#i meant to reply but i got busy and then self conscious

[maskofenigma]

ok another fallen london essay-ramble: numbers!!!!!! (im sorry)

so numerology has for a while been a pretty significant part of occult traditions and practices. the concept of attributing supernatural significance to numbers is (if im not mistaken) as old as ancient egypt if not older, but don't quote me on that. also ancient egypt isn't really a single specific civilization so uhm. whatever. anyways the point is that its old and has a storied history and hit 2009 browser game Fallen London has its own interesting number significance that i want to talk about and maybe have some sort of thesis on idk. the recurrent numbers that ill be focusing on are three, four, and seven

four and three are less obvious because they mostly show up from a mechanical standpoint rather than a narrative standpoint. also, when analyzing numbers as potential motifs, lower integers can be difficult as they could just be coincidence. but i want to talk about them anyway and we'll start with three. three occurs in a few places: there are three aesthetic stats (respectable, bizarre, and dreaded), three defensive stats (insubstantial, innerent, and neathproofed), three gender categories, three accomplices allowed in hearts game, three integrated factions, many carousels have three cosmetic or reward options. these all seem to be primarily out of convenience rather than intending to send some sort of clear message, as three is a good number for these sorts of character choices. it has all the simplicity of a binary while allowing for a bit more variance and interplay. gender moment. on the topic of gender, the reason there are three genders is similar; male and female are the predominant gender roles of society, with nonbinary as the catch-all category for anything that doesnt fit those two definitions. i don't need to spell that out but what im trying to say is there being a nonbinary option isn't the product of some strange worldbuilding esoterica or anything it’s just based. most of these are probably just there, though it is important to note that the defenses, which started as just neathproofed, were expanded to three categories. its probably nothing.

where it starts being something is with fallen london's equivalent to dnd alignment, the chessboard colors. the black represents revolution and the liberation, the white signifies the status quo and the red represents self interest. the conflict between liberationists and the judgements is a really significant plotline in fallen london and its associated games, which definitely makes three an important number here. i do think this isnt a case of three being an ultra special number, though, but rather because of the aforementioned benefits of having three categories. even so, we see it here in the lore, and we see it again with the loom in irem. i actually just recently realized that the different kinds of warp you gather in irem correspond to the three chess colors, bombazine warp representing dark and mysterious futures, silken representing peaceful and lawful futures, and sinewy as a catch all for the weirder futures. most of what i said about the chess colors applies here as well, but this is another good example of the number three making its way into the lore. On the topic of irem, the naturalist’s storyline has three distinct endings, so there’s also that

four is a little more purposeful, in my eyes. there are four main stats, four ambitions, four major menaces, four starting areas. these all very likely due to the choice to have four main stats, as each menace roughly corresponds to a stat, and the ambitions and areas correlate to a specific stat. there are also four default ships and four advanced ships, and four options one’s hearts desire (though there are five treasures). one area where the number four was actually pretty significant was the most recent estival, the coilheart games. there were four major events, with four competitors in each round, and the door to the sixth coil had four sigils. within the sixth coil, there were four burdens you could acquire for special rewards and four areas with their own distinct sub areas. most of these also correspond to the four stats, aside from the competitors in each round, but its interesting nonetheless. you could also make note of the four layers of the labyrinth of tigers that have regular access to humans, but that's pretty weak. If i can be timely (because i forgot this when i initially wrote this mess) hallowmas features a total of four masks and masques, but only three are accessible on any given year, so these numbers absolutely cross over. Three and four also overlap with the aforementioned ships: four total ships, but only three are worth having. Only for the default ships tho i love the fruits of the zee ships equally. But i think the most interesting fact about these two numbers, that points to them possibly being intentional to the narrative of fallen london and not just convenient to the mechanics, is that three and four add to seven. speaking of

im going to be honest if you’re a fallen london player then i dont think i need to explain why seven is significant to fallen london. its seven. shes an icon. seven is the number. but ill talk about it anyway it appears everywhere both on its own and as seventy seven and seven hundred seventy seven and seven thousand seven hundred seventy seven and seventy--- anyway. i havent played through smen or sunless skies, so i dont know the full significance of the number seven, but i can speculate about why its so significant (apologies if i get this wrong). seven is the number after six. fascinating i know. but six has a special degree of significance in symbology and esoterica. it s a number thats significant to the abrahamic religions, which are for better or worse foundational to modern european culture; the world is said to have been made in six days, with the seventh day for rest, and humans were made on the sith day. the star of david and the seal of solomon that features an early instance of said star is six pointed. its a multiple of three, and three was very important to the (specifically christian) scholars and theologians of antiquity because of the trinity. and there is, of course, the mark of the beast, another specifically christian symbol, a brand placed upon the heads of the wicked during the end times. moving outside of the spiritual, six is considered a perfect number, and is the atomic number of carbon, the building block of life. these two arent as relevant, but im having fun.

anyway, i feel like itd be redundant to go through even a sample of the instances of seven in fallen london, its literally everywhere. seven cities, seven players of the marvellous, seven coils to the labyrinth of tigers, i think knife and candle had some seven stuff going on, seven seeking candles, etc. its like i said, seven is the number. its neat! Im sure id get further understanding of its significance if i did smen but i dont have the time to rn ill get around to it eventually. Or give up and read the wiki idc

once again im not sure i have a point here, but i do really enjoy the way these numbers recur throughout the game. it gives a special weight to these numbers, gives them a character and significance. i dont see many games use numbers in this way, which is fair; they’re a pretty easy thing to overlook in that regard. but its a factor that, in a small way, helps to give fallen london its unique and odd personality that is so captivating. get it? factor? like math,,,,,,,

Anyway if there isnt one already we need an exceptional story about some weirdo being obsessed with the relationship between four and three. Make it canon. Thats the thesis ok bye lmk if i missed anything <3

[nahoney22]

Congrats on the 3k! Not shocked at all, you're wonderful and deserve it! 💜 I was wondering if you'd do a smut piece with Echo and fem reader with the NSFW prompts 'can you feel what you are doing to me?' And 'you are the biggest turn on'? But would it be possible to add the 'accidental brush' prompt to it? If not, no worries! But maybe like a mutual pining/idiots being in love with each other and not realizing it until something finally caves? I'm a sucker for that stuff lol

3000 Prompt List Celebration

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

NSFW

prompts:

• “Can you feel what you are doing to me?”

• “You are my biggest turn on.”

• & ‘Accidental Brush’

warnings: NSFW, explicit sexual content, mutual pining, idiots in love, female reader, first kiss, flirting, handjob, fluff, aftercare.

authors note: oh @theroguesully I’m so sorry about the wait! This was completely lost in my drafts and it was scheduled to be posted literally months ago but Tumblr said no. Anyway, hope this is okay and thanks for the support! Love this idea.

“Are you busy?”

You glanced up to find Echo near, his mechanical hand cradled in his grasp. "I've got time," you replied as you set your previous task to the side, observing him settle next to you as he lays his prosthetic down gently. "What seems to be the problem?"

"It's acting up. No clue what happened. I've tried everything," he explained, a hint of frustration evident in his voice. Your lips curled into a knowing smile.

"You think I might have a solution?" You took the cybernetic hand, studying the connections and circuits. "When did it start acting up?"

"Roughly an hour ago," he admitted, his gaze intently following your movements. Most people made him feel self-conscious about his enhancements, but with you, he felt different. It was your gentleness, your genuine care. And the undeniable fact that you were the most enchanting individual he'd ever encountered - a secret he guarded closely. Though he had his suspicions that maybe Hunter knew. And Wrecker… and everyone else. Just hopefully, not you.

"Hang tight, I'll sort this out," you said, pinpointing the malfunction. "I can bring it over when I'm done."

"You trying to send me away already?" He teased.

"N-No, it's just—" You stuttered, forever caught off guard by Echo's smooth presence. From the moment you'd met, you could not deny the fact he made your heart skip a beat. He was also so tentative and kind, not to mention utterly handsome too.

“Mind if I stick around?”

The intensity of his gaze caused your hands to waver just a fraction, betraying the storm of emotions raging within you.

"Of course," you managed to reply, trying to sound more composed than you felt, then refocused on the task at hand.

As you began to work away, Echo was captivated. Watching you effortlessly navigate the intricacies of mechanics always left him in awe. In his eyes, your skill rivaled that of even the most seasoned experts like Tech. Or perhaps he was simply biased.

But as time passed, his appreciation began to shift. While you remained engrossed in fixing the issue, his eyes strayed to the gentle curve of your lips, the way you absentmindedly bit down on your bottom lip as you concentrated. It wasn't meant to be enticing, yet he found himself stirred by the sight. He swallowed hard, an uneasy tension filling the air around him. Shifting uncomfortably, he hoped you wouldn't notice the effect you had on him.

Echo's sudden fluster caught your attention, making you smirk mischievously. "Everything okay?" you teased, having caught his uneasy demeanor.

"Just... feeling a bit warm," he replied, his fingers absentmindedly adjusting his collar.

"Well, don’t worry because I’m now done." You handed over his fixed prosthetic, your heart fluttering as you awaited his verdict.

The ease with which he reattached it and the grin that spread across his face told you everything. "You really are something," he whispered, though not quietly enough to escape your ears.

You leaned closer, the playful edge in your voice unmistakable. "And what’s that?"

He met your gaze, a warmth emanating from his eyes that had your heart skipping a beat. "Brilliant," he replied, his voice firm with conviction.

Taken aback, you offer a shy smile, averting your gaze. "I should get back to my work," you murmur, gesturing to your previous task. He follows your gesture and nods in understanding.

"Do you need a hand?" Echo offers, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

"No, it's just some minor tweaks left. But hey, if your arm gives you trouble again, let me know," you reply warmly, your words making him feel an unexpected surge of warmth.

He returns the smile, more genuinely this time. "I appreciate that. Is there any way I can thank you? Anything you need?"

Caught off guard, the first thing that comes to your mind spills out, "A hug?"

His eyes widen, clearly taken aback. You've shared casual touches, sure, but a hug was stepping into new territory.

Seeing your hesitation, he responds with a soft smile, "I'd like that."

You both stand and Echo's eyes search yours for a moment, and then with a gentle determination, he opens his arms to you. The galaxy seems to slow as you step into his embrace. The surprising warmth of his body against yours feels both unfamiliar and comforting, the steady beat of his heart syncing with the rapid thumping of your own.

You rest your head against his chest, discreetly inhaling the unique scent of him - a mix of metal, oil, and something distinctly Echo.

But, something feels different.

You pull back from him slowly and that’s when you see it. Your mouth subsequently waters and a sudden heat pangs at your core.

Your heart races as Echo, completely forgetting that his previous arousal hadn’t completely faded and the hug, only sprung it back as you accidentally brushed against him.

“It’s not what it looks like.” He utters quickly, eyes wide and absolutely mortified but you’re too stunned to speak.

And you’re not at all upset. In fact, you are rather in awe. “Then… what does it look like?”

Echo's face burns, the combination of his embarrassment and the close proximity making it all the more intense. He struggles to find words, his confident demeanor faltering in the face of his unexpected vulnerability.

"It's... I mean..." he starts, trying to form a coherent thought, "Being close to you, feeling your warmth, it just... affected me. And watching you work…”

Your eyes remain locked onto his, the weight of the realisation settling in. The physical evidence of his attraction had been a surprise, but in a way, it also confirmed what you had both been dancing around for so long.

Taking a deep breath, you muster the courage to admit, "I affect you, huh?"

As you didn’t back away, in fact coming closer, Echo let out his own deep breath and sincerely hoped he was reading the look in your eyes correcting. “You’re my biggest turn on.”

With your eyes dancing in delight at his confession, you couldn’t help but lick your lower lip, enticing Echo more whose eyes flicker straight to your lips that he had been thinking of kissing for so long. “I think I’ve thought of a new way you can thank me, Echo.”

“And what’s that?” He rasps.

Closing the distance once more, you gently let your hand begin to palm the aching length in his pants, having him shudder and moan in satisfaction. “I think you know.”

Without a second thought, Echo’s lips are on yours. He kissed you like a man starved, tongue diving deep into your mouth as you manage to slip your hand into his pants, taking a grasp of his warm cock that twitches beautifully under your grasp. “Fuck, Echo,” you compliment as you feel how big and perfect he was.

“Can you feel what you are doing to me?” He breathes against your lips, earning a grin of your own as your pussy throbs in response.

“I never thought you’d feel this way about me,”

“How could I not?”

Pulling his pants down to his ankles, you take a second to break the kiss and to admire his length. Both of your hands come into contact with him and he grunts at the sensation. “You look so good stroking my cock,” he whines, leaning against the control panel as he gazes down at your hands that start a perfect synchronised rhythm, pumping against his as precum lubes up your motions.

You lock eyes with him, his hooded with lust as you pleasure him with your hands, watching his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. “Do you like this?”

“I love it, I love it so much.” He whimpers, knees shaking as you cup his balls, gently fondling them whilst your other hand maintains its rhythm. “D-do you want me to touch you?”

You smirk but gently shake your head. “I just want to focus on you today, I want to show you what I’ve always wanted to do.”

He blinks, surprised and incredibly aroused. “You have?” He says with a soft grunt, biting his own lip as he feels his climax start to build.

“Mhm, I’ve… I’ve always wanted to do this. With you.”

“Well,” he reaches his hand up and cups your cheek before sliding his lips over yours in a quick and heated embrace, “don’t let me stop you.”

Your pace begins to quicken, and his breathing becomes more stuttered as his hips involuntarily start to roll, sliding his cock in and out of your grasp. “Not - oh fuuuck - not going to last much longer sweetheart.”

“Cum for me Echo, cum.”

He’s saying your name over and over, his head tilted back as you pump frantically at his cock until you feel a beautiful warm texture paint your hands. You gasp at the feeling, his silky white cum covering your hand.

When you pull back, you quickly grab some tissue and clean yourself up, shyly handing over some for Echo who takes it, completely flustered. “Thank you.”

“So,” he says slowly once he’s tidied himself up and pulled his pants back up, “can I ask what this means?”

“I mean,” you shift in your position, sincerely hoping you’ve read the situation between you both correctly, “I think it’s obvious that I have feelings for you.”

At this, he blows out a breath of relief. “Good. Great,” he smiles warmly, “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time too. I just didn’t think you’d feel the same.”

You approach him again, this time you both instantly fall into each other's embrace. “You’re just going to have to thank me next time in a different way.”

His eyes widened slightly, a playful smirk forming on his lips. "Is that so?"

You nodded with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Definitely."

Echo chuckled softly, his hand resting gently against the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. "I look forward to it. Just know that I have plenty of ways to show my gratitude."

☀️ Requests Open until the 15th of October. ☀️

Masterlist

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova a @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @imalovernotahater @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894

[turcott3]

motive

mason mctavish x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, allusions to smut, lowkey hate this, and fluff

positions fics masterlist

~tell me what’s your motive?~

-

“fuck.” mason yelled at the tv, losing yet another match on fortnite. you laid with your legs in his lap, his arms lightly resting on them.

“do you think maybe you should take a break?” you ask, giggling at his frustration.

“well, yeah i probably should.” he says tossing the controller on the couch next to him, running a hand lightly up your thigh.

“we have group dinner at 7. go get ready we have to leave in like 30 minutes.” you remind him and he sighs.

“do we have to go?” he asks, removing your legs from his lap and picking his legs up, laying his head on your chest.

“yes mason, we have to go. we said we’d be there.” you giggle, toying with the tight curls on his head.

“help me find an outfit.” he says standing up, lending you a hand. he sits on the bed as you dig through his closet tossing clothes to him to put on.

“okay i like this one.” he says looking in the mirror.

“yeah, looks good to me.” you say walking up next to him. he wraps a light arm around your waist and pulls you to his side.

“look at us.” he says and you giggle. you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t practically head over heels for this man. the worst part was that you couldn’t exactly tell his feelings for you. you knew he liked you but you couldn’t tell what his actual motive was, and god was it horrible for you.

“okay let’s go.” you say, removing his hand from your waist and kissing him on the cheek. you arrive at dinner perfectly on time meeting a few of his teammates in the parking lot and catching up with some girl friends. once you’ve all arrived you find your way inside, mason pulling your chair out for you.

“okay gentleman.” you say.

“gotta make a good impression.” he giggles, placing a hand on your thigh. you had full intentions in drinking tonight, sex was already on your mind. you couldn’t wait to get back to his apartment and you weren’t even drunk yet.

“so y/n, how have you been? i feel like i don’t see you much.” leo asks across the table.

“i’ve been good! busy working sadly, but good. how are you?” you reply, placing your hand on top of mason’s and squeezing it.

“i’ve been good, im glad daniella could make it to be here tonight.” he smiles, hugging onto his girlfriend who you’d grown quite fond of since you met. the service was quick, you got your food very quickly. you were grateful because that meant you didn’t have to sit at this awkward dinner for hours on end. except, it wasn’t actually awkward. you were just buzzing, bordering drunk, and feeling self conscious about it.

“mason.” you mumble.

“what?” he replies, running a light thumb over the skin of your leg.

“can you finish your food?”

“what’s the rush?” he asks with concern.

“i don’t feel good.” you half-lie.

“okay.” he says waving the server over for the bill. mason hands him his card without looking at the cost and takes his final bites. when the server returns with his card, you bid leo and daniella goodbye and quickly find your way out of the restaurant.

“i’m sorry for making you leave. i’m a little buzzed and bloated. i feel ugly i just wanted to leave.” you state apologetically.

“you’re not ugly, you look beautiful. it’s okay, we can go back to my apartment, get you into some pajamas yeah?” he says, returning his hand to his place on your thigh.

“i’d like that.” you blush, appreciating how he was caring for you.

-

you laid in bed breathlessly, your buzz still lingering even after the unbelievable hour of sex you just had. mason hated seeing you feel insecure or bad about yourself and always found a way to fight it.

“do you need anything? a shower? a drink?” he asks, stroking your hair lightly. his aftercare was always what you looked forward to most after fucking. he never disappointed.

“no i’m okay thank you though.” you sigh, just simply enjoying this moment, not knowing how long it would last.

“mason?” you ask after moments of silence.

“yeah?”

“can i ask you something?”

“sure can.”

“how do you feel about me?” you ask indirectly.

“well first of all, i love being around you. you’re smart, funny, sweet, beautiful. what else is there to say?”

“no no like, ugh. i don’t know.”

“are you trying to ask if i have feelings for you?”

“pfft what? no i wasn’t, but i mean if you wanna answer that question id appreciate it.” you giggle, relaxing into your lingering buzz.

“is it not obvious that i like you?”

“no, why do you think i wanted you to answer the question?” you reply, smacking him on the chest.

“i’m always touching you, i call you beautiful, i buy you things. what could be clearer?” he asks with a deadpan face.

“hey relax, i’m half messing with you. i like you too but i think you knew that.” you smirk and he finally cracks a smile.

“yeah i knew.” he giggles.

“why didn’t you act on it?” you scoff, sitting up abruptly and moving your straddle his hips.

“i was t sure the extent of your likeness for me.” he says before you bend over and connect your lips sweetly.

“i think that should say enough.” you say sitting back up again.

“fuck y/n.” he sighs, placing his hands lightly on the outside of your thighs.

“what mason?”

“i don’t think i like you actually,” he pauses and your heart stops. you climb off of him and sit next to him.

“did i do something wrong i-“

“no no, y/n you’re drunk stop.”

“tell me mase.”

“i don’t think i like you, i know i do. in fact i don’t just like you, i love you. i love you y/n and i wanna be with you. i wanna wake up next to you every morning, i wanna see your posts with the wags, i wanna hear about your day and your work. i want to love you all the time.” he confesses to you, joining you sitting up.

“mason i don’t even know what to say.” you reply, wrapping the brunette in your embrace.

“you don’t have to say anything. i couldn’t keep that from you anymore and im sorry if you don’t feel the same way.”

“no no mason i do. i love you too. i’ve been head over heels in love with you for a while i can’t sit here and lie to your face.” you giggle and he smiles, relief washing over his face.

“so you’d be my girlfriend?”

“absolutely i would.” you reply, jumping into his arms.

“what a fucking relief.” he says lowly.

“y/n mctavish, change my contact name babe.”

“on it.” he giggles in response, picking up his phone from the nightstand, seeing his lockscreen for the first time. i picture of you and him in your mirror the day of dux in tux.

“awe.” you say and he turns to you.

“oh, my lockscreen?”

“yes”

“i made it my lockscreen because i couldn’t stop looking at it. you look so fucking perfect.” he says directing your attention to the phone.

“i don’t even know how to accept your flattery but at least now i know all your compliments weren’t out of pity.”

“oh never baby, never.” he giggles, kissing your cheek delicately.

-

[fake-sturniolos]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬 2

pt1

SYNOPSIS:  a hopeless romantic teen attempts to secure a happily-ever-after moment with her forever crush, but finds herself reluctantly drawn to the boy next door.

WARNING: none I think

word count: 1,292

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 'ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ'

I was applying my lip gloss when a text from Matt popped up on my phone, saying he was here. Quickly, I got up, taking one last glance in the mirror to smooth down my dress before grabbing my bag and heading downstairs. My dad was sitting on the couch with my stepmom, Claire. Although we weren't particularly close, she was always nice. I waved goodbye to them.

"Be home by 12, y/n," my dad reminded me.

"I will. Love you, bye," I replied, opening the door to see Matt about to knock. Stepping out, I closed the door behind me.

"Your dad didn't want to give me a lecture first?" Matt asked with a grin.

I rolled my eyes. "My dad has known you forever," I said, walking over to his car.

Matt unlocked the car, and we both got in. I buckled my seatbelt and glanced over at Matt, actually taking in his appearance. As crazy as it is for me to admit, he looked good. I couldn't help but notice the glint of his rings catching the faint light

“Do you try to dress like you're on the set of 'The Notebook,' or is that a coincidence?” Matt said, looking at me with a teasing grin.

I couldn't help but laugh at his comment. "I'll take that as a compliment,"

Matt chuckled, a hint of amusement in his tone, before putting the car in reverse and driving off.

We walked into the party, and I immediately felt out of place. The room was a whirlwind of activity, with groups of people chatting and laughing, their voices blending together into a cacophony of sound. I hugged my arms around myself, suddenly self-conscious in the sea of unfamiliar faces and loud music.

