maybe Nancy, tried to stop me and grab my arm –but I elbowed myself free. I was just getting started—

“What’s happening here?” Sally cried, coming in the changing room, plucking hair pins from between her teeth. “Jesus Christ –what’s going on, Val?”

As soon as I heard her voice I turned around –and Suzy pushed me off her –and I fell square on my butt on the floor. Nancy and Eileen helped Suzy back to her feet. She pushed them away too, and rushed to look at herself in the mirror.  She let out a furious roar.

“You little fucking beast—!”

“Please! Girls!” Sally begged, standing in between us, for our own safety, I had to assume. “There has to be another way to settle this that doesn’t involve punching each other to death!”

“She started it!” I cried.

“You threw the first punch!”

“What was I supposed to do, just smile and take it!?”

“Please! Let’s just talk about what happened, okay?” Sally insisted. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Suzy’s just looking for a fight,” I said quickly. “She’s been jealous I’m with Cesar ever since I got here—”

“And Little Miss Holier-Than-Thou here,” Suzy said, voice trembling with rage, as she wiped the blood off her upper lip. “Has convinced herself she’s really head over heels for the boss.”

“Oh… Well,” Sally said, facing me, turning the hair pins in her hand. “We all know that. And besides, you’re still young. You’ll learn.”

“What?”

Sally sighed, and took a tissue out of her handbag to hand to Suzy, who dabbed at the dripping blood of her nose with it.

“Listen, Val, I commend your optimism,” she said gently, making her way past me to her side of the vanity. “But life’s not as pretty as you think.”

“Men aren’t with girls for their personality—”

“Whoever says they are is trying to sell you something—”

“And love is something you keep for your parents and your future kids.”

“Why do you all think you even know me?” I yelled. “Just because I refuse to be a whore like the rest of you—!”

A few girls started yelling at me, but I didn’t hear them. I focused on Sally, hoping she would back me up. She stared back at me, looking me in the eye. There wasn’t any support there. I immediately felt ashamed.

“Sal, I –I didn’t mean you—”

“Didn’t you?” she said coldly, turning around and brushing her hair. “It’s not like I haven’t accepted a couple gifts now and again for a little favor.”

I blinked, unsure I had heard quite right. “Wait… Really?”

“Enough talk, girls!” Jess shouted as she entered the changing room, clapping to get our attention. “Those goodies are not gonna be sold on their own!”

“Wait, Sal –what do you mean, a little favor—?”

“A handjob for ten, a blowjob for twenty,” Sally replied, scattering the hair pins onto the vanity. “What d’you think, Val? Think you could do better than that?”

“But—”

“My, I didn’t know you were so concerned with purity,” she chuckled bitterly, and retouched her pink lipstick. “Bet your parents are so proud of you right now.”

I stood beside her, watching in disbelief. Sally huffed, stood up and pushed me aside, leaving for the bathroom before I could even follow her out the changing room. Instead, I was stuck facing Jess, who had my goody tray and a sermon ready at hand. Suzy was standing by her side with a smug smirk.

“Miss Val, tell me: are you happy with your job here?”

I braced myself for the cut to my paycheck. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well. Then I suggest you avoid starting catfights with your coworkers. You’ll see that it is a very quick way to get sacked.”

I grit my teeth. “Yes, ma’am.”

Suzy shot me a glare, rubbing the back of her head. Bet she was pissed that a little bruise hadn't been good enough a reason to get me fired straight away.

“I suggest you go back to work, and focus on doing a good job,” Jess said. “You’ve not been at the top of your game lately, Miss Val.”

I gave them both a little smile. “Don’t worry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

I yanked the tray from her hands, elbowed Suzy out of my way, and got back to the dance floor. Trying to bash her head in had been a bit of an impulsive thing to do, but it made me feel a little better. It wasn’t that what bothered me, really. I was more concerned with Sally’s glare. She had been the only one among the goody girls I had grown to consider as something of a friend. Something told me we weren’t gonna be friends anymore, after that.

My nails danced over the cellophane bags. I barely had enough money for a drink, Jess was surely keeping a close eye on me now after my little stunt at the changing room, and all I wanted was something to take the edge off. But I told myself I needed to stay lucid and focused to confront Cesar that night. I spent the first hour or so doing my job, getting some sales, so I could make sure Jess wouldn’t be on my back. After she left for her break, I got away from the dance floor and wandered around the booths, trying to catch a glimpse of his smart fitted suit and well-groomed mustache.

Finding him was easy. Flanked by a few of his friends, having the most fun I’ve seen him having in a while, Cesar laughed, throwing his head back, and dropped the ashes of his cigar in his empty glass, over the melting ice cubes.

“... But you know, when one dates eighteen-year-olds, one pays the price—”

“And what price would that be?” I asked him.

Once I showed up he just glanced at me, as if he had been expecting me to appear by his side all along.

“And I’m nineteen,” I muttered between teeth. “Though I guess you don’t care much about that, one way or another.”

Cesar sighed, put his cigar between his teeth, and tucked a couple bills under the glass. I eyed it carefully, knowing that it would get all wet and wrinkled by the time one of the busboys came to collect it.

“Come on, darling, let’s dance—”

“I’m not here to dance, ‘darling’,” I hissed back at him. “I’m here to work. Doing something useful, for once, you know?”

He stretched his lips to the sides. Not really a smile nor a grimace: just a sort of half acknowledgement that he had heard me. “How’s the scars?”

The tip of his fingers stroked my arm as he looked down. I closed my eyes. It didn’t hurt, not even a little bit.

“… Kinda stings.”

Cesar clicked his tongue. His face was so close to mine that I could almost hear his soft breathing, even under the loud music. “Val, Val…”

When I opened my eyes again, I was inches away from resting my head on his shoulder, his arm resting on my hip, as he always did when he guided me to the dance floor. Even while angry, my body just leaned towards him, craving his touch.

“You and your little antics,” he almost chuckled. “You’re lucky you’re such a lovely little thing.”

Otherwise, someone might just get tired of it really quick.

“You did me a favor right there,” Cesar said against my ear, his lips grazing my curls. “I was getting tired of the bunch.”

He turned me around, taking my hand and giving me a little spin. That was, sadly, just enough to break my pout. I barely managed to bring it back just in time for him to pull my hand to lay his shoulder, lovingly stroking the thin scars on my knuckles with his thumb. Then I was weak again. I looked back up at his face, hoping not to see what I was expecting.

“You know, Val,” he said with a smile and a sigh, cupping my cheek in his warm familiar hand. “Seeing your face can really turn my day around.”

There was love in Cesar’s brown, glittering eyes. It was undeniable, as real as the warmth of his body, as the sweat running down my back. I stared down at the shimmering colors of the cellophane bags hanging from my neck, as if that way I could tell myself I simply had no feelings left for him. As if his compliments weren’t as effective as they always were.

“We’re done, Cesar,” I blurted quietly before I could change my mind.