Matt glanced at me. "Not your usual scene, huh?"

"You could say that," I replied curtly

He shrugged nonchalantly, a faint smirk still playing at the corners of his lips. "Just follow my lead, and you'll be fine." he said, his voice casual yet oddly reassuring

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked

He shrugged again. "Consider it a temporary truce," he replied, his gaze meeting mine.

Despite my reservations, I found myself nodding in reluctant agreement. "Fine," I conceded, begrudgingly accepting his offer of assistance.

We navigated through the crowd, weaving our way through clusters of people until we finally spotted Tristan.

Matt nudged me gently "There he is," he said as he nodded in Tristan's direction.

I followed his gaze, ready to approach Tristan, but before I could take a step my heart sank as I noticed Tristan engaged in conversation with none other than Lacy. She was leaning in close, her laughter ringing through the air, and Tristan seemed completely captivated by her presence.

Matt glanced at me. "Looks like he's busy,"

I nodded "Yeah," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, I considered turning back, retreating from the party and the inevitable awkwardness of the situation. But then, a stubborn determination flared within me. I refused to let Lacy—or anyone else—stand in the way of my goal.

"I'll find another way to talk to him," I said, more to myself than to Matt.

I veered towards the makeshift bar and poured myself a drink of alcohol—a bold move considering I didn't usually drink. But tonight was different. Tonight, I needed something to steady my nerves and bolster my confidence. And if that meant stepping out of my comfort zone, then so be it.

As I turned around, drink in hand, I found myself face-to-face with Matt, who was watching me with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

I forced a smile. "Yeah, just needed a little something to take the edge off," I replied, hoping he wouldn't see through my facade.

Matt arched an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his expression. "You sure about that?" he pressed

"Yes, Matt, I'm fine," I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.

He let out a resigned sigh. "Okay, suit yourself," he muttered under his breath.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom.” I said, looking over at Matt.

He nods, and I find my way to the bathroom. I wait for what feels like 30 minutes for whoever was in the bathroom to come out. I knock hard on the door, then it whips open, and I see no one other than Lacy.

She looks me up and down. “You're wearing that to a party?” she laughs.

“And you're wearing that? At least I don't look like a hooker”' Usually, I hold back on my comments with Lacy, but I didn't have the patience for her right now.

She scoffs and pushes past me. I walk in and close the door to the bathroom, looking in the mirror and smoothing down my dress. I take a deep breath, trying to collect myself. I sigh and reach for the door handle.

I find my way back to Matt and see that he's talking to Tristan. I take a deep breath and walk up to them.

"Hi, Tristan," I smile at him.

"Oh, hi y/n," he smiles back at me. "I didn’t know this was your type of thing?"

I feel a slight pang of embarrassment at his question, wondering if he can tell how out of place I feel at the party. But I brush it off with a laugh.

"But how have you been?" he smiled at me. "You look exactly the same; I would've recognized you anywhere."

I felt like my heart stopped. How is it possible for someone to be this gorgeous?

All I could manage to respond with was, "Same."

"So, where do you work?"

"What?"

He gestured to my dress. "Your uniform...?"

"Oh." He thought my adorable dress was a waitress uniform.

Kill me now.

I looked at Matt, who was giving me a shit-eating grin.

"My uniform. Yeah, um, I pick up hours at the diner."

"What diner?"

"The, uh, Diner."

Matt's face turned into a huge grin. "I love the diner."

"I barely work there," I said, trying to brush it off.

Tristan tilted his head a little. "Where exactly is—"

"I wish you moved back into your old house, Parker," Matt interrupted him.

I made a mental note to thank Matt for that later.

"Can you imagine?" Tristan laughed.

"Because we could totally re-up our last game of hide and seek," Matt added.

"I prefer not to," I smiled at Tristan.

Lacy walked up to Tristan, leaning in to whisper something in his ear.

Tristan nodded at her before turning his attention back to us. "It's been nice catching up, guys. I've got to head out now, though."

I just smiled and nodded and watched as he walked off.

i sigh “she really has him wrapped around her finger huh?”

"You want to get out of here?" he asked suddenly

I hesitated for a moment before nodding.

We walked out of the house, feeling the cool night air hitting us as we approached Matt's car. Getting in, Matt started the engine. The silence between us was comfortable. As we settled into our seats, Matt reached for the radio knob and turned it on.

'There Is a Light That Never Goes Out' started to play. I couldn't help but smile as I glanced over at Matt.

"I love The Smiths," I remarked.

He glanced at me, a curious expression on his face. "Sorry?"

"I said I love The Smiths," I repeated.

"You love The Smiths?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah," I laughed. "To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die," I sang along with the song.

Matt chuckled and drove off.

ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ɪᴛ!

ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ʟᴀᴜɴᴀ

[shiorihyugawrites]

A Soft Place

In a post-Rumbling world, where the threat of Titans no longer looms, Vanessa Sinclair finds herself living a quiet life, working at her family’s bakery in Wall Rose. Curvy and self-conscious, Vanessa has always faded into the background, overshadowed by her more outgoing friends. But everything changes when Captain Levi Ackerman, Humanity's Strongest Soldier, begins visiting the bakery regularly. What starts as a simple exchange of tea and pastries quickly evolves into something more. Levi, drawn to her quiet strength and beauty, takes Vanessa on a journey that forces her to confront her insecurities, while learning that sometimes, what lies beneath the surface is more than enough. (Levi x Plus Sized OC)

Chapter One

The small bakery, "The Sweet House," was bustling with the usual mid-morning crowd. Sunlight filtered through the glass windows, casting soft patterns on the wooden floor. The bakery’s interior resembled a tranquil greenhouse—vines and potted plants hung from the ceiling, and the scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the floral aroma of the tea being brewed behind the counter. Outside, the quiet hum of Wall Rose’s inner streets went on as peacefully as they could be, now that the outside world was no longer a threat.

Vanessa Sinclair stood behind the counter, her hands deftly kneading dough, her eyes focused on the task. Her long curly brown hair was tied up in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her freckled face. The apron around her waist was dusted with flour, and her hazel eyes, though bright, held a distant look. Her deep dimples, a feature her mother always told her were beautiful, were hidden under the tight set of her lips. 

As usual, Vanessa worked quietly while Robin and Emma, her coworkers, entertained the steady stream of customers. Both women, tall, slim, and confident with their sleek hair and bright smiles, laughed at the flirtatious remarks tossed their way by the men standing in line. Emma had a striking smile, her blonde hair cascading down her back as she winked playfully at one of the regulars. Robin, with her dark hair and slender frame, was already engaged in casual banter with a few soldiers who had come in for their daily bread and tea.

Vanessa rarely got that kind of attention.

As she placed a tray of perfectly shaped rolls into the oven, her eyes darted toward the counter. One of the soldiers, his gear still strapped to his hips, leaned across the counter and handed Emma a small piece of paper. It was undoubtedly his contact information. Emma giggled, brushing her hair back as she accepted it. Vanessa shifted uncomfortably, her eyes lowering back to the dough she was rolling out for pastries.

"God, I wish I had her confidence," Vanessa thought, pressing the dough harder than necessary. 

Robin noticed her quiet demeanor and nudged her as she passed by with a tray of tea cups. “You okay, Ness?” she asked softly, her tone full of genuine concern.

Vanessa forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, just busy. You know how it is,” she replied, her voice carrying the faintest hint of her low self-esteem, though she masked it as best as she could.

Robin gave her a sympathetic look but didn’t push the subject. “Well, let me know if you need help with the cakes later. You’re the best decorator we’ve got.”

Vanessa nodded and muttered a quiet "thanks," though her heart wasn’t in it. She knew Robin meant well, but that didn’t stop the creeping thoughts from whispering in the back of her mind. Thoughts that reminded her she was different. Too short, too curvy, too… unremarkable.

Robin and Emma often got all the attention. When they went out together, Vanessa would be the one who lagged behind, pretending not to notice when men passed over her to compliment her friends. Even now, in the bakery, while customers flirted with Robin and Emma, Vanessa was left to work unnoticed. She convinced herself it was fine. She had her work, her skill in baking, her passion for decorating intricate pastries that looked almost too beautiful to eat. But even that passion couldn’t fill the growing void of loneliness in her chest.

She glanced outside to see the same familiar faces of Wall Rose's citizens walking by, their lives continuing peacefully. Soldiers from the Survey Corps occasionally strolled in, their bodies less tense, their faces more relaxed. It was still surreal to Vanessa, even months after the Rumbling, that they were safe now. Eren Jaeger had wiped out every threat beyond the island’s shores. She didn’t know how to feel about that; most people didn’t talk about it openly, especially in the inner walls, where whispers of the events in Marley were still met with hushed tones and uncertain glances.

Suddenly, the bell above the bakery door chimed, and two more soldiers entered. Vanessa's eyes instinctively lifted to the new arrivals. They wore the green capes of the Scouts, and for a brief moment, her heart quickened. Even though the Rumbling had brought peace, there was still something about the presence of soldiers that made her uneasy. But these weren’t just any soldiers. These were veterans.

One of them, a tall man with dark hair tied back into a messy bun, had a serious expression, his brows furrowed as if he had a lot on his mind. The other was shorter, with an undercut and an air of intensity that radiated even in this peaceful setting.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

Though Vanessa had seen CaptainLevi a handful of times before—usually when he passed by the bakery with his squad—he was still somewhat of a mystery to her. People whispered about him. Some called him Humanity's Strongest Soldier, others feared him for his cold demeanor and ruthless efficiency on the battlefield. But here he was, stepping into "The Sweet House," with his usual stoic expression and sharp eyes scanning the room.

Robin and Emma immediately straightened up, their playful tones softening, replaced by something more serious. Even they knew better than to flirt with someone like Levi Ackerman. 

Vanessa kept her eyes down as she prepared another tray of tea, her fingers moving deftly despite the sudden tension in the air. She knew better than to expect any attention from him. Men like Levi didn’t notice women like her.

“Just tea for two,” Levi muttered, his voice low but commanding. His companion nodded in agreement, his eyes briefly scanning the assortment of baked goods.

As Robin took their order, Vanessa quietly set the tea tray on the counter, her hands brushing flour from her apron. Levi didn’t even glance her way. His sharp gaze remained on the door, ever alert, ever focused, as if he couldn’t allow himself even a moment of peace. 

For a brief moment, Vanessa’s heart ached. She told herself it was stupid to feel that way. Of course Levi Ackerman, the man who had fought Titans, saved humanity, and stood beside legends, wouldn’t notice someone like her. But still, it stung—a reminder of her own insecurities and the invisible wall she felt existed between her and everyone else.

Robin and Emma exchanged glances as they served the tea, their usual banter replaced with a more subdued tone around the infamous captain. Vanessa, still feeling like the unseen background, turned back to the kitchen, her mind drifting to the suggestion her mother had made just the night before.

“You should join that pen pal group, Ness,” Vivian, her mother, had said over dinner last night, her warm, motherly smile filled with encouragement. “It’ll be good for you. You might meet someone interesting. Who knows, maybe he’ll be the one.”

Vanessa had scoffed at the idea at first. An anonymous pen pal? Writing letters to someone she’d never meet? It felt ridiculous. But as she washed her hands and reached for the next batch of dough, her thoughts lingered on the possibility. It wasn’t like her life was exciting right now. Maybe, just maybe, it would be something new. Something to shake up the monotonous routine of her life.

She sighed softly, her hazel eyes glancing toward the counter where Levi sat, sipping his tea without a word. 

"Maybe... it’s time for something different," she thought, returning to her work, though the idea of a pen pal didn’t seem as ridiculous as it had last night.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take a chance.

As Vanessa finished preparing the tea, her hands trembled slightly. Her heart raced in her chest as she realized she would be the one bringing it to Levi Ackerman himself. The man known throughout the walls as Humanity’s Strongest Soldier was only a few feet away, sitting at the counter with his back straight, his eyes sharp and ever-watchful. Beside him, his companion—none other than Eren Jaeger—sat with a distant look, his face cold and unreadable.

Vanessa’s pulse quickened. This was the closest she had ever been to either of them, and the weight of that realization made her hands feel clumsy, her grip on the tray unsteady.

“You’ve got this, Ness,” she muttered under her breath, trying to steel her nerves. It was just tea. She’d served hundreds of customers before, even high-ranking military officers. But this felt different. Levi’s intense presence made her feel exposed, vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind the counter, the teacups perfectly arranged on the tray. But as she walked toward them, her mind raced with the insecurity that had haunted her for years. "What if they think I’m clumsy? Or worse, invisible?" 

She reached Levi and Eren’s table. With every step closer, she felt her anxiety grow. The bakery, once filled with comforting aromas and soft chatter, now seemed overwhelmingly silent.

“Here’s your tea,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Just as she began lowering the tray, her hand slipped.

Everything happened in a flash—Vanessa felt the slick handle of the tray slip from her trembling fingers, and before she could react, the teacups tumbled over the edge. Time seemed to slow down, her eyes widening in horror as the delicate porcelain shattered on the wooden floor. The tea splattered everywhere, dark liquid spreading across the clean surface, seeping into the cracks between the floorboards.

A gasp escaped her lips as the sound of the shattering cups echoed through the bakery. Vanessa froze, her entire body stiffening as she stared at the mess she had just made. Her heart pounded in her chest, so loud she could hardly hear anything else. 

“Oh, no…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her face flushed red, heat rising to her cheeks as shame and embarrassment crashed over her. 

For a moment, all she could think about was how much she wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Levi or Eren. Instead, she crouched down quickly, frantically trying to clean up the mess.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean— I’ll clean it up right away,” Vanessa stammered, her voice trembling as she tried to collect the shattered pieces of the teacups with shaking hands. 

Her fingers fumbled, the nerves getting the best of her. She couldn’t even look up at the men she had just spilled tea in front of—Humanity’s Strongest Soldier and the man who had saved all of Paradis from annihilation. How could she have been so careless?

“Don’t worry about it,” came a quiet, gruff voice. Levi's.

Vanessa’s heart skipped a beat, and her face grew even hotter. She couldn’t tell if he was irritated, indifferent, or simply dismissive. She couldn’t bear to find out either, so she kept her eyes glued to the floor as she continued to clean.

Robin and Emma rushed over, their faces filled with concern as they knelt beside Vanessa to help.

“Don’t worry, Ness, we’ll handle this,” Robin whispered, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as she knelt to gather the broken pieces.

“We’ll get you two some fresh tea. On the house, of course,” Emma added quickly, flashing an apologetic smile toward Levi and Eren, who had yet to say much. 

Eren hadn’t even glanced at the mess. His eyes were still fixed on some distant point beyond the bakery, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. The tension between him and Levi was palpable, but neither of them seemed overly concerned about the tea.

Robin and Emma took over, their calm presence somehow making the situation feel even worse for Vanessa. She wanted to crawl into a corner, to disappear entirely, but her feet refused to move.

Her mind was a whirlwind of self-doubt. "Why did I have to mess up now? In front of them, of all people?" She could already imagine Robin and Emma’s voices comforting her later, telling her not to worry about it, but she knew this moment would stick with her—another small failure added to the long list of reasons she wasn’t like them.

Vanessa swallowed hard, blinking back the moisture that threatened to cloud her vision. She couldn’t stay here. Not right now.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she mumbled again, her voice barely above a whisper. She stood quickly, avoiding eye contact with anyone, and hurried toward the back room, her footsteps heavy and uneven. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that it drowned out everything else.

Once she made it to the back of the bakery, she pressed her back against the wall, her hands covering her face. The cool, flour-dusted surface of the wall was a slight relief from the heat radiating from her embarrassment, but it did little to calm the storm of shame swirling inside her.

She slid down to sit on the floor, her apron still stained with flour and now tea. Her head rested against her knees, and she tried to breathe, but all she could think about was how horribly wrong everything had gone. This was supposed to be a normal day. Why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be Levi?

The nerves, the insecurities—everything had collided all at once, and now she had made a fool of herself. Vanessa’s mind raced with the weight of it all, and she wished more than anything that she could just disappear for a little while.

She was too embarrassed to face the bakery again, too flustered to even consider stepping out and seeing their faces. Especially Levi’s.

Robin and Emma exchanged glances as they watched Vanessa rush into the back room, her footsteps uneven, and her figure trembling with embarrassment. They knew Ness had always been shy, but neither had ever seen her this flustered before. Robin's eyes softened with sympathy, while Emma let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head.

Levi, sitting at the counter with his tea still soaking into the floor, remained impassive. His sharp, unwavering gaze followed Vanessa's retreat, his expression unreadable. He hadn't said much when the accident happened, just a brief "Don't worry about it," and now his silence hung in the air like a heavy curtain.

Eren, sitting beside him, barely blinked. His hands were folded in front of him, eyes distant and locked onto some unseen point beyond the bakery's walls. If he had any reaction to the spilled tea or Vanessa’s mortified escape, it didn’t show. His stoicism had only deepened since the Rumbling, his emotions buried deep beneath layers of purpose and detachment. Levi could sense it, but right now, he wasn’t focused on Eren. 

"Did you hear that?" Levi muttered quietly to Eren, his voice low. "One of them called her 'Ness.'"

Eren’s gaze shifted ever so slightly in acknowledgment, but he didn’t respond. Levi’s eyes narrowed as he glanced toward the back room where Vanessa had disappeared. He wasn’t sure why the girl's clumsiness had caught his attention, but something about the way she fled, so visibly shaken, lingered in his mind.

Emma quickly knelt down to clean up the remnants of the spilled tea while Robin, with her ever-friendly smile, stepped forward and spoke gently to Levi and Eren. “We’re so sorry about that. Let us get you both a fresh batch, on the house. It’ll be ready in just a moment,” she said, her tone warm and professional, though the tension was still evident in her voice.

“Take your time,” Levi replied coolly, his eyes still glancing toward the back where Vanessa had disappeared.

Robin and Emma worked quickly, trying to ease the awkwardness that now filled the bakery. Robin glanced toward the back room, where she could only imagine Vanessa was hiding, and then looked at Levi and Eren. They had seen enough tension and battles to last a lifetime; this incident was nothing compared to the things they had faced. But for Vanessa? It felt like the end of the world.

In the back room, Vanessa sat on a small wooden stool, her hands clutching the sides of her apron. Her heart hadn’t slowed down since the moment she dropped the tea, and her cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment. The air back here felt heavy, thick with the scent of flour and sugar, but nothing could soothe the panic swirling inside her.

“How could I be so stupid?” she muttered to herself, her hands pressing against her face as if that would somehow hide her from the outside world. Her mind raced, replaying the scene over and over again, each time worse than the last. She could feel the weight of their eyes on her as the tea spilled, hear the shattering of the porcelain, see Levi's indifferent expression that somehow made everything feel even worse.

She had messed up in front of Captain Levi Ackerman—Levi Ackerman. And not just him. Eren Jaeger too. The two most intimidating men in the whole of Paradis, and she had embarrassed herself in front of them. Vanessa groaned, covering her face with both hands as she slouched against the counter. 

“I can never go back out there,” she thought, her chest tightening with each passing second. “Robin and Emma are going to think I’m such an idiot. I can’t even serve a cup of tea without making a scene.”

Her stomach churned, and she wished she could disappear, hide in the back room forever, where no one could see her, where no one could judge her. She imagined herself quitting the bakery, moving to some far corner of the walls where no one knew her, where no one would remember the girl who spilled tea on Captain Levi.

Her thoughts spiraled, and she could feel the embarrassment sinking in deeper and deeper. Vanessa was the kind of person who prided herself on staying in the background, unnoticed, blending into the routine of the bakery. But now, she had been noticed for all the wrong reasons. 

"What am I even doing?" she mumbled, her voice strained. "I’m not like Robin or Emma… I’m not the one people notice." 

She knew they would handle the situation with ease, fix the mess, and charm their way through it. Meanwhile, here she was, hiding like a scared child.

Vanessa took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself, but it felt impossible. She was trapped in her own mind, a whirlwind of self-doubt and humiliation swirling around her. Her hands fidgeted with the fabric of her apron, twisting and pulling at it as she tried to focus on anything other than what had just happened.

“Why does this always happen to me?” she whispered under her breath. It wasn’t the first time she had felt out of place. She had grown used to being overlooked, used to standing in the shadow of her friends. But today… today was worse. It wasn’t just being ignored. It was being noticed—noticed for being a mess.

The thought made her cringe, her hazel eyes closing tightly as she wished, once again, for the ground to just swallow her up. She imagined Robin and Emma out there, handling the situation, probably making jokes with Levi and Eren, smoothing over everything. They were good at that. They knew how to charm, how to make people feel at ease. 

Vanessa, on the other hand, couldn’t even manage a cup of tea.

As she sat there, torn between wanting to hide forever and forcing herself to face the embarrassment, she heard the faint murmur of voices coming from the front of the shop. The bell chimed softly again, probably signaling more customers arriving. Her heart sank at the thought of facing anyone. But more than that, the idea of seeing Levi and Eren again—after what she had just done—was unbearable.

“No… I can’t… I can’t go out there,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head. 

Vanessa took in deep, shaky breaths, trying to steady herself as the distant murmur of customers entering the bakery filled her ears. She could hear the bell above the door ringing repeatedly, the sound of new footsteps and low voices mixing with Robin and Emma’s hurried chatter. More customers. 

“No, no, no…” Vanessa muttered under her breath. Robin and Emma were good at handling the crowd, but they couldn't do it alone, not when it was getting this busy. She knew they’d need her help soon, and that meant one terrifying thing: going back out there.

Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t ready to face Levi or Eren again. Not after spilling the tea. Not after making such a fool of herself. Her hands were still trembling slightly as she clenched them into fists, trying to ground herself. "Come on, Ness. You’ve handled worse days than this. You can do it. Just… pretend they’re not there."

Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the back of her head against the cool wall behind her. She ran through the usual routine in her mind—taking orders, serving tea, carrying trays. It was nothing she hadn’t done a thousand times before. So why did it feel like her entire world had collapsed after one small mistake?

"Because it wasn’t just any customers. It was him. Levi Ackerman. And Eren Jaeger," she reminded herself bitterly. The weight of their presence still hung over her like a dark cloud. But there wasn’t any time to think about that now. She couldn’t leave Robin and Emma to handle this alone. They needed her.

Her breath hitched as she heard Robin’s voice call from the front. “Ness? Hey, we’re swamped out here!”

Vanessa bit her lip, her mind racing with excuses to stay hidden in the back room. But none of them sounded reasonable. She couldn’t hide forever. She had a job to do, and no matter how much she wanted to disappear, she couldn’t let her friends down. 

“Okay, you can do this,” she whispered to herself, running a hand through her curly hair, still tied in a messy ponytail. “Just go out there, get through the rush, and avoid making eye contact. It’s simple.”

She stood up, her legs still feeling a little wobbly beneath her. Her hands smoothed down the flour-stained apron over her curvy frame, and she glanced at herself in the small mirror hanging by the door. Her hazel eyes were still wide with anxiety, and her freckles stood out more against her flushed skin. The deep dimples that usually softened her expression were absent, replaced by the tight line of her lips.

“Just pretend it didn’t happen,” she muttered, giving herself one last look. “You’re fine. You’re not invisible. You’re just… you. And that’s enough.”

With a final deep breath, Vanessa turned the handle of the back room door and stepped back into the bakery. The familiar smells of freshly baked bread and floral tea wafted through the air, but the atmosphere had changed since she last left. The place was bustling now, with a line forming at the counter, and Robin and Emma were darting between customers, their usual grace tested by the sheer number of orders.

Vanessa’s heart raced again as she tried to center herself, moving to help with the orders without glancing toward the spot where Levi and Eren still sat. The memory of her earlier mistake burned in the back of her mind, and she couldn’t help but feel a knot of self-consciousness tightening in her stomach. She desperately wanted to avoid their gaze, but the weight of it felt like a tangible force pressing down on her.

Robin gave her a quick glance of relief when she saw Vanessa emerge from the back. “Thanks, Ness. Couldn’t do this without you,” she whispered in passing, balancing a tray of pastries and tea cups.

Vanessa forced a small smile and nodded, though her heart was still pounding. She focused on the customers, taking their orders, preparing drinks, and doing her best to ignore the fact that she was still mortified. But no matter how hard she tried, she could feel him.

Levi’s gaze.

It was subtle—so subtle that no one else would have noticed—but Vanessa could feel it, like a constant pressure at the edge of her vision. Even though she kept her eyes averted, she knew Levi was watching her. His piercing eyes, known for their ability to see through anything, felt like they were analyzing her every move, every gesture. 

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her focus on the tea she was pouring. Her hands shook slightly, but she forced herself to breathe. "Just keep going. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. It’s fine. He’s probably forgotten all about it by now."

But that feeling wouldn’t go away. Levi wasn’t the kind of person to forget things. And even though he hadn’t said anything, the fact that she had spilled tea in front of him—of all people—was enough to make her want to shrink into herself. Every movement felt awkward, every step too heavy. She was hyper-aware of her presence now, the way her curvy frame moved through the small space of the bakery, how her apron strained against her waist and hips as she bent to retrieve an order.

She risked a quick glance in Levi’s direction, though immediately regretted it. He was still sitting there, his expression unreadable, but his eyes… they were on her.

Vanessa’s breath hitched, and she immediately looked away, her face flushing even deeper. She nearly stumbled over her own feet as she rushed to deliver the tea to a waiting customer, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. "Why is he looking at me? Is he mad? Does he think I’m incompetent? Oh, God…"

Eren, for his part, seemed uninterested in anything happening around him, his distant expression unchanged. It was as if the chaos of the bakery didn’t exist to him, his mind elsewhere—probably far beyond the walls. 

But Levi’s gaze never wavered. Vanessa could feel it with every step she took, every order she prepared. It made her feel even more self-conscious, her earlier confidence rapidly draining away. She wasn’t used to being noticed, not in the way her friends were. She wasn’t used to being under scrutiny, especially from someone like him.

The pressure mounted as she continued her work, moving through the crowd as more customers came and went. She tried to keep herself composed, but the weight of Levi’s attention was too much. Every mistake she feared making seemed magnified in her mind, and the memory of spilling the tea loomed over her like a dark cloud.

As she passed by the counter again, Robin caught her eye and whispered, “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Vanessa nodded quickly, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… you know. Busy.”

But she wasn’t fine. The truth was, she was on the verge of a panic, her nerves fraying more with each passing second. She could feel Levi’s gaze following her, and it was making it impossible to focus. She felt exposed, vulnerable, like every movement was being judged.

With another shaky breath, Vanessa forced herself to keep going, determined to make it through the rest of the shift without any more mistakes. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Levi Ackerman’s eyes were still on her, watching her every move.

…

The atmosphere in "The Sweet House" had calmed down after the rush of customers, and Vanessa found herself breathing a little easier, though her nerves were still on edge. She tried to focus on wiping down the counters, refilling the tea kettles, anything that would keep her busy and distracted. But the weight of Levi’s gaze still lingered in the air, even though she refused to look in his direction.

At the counter, Robin and Emma had returned to their usual cheerful selves, chatting softly as the last few customers finished their drinks. Eren, still silent and brooding, sat across from Levi, who looked as stoic as ever. Neither man had spoken much since they’d arrived, and the tension Vanessa had felt from Levi’s silent observation was starting to wear on her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she noticed Eren and Levi stand to leave. Her heart fluttered with relief. "Thank God," she thought, her hands pausing their work as she took a deep breath. She could finally relax.

She heard Robin thank them for coming, her voice as bright and professional as ever. Vanessa turned her back, not wanting to accidentally make eye contact with Levi or Eren as they walked past. The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself again. Her face was still burning with the shame of what had happened earlier.

But then, just as she was about to let out a sigh of relief, something happened that she never expected.

"Hey, Ness."

Her heart stopped. She froze in place, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter. Did she hear that right? Was he… was he talking to her? And did he just called her “Ness?”

Vanessa slowly turned around, her hazel eyes wide, and met the gaze of Captain Levi Ackerman. He stood there, only a few feet away from her, his intense grey eyes locked onto hers. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was no mistaking it—he was addressing her.

Her mind went blank. For a moment, all she could do was stare, completely flabbergasted. Captain Levi Ackerman was speaking to her. To her. She could barely process it. Her heart raced, pounding in her chest so loudly she could hardly hear anything else. It took everything in her to not outright panic.

"Y-Yes?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Levi’s eyes didn’t waver. He glanced briefly at the back of the shop where she had run off earlier, then back to her. “You shouldn’t be so nervous. It’s just tea.”

Vanessa blinked, her mouth suddenly dry. Was this really happening? Was he really talking about what happened earlier? She had expected him to ignore it, or worse, silently judge her for being clumsy. But this? This was something else entirely. 

"I… I’m so sorry about that, sir," she managed to say, though her voice was shaky. “I didn’t mean to… I just—” She was rambling. Why was she rambling? She mentally kicked herself for not keeping her cool.

Levi raised an eyebrow, his expression remaining impassive. “Don’t apologize. It happens.”

Vanessa didn’t know what to say. Her mind was racing, and her heart felt like it was about to leap out of her chest. This was Captain Levi, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, known for his ruthless efficiency and no-nonsense attitude, and he was standing here, talking to her about spilling tea. Talking to her.

She wanted to say something—anything—but her brain wasn’t cooperating. Instead, she just stood there, staring at him like an idiot, her hands still trembling slightly.

Levi glanced at her for a moment longer, his sharp eyes seemingly assessing her. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and headed for the door, Eren following silently behind him.

Vanessa remained frozen in place, watching them leave, her mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. The bell above the door chimed as it swung closed behind them, and the bakery felt strangely empty without their presence.

She could barely breathe. Her face was still flushed, and her hands were gripping the counter so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Levi Ackerman had spoken to her. Not only that—he had noticed her nerves, her mistake, and he hadn’t been angry. He had actually been… kind? At least, as kind as someone like Levi could be.

Vanessa’s mind spun. She replayed his words over and over again in her head, trying to make sense of it. Why would he say that to her? Why would someone like him, who had fought countless battles, cared about something so trivial?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Robin came over, a knowing smirk on her face. “Well, Ness, looks like someone made quite the impression,” she teased, her tone playful.

Vanessa blinked at her, still too stunned to form a coherent response. “I… what? No, I—”

Emma appeared beside her, chuckling softly. “Don’t worry, Ness. You’re not the only one who gets flustered around him. Trust me, half the girls in the Walls would probably faint if Levi Ackerman said more than two words to them.”

Vanessa swallowed hard, her mind still spinning. She tried to calm herself, but it was no use. She couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Levi had noticed her. That he had spoken to her.

“I’m… I’m fine,” she mumbled, her voice shaky. She didn’t know how to explain the whirlwind of emotions crashing through her. She was embarrassed, mortified, confused—and a small part of her was weirdly flattered.

As Robin and Emma moved on, giggling to themselves, Vanessa found herself standing there, still gripping the counter as she tried to process what had just happened.

Levi Ackerman had spoken to her. And she had no idea what to make of it.

~

Masterlist | Patreon

Join my Taglist

Note: I am three chapters ahead on patreon:)

[bluepotion85]

The Golden Ratio - Chapter 8

(The following story contains male weight gain, food play, BDSM, kidnap, encouragement, and feeder/feedee scenarios. If that's not for you, then go to church or something vanilla dude.

This takes place during and after the events of the One-Piece film GOLD. For a better experience see the film on your local streaming service.

This story is written in collaboration with @bee-wg)

Tesoro

It’s been two days since the encounter in the bathhouse and Roronoa still acts like nothing happened. 

Regardless of him acknowledged it or not, something awoke within him. I can tell as much, with how his gaze lingers longer on my body. Whenever I catch him staring, he immediately looks away. Or, in today's cases he tries to play it cool. Well, as cool as he can take anything.

“What do you think you’re looking at?” he says.

“Looking at my biggest fan,” I reply.

“I’m not that big,” he replied.

“Not what I meant, but if the shoe fits.” 

He grunts before laying back on his bed. The dog bed was a good idea. He naps there most of the day, mindlessly chewing on the mochi. Sometimes I wonder if he is more house cat than human. 

“We can't stay here all day! Today is the special performance I arranged, so get your ass up,” I said, pulling his leg.

“Fine, just let me get some clothes and get this over with,” he yelled back.

While he got dressed, my attention went to his expanding body. Like a snowman starting to melt at the end of winter, his body droops over itself. His arms were thick as sausages, constantly rubbing against the ring of fat his moobs made. Tits that rounded out while they rested on his belly. A sagging gut that bounces with every ill attempt to fit in pants that were tailored for him pounds ago. 

After the evening at the bathhouse, he became more self-conscious about his weight, trying to curb his appetite with the mochi during the day. As if the constant calorie flow of sweets could help him lose weight, he was just too simple-minded. Even then, his appetite had grown more than either of us could anticipate, so his meals continued to grow alongside his waist.

In hopes of easing his mind, I sized up his set of clothes overnight. It was a hard choice since It was so enthralling to see him fighting against his flab. It's a shame but a necessary measure.

Once he is clothed, we set track to the main stage for today’s event. Most of the day was spent making sure everything was running smoothly for the performance.

By the time the concert was about to start, Roronoa’s belly roared, begging for food. 

“I’ll order lunch to be delivered to our seats," I said.

“Could you ask them to bring more this time around? I barely stayed full yesterday.”

“I will need to open new restaurants just to keep up with that appetite of yours.”

“You're just looking for any excuse to do more business,” he replied. 

Making it to the theater box. I throw myself against my chair, looking out at the crowd. 

“You were right, the place is packed,” he said, looking out the window before sitting beside me.

Before I could reply, his food was here and his attention completely shifted. The show is about to start but I have one last thing to do before. Let's get this over with.

At the side of the room was a control panel with a Den Den Mesushi. I ring it and not too long after, the voice of a woman resounds on the other end.

“Mister Tesoro, good evening.”

“Ready for the show, Uta?”

“Yes! Thank you again for the help financing us. This performance will be a great test of our streaming capabilities and-”

“Great to hear you are excited but remember this is not a rehearsal, I'm paying good money for you to give your best material.”

“Absolutely! I'm making sure everyone is happy today.”

“I'm counting on it. You go live in five minutes, so get ready.”

I hung up as she thanked me again. When her time is up, I grab the microphone from the control panel and press the button that starts the show. The lights on the stage go black and my face is projected for the audience. 

“Welcome everyone to today’s special event! Transmitting directly from Elegia Island, Uta!” 

My face vanishes from view to be replaced with one belonging to a young woman. The worldwide sensation makes the crowd go crazy. 

The uproar catches Roronoa's attention and he looks into the crowd for the first time since he started eating. His attention on her doesn't last long and he continues with his meal. Great, after paying for this much, not even this attracts the attention of the simpleton. But in all honesty, who could blame him? 

“We can choose the way of our future, Try a brand new path, we can change the world.” 

It's so generic, the most basic hopeful sentiments for the lowest denominator of an audience. The beginning of a song should be grand and extravagant, with the amount of money I'm paying, this girl has the audacity to sound slightly pitchy.

I mean it works in our favor, people get inspired and spend a fortune in our slots thinking they can make their dreams come true. But at the cost of putting me to sleep.

“Ugh, what an amateur,” I said through gritted teeth.

“What is the matter? I thought you wanted to see her perform?”

“Me? No, this was all for business. But she clearly fell off.”

“She fell off the stage?”

“No, I mean Soul King managed to get a platinum record within the first week of release. Or Maria Napole, she stayed in the top 10 for eleven weeks. Meanwhile, this is her first live performance and it's like a lagging Den Den Mushi.”

“Is it that bad?” he said looking down at the cheering crowd.

“They seem to like it.”

“Of course they do, they are simpletons. They are getting distracted with her dreams come true Mombo Jumbo, to realize she is lacking all musical talent. Any amateur could do better.”

“You could do better then.”

“I'm no amateur.” I barked back.

“Not what I meant but if the shoe fits,” he said with a grin. 

Cheeky little bastard! Then the idea popped into my head. Going to the control panel I pressed some buttons and the box turned silent. The room has a noise-canceling feature for private meetings.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Showing you how a professional makes music.”

Not too long after someone knocked at my door, one of my workers came with a delivery.

“Here is the piano you ordered, Sir.”

The double doors for the room open to let the piano roll into position. After some preparations, Roronoa and I are left with the Golden piano in the middle of the room. 

I sat down in front of the piano, my fingers gracing its keys. My eyes glance in Zoro’s direction, he remains focused on the display of food in front of him. His expression is nonchalant as always.

Taking a deep breath, I get my hands to move, carefully playing each note of an old song. 

This song always reminds me of Stella, she was the one who got me to learn to play the piano. As the beat of the song rises my memory goes back to us, to her.

“I think your voice is lovely Tesoro, it would go along perfectly with a piano,” she used to say. 

In my attempt to entertain her, I starved myself for weeks, saved enough money to buy a piano keyboard, and practiced while singing to her.  

In those days my fingers would clumsily play the wrong notes, slip between the keys, or lose the rhythm of a melody. But she kept optimistic as always, rooting for me to improve. 

The years of practice have paid off, and now my hands make fast and calculated movements, as not precise of an instrument as the piano itself.

The structure of music is similar to that of lovemaking. The song builds up tension with a cadence, seeping into your pores and slowly pushing you to excitement. Even I felt its effects, as my body started to swing from side to side with the beat of the song. 

Nobody can resist the effect of my music, but when my eyes move toward Roronoa I see him unfazed. At first, I thought the simple-minded hog doesn't get good music, but as the song continued his demeanor changes. Or at least compared to the rest of the time when he's uninterested in the things I’ve shown.

Roronoa has learned to fetch food in a fast fashion, like a well-oiled machine. This time around he looks calm, looking at the set of dishes in front of him with delight. Taking his time to choose one food item and savoring it slowly before going to the next.

The longer the song goes the more he loses himself to the moment, crunches, slurps moans, and belches fill the room alongside the music.

Singing for me is a common thing, the guests at the Gran Tesoro hear me almost daily. But my use of the piano is more selective. Only playing it for important visitors or the past pets I captured. Usually, they are too scared, or too enraged by the imprisonment to express their true opinions on my music. 

Zoro on the other hand wears his opinions on his sleeves. Well, he never wears sleeves but regardless. 

The song builds up to its trill, with Zoro demolishing the meal in front of him with a rhythm that matches the beat of my song. He leans back against his chair, while his hands bring more food to his face. A smile creeps on his expression as the climax of the song approaches us.

Finally, the last notes of the tune were played and we stayed in silence, a sense of peace lingering in the room. Looking back at Zoro I notice the feast in front of him is almost done. His eyes are glazed in a haze of relaxation while he rubs the top of his belly.

“See? That's music,” I said proudly.

His eyes refocused on me and he replied, “It didn't make me jump off the building.”

I laughed, “Your expression said that you liked it more than that.”

“Yeah yeah, it was passable. Now don't get too cocky.”

He takes a bite of meat near him before adding, “I wouldn't mind another song to finish the rest of my meal though.”

Uta's concert ended and we were still inside the theater box, Zoro eating himself into a food coma and me playing every song I could remember. Something similar happens at dinner when I’m trying to tease him for ordering more than usual, but instead of acting tough he said, “Would you play the piano again? At least that way you would shut up.”

At that point I knew for sure, he loved my music.

The next morning I tried to force him out of bed but the pig wants to eat first thing in the morning, let's see if he wants to move after he gets stuffed. 

I call “Yolkdale,” a restaurant specializing in all types of breakfast menus from around the world. After placing an order big enough to challenge his capacity, I got back to my room and found Zoro snoring on the bed. Seeing him lazily rolling on his bed like a proper pig makes me want to get my hands on him. Rubbing every roll and fold of his blubbering figure or grabbing the cherubic cheeks that now grace his face. 

My body stays in its place, admiring his peaceful expression. It's endearing in a way, how it contrasts with the loud hardhead that's Roronoa. 

The minutes passed with me reading through some of my letters, nothing caught my eye until I saw a white envelope. For some reason, I feel it's important but before I could reach out for it, a rumbling sound echoed from Zoro’s direction.

He stirs himself awake, clutching his belly with a frustrated expression. 

“Did you get the food already?”

“I ordered some food, it should be here soon.”

His body jiggles violently as he stretches to grab more moshi from the mini fridge beside his bed. A grunt is all I hear as he realizes he ate the last one of them last night.

“What’s the matter pirate hunter, that gut can’t wait for a few minutes?”

“Not everyone can have a small appetite like you, some of us eats like real men.”

I get closer to him crouching to his level at the dog bed, “Real pigs you mean, you eat more than some giants.”

“Because I'm stronger than any giant.”

He grunts as I grab the flab of his middle, a fire ignites behind his eyes as I rubbed more of his skin.

“I don't know about strength but you are greedier than any of them, you like that don’t you?”

“Not as much as you perv,” he said with a grin.

As I get closer to him, his breathing gets faster.

“Want to test that idea? I'm sure you are dying to grow bigger than the giants” I whisper in his ear as I shake his overgrown belly. 

The smell of our early morning bodies enticed us both. I can almost hear his walls cracking the closer I get to him, that's when the doorbell rings.

“The food is here-” I said.

In a blink, his body is no longer under me. He rushed to the door looking for the food. 

“Hey wait!” I yell.

Zoro pretended not to hear me and I ran behind the bastard. I'm surprised to see him navigate himself so well. The glutton gets lost in a straight line but finds the way as soon as food is part of the equation.

His hand touches the doorknob when I snap my fingers and get the gold on the roof to morph into ribbons that wrap around his body, pulling him up and out of view. 

“Let go, you bastard!” the golden ribbons cover his mouth as he sticks to the roof.

When I'm sure he is not going to be seen I open the door to the delivery. Rows of workers march with trolleys filled with food, right into my bedroom. Some of them sniff around the place, obviously being affected by the scent of Roronoa. 

On their way out one of them lingered longer looking around, trying to find the source of the aroma. Instead, he finds my stare. The gold around the house rattle and shook as I said coldly, “Looking for something?”

All sense of lust abandoned his body, replaced by pure unfiltered fear, “No Sir, I'm sorry!”

He ran out along with the rest of the delivery boys. I close the door behind them and let Zoro slowly drop from the roof. 

“What's the big idea?” he said enraged.

“Nobody sees you like this, but me. Now be quiet,” I said carrying him over my shoulder. 

“I can walk on my own, you know.” 

“I thought you were too tired to move without breakfast.”

He stays quiet for a second, the lazy pig is thinking it. 

“Now that you mention it, I'm too hungry for the stairs back to the bedroom.” 

With a chuckle, I carry him back to the room. Once inside we are welcomed by the strong aroma of a full feast. Zoro hurries off my body, sitting at the border of my bed and getting into business. I marveled at the display of pure decadence in front of me. After pushing him in the right direction, he allows himself to glut at every opportunity. 

I set on the goal of turning the Zoro into a proper pig, and by the enthralled look he has now I know I'm close to that goal.

“What are you waiting for, an invitation? Eat something before I have everything,” he said with a mouth half full of food.

“Is that a threat or you are worried for me?”

He looks at me seriously, grabbing a piece of pastry and taking a massive bite of it. The answer is obvious, he is worried about me. His charitable host and master.  

I grab a plate of fruits and continue to witness Zoro’s titanic appetite decimating the load of food in front of him. Between the greedy munches and crunches of food, his stomach groans two-thirds through the meal. 

“I need a break.”

“Feeling full already? I thought you were stronger than giants.”

“Shut it, I'm going to finish everything, just need a minute,” he said, looking at the mountain of food still untouched. He rubbed his taut belly, and my hands craved to reach out to him, to feel the thigh skin of his middle.

“We don't have all day Zoro, let me help you finish this measly meal.”  

He looked at me with suspicion but sighed and nodded. 

“Perfect then, go to the side of the bed.”

He starts the titanic task of standing up with his belly packed full. Getting closer to the side border of the bed with laborious breath before plopping into the mattress. 

“That used to be easier,” he said as he caught his breath.

“It only will get harder if you keep stuffing yourself like this, but I wouldn't worry about that now. Just enjoy the road there.”

While he puts himself in position, I gather the rest of the food and place it near the bedside table. When he is done getting himself comfortable I stand beside him, 

My hands grasp the tight drum that's his belly now, meanwhile, he remains quiet under my touch. Slowly rubbing his skin, letting my fingers play with his gelatinous fat as a moan escapes his lips. Putting some pressure on his side he releases a belch in my direction, instead of shame or embarrassment he looks at me with a smug grin. 