He frowned. “What?”

I could still lie and save this, I automatically told myself. This didn’t have to end. This could still be fixed. A little more time, and a little more faith, and then there’d never be a single moment of doubt that he loved me. But then, the hand that was holding mine started to squeeze hard enough to hurt.

“I said we’re done, Cesar,” I repeated, raising my voice.

He let out a little chuckle. “Please, Val, you’re acting like a child—”

“That’s just the sort of thing I’m done with, Cesar,” I said, trying to pull away, my hand slipping from his grip. “I’m tired of you dismissing me, like I’m some stupid little baby you can boss around… Let’s just get this over with.”

“I miss one dinner, and you act like it’s the end of the world!”

“It’s not just the dinner!” I cried. “It’s the dinner –and my birthday –and you not picking me up from the station –and you never being there –and how you never want us to do anything together besides going dancing and fucking and having me listen to all your boring shit –and you know what, I’m sick of it!”

He took a deep breath and grabbed my wrist. “Val, listen to me. Listen.”

“Let go—”

“Remember Puerto Rico?” he insisted, pulling me closer to him. “Yes, you do. Remember what I said. We could be happy there, don’t you think?”

“Cesar—”

“You said that if I proposed, you’d accept in a heartbeat. I remember that,” he said, his voice syrupy-sweet, so different to the way he was grabbing me. “So?”

That got me to listen. I blinked, frozen in place.

“Would you marry me, Val?”

I turned and glanced around me, completely lost, unable to even ask myself if I had heard him correctly –I had –or if he was joking –he wasn’t. Cesar was being perfectly earnest. What’s more, he was convinced I would say yes. Because I would have said yes. Cesar knew perfectly well how much I dreamed of a beautiful wedding, of a picture-perfect life with someone who loved me. And yet –did he? Did he, truly, when he popped the question just as I was trying to break up with him, in a crowded nightclub, surrounded by people dancing, while on the clock? A part of me said that his declaration, in the spur of the moment, could be seen as romantic. Another part of me, the one that actually had some sense left, said he was bullshitting me. I had no way of knowing whether he really meant it, or if, after three months of being together, he’d divorce me like he did with his ex-wife.

So much for commitment. Looking back up into his eyes, though, and seeing how certain he was I would say yes, I realized something else. I was still pretty young, but this might just be the only time in my life someone would ever love me enough to want to marry me. If I didn’t say yes, and I did break up with Cesar, it wouldn’t be like when I broke up with Heath: I would keep thinking about what would have happened, if I had made a different choice. Regret might just eat me alive. That old line of reasoning came back: maybe if I just waited this one out, married him and gave him a year or two more, Cesar would love me again, like he used to.

But maybe I was just fooling myself.

We make our own choices, we pay our own prices. If saying no to a loveless marriage meant I would be alone for the rest of my life…

“I said we’re done, Cesar,” I said, for the last time, as coldly as I could. “I don’t want to see you again.”

I finally managed to pull my arm away from him. He was too stunned to stop me. I turned around, and thought of going into the changing room and taking a break, before realizing I was already crying again and wasn’t in the mood to be surrounded by gossiping girls.

“Val!”

Wiping the tears off my eyes, still walking away, I looked over my shoulder. Cesar was trying to make his way to me through the crowd. I hurried towards the bathrooms.

“Val!”

I finally reached the women’s restrooms, skipped the line and locked myself in. I left the tray on the floor, sat on the toilet, and bawled like a baby.

“Val! Val!” I heard him knocking on the door.

“Go away!”

He kept yelling for a couple minutes more. I stayed quiet, biting down so hard I got a pain in my jaw. Cesar cursed me, called me names, but I remained silent. Then he apologized, and begged me to come out, and said he would make it all better. That almost got me. But I waited a bit longer. And, with a grumble and the click of his ivory lighter, I heard his echoing steps leaving the bathroom. Only when I couldn’t hear him anymore I could breathe freely again.

It was done. I had broken up with him, and was alone, really alone, once more.

Still crying, feeling the tension of the anger and the sheer despair hurting my neck and my arms and my hips, I closed my hand in a fist and banged it against the wall. I threw a fit, hitting and kicking the walls that were closing in on me, making me feel even smaller, even more powerless. I just about stopped short of screaming. I didn’t want to, but I kept thinking of the villa and all the white roses, the pool in the backyard, the palm trees against the blue sky, and Cesar’s soft hands running over my back, the tickle of his mustache on my knee, the quiet restrained sound of his laugh… All the things I lost. We might just have been able to make it. Be happy together. I could have gotten used to feeling lonely. For him, I might have tried.

But it was too late. The choice was made. I didn’t take the chance. There would be no prize. Just the bland empty comfort of safety.

After a while I finally managed to calm down a bit. I told myself I wouldn’t do what I did when Heath cheated on me. I had taken the initiative, after all. I’ve made a choice and it was all my doing. Regrets or not, I was in control. But then, after the shift was over and I got back to the Broslin, my palms stinging from the bruises, and finally realized just how truly exhausted I was for once, I started sobbing and I kept on sobbing, all night through, cursing at myself for being so weak. As if it would help anything, I went over every single fight we had, every moment I had felt unloved, and I repeated to myself that I was right. And I really was. But that didn’t change in any way how I felt.

I know I should have killed Cesar right away. That would have really made me feel better. For a long time I really wondered if it just might have been worth getting locked up in prison for.

Next day I didn’t go to his office and ask if he was there. I went to work, as if nothing had happened. I sold some goodies, had a drink, stayed silent in the changing room, noticing but not commenting on Sally’s sideways glance. Jamie, Ernie and Colin asked me about details of my breakup with Cesar, and I told them to fuck off. From there on, it was all the usual motions. I was waiting for the inevitable moment in which Jess would come up to me and tell me that Cesar said I was fired. It never came. Next day I came back to work, and Jess said nothing to me, and Cesar was nowhere to be found on the dance floor. I wondered if he was avoiding me, or if this was just like he always was, fickle with his public appearances. Playing hard to get. And during all this time I stayed available, ready with a smile and a sales pitch, selling the little cellophane bags, and looking around in case my now-ex decided to show up and apologize and ask me for another chance. I went back and forth on whether or not I would agree for us to try again.

Cesar never approached me with a new offer, though, so it was, like so often it was with me, another fantasy. I enjoyed these delusions too much, smiling to myself, thinking of how he’d say he was so sorry, and that this time it would be better, and he would embrace and kiss me and prove that what we needed was just a little shock to the system, to prove the relationship was alive and well after all. For a whole week, I kept feeding the little fantasy, staying around a bit late after sunrise, while the cleaning lady broomed away the shimmering confetti, waiting for him to come down the stairs, with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. My fairytale prince.

And then the week passed, and it was back to reality, and another week passed, and I hadn’t seen Cesar, not even heard of him. If I wasn’t so proud and convinced he had to be the one to make the first step, I would have gone up the stairs to his office and demanded to meet with him. I didn’t. I had broken up with him, after all. And sure as hell I wasn’t gonna beg for him to take me back.