His cocky attitude, the already obvious hedonism running through him is so erotic and enticing. We cross eyes, I can see in him the same desire flowing on me, we sink deeper in that feeling until his stomach churns again in protest. His body has a strong effect on me, I have to stay focused if I want him to sink deeper into my hands. Not the other way around.

When I think he made enough space in his stomach, I grab some crispy bacon from a nearby tray, “You are ready for more, now open up hog.”

He opens his mouth without hesitation, a new sense of determination in his eyes. Lowering the piece of meat into his open mouth, I feel a shiver down my spine when he licks my hand off the grease of the bacon. 

“I'm getting hungry again, so you better pick up the pace,” he said with the same cocky smile. 

“Don't come at me crying when you are stuffed beyond belief, Roronoa.”

My hands moved fast as they grabbed every piece of food they could reach, bringing it to the bottomless pit that was Zoro’s gut. While rubbing his belly with the utmost care. After all, he might be eating recklessly in the haze of gluttony, but I need to keep him comfortable as he pushes his capacity to the limit. I don't even need to use gold to stretch his stomach anymore.

The further he went in his binge the louder his moans got, the more erratic his bites turned and the hotter his body felt to my touch. In his attempt to get more food inside his demanding gut, he tried to grab food from the bedside table. I slap his hands away, and he turns to me like a wild animal ready to pounce.

“You can't use your hands, leave this to me,” I said, bringing a donut to his lips.

The wild beast melted leaving just a whimpering, needy hog, looking for more sustenance. Finally, he releases a massive belch and sinks into the bed, an expression that was a mix between satisfaction and uncontrollable lust.

His dick was hard, a stream of pre flowing out of him with each huff of air he took. My bed will forever smell of horny pig, but his pheromones drive me insane with desire.

The stubborn asshole remained quiet, trying to control the boiling need inside of him. He looks ready to cum at any second and yet he tries to resist. Fuck this, I’m breaking him one way or another.

Jumping on the bed, my legs rest at his sides, our crotches inches apart. Before he questions this, I get another morsel of food and bring it to his lips. He opens his mouth with delight, moans resounding across the room as he eats.

My hand explores his body further, Rubbing the crevices between his folds of fat. Sticking my fingers in his cavernous belly button and lifting the boulder that’s his belly. Stopping to admire its heft as it crashes back in place. I stop feeding him for a second, allowing him to breathe.

“I know what you are doing.”

“I’m just helping you out. Didn't you want that?”

“You are trying to get me to do more sex stuff with you.”

“It's all up to you, pet. If you want me off of you, just say the word.”

All the while we talked, my hands continued to massage his blubber. I grab his fat pad, squeezing it lightly. I could see him surrender himself when he said, “Make me cum.”

“So forward, what do you want me to do then, pig?”

“Everything, whatever. Just hurry up already!”

After ripping the clothes off our bodies, I get on all fours over him. We stay there absorbing the contrast of our bodies, his titanic mass of blubber beneath my toned physique. 

He tries to hold a whimper as our dicks rub together. He bucks his hips against mine, hunger for stimulation making him act without thinking. Our dicks rub, smearing pre against one another, leaving strings between us as I move back. 

He has cummed out of being fucked, teased and such, but he needs to know his body is capable of all of this and more with the proper care. My care.

Looking at his naked body, my attention goes to his behemoth of breasts. Like the rest of his expanding frame, they grew to match, if not surpass the rest of him. The two orbs of fat now droop over him, spilling to his sides and belly, dwarfing everything under them. If that wasn't impressive enough, they were crowned with puffier nipples that protrude even under the golden stamps. I'm compelled to bite them, but the stamps are in the way. I have a right to claim them; they have grown because of me and are only for me. 

With a flicker of my finger, the stamps move away from his nipples. 

“Your dick is not the only thing begging for attention pig, these milkers are crying for a good handling.”

I get closer to his chest, while my hand pinches his left nipple, I bite the right supple nubs of flesh. My tongue runs fast, sucking and licking them madly, getting my lips sealed around them and pulling on the tender skin. He moaned wildly, the feeling on his chest drowning him in ecstasy. 

Pulling myself off of him I see him panting for air, his belly groaning still hungry for more.

“You can’t stop even now, can't you pig?” 

“It would be easier if I could feed myself!” 

“I don’t think so. This has less to do with me feeding you and more with how much of a gluttonous hog you have turned into.”

His eyes lit up, a grin formed as he said, “You seem to like your hog.”

I could feel myself firing with desire, and for his reaction, he could tell as well. 

“Just as much as you like being one, and don’t even try to deny it. Only a hog to their heart could build a body like this.” I said, shaking his belly.

“A body derived from pleasure and built to give pleasure. Every inch of your body is nothing but abundant fat to fuck.” 

“Show me.”

Moving forward, I raised his gut, getting my hunged dick in the space between his fat pad and the base of the belly. Letting the weight drop with a wet plop I could feel the hot flesh envelop my cock. 

“See? I could fuck you in a different crevice every night, and by the time I used them all, new folds of fat would emerge.”

“Then get to work. This hog is wasting away,” he said with a grin.

Finding a rhythm was easy, considering how much my brain melted after his words were muttered. My hands searched for lube to fuck him senseless, finding more than enough underneath him. His butt juice flowed out of him like a dispenser ready for me to use. 

Once my dick was drenched in his scent, my hips start to rock, fucking his underbelly. One of my hands went for food, keeping him tied over. Meanwhile the other rubbed along his body, teased his nipples, grabbing his tits and slapping his belly. 

“Come on pig, show me how much you want this.” 

His only reply were the muffled moans of a mouth filled with food and drool. 

The room became an orchestra of belches, moans, and slabs of meat against meat. I fuck his side folds, under belly and by the time I enter his belly button the mountain of food starts to dwindle. I remember at the bathhouse, not being able to sink my whole finger into his belly button, and now inch after inch of my dick sinks into his hole. 

“Finish everything, and you can cum all you want.”

He redoubles his efforts, biting the food off my hands, liking the sauce from my fingers like it’s the last drip meal of his life. 

My hips pump faster, shaking his whole body. When the last bit of food enters him, I bite the juicy meat of his chest. My balls rose as a wave of cum flooded his belly button. At the same time he moans so loudly, all I can hear is the sound of his voice. His dick spews cum like a hose leaving him drained. 

He catches his breath, too tired to move, with me holding myself on top of him. We stay there huffing for air as the climax subsides and our bodies clear up. 

“Good job, pet.”

“Shut up, golden fucker.”

“I don’t see you complaining,” I said, rocking my hips against his belly. 

“I’m tired, leave me alone now.”

“Too bad, we have to go to work. Now get off my bed.”

“Come on, I’m stuffed, at least help me again with that. Then we can leave.”

I sigh and sit beside him. Slowly rubbing his gut like before. 

“I hope you see the unbelievable luck you have, the luck of getting my good graces like this pig.”

“Yeah whatever, can you rub more to the left.”

Applying more pressure, he released a belch and smiled proudly. His face brings a feeling of peace I haven’t felt in a while, I can’t remember the last time I was so at ease in my own quarters.

None of my pets before Zoro managed to embrace the lifestyle I offered them. Always resisting to their cores denying the joy of excess and pleasure. Meanwhile, here beside me lies the first man who has been able to accept it all and keep pushing for more. 

He doesn’t care for luxury or control, an absolute idiot who can’t hide his true self from my eyes. In a way he has proven to be all I imagined of him, and surprised me thoroughly all the same. 

I crave to tease him, spoil him, and rot him to his core with the lavish world of my making to see him transform even further. My train of thought got interrupted by his snoring.

The lazy pig is so thoroughly drained that he collapsed. I would throw anyone off this ship if they dare to overstay their visit to my bedroom, or even worse, take my bed as their own. But seeing him so peacefully rest on the right side of my bed, I can evade but wonder.

“One day off wont kill me.”

As I lay beside him on the bed, all my worries from the letters on my table to the crew outside, banished. He turned his body to the side leaving his flapping back exposed. I got closer, clinging my body to his. Letting my head rest on the nook between his neck and back. I can hear his breathing, the beating of his heart, and we are almost in sync, while both of us drift into sleep.

Roronoa Zoro is sinking deeper into my hands. But maybe I'm falling into his hands as well.

----------------------------------

Zoro

After our little breakfast session,  Tesoro not only let me sleep for the day, he left me sleeping on his bed. Finally I could sleep on a proper bed, after months of hanging from walls and sleeping on dog beds. 

When I saw the delivery guys sniffing around, acting like a bunch of dogs looking for fresh meat. I had a thought: Is my body making them act like that?

Then Tesoro pounced on me and the question started to sound more possible. Even then, I wasn't too sure what caused it or how it worked.

For the next two days I worked on a plan to test my supposed new ability. We are both at his office when my hands go down to my ass, slowly teasing my entrance. The juice gushes out of me as I tease my ass. Tesoro remained at his desk while I played with myself. He moved in his chair uncomfortably, tugging on his collar. Breathing in, more and more of the tainted air in the room.

His eyes started to glaze with lust, and his hands meandered his body. When he finally looked back at me, I was already in a safe position. His body emanates heat, a wild desire on his face.

I'm onto something, my scent is making him crazy with lust. The days passed with me using my newfound ability against him at every waking moment. Seeing him become a sweaty mess, looking back at me with needy eyes.

The other effect this experimental session had on me was that my sex drive continued to increase steadily. Just the memory of Tesoro over my body drowned my brain. Him shaking my sides, pinching my nipples, fucking my bellybutton. Fuck, when did it get that deep anyways! 

My body has inflated into a balloon, a fat caricature of my former self. Even then, the more I grow the more my body experiences these highs of pleasure, I can't stop myself from imagining how it will feel in the future. Generally I would snap myself off this train of thought before acting upon it. But the longer I wait the harder it is for me to find an excuse not to indulge. 

By the third day, every little glimpse of his body would make me go into a heated frenzy. And my scent would make him a sweaty huffing mess. Our bodies are going haywire for one another.

After a massive meal, I rationalized, If I have this chance, why not use it? So I asked him for help.

“Rub my belly, I'm stuffed.” 

“Someone is demanding today.”

“Shut up, you want to help me anyway.”

Tesoro’s breath was fast as he approached me, rubbing his hands against my belly. 

“I have to take care of my needy hog.”

Today was a busy day for him, this was meant to be a small break. Even then, he took his time massaging me thoroughly. The more he rubbed the more I wanted him to explore my body and I could feel the same urge in his eyes. As the massage broke an hour I could see the fight of his two drives, one craving to fuck me on the spot and the other trying to keep the facade of control. Is this how he felt when I was on the cage or the wall?

“Someone is excited,” I said, looking down at his crotch.

“I’m not the only one.”

“Why don't we go back to the quarters and stay there for the day.”

His eyes focused on me, the haze of lust gone for a second as he thought his answer. He is a pervert and a shitty capitan, even then he works religiously every day. If he is willing to miss another day of work, then our last day off wasn't just a fluke.

“I was waiting for you to ask.”

He pulled me from the collar and ran out of the restaurant, my thighs rubbed against each other and I felt winded by the time we made it to the limo. Once we were back in his quarters he ripped the clothes off my body in a heated delirious motion. 

“Did you have to rip all of my clothes?”

“I'll buy them again, so shut up.” 

We start to walk to the bedroom but just looking at the staircase makes me wince. If I play my cards carefully I could get him to install an elevator. 

Leaving a sigh I said, “Why can’t you have an elevator?”

“No need for them till now. Besides, they aren’t the safest in an emergency.”

“This is an emergency.”

Suddenly, he picked me up and carried me over his shoulder.

“As long as I'm here you don't need an elevator, pet.”

It's not what I had in mind, but it works. As soon as we cross his bedroom door, he throws me in his bed. I thought he would skip the teasing since I suggested this, but he is determined to fuck with me.

The plan was to flex my newfound power with restraint, but it was too tempting not to use it as he turned more manageable. Tesoro would carry me around the ship, saving me the trouble of walking. Getting all the food and booze, I could stomach without having to leave the quarters. 

For two days I managed to keep him at bay by letting him rub himself against my fat rolls. But like all of my other urges, my hole’s need for attention took over my brain. 

It started in the theater box, we were watching another performance from the crew of dancers. The VIP room was empty besides us, Tesoro taking his notes of the show like always while I rotted out of boredom. Then the idea sprouts in my head, I spread my legs letting my scent flow. It doesn't take long for him to wriggle in his seat, his hand shaking as he takes the notes. 

“When is it over? I want to do something else.”

He turned towards me, eyes popped open when he saw me sprawled on my chair. My hands were busy playing with my hole and nips while lazily chewing my food. He towered over me in an instant. His eyes focused, waiting for me to ask him to act.

“Come on, this will be more entertaining than whatever they are doing.”

He immediately spun me around and pumped me like a wild buck. Shortly after a rush of cum filled my guts and I emptied my balls on the theater chair. We stayed there fucking until we both were spent.

“Don't they perform every day? We could spend more time like this if you gave them a break.”

His expression softened as he replied, “Maybe.”

He ended up giving them a break once per week. The day they should perform we went to the Castaway Lounge and relaxed with the projections. When images of Boin Archipelago start to appear, my stomach growls and my dick rises. These two are connected forever now, maybe losing all this weight will be harder than I expected, but that's a problem for later.

For now my brain is only focused on one thing.

I walk beside him, resting my belly over his shoulder. His eyes go from my gut to my hard dick, tenting my already revealing clothes.

“I need some help here,” I said.

He moves fast, opening his fly and grabbing me by my sides. He carried me on top of his body before shoving his cock inside me. I needed this, yes!

By the time we were done I was a mess of cum, sweat and butt juice. The place was so drenched in my scent Tesoro decided to leave it as our personal VIP room. Maybe most of his guests won't enjoy being horned up to high gear just by standing inside the room. 

The following day he works reinforcing golden pipes at the boiler room. The heat inside the room makes me sweat profusely. Well, more than I already do, lately I've been building a sweat with the slightest of things. Stretching to get myself a snack from the mini fridge will leave me an exerted mess. 

Regardless, the boiling room has that effect on everyone. Tesoro's clothes stick to his body with the moisture. His scent musky as always brings back the memories of those days stuck in his wall and I feel my dick rising. Those days were meant to be torture, I need to stop thinking about them; My body has turned into this weird thing thanks to it.

“I want it now.”

“Not now Zoro, you can wait.”

Before he was done, I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards me. His face was tainted with a frown as he looked at me. Our bodies mash together, my ass rubbing against his crotch as I look up and say, “I need it now.”

“We are in the middle of the boiler room, we can't-” 

He restrains a moan as I wiggle my butt against his crotch. 

“You fucking slut, have you got no shame?” he said.

“Shut up and do it before someone enters.”

Tesoro slipped through my string thin thong while he slid his dick inside of me with ease. He lifted me off the floor, putting my legs at his sides. His arms flexed as he carried my weight while thrusted into me. The sweat from our bodies already clinged to our clothes, but in this position, all of my butt juice dripped into Tesoro’s suit.

Every so often he would look around, making sure no one would look.

“Focus, you are doing a sloppy job,” I said, smacking his face and directing it towards me. 

That seemed to enraged him, his best response was to fuck me fast and wildly. I could feel my insides melt around his cock the faster he got.

When we were done, our clothes were ruined. He had to use some of the gold in the room to make us golden outfits, just in case anyone catches a glance at us. For a moment I thought he would lash back to this, I directly disobeyed an order. When he gives me a golden thong to wear back to the quarters I know his brain is too fried with lust to be mad.

“You are growing nicely, pet,” he said as he carried me up the stairs back to his bedroom.

I'm too tired to argue, “Why don't you order some sake or something?”

Damn I'm in dire need of training, I'm still exhausted from our session in the boiler room. While I struggled with my own laziness, Tesoro dropped me in his bed and reached for the letters at his table.

He read through some of them, instead of getting me a drink. Where is my sake, damn it!

“It seems like your friends are going to Whole Cake Island,” he said, a hint of concern in his voice.

I barely heard him, most of my attention was used in keeping myself awake. Even then, the mention of my friends catches enough of my attention.

“I don't know what type of crazy would willingly go to Big Mom's territory.”

“Our captain is a handful, they will be fine. Is that sake on the way?”

He looks for the next letter in the bunch and his eyes freeze at the logo on the envelope. The world government. Without opening the letter he puts it aside. For a moment I wondered if he would go out to read it or ask me to get off his bed, instead he got beside me, his slow breath remained hot against my neck as I started to fall asleep.

Days pass like that in a constant stream of sex, food, and sleep. I could ask Tesoro to do as I please and he would follow suit. Just for Tesoro to throw orders while we have sex and my body follows along. Maybe he wasn't so wrong after all, my body is an instrument of pleasure, capable of making even that Golden perv my plaything.

Maybe the rest of my time waiting for Luffy and the rest to rescue me won’t be that boring.

<< First Chapter / <Previous Chapter /

[softtheythem]

Slow(er than usual) Burn Part 1

It had been such a long time since they'd seen each other. And sure, there had been phone calls. And texting. And plenty of late night pictures sent with the flash on. But years had gone by since they'd actually touched. There was always a reason. They never seemed to live in the same place at the same time. Schedules and lives always misaligning. Until one day, they didn't.

He was in town for two weeks to deal with family business. It was a strained family relationship and he had opted to rent a place, rather than stay with his relatives. She was living less than an hour away.

They agreed to be careful. To take it in steps. The sexual tension between them had always been intense, and as a precaution the arranged for the first stage of their reunion to occur in a public space. A coffee shop in a small town. Lots of eyes would be on them. Not that that had always been such a deterrent for them in the past.

She got to the cafe early. Embarrassingly so. She'd planned on this, needing to be the one to arrive first. She reached into her bag and pulled out a book. She'd chosen it intentionally for it's dull topic, hoping to use it as something of a cooler. It didn't work. She could think of nothing but the years she had spent imagining his lips on hers. Every time the little bell above the door rang out with a customers coming or going, she looked up, hopeful.

He was early, too. He came in 5 minutes before their agreed upon time, forty minutes after she'd sat down. She watched from her spot in the corner of the room as his eyes scanned for her. She didn't wave, didn't call his name. She found herself oddly paralyzed. She meant to pretend to look busy, but found that she couldn't even do that. She could only stare, taking him in.

When he finally saw her, he smiled. She blushed and nodded her head, relieved to find she could move it at all. He walked over to the table, looking at least as nervous as she felt, and sat down.

"Did you already order?" he asked gesturing to the cup between them, his voice soft but just as lovely as she remembered it.

"I got a tea so that it wouldn't seem rude of me to sit her," she explained, suddenly self conscious, "but then I remembered I hate tea, so it's just been sitting here."

He smiled then, and shook his head, like this was a completely classic thing for her to have done. It was, of course, but it felt somehow intimate for him to know that about her after all this time.

"I'll be right back," he said, and then walked to the counter. She spent the few minutes of his absence alternating between checking out his ass and wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. She was so nervous. He was so wonderful.

He came back to the table holding two drinks. Coffee for himself and lemonade for her. She felt blood rise to her cheeks.

"You got me lemonade," she said awkwardly.

"You like lemonade," he replied.

He sat and they began an attempt at small talk. She asked about his drive out, he asked about her job. They'd been texting so much it wasn't anything they hadn't already discussed. Still, she relished any chance to hear his voice.

When a particularly boisterous family entered the little shop, the noise startled him and he turned and looked at the door. As he turned back to face her, his leg shifted slightly, and his foot brushed against her calf. All it took was that innocent and simple touch for her to become flustered. Every nerve in her body seemed to be on full alert. She bit her lower lip, trying to contain a wistful sigh.

He noticed, of course. He remembered that expression, he remembered what it meant. Raising his eyebrows almost imperceptibly, he risked brushing against her again, this time his ankle on hers, and a bit more firmly.

"Gus," she whispered, blushing again, or perhaps still.

"Should I not?" He asked, clearly unapologetic in his tone.

"We meant to behave today," she replied.

"We're both still dressed, aren't we," he said.

She looked around the shop, wondering if, had they met at his air bnb like he initially suggested, they'd already be naked by now. She didn't have to wonder long. She knew the answer.

They continued chatting as they tangled their legs further together. They spoke about their lives, their jobs, their favorite places to walk around. Every word was loaded with double meanings. They were baiting each other. A game to see who would be explicit first. He adjusted his chair and his knee pressed to her inner thighs. Her resolve to keep this meeting in a public space was wearing thin.

[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.

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Cold Vodka, Warm Hands (N.R.)

Words: 1.6k

The icy wind whipped across my face as I peered through the scope. The frigid metal of the Barrett M82A1 felt comforting in my hands. The cold never bothered me, of course. Due to my pyrokinesis, I had complete control over my own body temperature.

There wasn’t a sound for miles and, somehow, it was both peaceful and unnerving. The snow crunched with any and all movement, so we were staying unbearably still. I slowly scanned the abandoned factory for our target; a Russian arms dealer who was planning on stealing some alien tech and selling it for profit. We were about 1,500 yards from the factory. There’s not much cover out here, so our choice of positions was very limited. The shot would be a difficult one, with the distance and the crosswinds, but this is my specialty. Well, it used to be, before I discovered my ability to manipulate heat and fire. I’m one of SHIELD’s best sharpshooters.

As I checked once more for the target, a chattering noise distracted me from my task. I pulled my face away from my rifle to look at my partner, who was laying next to me, prepared to range the target and gauge the wind. Her lips were turning a shade of purple, and her teeth were chattering from the cold.

“Are you okay, Agent Romanoff?”

“Mhm.”

“Sure. Aren’t you Russian?” She leveled me with a hard glare and I slightly raised my hands in the air and went back to my task.

I noticed some movement through the scope. “Target, 11 o’clock.” 

“Oblique wind from the left, 8 miles per hour,” she called out.

I adjusted the scope accordingly and took the shot. Clean kill. No witnesses. Objective complete. I quickly unloaded the rifle and slung it over my shoulder as Agent Romanoff packed up. To say I was relieved the mission was over would be an understatement; this woman is practically a walking gay panic, and the mission had done nothing to help with my not-so-small crush on her. I risked a glance at her as we walked side by side. She looked freezing. Her right hand was in her pocket, but her left was exposed since one of her holsters blocked the left pocket.

“Is there any particular reason you’re staring at me, Agent y/l/n?” Shit.

“Oh, I- uh, I- um, can I hold your hand?” Her head snapped around to look at me as I realized what I said. “I just mean that, um, you look really cold and I can, you know, warm up your hand, at the very least. With my p-powers.” She didn’t say anything as she blankly stared at me, and I was worried that I had crossed a line until she abruptly stuck out her hand. I stared at the appendage for a second before realizing what she meant. I grabbed her hand in mine and focused on my powers, being careful to not let my hand get too hot.

We walked hand-in-hand the whole way to the safehouse. I could hear her sniffle every once in a while, but I didn’t say anything out of fear of getting punched. As we entered the safehouse, I realized it was more of a shack than anything. The walls were plywood and the whole thing was only one room. The kitchen area had a couple of cabinets and a small gas stove, and there was only one fairly small bed, as well as a small fireplace.

“Huh. This is…”

“Horrible. This is really horrible,” she finished for me. I couldn’t help but notice how nasally her voice sounded. 

I slid the bags off her shoulders and set them down next to mine. She sent me a questioning look as I walked her to the edge of the bed and sat her down. I said nothing as I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Sit here. Don’t move. Please.”

I walked around the room, lighting the oil lanterns. I grabbed some firewood from the pile and stacked it in the fireplace, using my powers to light a fire. I went into the ‘kitchen’ and rummaged through the cupboards. I heated a can of soup in my hands and poured it into a bowl. I found some teabags and heated some water the same way, since it was faster.

I brought the tea and soup over to Natasha, placing them on the stand next to the bed. She made no move to grab either item, too busy looking at me with a bewildered expression.

“What? You need to warm up. You’re already getting sick.”

“Why are you taking care of me?” She asked as I helped her move up against the headboard and under the covers.

I handed her the soup and said, “Well, you’re my partner— on the mission, I mean. It’s my job to protect you...on the mission.”

She hummed and I left to hang up our clothes to dry. I grabbed the second bowl of soup and sat in the bed next to her, as far away as physically possible.

“I don’t bite, you know. You can sit closer. You’re gonna fall off the bed,” she said amusedly.

“Right, sorry. Just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable, minus the fact that it’s still freezing in here.”

After we finished our soup, we went to bed since there was nothing else for us to do. I was woken up in the middle of the night by Natasha’s fit of sneezing and coughing. I sat up and patted her back as she coughed. That sounded painful. I got out of bed and brought her a roll of toilet paper since there were no tissues. I made her another cup of tea before getting back in bed. I could see her shivering as she sipped the hot beverage, and I had an internal debate with myself. Before I could chicken out, I slid closer to her and wrapped my arms around her, focusing on my powers.

“What are you doing?” She asked through her chattering teeth.

“Warming you up,” I replied simply.

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m not gonna get sick, you baby. Just let me hold you.” She stopped protesting after that and continued drinking her tea. Once she was done, she set it on the stand. She snuggled further into my arms and we moved to lay down. I felt her breathing even out as her muscles relaxed. I fought off the exhaustion; if I fell asleep, my body would return to its normal temperature. I tried not to freak out at the feeling of having in her arms, knowing that after this mission, we’d go back to being just teammates.

Morning rolled around and I watched the sky lighten through the only window in the safe house. I hadn’t left the bed all night, aside from the two times I added wood to the fire. As the sun peaked over the horizon, Natasha stirred in my arms.

“Morning,” she rasped out. Oh my god, her morning voice is gonna be the death of me.

“Uh, morning,” I replied, clearing my throat. She sat up and looked over my face, suddenly making me very self-conscious.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Uh, no, not really. I stayed awake to keep my body warm for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that, y/n.”

“No, it’s— I didn’t mind. Do you feel any better?”

“Well, I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore. It’s still cold as hell, though. You know what I really need?”

“What?”

“Some nice, cold vodka,” she said with a small, genuine smile.

“Oh! I have some of that!”

“You brought vodka on a mission?” She raised an eyebrow as her lips curved into a smirk.

“Yes— no, well, kind of. I bought it on the way here. Nothing like Russian vodka, right?”

I walked over to my duffel bag and pulled out the bottle of vodka. I grabbed two mugs from the kitchen, as well as a package of crackers. I slid back into the bed and she raised an eyebrow at the crackers.

“What? I’m not letting you drink vodka on an empty stomach. I don’t wanna get puked on,” I said with a joking grimace, although I really didn’t want to get puked on. 

She laughed as she poured some vodka into the mugs. I opened the crackers and set the package on the bed, and she handed me one of the mugs.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” I said, then we clinked the mugs together and I grimaced at the burn.

“Ugh, why does it have to be so cold? Can we just stay in bed?” That is definitely the closest Natasha Romanoff has ever gotten to whining, and it was adorable.

“Well, our extraction isn’t until this afternoon, so yeah, for a while.” She pushed herself back into my body, and I wrapped my arms around her after recovering from the brief shock.

Three hours later, we were packing up and getting ready to hike to the extraction point. I put out all of the lanterns before leaving the safe house. Natasha stuck out her hand and I wrapped it in mine without hesitation. It wasn’t all that cold out anymore, but I didn’t say anything about it. We made it to the extraction point in about thirty minutes, her hand never dropping mine. The SHIELD jet came into view and landed in the clearing in front of us. I couldn’t stop the twinge of sadness at the fact that we were leaving. It was selfish, but I loved taking care of Natasha these past two days.

As the gate of the jet dropped, Natasha spoke in a sultry voice, “Thank you, Y/N, for keeping me warm.” She kissed my crimson cheek before sauntering onto the jet. I snapped out of my daze and followed her, trying and failing to keep my composure.

[subbyyang]

Some things to get off my chest - Ten/Yangyang

The time Yangyang has spent in the gym pays off when Ten finally notices his growing muscles

{Chest and nipple play, cumming untouched - sort of}

Yangyang was busy rummaging through his wardrobe looking for something to sleep in when he was startled by his door opening. He looked back to find Ten standing in his doorway, an intense look in his eyes, mirroring the one he had the first time they had spent the night together after he came back from China. 

“What?” Yangyang asked, feeling a little self conscious about the way Ten was staring at him, even if he was fully dressed. 

“Nothing, carry on,” Ten said as he sat on Yangyang’s bed, legs crossed as he faced him, a hungry look in his eyes.

“I - huh,” Yangyang stuttered, his cheeks heating up by the second. Why was Ten being weird?  

“Go on, baby…”

Yangyang felt his blush deepening as he pulled off his pants and traded them for some basketball shorts, his eyes always set on Ten, who seemed to be enjoying himself, drinking in the sight of Yangyang. 

“Ten, seriously, what are you doing?”

“Nothing, just hanging out,” Ten said with a shrug, uncrossing his legs so he could sit at the edge of the bed, “go on, continue”

Yangyang had the feeling of being in the middle of a joke only he wasn’t in on as he watched Ten continue to stare at him. Under his watchful gaze, he pulled his sweatshirt off, ready to put a tshirt on when he heard a pleased hum from Ten.

“Wait, don’t,” Ten said as he got up from the bed and stopped Yangyang from getting dressed, “now that you mentioned it, you do look buffer” Ten said, softly touching Yangyang’s pecs with his fingertips. 

“You would have noticed it before if I did,” Yangyang replied, a hint of self-doubt in his voice that Ten absolutely loathed. Yangyang was perfect in his eyes. 

“I was preoccupied with other things,” Ten said sincerely, hands sliding up from Yangyang’s chest to cup his cheeks, “like how much I missed kissing you,” Ten whispered before pulling Yangyang into a lazy kiss, his thumbs rubbing Yangyang’s cheeks affectionately, “or how irresistible you looked with dark hair,” he continued, one hand sliding up to tangle in Yangyang’s hair. 

“Ten” Yangyang whined as Ten gave his hair a soft tug, not enough to hurt, just to get his point across.

“But, looking at you now…” Ten said, eyes raking over Yangyang’s body: his broader shoulders and his tiny waist, the hint of muscle showing on his arms and pecs, his noticeable abs and that delicious V leading into his shorts. 

“Do - do you like it?” Yangyang said, barely louder than a whisper, his own eyes following Ten’s gaze.

“Yeah,” Ten said with a hum, hands once again sliding down to Yangyang’s chest, “you always look beautiful but…” his words trailed out as he gave Yangyang’s chest an experimental squeeze, finally allowing himself to truly feel Yangyang’s pecs like he hadn’t been able to do in front of the camera.

To Ten’s delight, Yangyang let out a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling as he pressed himself against Ten’s hands, silently begging him to not stop. 

“That feels good?” Ten asked in what was originally meant as a teasing tone but he couldn’t help the way his voice wavered as he squeezed Yangyang’s chest again.

Ten knew Yangyang’s nipples were sensitive, he had definitely taken advantage of that fact many many times before, but this was different. This wasn’t Yangyang keening or arching his back when Ten flicked on a nipple, no, it was Yangyang’s hands landing on top of Ten’s, pushing them down against his chest as he arched against them. Ten decided to ignore the fact Yangyang didn’t actually answer him, seemingly more worried with making sure Ten kept groping him. 

With a sly smile, Ten started walking towards the bed, pushing Yangyang until he unceremoniously fell back on it with an embarrassed yelp, Ten following right behind. He climbed on top of him, almost melting at the way Yangyang was looking up at him with big, needy eyes, excited for what was to come.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” Ten tried once again, cupping Yangyang’s chest and giving it a firm squeeze, chuckling at the quiet groan Yangyang let out as he nodded quickly. “Yeah? And like this?” 

Yangyang’s hips bucked up, his clothed cock brushing against Ten’s ass when Ten slowly circled his nipples with the pads of his thumbs. 

“Hmm, so sensitive,” Ten mused, hands going back to cupping Yangyang’s pecs, rubbing slightly up and down, “and you’ve gotten so big too” he breathed out as he moved his hips, grinding down on Yangyang’s quickly hardening cock. 

Ten couldn’t stop himself from laughing when Yangyang covered his face, a deep blush visible way down his chest, disappearing under Ten’s fingers. He always got so shy when his big cock got mentioned, even if he was the one bringing it up. God, Ten had missed being able to tease him like this and see (and feel) first hand the result of his teasing. He let go of Yangyang’s chest, just so he could pull his hands away from his face and slot their lips together in a gentle, coaxing kiss, his tongue licking across his soft lips before pushing inside, slowly, oh so slowly , exploring his mouth. 

“More, please” Yangyang whispered when they finally pulled away to breathe, dark eyes set on Ten’s even darker ones. 

“More of what? Kisses?”

“Ten, don’t - fuck don’t make me say it, please, please Ten” 

Yangyang was so cute when he whined, Ten was barely ever capable of teasing him for much longer when he started whining and begging for him. But usually Yangyang didn’t start begging this early, needing a lot more teasing to get there. Did he still miss him that much? Was his chest that sensitive? Ten wasn’t sure which one was the reason but he decided not to dwell too much on it, brushing Yangyang’s noise with his own before kissing him again, his hands sliding back down, fingertips brushing along the overheated skin until they reached Yangyang’s chest. 

Yangyang moaned into Ten’s mouth when he felt him graze his nipples with his blunt fingernails, throwing his arms around Ten’s shoulders to pull him closer. He pushed his hips up at the same time Ten ground down, the friction on his cock sending sparks of pleasure up his spine. He needed more, needed to be one with Ten, needed him to give him everything.

“Do you prefer when I use my hands,” Ten started once he pulled away, pinching and pulling on one of Yangyang’s nipples at the same time he groped his chest on the other side, smiling at the way Yangyang was letting out a string of moans, hips desperately canting up, “or my mouth?” 

“Oh oh fuck Ten, fuck Ten,” Yangyang whimpered when Ten leaned down, sucking on one of his nipples before circling it with his tongue. He was so so hard, he could barely think of anything that wasn’t Ten touching him. 

“Hmm, which one, baby?” Ten said, voice low and alluring. He went back to lapping at one of Yangyang’s nipples, while tugging at the other, eyes always set on Yangyang’s face. He looked so pretty, eyes shut and mouth a little open so soft moans and whimpers could slip past his plump lips; Ten never wanted to look away. “Both?” he said, deciding to help the poor boy when he realized he couldn’t really think straight.

“Yes,” Yangyang breathed out, one hand sliding up to tangle in Ten’s hair, pushing him down against his sensitive chest, “both please, I want everything” 

“I’ll give you everything,” Ten whispered before pushing himself up to leave a chaste kiss to Yangyang’s lips before moving back down, sliding one thigh between Yangyang’s spread legs. 

Yangyang could cry. In fact, he wasn’t sure he wasn’t already. Ten was sucking and gently biting his nipple like his life depended on it while feeling up his chest with his hands, moaning against his skin as if Yangyang was the one pleasuring him. He was so good to him, Yangyang didn’t know how he managed all those months away from him. 

“Look at you,” Ten mumbled against Yangyang’s chest, moaning softly when he felt him grind his hard cock against his thigh, “so beautiful for me, so strong” he continued as he squeezed his muscles again, loving the sob Yangyang let out in response, his hips speeding up their rhythm against Ten’s thigh.

“Ten, I - I’m close” 

“Just playing with your tits got you like this?” Ten said with a fond laugh, as if he was just now finding out how much Yangyang was enjoying it.

“Don’t - don’t call them that” Yangyang stuttered out, a bright blush appearing once again on his cheeks as he pulled lightly on Ten’s hair where his fingers were still deeply tangled in the black strands.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” Ten said, ignoring Yangyang’s huff as he leaned up again, kissing him once more, sweetly, almost apologetically, his thumbs brushing insistent circles on his perky, overly sensitive nipples, “you can let go, cum for me when you want to”

And then Ten was once again taking one nipple in his hot, wet mouth, grazing it with his teeth and then with his tongue, his fingernails teasing the other one. Yangyang’s head was thrown back, body thrashing with difficulty underneath the weight of Ten’s, his hips bucking up until he was desperately humping Ten’s thigh, deep groans falling from his lips without him even noticing as currents of pleasure lit up all his nerve endings. 

“Yeah, just like that, cum for me”

With that Yangyang’s body went taut, his hips bucking up one last time as he came inside his shorts, the fabric quickly becoming wet and uncomfortable. 

“Ten, too much, it’s too much” Yangyang whimpered as he pulled on Ten’s hair to get him away from his chest. 

“How are you feeling?” Ten asked once he was eye to eye with Yangyang, his hand now brushing the hair away from his forehead as Yangyang’s hands landed on his waist. He looked cute with light hair, but there was something about the black that drove him insane. 

“Good, but sore,” Yangyang joked, wincing when Ten playfully flicked one of his nipples, “and wet”. He was now starting to feel Ten’s saliva cooling down on his chest which, paired up with the cum drying  in his boxers, didn’t make for the most pleasant of feelings. 

“Should we go for a shower?”

“Yeah, and maybe I could take care of you there?” Yangyang said, sliding his hand from Ten’s waist to his cock, hard and probably leaking inside his pants before giving it a soft squeeze. 

“I love you” was all Ten replied with a sigh before pulling him to a hungry kiss. 

[dollslayer]

The Stand-In

CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Stood up by your date and stranded in one of the nicest restaurants in town, Bucky Barnes just can't let that stand.

Warnings: slight angst, smut, oral (m & f receiving), deepthroating, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !), if I missed anything let me know!

W/C: 3,807

A/N: I wrote this for @simsadventures 6k mixed adventure challenge (Congrats!) w/ a restaurant setting and the line "If you could just hold my hand and be quiet, that would be nice". If you like it please reblog and comment and tell me what you think! Cheers!

p.s. - Come check out my other fics or find me on AO3 (same name)!

Main Masterlist

7 PM

Your best Jimmy Choos click gingerly as you walk up to the hostess stand at one of the most popular restaurants in Manhattan. He had made the reservation in your name, which you gave to the hostess. She takes a minute to consider you, cocking a brow as she silently clocks your ASOS cocktail dress. You looked chic enough that she could forgive you. Her moment wasn’t lost on you, this part of the Upper West Side was so stuffy so you put on your best.

Feeling slightly self-conscious about your attire you brushed the feeling off quickly. He would be here soon and he’d reassure you how beautiful you look. When you’d met for coffee he’d make you feel so sexy and confident with how sure of himself he was. So when he asked you to dinner at one of the most renowned places in the city and said he wanted to talk tonight you accepted immediately.

“Right this way” the hostess said and broke you out of your self-doubting stupor and guided you towards a some-what secluded table towards the back of the restaurant.

“Here are some menus for you two, if you’d like anything to drink while you wait, your waiter should be here soon”, she sent you an artificial smile and turned on her heel back to the stand.

You picked up a menu and it left you reeling at the prices. You had half a mind to text him and see if he wanted to go somewhere else. Based off of the way he dresses and how he had tipped the barista on your first outing you thought better of it. He’d said he wanted to treat you, so you’ll let him.

7:15 PM

You decided to wait to order anything to drink until he got here, too afraid of the price tag attached to any bottle of wine on the menu.

You took a sip of your water and checked your texts for the second time since sitting down. Still nothing, you didn’t want to text him just yet, you knew he was busy and you didn’t want to seem overbearing. You knew he was a CFO and he’d be coming from the financial district when traffic was insane. You could forgive him. You take another sip of your water hoping it’ll wash all of your doubts away. Besides, it’s not like he’s late-late, he’s like, fashionably late, he’s working-man late.

7:30 PM

Okay, so he’s late-late, don’t panic. Sometimes things happen, he’s only human and this is only your second date.

Your waiter approaches the table again, eyebrows raised expectantly at you. The smug look on his face says he’s thinking what you’re too afraid to.

You order yourself a $25 martini. Your waiter promises to return and you finish off your water.

Time to craft the perfect text that says ‘Hey I’m here, where tf are you?’ without actually asking where the fuck he’s at. You tap away nervously on your phone.

‘Hey, I’ve got a table towards the back, closer to the end of the bar’ Perfect.

7:45 PM

You’re still sitting solo at the table, you feel the beginnings of humiliation creep into your features. You feel warm, your brows form a seemingly permanent crease of worry, and you are trying everything in your power to suppress the tears you felt building up.

You don’t make eye contact with your waiter when he stops by again, playing it off like you were sending a text. But you tell him you’ll be right back so that he doesn’t give up your table.

You walk quickly to the bathroom hoping no one will notice your trembling face. You feel just like a middle schooler that got dumped at the dance. You make it to a bathroom stool and dial your best friend, Wanda.

“Is everything okay? You’re supposed to be out with your mystery date aren’t you?” She had answered almost immediately.

You sniffled a bit and took a shaky inhale. “Y-yes, our reservation was for 7 and he put it in my name, I texted him once already but I don’t wanna seem too overbearing for a second date, y’know? But something feels off. I don’t know, maybe I’m being crazy.”

“You’re definitely not being crazy, it sounds fishy to me. If he doesn’t answer in five minutes I want you to leave and come straight over. I’ll have white Russians and Drag Race waiting for you” Wanda always knew just what to say, just how to make you feel. You were grateful for her.

You sighed into the receiver. “Thanks, babe, I’ll let you know what happens either way”. You hung up and grabbed some toilet paper to dab at the corners of your eyes. You knew you’d need an extra minute to compose yourself as you faced the truth.

He’s not coming, he’s not texting me back, he probably regretted setting the date which is why he put the reservation in my name, I won’t be hearing from him again. Just pay your tab, smile, and leave. You got this.

7:52 PM

Checking your appearance in the mirror one last time you let out a final sigh and push open the door back to the dining room. Your walk to your table begins to slow when you notice someone is sitting at your table. A rather tall, unfamiliar someone.

Did the waiter really give away the table? I’ve been gone all of 7 minutes! What do I even say to this stranger? Should I just grab my bag and go? Hopefully it’s still there.

Your final steps towards your seat are nervous and uneven. The man in the chair opposite yours must’ve heard you and he faces you. You’re struck with an unfamiliar but extremely handsome face. The look of surprise must be tangible because he laughs and slight wrinkles form at the edges of his eyes. Who the fuck is this guy? Well he hasn’t stolen my purse so there’s that.

“I-” You lean over to grab your purse when you’re cut off mid-apology.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, you know how it is at work. Sit down, I ordered a bottle of wine for the table”. The man said.

You sat down slowly and felt so stiff and uncomfortable in the chair. Were you being pranked? Was this part of some very elaborate joke? Before you could ask any of those questions the man reached across the table and grabbed your hand.

“If you could just hold my hand and be quiet, that would be nice” He said as his thumb grazed your knuckles. You were slightly stunned by his boldness. You complied, if only out of shock and hoped he’d explain himself a little better or let you go in time for you to make an exit.

He leaned in closer to you, to anyone else it would’ve looked like an intimate moment during any normal date. He looked you in the eyes while he kept hold of your hand and you realized how warm he was, how clear his eyes were. You took a deep breath through your nose and tried to play it cool.

“I’ve been at the bar for a while now, it seems like whichever idiot decided to stand you up made a grave mistake.” Your brows pinched together and he continued, “I was with a friend talking business but he left and you look like you needed to be saved from the incident so here I am. James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

You were unsure what to do with the information just given to you. Yes, it would’ve been embarrassing to pay your tab and leave alone after sitting there for almost an entire hour by yourself, but it was also embarrassing that this man had noticed and you certainly didn’t need anyone looking at you like some damsel in distress.

You caught yourself from scoffing completely and schooled your features. “I… appreciate that you’d do that for me but I don’t want anyone’s sympathy, especially not a date.” You tried to pull away when his hand gently squeezed yours.

“Please- I- I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’m doing this out of pity. Whatever happened here is unfortunate, yes. But you’re also very beautiful and you’re here by yourself so why not ‘shoot my shot’ as I believe the kids are saying these days? Think of me like a stand-in for the other guy, but y’know, better” he replied playfully.

A very brief moment of contemplation was solidified by your lack of notifications on your phone. Why not? He’s good looking and he’s doing you a favor.

You had to at least afford a small chuckle at that. “So ‘Bucky’, huh? Well I don’t have any cool nicknames but you can call me by my first name.” You gave it to him and he repeated it back to you, a wry smile on his face.

8:05 PM

Still no texts from him but you did text Wanda to tell her everything worked out and there’d be details to come. She’d go into full on mama bear mode if you hadn’t updated her.

“So, Bucky, what do you do? Do you live here in Manhattan?” You asked before taking a sip of your wine (which you didn’t dare check the price of per bottle).