I downed a glass of rum and coke at the Playhouse bar. Why I drank rum and coke back then, I can’t tell for sure. I didn’t even like it that much. I just liked the syrupy aftertaste of the soda, but nothing about rum felt good anymore. 

“Hey, baby—!” Jamie startled me, showing up by my side, without his usual posse to my surprise.

I groaned. “God, what is it now?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Val, it’s nothing half as grisly as last time…” he said chipperly. “I got a little job for you.”

 Last time I did Jamie a favor I had to get rid of the body of Max Morlacchi, a fashion designer who had OD’d downstairs. Half of Jamie’s bonus, for making sure nobody connected his death to his night out at the Playhouse. It had been a risky job, but at least I’d gotten to have a ride in his Blackhawk. Such a pity, when I had to let it fall along with its owner into the river.

“Elliot and his pals have the VIP room for tonight,” Jamie explained. “And they’re needing a waitress.”

“Jamie, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. I’ve already asked Kit and Ollie to do it, and they’re not gonna budge...”

“And why do you think I will?”

“Listen, you know I can’t be in the same room as Elliot,” Jamie said. “He’s gonna get absolutely wasted, and try something on me, and his fiancée will freak out, and he’ll say I was the one making the moves—”

“That’s not my problem.”

Jamie gave me a pout and brought his hands together as if in a prayer. “Please, Val. Have a shred of sympathy for a poor working man...”

I let out a deep sigh. Tips had been few and far between lately, and I could always use some of that bonus Jamie offered in exchange for my help. He noticed me considering it, and smiled: to him, it was as if I had already said yes.

“But –Jamie, listen, I’m not a waitress –I’m a goody girl—”

“You’re whatever people tell you to be. And now, you’re a waitress. And a goody girl,” he added, his hands on my shoulders, gripping in a way I knew he hoped was comforting but only came out as forceful. “Besides, they might need some extra stuff to make it through the night.”

“ I’m gonna need some extra stuff.”

“Jess’ll understand if a couple goodies go missing.”

I sighed. “How much is there for me?”

“Look, I’m feeling generous. I can give you half my bonus, if you take care of it the whole night.”

“Seventy-five percent,” I demanded. “And we’re talking.”

“I’m not feeling that generous!”

“Then you’ll have to find someone else.”

In the end Jamie handed me the key to one of the rooms in the basement, and with that he turned around, put on his happy face, and went back to the squeaky group of golden-wrapped dancers with open arms. I turned the key in my hand, feeling its warm weight.

Behind a smoked-glass door, beyond a narrow staircase, there was a dark hallway with seven doors covered by a heavy curtain, all leading to a different room. I had been told a few stories about it by the rest of the crew at the Playhouse: the secrecy of the VIP rooms meant the customers felt particularly eased into doing stuff they wouldn’t even do upstairs. They were all super exclusive, and of which most regulars of the nightclub didn’t even know about. Each room was themed around a certain color (the blue one had been where Morlacchi had died, and the only one I had been in so far), but the true crown jewel was the one at the very end of the hallway, the one which my key would open. It was a dark room, with all-black furniture, that was barely lit by the light of chandeliers reflecting on the mirrors that covered the walls, the ceiling, the floor. I glanced around me, back into the eyes of the Tiffanys multiplied around me, feeling as if I had been thrown back at the audition I had had at the beginning of summer. There were more of me looking down from the roof, and one with the soles of her shoes glued to mine, and for a moment I was amused by the head-spinning effect of being everywhere at the same time.

The wonder was short-lived. The place was crawling with stylish people in garish revealing outfits, just a little bit more out-there than those of the regulars upstairs at the dancefloor. There weren't a lot of guests, but just like me they were multiplied by the mirrors facing each other all around us, which made the room look infinite. Still, despite the funhouse effect, it didn’t change the fact that it was a bunch of stuck-up fuckers I would have to babysit for the rest of the night. And, by the quick glance a couple of women shot me, they were just as happy to see me as I was to see them.

“Oh…” said Elliot, the man in snakeskin boots, his arms wrapped around a woman barely covered in white feathers, as he glanced at me up and down. “I thought Marty would be serving us tonight.”

“Marty’s occupied at the moment.”

“What about Kit?” the feathered woman (I think her name was Maxine) asked with a frown. Now the rest of the guests were turning to me, expecting answers. “Kit’s always free for us…”

“He’s… He’s engaged in other matters, as well.”

Ronnie lit a thick cigar, raising his eyebrows. A woman at the back, Jordan, let out the deepest sigh. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Apart from the rhythmic thumping from upstairs, there was a bunch of loudspeakers blaring disco music. But there was silence. I felt everyone, even the reflections, staring at me.

Someone put a Gloria Gaynor song, and not even one of her good ones. They didn’t really need any music, just a beat to dance to, something to fill the silence.

“Hey, Miss Sourpuss,” Ronnie said between teeth, grabbing my hips and pulling me against him. “It’s a party, haven’t you noticed? Would it kill you to lighten up?”

He was getting far too handsy already for my taste. “I’m not here for that, mister.”

“Then what’re you here for?”

“To… To serve you—”

“Well, I know a way you can do that—”

Enough was enough. I shoved him aside, with such bad luck that he tripped and fell head-first on a little vinyl side table, spilling an ashtray and a few champagne glasses.

“You bitch!” Ronnie yelled. He touched his nape, and when he brought out his hand it was just a little bit stained with red.

“What the fuck!?”

“Who do you think you are!?”

I wanted to run away. But if I did, then it would be official –I would be sacked… And as far as I knew, no waiter nor goody girl nor busboy had ever been officially sacked from the place –and I didn’t want to be the first. After a long night of partying, surely the guests would forget all about it anyways…

So I stayed quiet on the sidelines, with my back against the mirrored corner, becoming as small as I could, while Maxine and Jordan went to help the man back up to his feet. Soon enough they forgot I was even there, and were drinking and dancing as if nothing had happened. I kept staring at the back of Ronnie’s head, at the trickling line of blood going down his neck and staining his white shirt…

About half an hour into the party the drugs began to kick in, and everyone soon began moving more loosely, making less of an effort to look cool. A couple of them snapped their fingers at me, calling me for their supply, and I delivered. After that, things became messy. People tripped and mumbled in attempts at singing, women screamed in amusement when their partners grabbed at them, men kicked each other in their clumsy dance steps. I finally grinned. It was amusing, especially since the place was relatively small (at least compared to the dance floor upstairs) and everyone was clearly making their best effort to take as much room as they could, to be the center of attention. Me, I watched in silence, smoking by myself. A few other guests were also resting and smoking quietly on the sticky black sofa, some of them choosing to engage in some heavy petting. Soon enough they would all end up shedding their clothes, I thought, and going all out. That was what the VIP room was for, apparently. Orgies for the rich, the ones who wouldn’t want to mix with the riffraff.