“Brooklyn, actually, but a lot of my business is here. Have you heard of Buchannan hospitality?” He asked.

Your brain snagged itself on that name. That sounds familiar? Where have I seen that? Oh wait! Didn’t you see him in the Forbes ‘30 under 30’ list last year?

You’d meant to answer him but unfortunately all that came out was a confused “Forbes?” at which he laughed a little bit and nodded.

“Yeah you might’ve seen me there. I own some hotels and lounges around Manhattan and Brooklyn. What do you do?” He had brushed off his accolades so quickly, wanting instead to know about you, this random girl that had been stood up.

Shit, your mid-level marketing job doesn’t stand up to this in the least. You took a sip of the wine and answered him, explaining you were second in command of your small company’s marketing department.

He seemed genuinely intrigued and you two ended up talking business and swapping office and university disaster stories until the main course arrived. You dug into your meal, savoring the taste and relishing in the unusual turn of events.

8:47 PM

The plates have been cleared away and the wine glasses refilled. Bucky was proving to be great company and as oddly as it started you were grateful to be sitting here with him. You’d nearly forgotten about your would-be date and decided to check your phone one last time.

You had 11 unread texts, 10 of them from Wanda wanting a play-by-play and one of them from the man that had stood you up. You opened it and sighed. ‘Can’t make it tonight, baby, promise to make it up to you soon’.

You scoffed to yourself. He’s not gonna say where he’s been? Or even say sorry? Douche.

You put your phone away and looked back up to Bucky who was eyeing you with playful curiosity.

“Lemme guess, that was the guy who was supposed to be seeing you’s sorry ass excuse followed by a flimsy apology” He said as he drank from his water glass.

“You’re 1 for 3. It was him but he didn’t apologize or try to explain himself. Should’ve known when he put the reservation under my name and not his that something might be up and when he wasn’t there on time.” You said more to yourself than to Bucky.

“What’s his name?” Bucky asked.

“His name’s Brock Rumlow,” Bucky’s expression changed just slightly at this. “I think he works at some firm in the financial district. We only ever went out the once before this so I don’t really remember.” You explained. “What? What’s that look for? Please don’t tell me you know him”.

“Sorry to say that I do. Sorry to say I know his wife too” He said a little more quietly.

You felt humiliated all over again, the same feelings that you experienced in this very seat not an hour ago still had you by the gills it would seem.

Bucky reached for your hand again, running the pads of his thumb across the ridges of your knuckles in an attempt to calm you.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make you upset, but you definitely ought to know that Rumlow is no one that deserves your time” Bucky said in earnest.

His words were nice but you’d need some time to get over this embarrassment on your own. In the meantime, you really were enjoying Bucky’s company so you decided to let it distract you.

Bucky flagged down a waiter, signaling him to bring the check. He took one glance at it and set his card inside. As you reached for the bill with your own card in hand he gave it to the waiter before you could even get a peek. He was so nonchalant when he looked at you.

“Don’t even think about it. So tell me, is the night over or are you game to spend a little more time on me?” He asked. This is the second time he’d been dominant but kind in one breath. You weren’t entirely sure how you felt but you didn’t dislike it.

If you went home you’d just be wallowing in your own self pity, or you’d go to Wanda’s and do it but if you go with Bucky you could delay that feeling for a bit longer. Out with a stranger it is.

“Where to?” You asked him.

9:59 PM

A private booth on the top floor of what he said was one of his favorite lounges turned out to be where to. You were relieved to find there was no dancing, as you had two left feet and half a bottle of wine by now. When you got to the booth you stuck with water, knowing you’d need to get yourself home.

Bucky had insisted on one glass of champagne ‘to chance encounters’ he’d said. You agreed but just one. You found yourself closer to him while you talked, your knees touched and his hand found its way to your leg. It didn’t dare to move higher up, just staying there like a comforting weight almost while you conversed.

You were rambling on about the time you and your cousin took your dad’s car for a joyride when you were 14. You were laughing the whole thing off when you realized he wasn’t laughing with you. You had worried for a moment that you’d bored him when you saw the soft yet intense look in his eye and tilted your head with curiosity.

“You’re very beautiful, you know that right?” He didn’t let you answer as he shifted closer. “I’d like to kiss you, is that alright with you?”

Oh. You were caught off guard by the abruptness of his question. Suddenly shy, all you could do was give a small nod and bite your lip in anticipation. His full lips were soft and almost as warm as his hands, which were holding you in an embrace. One of your hands had made their way to his hair and one on the outside of his lower thigh. You sighed as you kissed him back.

It was soft but insistent, things became a little more passionate as you swiped your tongue into his mouth and you both let out a small moan. You didn’t want to stop kissing Bucky, it just felt right.

He finally broke the kiss as one of his hands still rested at the nape of your neck. You were breathless, this man had kissed the daylights out of you. If he could do that with his tongue imagine what else he could do with it. You were both panting softly, sorting through what to make of things and where to go from here.

“I don’t know about you, but I wanna keep doing that, but this might not be the best place for it. You can say no if you want to, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I’d love to take you home and treat you right” He said with unwavering eye contact.

Well how on Earth could I say no to that even if I wanted to? Wait doesn’t he live in Brooklyn?

“Let’s go back to mine, probably closer” You said. He nodded in agreement and sent a text to his driver to come pick you both up.

10:40 PM

You did indeed find out what else that tongue of his could do, you were finding out right now. He had made you cum once from his tongue alone already but he added to thick fingers and started pumping them into you, making a scissoring motion that hit you just right. You arched your back and pushed his face in deeper as you cried out, signaling your second orgasm.

Completely drunk in the afterglow of it, you wanted to keep this feeling forever. You wanted to show him what you could do too. You got up albeit with a little shakiness and hovered over him. You kissed his neck and slid your hand down to meet his groin. He was still in his briefs and you pulled the elastic band down with ease.

His cock sprang free and you had to hide the slight surprise you felt looking at the sheer size of him. You were always told you were good in bed so time to really put yourself to the test. You kissed your way down to his pelvis and your hand started working him. Staring back up at him you maintained eye contact while you kissed the dab of pre-cum that pooled at the head of his dick.

He shuddered but you kept staring at him, and in what you have to say was a pretty proud moment for you, you held his gaze while you took him slowly and in one go. You closed your eyes and moaned, feeling him in the back of your throat.

“Shit, oh my god. Are you gonna…?” He was lost for words so you decided to answer him by getting to work. You started slowly, up and down, letting yourself get used to his size and reminding yourself to breathe through your nose and stay relaxed.

His moans were growing louder and his breathing heavier, you knew he was close and you were wondering if he was going to let you finish him. You got your answer when he pulled you off of him by the hair.

“As bad as I want you to finish what you started, I wanna feel you first.” He panted.

“So what’s stopping you?” You asked playfully. A small shriek escaped you as he flipped you under him. He lined himself up with your entrance and thrust in slowly. You could tell he was using a lot of restraint but that was quickly forgotten as you remembered how big he was. You suddenly appreciated the slow pace.

As he became fully sheathed inside of you you let out a loud moan that was quickly silenced by his lips on yours. A few more small thrusts and he was nearly fucking your cervix. You felt unbelievably full.

“Had no idea how talented that mouth was of yours, doll. Trying to make me cum without getting to fuck you though? Now that’s just cruel. I think you need to pay for that, don’t you?” He asked playfully as his thrusts became a little harder and forceful.

You could only nod and moan as he picked up his pace. Your hands clung to his shoulders for dear life and you whimpered and keened while he railed you into your mattress. Finally getting used to the feeling you reached down to play with your clit.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” He asked in between grunts.

Your eyes rounded and you shook your head.

“I wanna be the one to touch you. Make you cum. Only me.” He forced out as he replaced your fingers with his. He made tight, quick circles around your clit but didn’t let up on his pace as he fucked you closer and closer to a third orgasm.

“Your pussy’s making it fuckin’ impossible for me to hold out any longer, need you to cum, sweetheart. Cum all over my fuckin’ dick.” His words sent you right over the edge and you did as you were asked.

Not two seconds later he cried out and emptied himself inside of you, sending a few final pushes into you before taking himself out and dropping down on his side.

You leaned over and kissed him with what little breath you two had left. Your sweat mixed together but you didn’t mind.

His hands provided that comforting weight as he brought one to your shoulder and the other to your hip. He kissed the tip of your nose and watched you begin to drift off to sleep. He could probably use the rest himself and decided to close his eyes for a bit.

9:30 AM

You woke up in a half empty bed, but before you could let yourself be too disappointed you heard the sound of your shower turning off. You padded down to the bathroom and opened the door to find Bucky toweling off. He gave you a lopsided grin.

“Good mornin’, I would’ve asked you to join me but you looked so peaceful I didn’t wanna wake you.” He explained. “If you’re not sick of me, do you maybe wanna grab some breakfast?”

You shook your head and reached past him to turn the shower back on.

“No way. I make the best pancakes and as a thank you for everything last night, I insist on making some for you.” You smiled up at him, hopeful he’d agree.

“Well I hope you know what you’re up against, I’m a very insatiable man.” He joked back.

You hit him with a washcloth and laughed. “Oh believe me I know. Gimme 15 and I’ll be right out.”

He nodded and closed the door behind him. You let your mind wander back to last night as you washed off the sweat that lingered from the night before.

10:15 AM

You set down two plates stacked mile-high with pancakes and bacon. You held your coffee mug up to his and clinked against it.

“To chance encounters” You said with a smile.

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.1

It's here fellas, the mutation sequel that I've mercilessly teased you with!

Content warnings: gore, torture, blood (like... lots), just a bunch of puking up blood, Miranda being her usual mad scientist self, torture in the name of science, Nicole be sick af (both literally and of crow mommy's bullshit), a little bit of blood drinking as a treat, medical procedures.

////

Tic toc tic toc

God that clock is so annoying.

Nicole wasn’t nervous. No. She chose this, at least for the most part. She had a long conversation with all her family, Alcina and Esteria both assuring her that it would work. It’s been years since the beginning of the experiments and by this point the process was almost perfected.

Miranda knew what she was doing.

That mattered little to her nerves though.

She instinctively pushed herself further into Cassandra’s side, who’s grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

The waiting was downright tortuous.

She, along with Cassandra and her two sisters were in her infirmary. The room mixed the ancient decor of the castle with modern medical equipment in a beautiful way. Not that anything less would be acceptable. Not that the familiarity of her workspace brought her any comfort either.

All their eyes snapped in the direction of the door when a heavy set of footsteps, with two lighter ones, were heard down the hallway outside. Soon the door opened with a barely audible creak and the two matriarchs entered, followed suit by Mother Miranda. Her presence alone was enough to make Nicole’s breath get lost somewhere in her throat, on its way to an exhale. The black wings, even partially folded as they were, did their job of making her look so much more intimidating than she was. Not that she needed them to begin with, a look from those icy gray eyes more than enough to send anyone to their knees.

Mother Miranda was, in all ways that mattered, a goddess.

A goddess that was about to infect her with the same thing that failed countless times in the past. The same thing that made the crawling mindless beasts used as guard dogs in the undergrounds. Or that made all the lycans.

Nicole gulped, a gesture gone thankfully unnoticed to anyone other than her painfully dry mouth.

But Miranda didn’t spare her a glance. She simply busied herself with some tools she had brought on one of the metal tables. With each clink the room seemed to close in on her slightly more, until Nicole felt as if she somehow ended up in one of Heisenberg's death traps. Spikes moving closer and closer until they would pierce her body and leave her in a messy pool of blood and entrails.

She shook her head and took a long inhale. No. This was going to work. She was not about to lose her family over a pesky thing such as mortality. She was not about to lose Cassandra. If getting infected by the Cadou was what it took to spend eternity with her lover then so be it. Possible side effects be damned.

Mother Miranda finally seemed to have finished, a now empty flask labeled Cadou sitting on the desk behind her while the parasite was writhing in her hand, thin whip-like tentacles extending frantically around itself. She called her over with a nod, and with a deep breath and a parting hand squeeze from Cassandra, Nicole forced her legs to take her across the room. Her steps didn't waver, she'd be damned if she'd show any hesitancy in front of this.

"Shall we begin."

It wasn't a question really, merely veiled impatience. Miranda did not like her, plain and simple. The fact that she was there to begin with was already a miracle. Miracle that wouldn't have happened were it not for the Ladies themselves asking for it.

"Yes of c-"

Before her words even had time to completely slip out of her mouth, golden talons plunged into the base of her sternum.

"Hopefully this can teach you that I don't like people going behind my back."

Nicole let out a choked gasp, hands instinctively wrapping around Miranda's arm, weakly grabbing at black robes. Ironically enough, those very talons were keeping her upright and, when they were removed from her flesh with a disgusting squelch of blood, Nicole curled in on herself, falling to her knees.

"Wha-... cking ki-... -er!"

Cassandra's voice reached her ears broken up, barely passing through the deafening ringing. Miranda also gave a reply and then seemed to address someone else but her much calmer tone meant that it only sounded like a vague mumble.

Not that Nicole particularly cared at the moment.

She curled into a ball, her hands almost clawing at her chest trying to find some sort of relief. It seemed as if vicious tendrils were making their way into every vein and muscle, tearing their way through any tissue they found. Her chest felt as if it had a hot iron pressed directly onto the skin, searing pain radiating in a cruel pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. By that point she was either sobbing or heaving, something that involved shallow breaths for sure. Her lungs were protesting fiercely, emptying of oxygen and then refusing to refill if not with great strain.

To make everything worse, the pain seemed to shift, now engulfing her spine and sending jolts that made her head spin and want to throw up despite her jaws being clenched shut so tightly that she was sure she'd start to taste copper soon.

She was only vaguely aware of hands shifting her body and soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She was now on a softer surface, but that did nothing to alleviate the assault on each of her senses. Probably she had thrown up at a certain point as her sinuses felt like being scraped by sandpaper with each shuddering breath. Her mouth too had a lingering taste of both bile and blood that made her stomach turn all over again. She would give anything for her body to finally shut down.

Why was she still awake and conscious god damn it. There was only so much her body was supposed to take before the brain shut down and she was reaching her limit of how much agony she could endure at a moment.

Please please please just pass out please.

She didn't though. Her body seemingly deciding to feel every single bit of the infection process, complete with the unending waves of pain and nausea that hit her more than she wanted to count. Any bit of sanity left in her would've probably disappeared had she tried.

---

It took two days for the agonizing pain to subside. Another two for Nicole to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Cassandra's soothing voice was of immense comfort, always there to tell her how well she was doing and how it would all be better soon.

God she hoped.

On the fifth day, her stomach still lurched at any movement too sudden. Her lungs seemed to fill with blood, courtesy of the still gaping wound at the bottom of her sternum, with any inhale too deep. The fact that she got used to the coppery taste rising up in her throat was disgusting in and of itself. At least there weren't jolts of pain shooting through every nerve and muscle in waves anymore though. That was something.

The fog in her brain was still clearing. It was hard to focus on anything, and each time Cassandra, or anyone else, asked her a question they would have to repeat it at least three times. It was beyond frustrating, the mind that got her through med school drunk half the time was failing the insurmountable task of saying whether or not she'd like some water. Glorious.

A faint knock on the door reached her ears. A redundant gesture really, as she didn't exactly have the clarity of mind to answer. Besides it was hard to catch her in a more compromising state than curled up in the fetal position, covered in sweat and most likely blood clots stuck to her lips.

Esteria came in, her one blue eye that wasn't covered looking at her with all the gentleness neither of her parents had ever offered her. Or it was just the cruel trick of a delirious brain. Either way, light barefoot steps took the Mistress to her bed. She sat in the chair adjacent to it and, with taloned fingers brushing strands of auburn hair out of Nicole's face, she spoke softly.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her voice was just as melodious as ever. It was the voice one imagines they would hear from an ancient being found deep in the forest. It made Nicole just a tad guilty when the only answer she could give was a pathetic whine.

Esteria simply hummed, talons running through the long messy locks of hair sprawled on the sheets.

"Would you like me to braid this for you dear?"

Nicole frowned. The Mistress was an expert at braiding, quick fingers able to make beautiful designs, both simple and complex. Comes with having floor length hair, her hazy mind guessed. On any normal day, Nicole would've accepted without a second thought. But now? Now she was painfully aware of the state she was currently in.

"It's filthy," she croaked, her voice raw and like stones in her mouth.

And it was. Her hair was waist length and right now it was slowly becoming a curse. It was greasy and sweaty thanks to barely being able to move a limb for nearly a week, which meant no showers. Not to mention how she lost count of the times she bent down to empty the contents of her stomach into a bucket, only to have some rebel locks fall in her face and get subsequently dirty. God she felt awful.

Esteria didn't seem to care too much though, as she simply helped Nicole shift slightly and talons started to work at some pesky mats. In no time, her hair was in a comfortable braid that started relatively high, keeping the locks away from her nape which meant just a tad less overheating. Not to mention it kept it in place and away from her mouth that she didn't trust in the slightest right now.

"Thanks," she actually managed to not let her voice crack this time.

"Oh it's no problem. Also," there seemed to be an odd strain in her voice, "Mother Miranda is coming this evening. She said something about an examination."

Nicole couldn't help but openly wince and curl in on herself a little more at the mere mention of the woman. Her chest seemed to pulsate painfully at the memory of the golden talons embedded deep in her flesh. Right now she wanted those hands anywhere away from her.

"What time is it?"

Esteria looked at the clock placed somewhere on the wall behind them. "About twelve. Still got time."

How hard would it be to drag herself to the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower? The only way her situation could get worse was if none other than Mother Miranda came in to see her in that state. She took a deep breath that her lungs protested against and pushed herself onto her elbows. At Esteria's skeptical expression she tried to sound less horrible than she felt.

"I need a shower."

Esteria pursed her lips. "Sorry dear but I don't believe for one second that you can stand for more than a minute. I'll ask a maid to draw you a bath."

Nicole only nodded weakly and let herself fall back into the cushion.

---

It took far longer than Nicole would ever admit to get herself fully clean. Her muscles were sore and protesting at every pass of the soapy sponge. Her hair was a whole other battle and she had to bite down on her pride and ask the maid positioned outside her door for help. It was a tortuous fifteen minutes until the poor girl managed to detangle the long locks enough to be shampooed and washed.

After she was content with the level of cleanliness of her body and the maid was dismissed, she stood there preparing herself to get out of the basin. In the meantime she looked down at the wound at the bottom of her sternum. Maybe wound wasn't the right word. It looked more like a gray and black scar with vein-like tendrils spreading across pale skin. It looked downright gruesome. Miranda really did not try to do a clean job in the slightest. Didn't even think to use anesthesia, like she had with most other experiments, according to Alcina.

She sighed and finally pushed herself out of the water with shaky arms.

By the time Mother Miranda arrived she was feeling slightly better. Why she came personally was still a mystery to Nicole. Maybe some sick sense of satisfaction in seeing her in pain.

Either way, by the time their so-called goddess came into the infirmary and told Nicole to lay down on one of the tables, she managed to shuffle her way over without her body protesting too much. Cassandra also quietly made her way on the opposite side of Miranda, gaining herself a glare.

"Must you hover over her like that?" Miranda's tone was as even as ever, but her eyes betrayed annoyance.

"Does it hinder you?"

Cassandra was not an idiot, the growl she wanted to add into her question was instead replaced by a tone not too dissimilar to Miranda's own, who simply tugged her lips into a grimace.

"Very well."

At first they went through a normal examination. Pupil dilation, reflexes, all things a normal doctor would do. Then Miranda told her to unbutton her blouse so she could take a look at the infection scar.

Nicole couldn't help flinching when thankfully gloved fingers would poke and prod at the sensitive flesh there. Her cold digits felt like hot coals were spread on her chest and nails dragged uselessly on the metal underneath her body for some sort of distraction.

Mother Miranda decided to get a tissue sample and that's when Nicole decided that maybe she would rather spend eternity as a ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut when a scalpel was brought to the overly sensitive skin. It took her back to when she would do autopsies, years ago. Tissue samples were always an integral part of her work. How ironic that she found herself on the other side of things.

It's fine.

She winced when the blade cut into flesh and sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Nicole couldn't help but think of the long days she spent agonizing while her chest felt like it was burning her alive and hoping that it wouldn't repeat. A sigh of pure relief slipped past her lips when whatever fake deity there was besides this woman, listened to her and the sensation died out quickly. She dared to open her eyes, only to see Mother Miranda frowning down at the small vial in hand.

It was quickly given to an assistant and she unceremoniously grabbed Nicole's wrist, dragging the blade across the length of her forearm.

Nicole gasped at the sudden sharp pain, and even Cassandra dropped a few choice words in romanian due to the surprise. No. No no no. What the hell-

Any questions, or less dignified reaction, died in everyone's throats as they watched the skin stitch itself back together. The repairing muscles gave a tingling sensation but soon the only proof that a cut had been there were thin trails of blood.

Mother Miranda chuckled and wrote down something in the notebook she brought with her. "Accelerated healing. That can be of use."

Nicole couldn't help but throw a glance at Alcina, who was sitting in one of the many chairs with Esteria by her side. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of conflicting emotions flashing in her eyes like rapid lightning. She would've tried to decipher their matriarch's probable thoughts were it not for the smell that was starting to assault her senses.

"Ugh what's that…blood… "

Coherent sentences were still not something her brain wanted to do apparently, but judging by how her nose scrunched up in a grimace, Cassandra got the gist of what she meant.

"Um… your arm," she pointed to the still fresh blood slowly dripping from her skin.

Right. Dumbass.

"Or damaged sinuses. Should go away soon," Miranda added from where she was noting something down and giving instructions to her assistant.

Also fair.

She sighed and tried to ignore it. Her sinuses still felt like sandpaper all the way to the back of her throat. Every time she swallowed, it felt like needles scraping the inside of her neck down to her stomach.

Ugh.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda did not linger for much longer. She wrapped up any samples and was out of the room soon after with her assistant in tow. Then, Nicole could finally go back to laying down in bed and feeling miserable.

And miserable she felt. Her body seemed to have decided to rewire itself into its new mutation. It didn't have any effect on her physical appearance, but the insides seemed to want to liquefy only to be mended back together. It was another week of basically living with a bucket in her lap and throwing up blood clots that seemed to invade her lungs and organs. How she didn't straight up asphyxiate was a mystery that she didn't think she wanted solved.