“ I said, darling, be mine... It won't take us very long, ” Gaynor sang. “ Darling, be mine... We could have a love so strong... ”

“Hey, you!” Maxine called me with a hand gesture, her bangles somehow clanking loud enough to be heard over the music. “Gimme a light.”

 I did as I was told. Her hand was shaking, though, shaking bad enough and holding the cigarette tight enough that her fingers got too close to the flame. Maxine let out a shriek and dropped the cigarette.

“You burned me, you little fuck!” she yelled.

I grit my teeth, said nothing, looked down and bent to pick the cigarette. Next thing I knew Maxine pressed her platform shoe against my butt and pushed me. The tray I had been holding pretty unsteadily finally fell to the mirrored floor, and coke and ludes and a bunch of little cellophane bags and boxes spread to the guests’ feet.

“Look what you did, now!” said another woman, maybe Carole.

“What a damn waste.”

“God, I thought the service would be better—”

“Must be a new girl, y’know—”

“Where are you from, darling?” Mimi asked me, swinging a glass of champagne in her hand. For a moment I thought I could see something similar to sympathy in her eyes. “The Heights? Bronx?”

I felt rather dizzy, and having all those people towering over me, their faces shadowed, confused me too much to think my reply over. “… Jersey.”

Why did I say that? I still don’t know. But they all burst out in a loud explosion of laughter.

“Oh, that explains everything!”

“You’re a long way from home, Dorothy!”

“Hey –ice,” Carole ordered, snapping her fingers and pointing at her drink. “Make it quick, would you?”

I stood up and stumbled to the large piece of ice that was already melting fast, dripping over the overflowing aluminum box it came in. Grabbing the icepick, I broke it as small as I could, shoved the chunks into the bucket, and went towards Carole and offered it to her. She gave me a glance.

“So? What’re you waiting for, Jersey? Put some ice in it.”

I had forgotten the tongs by the aluminum box. Taking a deep breath, I dipped my hand in the bucket to pick up the ice myself—

“What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?” Carole yelled. “Don’t use your hands! I have no idea where they’ve been!”

At this I could only laugh. These people were fucking like the world was ending, snorting enough coke to fill a sandbox, and she was worried about where my hands had been? Maybe it was the dizziness, the way that I was already losing the little patience I had left, or maybe the fact that it was just a very funny thing indeed. But Carole didn’t seem to find it funny at all.

“Stop it! Stop laughing!” she insisted, and smacked my temple. “God –you’re insane!”

The smack wasn’t hard. What stinged, though, was the shame. No, not the shame... The anger. I looked up at her for once, at her face. The sweat had smeared her sparkly purple eyeshadow, and she had twisted her pretty features into something out of the Looney Toons. I thought about the line of blood going down Ronnie’s neck, the man in the white shirt, and focused my sight in the wrinkled space in between Carole’s furrowed eyebrows. All these people were so beautiful, so lucky, so rich, and still they found reasons to bitch and complain.

I didn’t have to think too much about it after that.

I raised the icepick over my head –and with one quick swoop I pierced right between her eyes. She barely gasped. I had managed to shove it deep, so I pulled it out with some effort –a thin stream of blood trickled down out of the wound –and did it again, this time stabbing her eye. And again. And again. And by the fifth time Carole’s partner, Gavin, who had been pawing at her all this time, realized what was going on and let out a scream. I kept stabbing her forehead with the icepick until the hole in it was big enough to stick your whole finger in it. Then I looked up at Gavin, who had managed to call a few other people’s attention –not many of them, though –since most were still too busy partying the night away. I stood up and, before anyone could say anything, I stabbed him –this time in the neck, shutting him up for good. And then—

Well, then I went all out. I went for hearts and stomachs next, of everyone and anyone who stood next to me and hadn’t had a taste yet. When half of the people at the party were already lying on the mirrored floor, in a pool of their own blood, there were still guests dancing and making out. I took a small breather, sinking on the black sofa, picking up one of the champagne bottles and guzzling down what was left in it. The kills soon had me in a state of sheer euphoria, my hands trembling, adrenaline pumping wildly. My weariness was mixing in with my thrill, the heaviness in my limbs along with the lightness in my head, making quite the sensory cocktail. The thumping bass in the music echoed and boomed under my feet, I could feel my heartbeat throbbing on my skin, there was a light giddiness buzzing behind my eyes. I considered taking a break, just to bask in the bliss of the fresh kills… But then I realized, if I stopped, then whoever was left alive would know it had been me.

And, besides, the night was still young.

I picked myself up from the sofa, turning the bloodied icepick in my hand, pushing my hair back and off my sweaty face. Just for good measure, I sucked on two of my fingers, pressed them against the coke someone had left nicely lined on a little mirror over the vinyl side table, and rubbed it on my gums like it was powdered sugar. It was the really good stuff, the sort of pure blow they would only bring out for a special occasion.

And –shaking the exhaustion off –with a sudden rush of energy going through me –like an electric shock –I went on, taking my time now to fully savor it. I stabbed Ronnie in the back, pushing the icepick in as deep as I could, the tip of the metal scraping against his bones. I grinned –it was unlike anything I had done before –it was as if I could feel things so much differently than usual –as if my senses were heightened. When I pulled it out, the stain was spreading in his white shirt like a blooming flower. It would have been pretty to watch as it soaked completely, but I didn’t have the time for it. Stuff to do, sights to see. I went to the next person, Elliot, whom I recalled Jamie hating so much –going for the throat again –now going deep enough so the other end of the icepick could come out of the other side of her neck. It made a nice rather squishy meaty sound, like when preparing lamb skewers. There were four or five people left, all of them now aware, to a certain degree, of what was happening. Unfortunately for them they were all against the opposite wall to the door, and apart from a couple screams and pleas, they were too shocked or high to know how to react. I mean –I couldn’t blame them, now, could I?

I pushed two women to the side and bashed one of their heads against the wall, shattering it in a spiderweb-like pattern. Broken mirrors meant seven years of bad luck, but I don’t know –I was feeling pretty lucky then. I stabbed both of them, their hot blood splattering me, and something about it –can’t say what, exactly –felt particularly wonderful. I wiped my forehead with my elbow, smearing it all over my face. I caught a glance of myself in the mirrors in front of me, my thrilled eyes, my wide grin, blood dripping off me like I had been caught in the rain. It was the happiest I had seen myself in quite a while.

A man who had been cornered (Kenny, or maybe Tony?) was trying to crawl away. I sank my icepick in his leg –he squealed like a pig –and I quickly got up back to my feet and pushed the loudspeaker on top of him, smashing him flat. I had never seen that happen before either, and it was quite a funny sight, like a cake being dropped and all its filling spilling out. But then I noticed movement on the mirrors on the walls, and saw the last person alive –Maxine, the one who had kicked me and made me drop the tray, the woman in platform shoes –screaming her head off and running out the door.

I ran after her, wielding the icepick, panting, drawing quick sharp breaths between teeth. She tried to run up the stairs, but she was clearly too tipsy to keep her balance. Her shoes were too bulky to go up quickly enough, and soon enough she tripped and fell down the steps, breaking her nose, rolling towards me –and as soon as she landed at my feet –I made sure she wouldn’t get up again.

The party upstairs went on. Nobody heard the screams.

My heart was beating so fast. I took a moment to catch my breath again. I hadn’t had that much excitement in years.

Once I calmed down a bit, I went back to the VIP room. I picked up one of the last bottles of champagne and found Ronnie’s forgotten cigar, a few inches away from the growing pool of blood. I picked it up, raised it to my lips, and took a deep drag, closing my eyes. A little treat to myself, since Ronnie wouldn’t have any use for it anymore. Then, I made my way out of the party, upstairs, through the dancefloor and back out onto the bright streets of Manhattan.

The late-night subway was hot and dirty and rickety like always, and I was still tired and hungry; but now my blood was pumping, and I had a big smile on my face. The grimy windows still managed to reflect back to me the image of my wide-open eyes, bright red smeared over my pink eyeshadow –a deeper, richer tone, not gentle and pretty anymore. I was riding the high of the last rush of adrenaline, and as I closed my hand, I could perfectly remember the feeling of sinking the icepick into soft flesh. I sighed. It was ecstasy. It was exhilarating. It was pure pleasure. It didn’t matter then that I was back to being on my own. 

I sold the rest of my gifts, and with the money I went to the diner around the corner, and treated myself to a huge, hearty lunch. Then I bought a big red pleather suitcase, packed up, and that same afternoon I left New York. Even though I thought it very unlikely that anyone back at work would ever report me to the police, it still felt like the right thing to do… Of course, I lost my job. Or at least I think I did; I didn’t return the next day, just in case. I didn’t see Cesar again. But if I had to leave the Playhouse at some point (and our last chat had made it clear that it would be sooner than later), despite the anonymity, this was the best way I could ever do that –in a blaze of gore and glory.

[scarlet4rose]

the ex-boyfriend

Jess Mariano x reader

pt.1 (yes, I seriously turned this into a two-part story)

request: please do one where the reader and jess are dating but the reader runs into their ex boyfriend and jess gets jealous!!!

alright, I’m gonna try my best ;)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

On a late Friday afternoon, you're on your way to Luke's Diner. 

You and your boyfriend Jess want to go to the movies tonight, after not seeing each other much all week, since Jess took on extra shifts at Luke's and Walmart.

 You and Jess have only been a couple for about a month, but you already miss him every second you're apart.

 You begin to walk more briskly to get to Luke's Diner faster, where you're supposed to meet Jess. The diner is only half lit and before you get to the other side of the street, the door opens and Jess comes rushing out. 

As he leaves the diner, he puts on his jacket and runs towards you. You notice a distinct grin on his face and start running, too. Before you are fully able to stop, he picks you up in his arms and spins you around in the air. 

"Jess," you say in surprise, as he sets you back down on the ground, leans forward and gives you a deep kiss. He takes your face in both his hands and you feel your knees go weak, inevitably. 

Jess ends the kiss and you stare at him, stunned: "What was that for?” Jess grins mischievously and continues to look you in the eyes: "I just felt like it".

 Then he puts his arm around you to pull you closer to him and you begin to saunter off in the direction of the movie theater.

You look up to him "Well, you could feel like doing that more often" 

Jess returns your gaze and hastily kisses your cheek "I always feel like doing that, always"

You feel yourself blushing slightly and lean more against his side "I didn't know that" 

"Like you could" Jess says in a sarcastic tone of voice and rolls his eyes "I've just been after you for almost an entire year now". You giggle softly, unaware that Jess' heart is leaping at the sweet sound of your laughter. 

He turns his head to you once more and kisses your cheek again. "Jess, I can barely walk straight with you doing that all the time. I'm about to fall over," you say with a grin. 

"Not a problem at all, I’m right here to catch you like the knight in shining armor I am" Jess chuckles and tilts his head to the side to give you another kiss, now more than ever.

You fear your heart might burst from sheer bliss. You have never been as happy as you are with Jess, and you have never felt for any boy the way you feel for him. You know it's love. You love Jess. You've never loved a guy before, but the emotions Jess evokes in you are unlike anything else. 

True love. It threw you off a little at first, but now you couldn't be any gladder to be with him. 

The two of you, still nestled together, turn around a corner, only to nearly collide with another couple. Wincing, you take your head off Jess' shoulder and can hardly believe your eyes as you realize who's standing right in front of you. 

It's Tyler Thompson (lol not me making up another guy every week)  

Your former boyfriend. 

"No way, Y/N, great to see ya," Tyler says, surprised but smiling wide.

"Hi" you say hesitantly and glance over at the girl on his arm. You've seen her before at school, though you don't share more than one or two classes together. You notice she kind of resembles you in a way. 

" Well, that's a coincidence!" Tyler exclaims cheerfully. 

"Yeah, um, it really is," you then say, smiling slightly. 

"Right, and coincidentally, I am y/n's boyfriend. Jess," Jess suddenly announces in a firm and definite tone. You look up at him and see his grim, newly stern face. 

Tyler eyes Jess dismissively and smirks, "Nice. I'm Tyler" 

"Chelsea's boyfriend," the girl on his arm adds, grinning big. 

"Yeah, that's Chelsea" Tyler comments unnecessarily and returns to staring at you with obvious interest "So, what are you doing out here tonight?" 

Before you even get the chance to answer, Jess has already leaned forward. "We're going to the movies, if you don't mind" Jess puts his arm around your waist and pulls you closer. 

Tyler laughs smugly "I was asking Y/N, if you don't mind". 

The two boys glare at each other and you clench your jaw. Oh god, this is not going too well. 

Tyler then leans back a bit "Alright, you guys want to go the movie theater. Funny, Chelsea and I were going to see a movie today too." 

Jess takes a sharp breath, but this time you beat him to the punch. 

"That's actually quite a coincidence," you say, hoping to be able to smooth things over, "Jess and I want to go see this futuristic movie `Equilibrium`. The one with this new actor who played that psycho two years ago. Um... what was his name again?" 

"Christian Bale," Jess mutters through clenched teeth, still giving Tyler a dark glare. 

"Oh, that's right." you chime in, trying to cover up for Jess's bad behavior with being overly polite "Truly a gifted actor, in my opinion. So… which movie are you going to see?" 

“Uh, well,” Tyler tilts his head slightly, “The one you wanna see. Uh, the one with Bale, Christian Bale” You notice Chelsea taking a confused look at her boyfriend.

Jess snorts “Say that again. Come on. What’s the name of the movie you so desperately can’t wait to see?” 