And to top it off, she was starting to think that humidity from some leaky pipe somewhere in the castle was causing a slight mold problem. Almost everywhere she went, there was this faint moldy scent lingering in the air and it was mixing horribly with the coppery feeling inside her still offended throat and sinuses. Nobody seemed bothered by it though, so maybe it was simply a side effect of the infection that was yet to go away. It wasn’t nicknamed the Mold for nothing, after all.

[wizkiddx]

If your request are open, vouldd you then make something where reader is thicc and is scared to sit on Tom's lap, but Tom doesn't mind at all, he just adores you no matter what.

a/n just a friendly remind EVERYONE is the best version of themselves no matter what, you do you, for you <33

I hope this is okay anon, sorry don't feel like this is v good so im sorry x

warnings: body image/weight issues / low self esteem / implied SMUT

//////////////////////////////////////

Awkward. That’s what it was. You didn’t intend for it to be this way… god you hated it so much and even if you somewhat blamed yourself- nothing could diffuse the awkward air in the room. It was stupid too, you had been with Tom for a month now. And it wasn’t like your whole evening had been this awkward and hellish, in fact, quite the opposite.

Date night had consisted of Tom cooking attempting a fancy steak and homemade fries meal for you both. While it had looked a lot less impressive than Tom’s plans (a sad looking lump of meat)- it had still been the perfect evening. Especially since given Tom’s public persona, neither of you dared to go out for dinner together - arguably a shitty attempt at cooking was more fun though.

You’d honestly never felt more special, more free or at ease than this evening. Until you and Tom had both moved to the sitting room (which he’d forced a stubborn Harry out of) for a movie night. He had gone to the loo whilst you prepared for the movie, only re-entering the room when your back was turned to read the back of the old DVD case. Seizing his opportunity with a mischievous smirk, Tom crept up behind you, wrapping his arms round your waist and then pulling the two of you down to the sofa- both your bodies spinning in an uncoordinated manner as your shrieked.

You’d landed on top of him, your chest and belly pressed up against his and you instantly hated it.

Your relationship with your own body image was possibly the most complicated and toxic relationship you’d had in your life. To be honest, you’d never felt super comfortable in his own skin; but last year after you’d put on a little extra weight, the nagging voice in your head became impossible to ignore. And it made everything more difficult. It ruled out half the fashionable high street shops- who seem to only cater to people of a certain build. It meant you would much rather sweat your ass off in boiling heat, than dare to take your jacket off and expose what you thought to be ‘far from the ideal’ body type.

But worst off it made intimacy impossible.

Just like now, as you felt your were crushing Tom’s chest, quickly scrambling upwards and landing on the opposite side of the sofa. Tom wasn’t blind or ignorant, he’d seen the flash of fear as you’d desperately climbed away from him; he saw the defeated look as you sat dead ahead, refusing to look at him and awaiting him to start the movie. What he was less sure on though, was how to handle it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable and question you. Which is why he quickly leaned over and grabbed the remote to hit play.

Thats how the opening scenes of ‘Crazy, stupid, love’ started. Both of you sitting awkwardly upright, like you were in school, eyes solely looking straight ahead. The atmosphere was tense to say the least, your breath hitching at the slightest movement Tom made- from what you could see out the corner of your eye. Which of course, he noticed.

So, without much pre-planning in his head, Tom hit pause on the remote and instantly turned to you, seeing your confused gaze. He neeeded to say this.

“You know you’re so beautiful.” He said it so astutely, so point-blanc and so seriously you had a harder time than normal brushing it off.

“Tom no I-“

“No I’m serious. You are so beautiful and it hurts me that you don’t see what I see. Alright?”

“no I-“ You were gulping like a fish, stammering between the two words before Tom cut you off again, voicce louder this time.

“I said alright? As in do you understand?” He sighed, tone softening as the confusion and embarrassment on your face said it all. “I’m serious Y/n. I get that you have issues with some parts of yourself and I’m not going to cure that in one night but… I want, no, I need you to know how beautiful I think you are.”

“It’s not your fault.” Rather you answered a different question entirely, one you had made up in your head.

“But I want it to be my business to help you fix. I know its your journey but I want to be there. Will you let me?”

“You’re getting all this because of one rugby tackle awkward moment?”

“No, but I do want you to feel comfortable with me, okay?”

“Okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper but Tom heard and replied with a breathy laugh, which made you pull your gaze up from picking at your fingers. And sure enough, he was sporting the warmest and kindest smile, the type that gave you no choice but to return, like it was infectious.

“How about we start…” He held his hands out which you took, eyebrows furrowing as he pulled you further and further towards him. “-with me showing you just how beautiful you are.” His voice was intoxicating, almost distracting you from the fact he kept pulling you over him on the sofa, to the point you had to move your knees and kneel eitherside of his legs to keep balance. Once your face was barely centimetres from his, both your eyes flitting between eyes and lips - Tom shifted his hands to your waist and slowly applied a downward pressure.

Your breath hitched because you knew what he was asking you to do. He wanted you to sit completely on his lap, which terrified you.

But then he whispered a ‘dont worry’ and hooked his lips against yours. The movements slow and sensual, as you got lost in the moment, lost in the warmth that radiated from the boy.

Too lost to notice, to care, or to be conscious of your weight against his legs. Because really… did it matter? When you had a boy in front of you who liked loved every single part of you.