Tyler towers up in front of Jess and pushes his chin forward "I said, the one with the Bale guy" 

"And I said, say the name of the movie!" Jess insists firmly. 

"Oh, come on now" Tyler shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans "You're actin' like I don't know it"

"So, do you know it?" Jess asks snidely. 

"Of course I do! It's like Y/N just said. It's Equilli... Equil... Equillum-" Tyler groans, "It doesn't even fucking matter!!!" 

“Equilibrium, you idiot! And it does fucking matter! How are you gonna see a movie you don’t even know the name of?!” 

You know it’s time for you to try to defuse the situation "Cut him some slack, Jess. After all, it is a complicated name for a movie." 

Jess looks at you in disbelief. He can't believe you're sticking up for this douchebag. 

All of a sudden Chelsea speaks up: "Ty, I had no idea we were going to the movie theater today, let alone that we were gonna watch this weird Equi-something movie. That guy Bale gives me the creeps, he was way too convincing as the psycho to not be a psycho in real life..."

"It's called acting, Chelsea" Tyler sighs 

"Wait, so you didn't even want to go to the movies? Oh, that really hurts, Tyler!" Jess says, the sarcasm painfully obvious. His arm remains around your waist and he pulls you close once more "Really! I didn't see that coming, did I?".

The situation was getting more and more tense, and Jess' jealousy certainly was no help. 

"Well, I guess it doesn't really matter anyway," you mutter, still trying to smooth things over, "Actually, it's none of our business, is it, Jess?" 

With doe eyes you look up into Jess's frowning face. He doesn't say a word, even though you know he disagrees with you. 

You turn to your ex-boyfriend and poor Chelsea, who you somehow feel sorry for. "Also, Jess and I really need to get going now or else we're going to miss the beginning of the movie, so..." 

Tyler puts his arm around Chelsea again. "Yes, we gotta go," he says unironically, "The beginning is as important as the end."  

you had thought it would be impossible for Tyler to still stick to his plan to accompany you two to the movies after all the bickering. But Tyler's words, spoken so casually, reveal that you had thought wrong

Jess stares at him in shock, "We?" he repeats. "We gotta go watch the movie??!"

[...]

Part 2 is going to follow very soon!!

(also, don’t take my writing too seriously, I’m just trying to have a little fun with it... and yes, I’ve seen the movie)

note: story takes place in 2002 (when Equilibrium was first released)

edit: part 2 is up now => https://at.tumblr.com/scarlet4rose/the-ex-boyfriend-pt2/lpdl24ftepu9

[justmeinadaze]

Unattainable Part X (Eddie X Theater Girl)

A/N: I rewrote this like 3 times lol I needed theater girl to have a moment with Eddie where he is human. Because he is. Even though to they love each other and he's her "knight in shining armor" he's still man with some insecurities and fears like the rest of us.

Warnings: No smut in this one but definitely some angst and fluff near the end lol, Theater girl has a moment with her mom (there are mentions of the trauma there; not a lot but) , there is drug use and not the fun kind!

Word Count: 3900

“Are you sure you want to go back?” Eddie’s tone was low, laced with an undertone of sadness. It broke my heart but I had to go back home sometime and with it being the Sunday before going to back to school, I figured I might as well. “You can still stay here you know.”

I made my way towards where he was sitting at the end of his bed playing his guitar. His back was to me as he kept his eyes on the tv in front of him. Wrapping my arms around his shirtless torso, I placed a kiss on his bare shoulder. I felt his strong, calloused hand reach up to rub one of my arms. 

“Eddie, I have to go home.”

“At least let me go in with you. I can even stay in another room while you talk to her.”

“I promise, everything is going to be fine.”

He turned his head in my direction, bringing my hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on the back. 

“I just want to know you’re ok.”

#####################################

When I entered through my front door, I immediately felt Eddie’s absence. The house was still and eerily silent. All the shades were pulled down making it seem darker than it should be. As I walked by the kitchen, I noticed the dishes piled high in the sink. 

“What are you doing?!” Eddie’s voice cracks comically behind me and he shoves me to the side with his hips. “Princesses don’t do dishes!”

I made my way up the stairs, glancing in my mother’s bedroom but there was no one there. 

Eddie jumps on the bed and crawls up to me planting a sloppy kiss on my lips. “I missed you.”

“You were gone for like 10 minutes!”

“Pffft! 10 minutes to long.”

As I enter my room, I throw my bags on the floor. I make my way towards the empty bed and look around my what now feels like an empty bedroom. I don’t even try to control the tears as I lean into the pillow, hugging myself as I cry. 

“Hey. You ok, baby? Do you need anything?” Eddies hand caresses my cheek. 

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” I smile up at him as he leans in to kiss my forehead. 

I had been home for 3 hours before my mom finally came home. I listened intently as she made her way into the kitchen, moving things around, and then stomped her way upstairs. 

“Oh hey. You’re home.” 

I can’t find it in me to reply to her so I simply look in her direction and nod my head. She comes in, sitting down beside me and it takes her a few minutes before she says anything else. 

“Look, um, I am sorry about what happened. You know”, she swallows and nervously runs her hands along her knees. “You know I would never hurt you like that. I would never…I would never…I would”, she starts repeating herself under her breath. 

I reach out and take her hand in mine. “I know, mom. I know.”

Her eyes are brimming with tears when she turns her head to look at me. She nods her head as if I affirmed something with my answer. She slowly gets up, heading for the door. 

“Oh! Something came for you while you were gone. I put it on your desk.”

I flash her a lazy smile and she returns it before heading for her room, closing the door. I slog over to my desk and see an envelope with a college insignia. I quickly open it and read through the letter. I got accepted into my first-choice theater school in New York. Smiling, I hug the letter to my chest.

Reaching for the phone, I dial Eddie’s number. 

“Yeah?” The sound of his voice immediately calmed my chaotic mind. From a distance I heard Wayne’s voice float through. “Edward! Is that seriously how you answer the phone?” Eddie huffs into the mouthpiece.

“Wow. You always know how to make me feel special.”

“Hey! Hey. Hang on a second.” He pulls the phone away from his face. “It’s for me, Wayne! Calm down!” I giggle at him as I hear him shuffle to a room and close the door. “Hey Sweetheart. You ok?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I miss you.”

“I miss you to. It feels weird not seeing your face.” I make a tiny aw sound at his comment. “How was she? Did you guys talk?” 

“I mean, we talked about as much as we normally do. She just got home and then she apologized so,” I shrug even though he can’t see it. 

“I’m sorry. I wish you had let me come with you so you wouldn’t have had to be alone for so long.”

“It’s okay. I did actually call because I have some good news to balance out all the bleh.” 

He laughs at my last word and the sound effect that follows it. “Tell me something other than bleh.”

“I, um, while I was away a letter came in from that school I applied to in New York and I got accepted.”

Silence. I was unprepared for silence. “Eddie? Are you still there?”

“Yeah. I’m here. That’s amazing, babe. I’m really… I’m really happy for you!”

Is he? Am I overanalyzing his tone right now? 

*snickers*

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I have to go. Wayne needs the phone and I’m just really tired. I’ll probably go to bed early tonight. I am proud of you.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, you should get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you to.” The last thing I hear is the sound of the lighter and his garbled voice as he places the cigarette between his teeth. 

############################################

The buzz around school was electric as everyone hugged their friends and talked about their amazing spring break. Eddie usually meets me by my locker in the mornings but today he didn’t show. 

Maybe he slept in?

Maybe he needed some time away from you.

When the lunch bell rang, I practically ran to the cafeteria to see if he was there and to my surprise, he wasn’t. 

“Dustin!” I shook his shoulder. “Where is Eddie?”

“Um”, he looks around confused. “I always assume if he’s not here he’s with you.”

“What do you mean? You haven’t heard from him at all today?” My voice gets a little shriller than I mean it to.

“No but that’s not uncommon. I mean…should we be worried?”

“No. No. I bet he just overslept or something.” I paint what I hope is a convincing smile across my face as I turn to leave. I’m on autopilot as I feel my feet take me out of the cafeteria and through the front doors of the campus. 

###########################################

When I pull up to the trailer, I breathe out a sigh of relief to see Eddie’s van. I jump off my bike and knock on the door. “Eddie! It’s me, Eddie come on.” No one answers. 

I make my way around to where I know his room is and see that the window is slightly open. I look around and find a brick in the grass near the front steps. I place it below his window, allowing for leverage, as I use all my strength to push up and through the area, crashing onto his empty bed. 

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that was super attractive.” Eddie’s voice comes out husky and gargled. He’s lying on his back on the floor of his room in just his torn up blue jeans. He’s hugging his guitar with it flat against his tummy as he casually plucks at the strings in no particular order. Next to his head is an ash tray filled to the brim and a carton of cigarettes. 

“Eddie? What’s going on, babe?” He lets out a snarky laugh that I’ve heard before but never from him. He’s either drunk or on something. “Eddie…what did you do?”

I climb off the bed to kneel down beside him. His long finger lazily comes up to my face, pointing at me. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

He lets out a sarcastic ow as I slap his hand away and start digging through things around him. I grab his waist digging my hands into his pockets. Slowly I pull out a small bag of white powder, holding it up so I can look at it. “Hey. That’s mine.” As Eddie reaches for the bag, I get on my feet to keep looking around. “Hey! If you want some Special K all you have to do is ask, angel. You know I’d share with you for free.” I find what I’m searching for on his dresser. There’s a plate with more white powder on it sorted into lines with a rolled-up dollar bill next to it. 

“How much of this have you had?”

“Enough.” He starts strumming his guitar again. 

“Eddie, I’m not playing around. How much of this have you had.”

“Oh my god. It doesn’t matter. It’s mine. I bought it. I can take as much as I want! God damn. I can’t tell who you’re acting more like, my mom or yours.”

I don’t know what hit me first, the hurt or the anger. Of course, Eddie did drugs. We had smoked joints together but this… this was different. Like my mother he was using this vice to bury something, something that’s bothering him. I was hurt that he didn’t talk to me before it got to this point. I was angry that whatever it was had got him here. I was infuriated that I had spent almost 10 years of my life, my childhood, taking care of and watching someone I loved spiral like this. I refused to do it again.

“Oh. Ok. You know what you’re right. How much does this stuff usually go for?” I asked, my tone dripping with distain. 

“I paid, um, a $100 I think.”

“$100? Ok.” I grabbed my bag off the bed and dug through it before pulling out my wallet. I threw a bunch of twenties in Eddies direction. 

“Ugh! What the—”

“It’s mine now.” I grabbed the plate off his dresser and headed towards the bathroom. I cleaned the powder off the plate and emptied the bag into the toilet, flushing it down. Eddie swished past me on my way back to his room towards the bathroom.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! That was everything I had!”

“Well, Edward, according to your philosophy I paid for them so I could do what I wanted with them.”

From the doorway he was standing in, I could see his face twitch as I said his name. I had never called him Edward before and he didn’t like it. I pointed my finger at him as I spoke, “I will not baby another grown up. You’re the one that said we need to talk to each other if something is wrong.”

He scoffed as he leaned in the doorway, folding his arms. “What does it matter, right? You’re going to be leaving me like everyone else so there will be no one for you to baby.”

“Really?” I gesture towards him. “All of this is because I got accepted into that school?”

Something ignites in his eyes and he walks almost aggressively towards me until he is in my face. “You didn’t tell me you had applied or even talk to me about what I would want to do after we graduate!”

“You knew I wanted to get out of Hawkins. I never hid that from you.”

“Yeah, and where did I fit in to your plan?! Hm?”

“With me! Eddie, I applied there before I met you. I just assumed any school I got into you’d come with me.” Eddie shakes his head me and saunters towards his cigarettes. I watch him as he lights one and blows out smoke in my direction. “What do you want to do? Where do you want to go after high school?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! You’re giving me this attitude because you think I’m going to leave you and that I apparently don’t consider you and your plans but now you’re telling me you have no idea what those plans actually are?!” 

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m just being honest.”

“No, you’re being petty because you’re scared!” I close my eyes and try to control my tone. “Eddie, I get it. Trust me. You’re afraid that I’m going to hurt and leave you here.” I move my body in front of his and cup his cheeks in my hands forcing him to look at me. “I promise you; I would never hurt you like that.”

He stares through me and twists his face out of my hands, throwing himself on the bed. I swallow and blink back the tears that try to come. “Fine. You can keep pouting and doing this little thing here but I wasn’t joking. I already handle a drunk. I won’t do this again.” I wrap my bag around my shoulder and slam out the front door, leaving my bike on the front lawn. I need to walk and let out some steam.

############################################

I hadn’t seen Eddie since yesterday afternoon. Well, let me clarify. I hadn’t spoken to him since then. I saw him around school but went in the opposite direction to avoid the confrontation. I was exhausted. I was so tired of dealing with the bullshit like that. After leaving his trailer, my wall came up and it was higher than it had ever been. 

“Hey.” My mom lightly taps on my door. After school I had come straight home and curled up on my bed listening to music hoping to drown out the world. Having her knock on my door was way more startling than her just barging in. I was used to that. Everyone around me was acting different and it was throwing me off. 

“Hey. Is everything ok?”

“No! No, everything is fine. Um, that Munson kid is here.”

I let out a sigh. “Oh, thank you. Can you tell him I’m sick or something?”

“Thank you, ma’am. I can take it from here.” My mother moved to the side to let Eddie pass her into my room. 

“I’m going to work. They need some extra hands so…” We exchange a smile before she leaves Eddie and I alone. Once I hear the front door close, I turn my attention to him.

“What do you want, Eddie?”

“I wanted to talk, explain some things.”