Your worth wasn’t defined by Tom, but he did do a hell of a lot to see you for what you really were.

~~~~~~~let me know what u think <33 ~~~~~~~~~

tag ist: @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove

[thyshadowwriter]

Lost & Found. Chapter 3.

Ivar Ragnarsson x oc.

Summary: being rescued by Helga in one of the raids and reluctantly tolerated by Floki, a young girl finds herself amidst a strange place with strange people, but if adapting to the cultural shock wasn't hard enough, catching the attention of the volatile and beloved son of the Queen would soon prove to be the ultimate proving. That is if she realizes just how much being around prince Ivar is walking on thin ice.

Author's note: family dynamics and fluff.

Tagging: @youbloodymadgenius

Understandment is hard when you can't speak to each other, but gestures may reach further than words.

--------

A few weeks after they returned, Floki's home had fallen into a strangely peaceful routine.

Floki would do his work, busy with Bjorn's request, while Helga would teach Revna their language for hours a day, every day, their voices being background noise for him.

Helga was radiant with joy. She loved taking care of Revna, spending a lot of time combing the long hair and doing beautiful and intricate braids while talking to her, to which Revna would sometimes reply and even if they couldn't understand each other an odd sort of dialogue would emerge.

While this arrangement made Floki uneasy, he could be thankful for his wife's happiness, she hasn't been happy in a long time. Even if happiness was a passing moment, it hurt him that Helga carried so much sorrow, most of which, if not all, he knew to be his fault.

Now, Revna was sitting on the chair shaking her leg and looking down, Floki occasionally looked at her and he didn't need to understand her words to understand her lately. She wasn't allowed outside yet and that was getting to her.

Helga came with a bowl of stew for Revna and tried to hand it to her.

"Here, I brought you food." Helga said to Revna.

She looked at the food then turned her head away to the floor and continued shaking her leg.

"You need to eat to get better, please." Helga tried to reason with her.

Revna answered with a small grunt, resting her head on her hand.

"What is it, my dear? You were doing so well." Helga said to her stroking her hair.

The girl didn’t answer, but Floki did it for her:

"She's bored, Helga. I think she wants to go out."

The realization dawned on Helga, making her smile kindly to the girl, carefully caressing her head. Poor thing, she had every right to be bored, but Helga wanted her to get stronger before facing the city.

Helga sat behind Revna and cupped her face, making the girl look at her. She spoke softly, trying to make her understand:

"I know you're bored, but you need to get strong before I show you Kattegat" she gestured to the door "I'll show you everywhere, but please, keep eating well and get better."

The girl studied her face for a while, then gave her a pout but accepted the food. She ate slowly and in small portions, an empty stare in her eyes.

That was good, Helga thought, that was great. She begged the gods for another child and they gave her one, a beautiful girl that she had already fallen in love with and would do everything in her power to protect.

Not long after, the door swung open and Ivar came into their room, dragging himself until he was inside and on his usual spot like that was his second home, which has been since the day his mother brought him there.

"Hello, Floki. Hello Helga." Ivar greeted them.

"Ivar." Floki greeted him back, spotting right away the faux innocent smile the young prince had whenever he was up to be a pain in someone’s ass.

Ivar turned his attention to the girl, who was eating and either uncaring or ignoring his presence.

"Revna." He said her name with a slight pitch to his voice and squinting at her. He had her name memorized from the odd fit it made for her, but mainly it was for the fact she slapped his hand. No one in their right mind would dare to do it, and no one that ever as much as said something wrong to Ivar got to live much longer, let alone someone stupid enough to try their luck against him, those he took delight in dealing with. Though to Revna, he probably was just a harmless cripple. Ignorance is bliss, he thought.

Revna, apparently taken back from her thoughts, looked at him. Her dark eyes gazing upon him with a spark of curiosity and interest. She had memorized his face after his first visit, how could she not? The complete stranger with very blue eyes, pale skin and a fingertips rough and calloused like the ones found on peasants, slaves or warriors. This complete stranger that touched her like it was normal or acceptable, the nerve! 

The voice in her mind screamed: ‘Was it normal to him?’, “Is this normal these strange people I’m living with?’, ‘Was that how he acted around outsiders?’, ‘What am I even doing here?’, ‘What will they do to me?’  Questions, questions, they came and went in circles for all these days.

But she put a stop to them for now, like it or not, for good or ill, he was the only other sight she had other than the couple, she could indulge in a quick distraction from the walls of the home she was living in that were starting to feel smaller by each day.

"Ivar." She said, looking straight at him, trying to pronounce what she inferred to be his name as best as she could. Adding a pitch to her pronunciation, just like he did, just because she could.

His eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side, stare fixed on her and her every minimal movement. He was sincerely surprised that she actually spoke directly at him.

His name on her lips was carried by a foreign accent, it sounded different, almost like it belonged to someone else, but her gaze on him, with expectancy in her eyes and a hint of pride on the corners of her lips turned slightly upward left no doubt she indeed meant him.

Ivar heard her before, annoyed and agitated at his first visit, so he hoped to have the same effect, but now that she spoke camly, trying to pronounce his name correctly and seemingly proud of herself for it, she threw him off balance. He had expected the annoyance she had from before, he expected her disgust at him as she wasn't pleased with his touch, why would she want the hands of a cripple on her? He even expected fear from her, but he didn't expect to hear his name slow and soft on her lips, he didn’t expect to hear her trying to reach out for him and how his own name would sound so foreign coming from her lips.

He wanted her to say it again, wanted to hear the strange way his name sounded from her, but he didn’t know how to demand it, so he nodded at her, not really knowing what to say, not that it would matter. She probably wouldn’t understand him anyway.

Revna smiled proudly to herself, a beautiful smile, if he had to say anything, he mimicked her smile shyly, though he quickly felt self conscious under her gaze and looked away, trying to find somewhere other than her eyes to look at, but nothing seemed to quite hold his attention.

Ivar felt as Revna looked away from him and continued to eat, he glanced a few times at her, the shy smile he held gone as she paid him no further attention. He noticed, however, how her legs began shaking in a slow, lazy rhythm. A stream of thoughts began in his mind: ‘Is she playing with me?’, ‘Is she bothered by my presence?’, ‘Does she pity me?’, a frown forming on his face with each thought.

He turned his attention to Helga, who was distracted with the girl's hair:

"I haven't seen her around yet. Why? When are you going to show her off?” he made a pause before adding the last part venomously “Unless she is to be a house slave."

"She's no slave, Ivar. We're adopting her." Helga corrected him, a tad annoyed at the slave mention.

"Then why haven't I seen her outside, hm? If she's to live here as a free woman, then she needs to know her way around."

"It's too soon yet. She doesn't speak our language."

"It’s not too soon, it’s been weeks! And if all the problem is that she doesn’t speak our language, then it’s another reason to do it. She'll learn much faster by experience."

"I'll take her out when she's ready." Helga answered a bit tense. She didn't want to go into detail of why she was so careful but she also didn’t want to lie to Ivar, who by the frown seemed to be growing angry.

"She seems ready enough." He said pointing to her legs.

Revna stopped shaking her legs, staring at Ivar wide eyed and lips slightly parted as she just took the spoon from her mouth. She arched an eyebrow looking lost as a puppy in the forest. Good, Ivar thought. Revna then looked confused from him to Helga, who caressed her face reassuringly.

"So, why don't you take her outside?" Ivar insisted.

Helga couldn't find an answer to stop Ivar's questioning and looked to her husband for help. Floki seemed entertained, holding a smile of his own, but as soon as he felt his wife’s eyes on him and her silent plea he intervened.

"Since when do you care about things that don't involve you?" Asked Floki.

"What?" Ivar countered astonished, "What do you mean by it? Of course it involves me. I was in this home before her, I have a say in whether she can stay or not."

"Is that so?” Floki said amused, “In this case what your mighty self has to say?"

Without missing a beat and with a self assured tone that didn’t transpired his shyness just a moment ago, he answered:

"I say this girl better adapt to our ways else she brings the wrath of the gods down on us..."

"The gods love her, Ivar. They gave her to me." Helga interrupted him. She realized the mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

"How can you be so sure?" He inquired, renewed curiosity in his eyes.

"I just know it."

"If you say..." he eyed her suspiciously, before continuing to Floki, "...I say she better learn manners. No one should dare to hit a prince and go off unscathed."

Floki chuckled from his spot then said:

"You deserved that one. You could have used some other way of introducing yourself rather than touching someone you’ve never seen before and is not here as a slave. However, I thank the gods for letting me witness your face that day."

"You old fool..."

"Ivar. Be patient with her." Helga said to Ivar softly. She was very aware of how badly he took insults, even when none existed.

"I am patient,” he countered, “but the girl needs manners."

"Ivar..." Called Floki.

Ivar sighed before continuing:

"However, I am willing to forgive her for you,” he said looking at Helga “and an apology from the girl, once she learns how to speak our language, of course."

"Ivar, she's just a child, give her some time, I'm sure she'll adapt." Said Helga, looking at Ivar while she tied the end of one of the braids on Revna's hair.

Ivar lived with them long enough to see she truly wanted that girl to be part of their lives. He had seen the glimpses of sadness throughout his upbringing, the lost gaze Helga had when she thought no one was looking, the unsettling feeling that lurked under the surface when she saw mothers with their newborn babies. Perhaps the surprise wasn't that she took a girl to raise, but that she took that long to do it.

But he loathed the idea that in Floki’s home would live someone that would regard him in the same way the rest of Kattegat did, an outsider to add insult to injury.

"If you say, I'll try to tolerate her. If at least she can pretend to not be annoyed whenever I’m here.” Ivar said as he pointed to Revna.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about her shaking her legs was irritating him. If it was the repetitive pattern, the slow rhythm, the proximity of her feet to him, or what was to him, a clear display of her displeasure with his presence. Though why would she have smiled at him with that beautiful smile if she was annoyed by him?

‘She’s playing you’, His own mind answered the question.

Both Helga and Floki looked to each other confused as to what he meant, Floki being the one that asked:

"What do you mean by that? She doesn’t even know who you are to be annoyed at you."

He pointed to Revna’s legs, this time the girl didn’t even bother to look at him and continued eating as if there wasn’t an annoyed young man pointing at her for no reason at all. Which bothered Ivar even more.

Floki couldn’t help but laugh. It was like he was a naughty child again that got all pouty and angry until he got things his way. At least he didn’t scream anymore. Not as frequently at least. His boy was maturing.

"She's bored, Ivar. Been like that for a few days, it has nothing to do with you." Floki made a point to emphasize the last part.

Ivar stared at Floki speechless. His eyes open wide, darting from Floki to the surroundings as his lips parted, which pretty much told the boatbuilder that the young prince hadn’t considered a possibility that didn’t involve him. He then rolled his head before asking:

"Then what have you been doing with her all this time?"

"We’ve been taking care of her, Ivar. Teaching and getting her used to us before she faces the others." Answered Helga.

Ivar pondered her words for a while, then agreed with her.

"What does she do in her spare time?"

Floki was quick to answer that one:

"Snoops around the house, messes up my tools… Oh, she also has a fondness for magic tricks, they make her happy like a child."

"Really?”

“Yes. I’ve done a few for her and it never fails to get her attention.”

“That’s childish.”

“She is a child, Ivar. It’s no surprise at all.”

Ivar looked like he just realized what Floki said to him. Turning his attention back to Revna as she looked around the house with that same little pout on her lips. He had of course noticed she was young when he first saw her and when he touched her face. Younger than him, in fact. Skin too soft and face still with some roundess to it, but he didn’t stop to consider what that would mean. Of course she would be like that being so young and housebound, he knew the feeling all too well from the days and days and more days he had to be inside his home because he was too sick to go out without serious risk of breaking his bones.

Looking to Helga, who hadn’t got her hands away from Revna, he knew that was her doing. ‘Why won’t she let the girl out? She’s not crippled.’ was what he thought. He knew it was her because she had the same look his mother had when she would smother him with her love as if he was still a baby and not let him do anything food himself, which only got worse when his eyes would turn blue. He loved his mother more than anyone and anything else, but he hated feeling useless.

Maybe that was what Revna felt. He was strangely relieved to not be the reason for her annoyance. At least not this time.

Then a silly idea crossed his mind. He reached for a pouch of leather he carried and took a coin from it, he then got a bit closer to Revna and touched her foot. The girl gasped startled but relaxed when she looked down at Ivar, who expectantly tried to measure her reactions to him. She tilted her head and arched her eyebrow inquisitively at him, which coupled with the cute pout on her lips made for an adorable sight. He beckoned her to come closer to him.

“Go on, my dear.” Said Helga to Revna as she looked to Helga for permission.

Revna got off of the chair and sat on the floor close to Ivar, close enough to be within arm’s reach, but not close enough to accidentally brush her legs against his, she then rested her hands on her lap and looked at him with curiosity. He studied her expression carefully, searching for the all too familiar signs of pity and disgust but found none of those. Even though he noticed she kept a distance, he was pleased she sat near him.

He then showed her the coin, playing with it between his fingers deftly, she giggled, trying to follow the coin with her eyes and relaxing a bit from her position. He then halted his movements, holding the coin between his index and middle finger, Revna froze in her position as soon as he stopped and looked from the coin to his very blue eyes. There it was, that beautiful smile together with an innocent shine in her eyes.

He then put the coin flat against the palm of his hand, closing both of them into fists and bringing them close to his lips, he didn’t take his eyes off her, enjoying her full attention as she looked from his fists to his eyes. He blew air against his fists and slowly opened them, showing her the palms of his hands, the coin nowhere she could see.

Revna looked at him, giggling happily with a wide smile, a smile Ivar found to be quite beautiful and contagious, making him smile himself, although more reservedly. When she calmed down and silence fell between them, they were looking at each other’s eyes, hers filled with joy and his with pride for being the reason for it.

He soon felt self conscious again and looked away.

[realcube]

haikyuu!! characters with a chubby! s/o 💗

characters: tsukishima, oikawa, atsumu, osamu & suna

thank you anon for this cute request 🥺

tw// comfort, fluff, angst if you squint, insecure! reader, swearing, they/them reader but reader wears a dress (in osamu’s)

(a/n): anon requested comfort but i feel bad bc i’m writing this like ‘no, (y/n)! stop being sad! you’re beautiful! 😡’ then i remember that i can just select+delete the pain away💗💖

Kei Tsukishima

let’s not pretend like tsukki gives a fuck what you look like tbh ✋

like nobody is ‘perfect’ and everyone is insecure (to varying degrees) so why would he care about your weight?

nobody ticks every single box to meet society’s definition of ‘beauty’  

plus, tsukki thought beauty standards were stupid away so he created his own - and you meet every single one 💖

in fact, almost everyone meets his beauty standards - besides himself ‘:)

he seriously doesn’t care about your weight tbh, it’s the most trivial thing so why would he care?

although, he wasn’t naïve enough to think that everyone was like-minded

your front of ‘i don’t care about what other people think of me’ was strong enough to fool even the most observant of poeple, including tsukki

however, tsukishima failed to take into consideration that you were his girlfriend, meaning that you could be playing the same game as him; ‘pretend to not care about superficial things like beauty so nobody will think for a second that you are insecure about your body’

he wasn’t one to give compliments but neither were you tbh so the mutual agreement y’all have of ‘let’s call each other names as a form of endearment to avoid those awkward moments were you are looking for the right words for praise but can’t come up with anything’  was fair

but after you accidentally sent him a self-deprecating ‘joke’ message that was clearly meant for a friend, he never passed up the opportunity to compliment you ever again

like he kinda just stared at the message like 😮 ‘does (y/n) seriously care about their weight? why? it doesn’t even matter. how stupid! who told them that the shape of their body is important? bc it’s not..’

then he turns to look in the mirror like ‘wow you srsly need to put on muscle, lanky bitch. or else (y/n) will probably leave you for some built jackass like kuroo. pick up some weights, noodle arms!’

anyway, he’s not too good with words and comfort in situations like these but he’ll probably reply to your text with something out-of-character and surprisingly sweet

to paraphrase (bc the actual text would probably be like a whole damn persuasive essay LMAO he starts with the introduction, makes five points and finishes with a conclusion pfft) , i think it would be something like: ‘hey, (y/n). ik that text was probably meant for one of your friends (but if they’re the ones making you feel bad about your weight then you should probably drop those toxic cunts anyway 💅✨) but i just wanted to say that even though you are the biggest clown i’ve ever met (/j) you’re still v beautiful 💗 stop being insecure or i’ll pass away ⚰💀 ok thx love you bye’

Tōru Oikawa

how are you insecure if you’re dating oikawa? /j

like he is such a hypeman

whenever y’all take pics in your ✨fancy outfits ✨ for formal event, he acts as though you are second most beautiful thing on the face of this earth 😍 (second to him ofc)

but he only does that so he can keep up the reputation he has of being effortlessly confident bc he’s scared that if it slips for even a second, everyone will see how truly insecure he is

truthfully, in his eyes, you come first place by miles (❤ ω ❤)

like srsly, you’re so gorgeous in that dress!! he hopes that you know that he is joking about the whole ‘second place’ thing bc you should be able to tell by the way he looks at you that you’re genuinely the most striking person he’s ever laid his eyes on 

you never acted overly confident in front of him but he definitely didn’t think you were as insecure as you are

he thought you were just..humble :)

sometimes he’d hear you mutter something mean about yourself as you passed the mirror but he paid no mind to it as he figured that you just cared about your appearance and wanted to maintain a certain image

however, once he was made aware that you didn’t want to maintain your image but rather, change it - he never let you murmur anything nasty about yourself under your breath ever again, not without proceeding to tackle you to the ground and shower you with his love, affection & praise 💞💕❤

and he never made a ‘second place’ joke ever again, he started his honesty streak by reassuring you that you’ll always be the number one in his eyes 🤩

also, after that, he was a lot more open about his own insecurities with you and you made sure to respect them and help him in a similar way that he did

there is just so much love and admiration between the two of you and at first you were both to shy to express it but now, you both are showering each other in compliments 24/7 bc you both just want the other one to know how perfect you view them as (❁´◡`❁)

Atsumu Miya

atsumu is a hypeman like oikawa but...better :)

IT’S BC HE HAS NO SHAME

he’ll compliment you on anything you wear and he makes it a point to use the most inappropriate compliment as possible, relative to the outfit you’re wearing

so if you’re wearing your pyjamas, he’ll call you ‘glamourous’

if you are wearing a swimsuit, he’ll call you ‘elegant’

if you’re in your work clothes/school uniform, he’ll call you ‘sexy’

and if you’re in lingerie, he’ll call you ‘adorable’

but it makes you blush so hey, no complaints

so when he finds out that you’re actually insecure about your weight, he’s just like ‘no ❤’

like he hates the idea that when you look in the mirror, you don’t see the god(dess) he sees

like why? it’s the same person

💞 fuck ‘perception’ 💞

💕 ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ TF YOU ARE THE FUCKING BEAUTY💕

grrr he was so mad  

but he was also soft 

he was like ‘if (y/n) insecure? then why hot? then why pretty? then why fit perfectly into my arms?’

plus, THIGHS

he’d never diss a person bc they had small thighs or anything BUT he’d also NEVER complain about being given the chance to be with someone with some good thighs 👍

tbh the best could do to help was compliment you ten times harder to eliMINATE ALL YOUR INSECURIES 

(and ofc i don’t mean that in a way - for example - if you’re insecure about your nose, he’ll fkn chop it off......he won’t chop your nose off LMAO he’ll just show you how much he loves it, to the point where you have no choice but to love it too ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ )

anyway, plz love (or at least, tolerate) yourself or else he’ll suffocate you with all his love and affection :D

Osamu Miya

osamu is at a loss when it comes to typical beauty standards tbh

to him, weight (and most things) are similar to..hand size, for example

just like how you can’t imagine someone feeling self-conscious about the size of their hand (especially if their hand is a healthy size) 

he can’t imagine why some one would be shamed for their weight (especially if they’re a healthy size)

so had no idea you could possibly be insecure about something like that and he probably on realised after a few years in the relationship 😅

there was a formal event coming up and y’all were going as dates so you wanted to shop for outfits together 

as couples do ✌

anyway, he was on a dress site, scrolling away until you pointed out one that you thought was pretty - and it matched the color of the tie osamu bought too!

it was a fair price (for a formal dress 🙄 which is probably like $68/50) so osamu was like ‘buy it then ( •̀ ω •́ )✧’  bc he thought it would so gorgeous on you 

but you were like ‘no’

and after he pried further, you explained how you thought it wouldn’t ‘suit your body type’ 

GRRR HE dislikes IT WHEN PPL SAY THIS SO MUCH BC HOE YOU DON’T HAVE A BODY TYPE YOU’VE GOT A BODY 😡💕 WEAR THE DAMN DRESS IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BEAUTIFUL 

but like deadass it’s not your blood type-  it’s just a thing ppl made up to make ppl (mostly women) feel bad about themselves for no reason

but that might just be his inner atsumu talking 🤷‍♂️

he didn’t even know what to say at first- he was just like ????? body type ????

but once he figured out what you meant, he still had no idea what to say- at least, without sounding rude

what if someone came up to you and told you they were insecure about the shape of their knee.......what do you even say???

so he was silent for like the rest of the day

you decided to give him some space just in case something happened which had upset him

he had no idea what to say, in all honesty, so he hoped that his actions spoke louder than words 

around 3 days had passed since you last spoke to osamu and you were beginning to think something you had said made him uncomfortable

you were studying in your room until there was a ring at your door so you rushed downstairs and you opened it to reveal a package sitting on your doormat

you had recently ordered some cleaning equipment so you were sure that the content of the package was probably that

so imagine your surprise when you tear it open to reveal  — you guessed it —  the dress 💕

Rintarō Suna

when he says that he doesn’t care what ppl look like, he means it

he upkeeps his own appearance though bc..it’s his!

like why would he care about what weight you are? that’s none of his business

as you can tell, he’s generally not shallow but sometimes when y’all are just cuddling and your face is pressed to his chest, the words ‘you’re so cute’ just fall from his lips

so ofc he appreciates compliments over his skills, personality, humour etc over flattery about his appearance 

hence, the praise he gives you is usually based around those things too bc he just thinks that you’re just like him in the fact you don’t appreciate skin-deep comments

so when he found out that you’re actually insecure about your weight (or something else), he kinda blames himself

he thinks that the whole reason you’re not extremely confident in your appearance is all due to him and the fact he fact he maybe didn’t compliment you on your looks enough  — but that’s not to say that he doesn’t think you’re beautiful 

you’re the most radiant person he’s ever laid his eyes on and he thought you knew that regardless of whether he vocalised it or not

he wasn’t really sure what to do tbh

bc he loved you and wanted to comfort you ofc but he was scared of making things worse

like what if something he says accidentally makes you so upset that you break-up with him 😭

but he knew he couldn’t just stay silent about the issue, especially when he wanted to say to much

thus, he sent you a heartfelt message on discord 

(rather than snap, whatsapp etc so he could edit it after he posts it bc knowing him, he’ll probably write something, reread it ten times then as soon as he hits send, he spots a bunch of mistakes)

and he’d explain how you’re simply divine regardless of your insecurity and if anything, it just makes you cuter 😍

ok ok so i really don’t want it so seem like he has a fetish bc HE DOESN’T 

but he think your curves are so fun and pretty ❤ 

like everything about you is pretty but suna just can’t comprehend why you’re insecure about something like your weight when he literally adores it (bc he adores everything about you) 

[shoutaaizawas]

↳ pro!hero bakugou katsuki x reader → heal

summary: you’re bakugou’s best friend and work partner and you’ve been in love with him for years. after his girlfriend cheats on him you’re left to pick up the pieces.  tags/warnings:  hurt/comfort, fluff, angst with a happy ending, very minor injury (blood), cheating (not by bakugou or reader), unrequited love (spoiler but not really) word count: 3,804  a/n:  this was my first time writing any x reader. hope you guys enjoy it!

You loved Bakugou Katsuki. That was a fact that you had accepted a long time ago and you were now at peace with that. You had gone to school with him and once you both graduated you worked at the same agency. Your quirks were a good match so you had been working together ever since. When he started his own agency he took you with him.  

The thing is, you never told Bakugou that you loved him. He was always so focused you assumed that he wouldn’t want a relationship and frankly despite all the things you had accomplished you were self-conscious and it was hard to think Bakugou would ever settle for someone like you.

A few years ago Bakugou started dating. You could still remember the hurt that burned in your chest as you tried to play it off and tease him like everything was normal. You spent most nights crying yourself to sleep a few weeks after that day.

She was a civilian, who in your opinion was very unlikable. You knew it was petty and you should be more mature but there was something about her that felt off. You figured it was your jealousy. You recalled the time she had ended up in some trouble, you had been able to pull her to safety only. Not only did she not thank you but she gave you an attitude. You figured she didn’t like you because you spent so much time with Bakugou in and out of work. You could understand that to some degree but it didn’t hurt to pretend to be nice.

It was so much easier loving Bakugou from a distance when he was single, you could tell yourself that he would never date anyone or marry them and that being his best friend was the most anyone would ever have. If you could talk to him, joke with him, look after him from his side as a friend you were content.

With him dating the dull ache of unrequited love turned into a dagger in her chest, burning pain only intensified by any movement. You wondered if you should try dating around. Maybe you could find someone who liked you that you could fall in love with and forget about Bakugou. You never got around to it, every time you seriously considered it you thought it’d be unfair to whoever you dated. They deserved someone who truly loved them, not someone trying to put a bandage on a broken heart.

Last week you had caught Bakugou red-handed, a small velvet box in his pocket. Your heart dropped, you thought you had hit rock bottom but it turns out you could always go deeper.

“Is that what I think it is?” You asked, trying to play it off as teasing. You prayed he couldn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“Shut up, it’s none of your business.” He growled back but you knew it was just because he was embarrassed.

“I’m surprised I never saw you as the marriage type.” You tried to say in a nonchalant tone.

“We’re getting old. We have to settle down eventually.” He said. The words stung, you knew he meant them aimed towards himself but you couldn’t help the bile that rose in your throat. I would have settled down with you but now I can’t look at another man without comparing everything about them to you. Who could ever come close to the Bakugou Katsuki.

“Bakugou we’re twenty-six, we just barely became adults if we’re being honest.” You joked.

“Well, I don’t want to be an old parent.” He said, eyes scanning the streets for any trouble. Your heart dropped a little more.

You wondered if you were strong enough to stand by and watch the love of your life get married and have children with another woman. You wondered how long it would be until you had to find an excuse to move away.

“I’m gonna head home since patrol is over.” You said trying to keep your voice steady.

“You aren’t going back to the agency?” He asked giving you an odd look, sensing something off. You knew each other too well.

“No, I have plans later I need to get home fast. I’ll get my paperwork done tomorrow, boss.” You lied about the plans, you needed to get away fast.

It doesn’t get rid of the suspicious look on his face but he doesn’t question you further and you quickly make your exit, barely able to keep it together until you get out of sight. You duck into an alley as tears stream down your face.

You haven’t seen Bakugou today. That concerns you, he never misses work for anything. You can’t count how many times you’ve had to drag him home and force him into bed after he comes into work with a high fever. You make sure things are covered at the agency before heading over to his apartment. Your heart beats quick, he hasn’t replied to your texts. It’s hard to keep the worst-case scenario out of your head.

Knocking on the door to his apartment you get no reply. Pressing your ear to the door you can hear a commotion, fear grips you, and you almost kick the door down before your rational sense tells you to use the key he gave you.

Bakugou’s apartment is a war zone. Furniture is turned over, glass smashed across the ground. You can smell the familiar lingering scent of his quirk. You would have thought he had been robbed if it weren’t from the sound coming from the bedroom.

Opening the door to his bedroom it’s even worse in here somehow. Bakugou is currently smashing picture frames against the wall. It’s distressing to see him so upset and not have a clue what’s going on.

“Bakugou!” You shout hoping to get his attention but he’s blinded by his anger. You let out a huff of frustration before moving closer to him, grabbing his arm as he goes to slam the already mangled frame again.

You’re startled but not shocked as he turns around in the blink of an eye and grabs onto your bicep, fingers digging in you can feel your skin under his hand start to burn.

“Bakugou! Snap out of it!” You shout again. Recognition crosses his face and he looks a little more coherent. You’re waiting for him to say something but he drops to the ground like dead weight, his hands pressing into his palms. You kneel, careful of the glass on the ground.

“Bakugou? What happened?” You ask in a softer voice. He takes so long to reply that you wonder if he will answer.

“She cheated.” You can barely make out the words through his covered face.

“What?” You ask.

“She was cheating on me!” He yelled pulling his hands away, the anger returning. “She was cheating on me for months like it was some game. When I confronted her about it she didn’t even try to defend herself. She wasn’t even upset.”

“Bakugou, I’m so sorry.” Your heart is breaking but not for yourself, this time it’s for the man in front of you that looks broken. You realize that he has cuts all over his body from the damage done to the apartment. “C’mon.” You say holding your hand out to him.

He looks at you confused but takes it. You lead him to his bathroom, sitting him down on the edge of the tub. The first aid kit is under the bathroom sink, you had patched him up here before.

Returning to him you kneel on the ground in front of him. You begin cleaning the cuts that litter his arms, wiping up the blood covering his arms. You look up at him and his eyes look so empty as he stares at the ground past you. Your overwhelmed by the urge to take him in your arms but decide against it. No, you should patch him up first.

You put band-aids on the ones that need them and leave the smaller ones uncovered. You lean up so your eye level with him, he has a cut across his cheek. You’re careful as you dab at it with a cloth, he doesn’t react if it does hurt. You put a band-aid on it before looking him in the eyes, his gaze still on the floor.

It hurts you so much to see him like this, it breaks you. What you would give to have him insulting you about something dumb you did or yelling about how you left your coffee mug on his desk again. Anything other than the painful silence. You lift your hand and softly cup his unharmed cheek, his gaze slowly raises to meet yours. Your thumb gently strokes the skin there hoping that it will soothe him in any way he can be at the moment.

You finally lean forward and embrace him, pressing your face into his shoulder avoiding any of the cuts on him. Your arms circle around his torso and you squeeze him tightly. You wish you could hug him tight enough to put him back together. It takes a moment but he eventually rests his head against your shoulder and he returns the hug. His grip is tight on the back of your shirt and you know he’s trying to pull the broken pieces back together himself. I would do anything for you to make this pain stop, you think.

You don’t know how long you stay there, holding each other tight but eventually you decide you should leave. The last thing he needs is to be stuck in the apartment that he shared with his girlfriend, the one that was currently trashed.

“Let’s go to my place.” You offer. “You can stay as long as you want, you shouldn’t stay here.”

He nods and your stomach drops, normally he would protest even if he agreed with what you wanted to do. It made you feel sick that he gave in so easily. You nod back before standing up and going into his room. You grab a duffel bag and grab his clothes and other things he’ll need while away from his home. By the time you’re done, he’s standing there watching you wordlessly.

“Let’s go.” You say you take his hand in yours. You had known Bakugou for years and worked by his side for most of them, this wasn’t the first time you had held his hand but the conditions were usually different. Normally you were dangling off the edge of a building as he pulled you up or you were dragging him out of harm’s way.

Holding his hand now was different, you could actually take note of what it felt like. His hand was much larger than yours, the callouses on his hand rougher than your own. It was easy to pretend that the circumstances were different, that you were dragging him out of his apartment to your favorite place to grab dinner together instead of taking him home with you to help console him from what had happened.

The car ride is silent, he’s still processing everything that’s happened and you have no words to say. You know that he needs time to think about everything, you refuse to push him to talk. Growing up you had to if you ever wanted him to process his emotions but Bakugou had matured a lot as he grew up and you knew that when he was ready he would talk.

“Here, you can take a shower if you want or you can change into something less torn up.” You say as you press the bag of clothes into his arms. “I’m going to make us lunch.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says. His retort gives you hope that he’s beginning to return to himself and not the empty shell of person who sat on the edge of his tub.

“I doubt you ate breakfast, I know you probably don’t want to eat but I’m making food and you’re going to eat at least a little bit.” You say. He doesn’t argue again, he heads towards your bathroom needing no directions.

You’re glad that you went grocery shopping yesterday. Even more glad that you always make sure to keep the ingredients to make Bakugou’s favorite dish in your fridge in case of emergencies. Or him demanding that you make it for him, as he does at times.

He’s in the shower for a long time. You’re finishing up lunch and you’re about to go check on him when you hear the water stop. You’re plating up the food when he walks into the kitchen wearing a fresh pair of sweat pants and a black shirt. His eyes are red but you don’t comment on it. You shove the bowl of food in his hands.

“Extra spicy, just how you like it.” You tell him as you grab your food. “Let’s sit down.”

You sit down on the couch in your living room eating in silence. Despite his denial of being hungry his food is gone in minutes. You grab his empty bowl from him to take it to the kitchen but before you can get up his hand is grasping your wrist. You look at him and his gaze is on the mark he left on your bicep when you pulled him out of his rage.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw and the guilt is clearer than day on his face. He slowly reaches towards your arm, his thumb softly glides at the edge of the minor burn.

“It was an accident.” You tell him in the most genuine tone you can manage, he’s been through enough the last thing he needs is to feel guilty for this. “Besides, I can handle you.” You tease trying to lighten the mood. Your hand covers his own on your arm and you squeeze it to emphasize your point. His hand drops back to his lap after a moment and you leave for the kitchen.

When you return to the living room you see him sitting there, he looks less empty but more annoyed. You figure he’s had enough time to process most of his feelings.

“How did you find out?” You ask, testing the water. If he didn’t reply you’d know he wasn’t ready.

“She left her phone when she left for work, I grabbed it to give it to her before she got out of the building but I saw her notifications.” He said. Pain stings in your chest for him, you can’t imagine how upsetting that would be. “She came back for her phone and I confronted her.”

“What did she have to say?” You ask.

“She acted like she got caught sneaking a cookie before dinner, she barely even cared.” He said, anger returning to his tone. “She’s been with him for six months, she said that she was only ever with me for my money and status. She wanted someone she could brag about.”

“Bakugou,” You said putting a hand on his arm.

“I guess it’s only fair.” He scoffed. “I never loved her either. But I’m still pissed off she made a fool of me.”

“You didn’t love her?” You tried to keep your tone even but it comes out like an exclamation. “Bakugou, you were going to marry her!” You nearly shout. Had you really spend the last year suffering while Bakugou dated someone he didn’t even care about?

“No, it was just convenient.” He answered. “The person I loved, they would never want me. I figured I should just get over it and move on.” His gaze is on the floor.

Your sick again, he didn’t love his girlfriend but he loved someone else. You really couldn’t win, could you?

“Bakugou, why wouldn’t someone want you?” You ask. How could he believe that.

“I’m loud, angry, and rude.” He says. “I’m not good at relationships, I just screw everything up. She deserves someone who will make her happy not burden them with their crappy personality.”

“Don’t say that about yourself!” You scold him. “You’re an amazing man, you’re strong and determined. Even if you don’t show it like other people you care more than most people do about your friends. You would go to the ends of the earth to help them even if you don’t admit it. You’re the best hero I’ve ever seen. You’ve matured so much since we were in high school, you worked on yourself and became a better person. I’ve been by your side for years, don’t you dare say that you aren’t good enough. If anything, anyone you date will never be good enough for you. You’re the best man I’ve ever met, you deserve everything you want in the world.” You take a deep breath after your rant, it takes a moment to realize how much you spilled out.

His eyes are off the floor and he’s staring at you in shock. There’s something in his eyes you don’t recognize but he doesn’t say anything.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” You ask, trying to steel yourself for his answer. Whoever it was you would help him as much as you could to get their affections. It would kill you to watch him fall in love with someone else but more than anything you wanted to see him happy even if it cost you your own happiness.

“It’s you.” He says and the silence is deafening after his words. At first you think you misheard him. You feel dizzy at his admission. This had to be a dream, there was no way. “It’s always been you.”

“I-” You try to speak but there are no words. Your head is spinning, the world falling apart around you in the best of ways.

Bakugou moves slowly, one hand holding your face like it’s delicate glass, the other reaches behind you and pulls you softly to close the distance. He leans in, a breath in between you, you know he’s waiting for you to close the distance. To answer his confession without a word. Once your brain processes it all you lean in a little too excitedly almost knocking your forehead against his.

You move your arms around his shoulders as your lips meet.

With one action the dagger in your chest is suddenly gone and the pain there melts away. You feel like you’re submerged in warmth, laying in a grassy field in gentle sunlight. You kiss him until your lungs can’t take it anymore. As you part you stare into his eyes, they’re filled with so much warmth and love it makes you tear up. You lean back in for another kiss.

“Bakugou-” You say as you pull back.

“Katsuki.” He says. You had used his given name on occasion but it always felt too personal, your heart couldn’t take it.

“Katsuki-” You repeat, it feels right now. A small smile lights up his face, it’s like staring into the sun. “I love you, I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

“Me too.” He replies. You let out a laugh.

“We really wasted a lot of years.” You said, nose brushing against his, arms still around him. It was almost sad the time you could have spent happily together but you’re too excited by the years you’ll get to spend with him going forward.

“We did, I’m not going to waste any more time.” He said before moving in for another kiss.

Bakugou stays at your apartment for two weeks before he mentions moving into a new apartment. With your heart in your throat you offer for him to move in with you, he doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

You help him go through his stuff, tossing anything that was hers but she hadn’t taken or things that remind him of her. You stand at his side as he tosses the ring he bought for her off a bridge even though you told him he should just sell it. He refused, not caring about the money and definitely wanting to avoid the shame of selling an engagement ring.

He didn’t love her, he never did but he still bares the scars of her infidelity. His self-esteem in a relationship was already low but some days it feels even lower when he things about what happened. He knows you would never do the same but regardless you still hold him tighter on those days and you don’t hold back any of your love or admiration for him.

Sometimes he feels embarrassed that it went on so long without him knowing but you reassure him that the only person who should be embarrassed is her. You don’t call him a victim, no he would hate that, but you tell him that he deserves better. You can’t hold back your smile when he says he already has better now that you’re together.

You spend your workdays out on patrol together, your usual banter filling the day as you fight off any villains who dare make a mess in you territory. On your days off you spend time in each other’s arms, basking in the happiness you finally found together or out on dates. Sometimes he drags you hiking even though you hate the bugs and other times you make him go to theme parks and force a pair of mouse ears on him.

It doesn’t take long for Bakugou to propose. Your relationship had been so close for so many years that it becoming romantic didn’t change much. You already knew everything about each other, you knew how to work with each other at your best and your worst. Making it official was a natural step.

Watching him tear up as you walk down the aisle is something burned into your heart and mind and you refuse to let it go as long as you live. Spending the night dancing, eating, and drinking with your closest friends who all were relived you finally got together was an unforgettable time.

You lay beside Bakugou, arms wrapped around each other, legs tangled together. Your head rests on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat. You hold onto each other as if you would lose each other if you let go. You can’t get rid of the big smile on your face as his hands move lazily through your hair nearly lulling yourself back to sleep.

You love Bakugou Katsuki. That was a fact and you were more than happy to spend the rest of your life at his side not just as a friend or partner but as the love of his life and that made you happier than anything ever could.