“Now you want to talk. You know what?” I raise my hand dismissively in his direction. “You don’t have to explain anything, ok? You can do whatever you want.”

He exhales slowly, his feet shuffling across the floor to come sit on the end of my bed. I immediately get up, heading towards the other side of my room, crossing my arms. I need to put as much distance between him and I as possible. 

You have to be ready for the worst. I told you he was like them.

“Please don’t do that. Look at me. I swear I haven’t even had any weed today, ok?”

“Good…good for you, Eddie.” I try to make my tone sound strong but my lips vibrate as the words leave my mouth. 

“I fucked up. I know I fucked up. I just—” He gets up and tries reaching for me but I slip away from his embrace, moving again to the opposite end of the room. 

“I don’t care that you do or have drugs. I care how you use them.” My eyes glance quickly to his before focusing on something else in the room. “What were you numbing?”

“You were right yesterday. I was scared. Scared that, you know, you were going to go off and be this awesome famous college actress girl and leave stupid, freak, metalhead me here. I couldn’t face the idea that…. that you might now want me to go with you. You told me your news and, I don’t know, I just panicked.”

I sit back down on my bed and let out a heavy sigh. “What I don’t understand is”, my voice cracks as a tear falls down my cheek. “Why would you think for one second I wouldn’t want you with me?  I mean, Jesus Eddie, I spend almost every single day with you. I just spent an entire week at your house. I gave you my trust andmy body! What more do you—what happened to your hand?” While I was practically shouting at him, I glanced down and noticed his knuckles were red and bruised. 

“Oh”, he whispers, raising his hand to look at it. “I may have… punched the wall after you left. I kept thinking about what I said to you—” I headed towards the bathroom, coming back with a first aid kit. Grabbing his other hand, I moved him to sit on the bed. “Hey, I’m fine. It’s no big deal. OW!”

I ran a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol over his cuts. “Oh, don’t be baby.” I mutter under my breath. Leaning over him, I throw the ball away into the trash. I reach into the kit again and crack one of the tiny ice packs that are in there before placing it on his hand. “You must have hit it pretty hard. There’s some swelling here.”

His other hand comes up to cover the one I have holding the pack in place. “I’m really sorry. For what I said, how I said it, how it must of made you feel. You won’t ever have to do or deal with anything again, ok? Like I said, I panicked. I’m just a fucking coward I guess.”

“Eddie, you’re not a coward. You’re human. You got scared. I know I’m one to talk. When I’m in my head I try and hide what I’m feeling but you don’t let me and I’m not going to let you. You know I’m always here for you but that doesn’t mean I’m going to put up with whatever that was yesterday.”

He reaches out towards my chin, pulling me in for a kiss. “That’s fair.” I smile against his lips, before reaching up to kiss his forehead like he does with me. 

His head moves from side to side as he takes in everything. “Last time I was here I didn’t actually get to look at your room.” He points to the ceiling at my heavy metal posters. “Those are obviously cool.” Eddie rises from the bed and slowly starts taking a look around. He stops at my desk, running his hand over the A+ ribbons and theater certificates. He smiles as he gazes at my photos of me and some of the other theater kids tapped to my mirror. Crossing the room to my dresser, he picks up a framed photo of my family holding me when I was a baby. 

“You were adorable.” He grins over at me. I respond with a big tooth filled smile as I put everything in the first aid kit away and place it on the bed side table. I don’t notice him make his way to my keyboard piano in the corner of the room. 

“Hey! What’s this? It has my name on it.”

“Eddie!” I rush over to him trying to take the folded piece of paper out of his hand but he’s too quick and holds it up over his head.

“What is it? Were you writing me a song or something? Aw, Sweetheart. That’s cute! I thought you couldn’t sing?” He kept dodging my hands as I jumped up trying to reach it.

“I wasn’t trying to write you a song.” An embarrassed sigh escaped my lips. “I was trying to learn a song.” He clutches at his heart dramatically. “Ok, you know what, it was stupid. I was working on it after our first couple of dates and you were always playing the guitar for me over the phone and singing stuff so I wanted to surprise you but then I thought it was cheesy.” Eddie laughed at my babble as he reached for my arm to pull me into a hug. 

“Can you play it for me now?” I look up at him apprehensively. “Oh, come on. If it’s terrible we’ll just say my ears bleeding is punishment for yesterday.” I punch him the arm, making him giggle harder. 

Grabbing the piano, I motion for him to sit on the floor, and he does cross-legged like a child on Christmas morning under the tree opening presents. I sat directly across from him and placed the notes on the hold rack of the keyboard. I play with the keyboard for a bit before starting to play the notes I learned, singing to him slow and soft. 

“When everything feels all over Everybody seems unkind I'll give you a four-leaf clover Take all worry out of your mind

Let my love open the door

To your heart”

I glance at Eddie and notice the playful nature that was previously on his face has been replaced with a gentle smile. I focus my eyes back on the notes in front of me but I can still feel his own penetrating me as he watches me play.

“The only key to your heart That can stop you falling apart Try today, you'll find this way Come on and give me a chance to say

Let my love open the door It's all I'm livin' for Release yourself from misery There's only one thing gonna set you free

That's my love

When tragedy befalls you  Don't let it drag you down Love can cure your problems  You're so lucky I'm around

Let my love open the door

To your heart.”

When I look up at him again, he’s no longer smiling. Eddie’s head was tilted to the side and his eyes were scanning my face.

“See? I told you it was cheesy. I didn’t even learn the entire thing.” I say as I exhale a nervous laugh. After I slide the piano from between us, I reach out with my foot and lightly push at his knee. “Punishment served.”

Eddies hand quickly grabs my ankle as I’m pulling it away, sliding me forward and underneath him as he lays on top of me. He cups my face, placing a passionate kiss on my lips. I reach my arms up, twisting them around his neck, pulling him closer to me. When he finally pulls away, we’re both panting, trying to get some air back into our lungs. 

“That was beautiful.” He rubs the tip of his nose along mine. “I don’t feel like I deserved something like that. After everything.”

“Eddie, after everything you’ve done for me, I feel like that wasn’t enough.”

He leans down landing small kisses along my face. “You’re right.” He murmurs against my skin. “Next time, hire someone else to sing to me.” I roll my eyes as he starts laughing at me again. I shove his shoulder, rolling him on to his back with me straddling his waist. My hands brace themselves on his chest as he lifts his hips up to get into a more comfortable position, grabbing my own hips to hold me steady. He’s beaming up at me with that huge, gorgeous smile I adore so much. 

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie nods his head as his hands rub up and down my thighs. “Would you want to come with me to New York?” 

He grins as he sits up causing me to slide down against him. He bites his bottom lip, smiling up at me.

 “I’ll go with you anywhere, my Lady.” ##########################################

A/N: This is the song she's singing to him. I envisioned it being slower though like an acoustic version :)

Tags: @hufflepuffprincess24 @fanfiction-lover-24