#yes she already has a string of broken hearts behind her but like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

casicroaks · 5 months

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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.

#fanfiction #chucky series #childs play #tiffany valentine

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forcebewitht · 3 years

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Force's Disney Geek Master Theory: Why Twisted Wonderland Is Called Twisted Wonderland

We have all grown to know and love various Disney characters over the years, correct? Yet, I believe a lot of us can argue that not many characters have the same effect on us even as adults today as the Villains do within their respective movies. In the game Disney: Twisted Wonderland as we all know and love, the select boys to Overblot are supposed to have the "souls" of their Villain counterparts, right? But...why is it called "Twisted" Wonderland, then? The truth may lie within something that has been right in front of us all along, my friends: the meaning of a mirror. Ready to buckle in for this one? If so, then here we go!

We have seen all of these guys share character traits, looks, etc with their Disney counterparts, correct? Well, what if I were to tell you that things in terms of the "main" guys that we are supposed to pay attention to aren't exactly what they seem? This could be analyzed in a few different ways, honestly, yet the most prominent way is this: the differences in their personalities- they are reversed. Let us take this bit by bit, shall we?

Ah, yes. The Queen Of Hearts. The ranting, raging, bundle of red, black, and gold we all know and love. (or else heads would roll, I'm sure) One of the things that everybody knows about her is that she's extremely hellbent on the crazy rules that she makes up and is prone to anger honestly very easily. Yeah, you can connect that to Riddle- but think about it for a second. While that rage and the rule thing is still there, it isn't as prominent with him as it was with her, is it? With the Queen of Hearts, her whole "issue" was that she wished to make everybody listen to her and follow her every command- but Riddle was essentially always following the rules of another- not his own. This seemed to make Riddle a little more calm most of the time in terms of how he handled and oversaw things. It wasn't until he actually Overblotted that the "listen to me and only me" thing came out- buuuuuuttttttt I'll get to that part in a bit.

Next: Leona and Scar. While we honestly didn't get to see a lot of what went on behind the scenes in the Outlands in terms of how Scar even met the hyenas to begin with at all, one thing can honestly be said- Scar worked very hard to get where he was. I mean, it's not like you can get an entire pack of rabid, hungry hyenas onto your side in the course of a single day, or maybe even a week (especially as a lion, no less). No, something to that extreme takes careful planning, wording, and stringing along to ensure that nothing goes wrong along the way. The way Scar spoke to Shenzi, Banzai, and Ed made it seem as though he had known them for a looooonngggg time before this- that's where that behind the scenes planning comes in. And then...you have Leona. Leona, from what we can tell in Chapter 2, planned the idea for the "endgame" alright- but he didn't actually act upon any of the plan for himself. Ruggie did. Even in the Lion King, we see that Scar had no problems whatsoever getting his paws dirty a little within his own scheme to take his "rightful place" at the head of Pride Rock- but Leona quite honestly did not a thing once Ruggie was in motion. See where this is starting to head?

Azul and Ursula. Ursula, the Disney baddie queen of my heart Ursula, the Sea Witch. She was known all around the ocean floor for helping out poor little merfolk in secret, wasn't she? Yet, nobody ever really seemed to catch wind of the whole "her turning those who didn't quite fit the bill into polyps" thing, did they? That was one of the things that made her such a honest threat to Ariel herself- because Ursula was cunning. She did things behind the scenes, and sure- we could catch onto it out in the audience (annnddd maybe Sebastian and Flounder as well), but nobody else really seemed to, right? Azul is the complete opposite in this standpoint. He instills direct fear into his "workers" and those even beyond and within his dorm. Like- basically most knew that this dude was bad news to begin with. Azul, mostly, seemed to hide his cunning facade behind a fake yet still seemingly "soft and genuine" smile and act. But all in all, he didn't really attempt to "hide" anything- hell, he even proclaimed his entire plan of what everyone with those things on their heads were gonna do for him in the open! At least when Ursula sang as Vanessa, she was in an almost perfectly enclosed room with nobody else around.

Jamil and Jafar. This comparison here, given what occurs in the movie Aladdin, is honestly one of the biggest possible indicators of this reoccuring theme I shall clarify in a bit. Jafar, while being sneaky, was known for being a more "out there" Disney Villain in terms of his personality alongside that of his partner Iago in the film. He would smile in a sinister way, he would crack jokes out in the open, and let us not forget his crazed yet oddly interesting laughter. Jamil? He's the exact opposite. Given his past and what he has had to dealt with growing up with Kalim, he is much more reserved and barely releases a chuckle or cracks a smile at all. His personality is a lot more repressed than that of Jafar himself throughout the film. Jamil has been so used to having to hold himself back thanks to his parents in favor of Kalim's family, he doesn't seem to know how to "let go" whatsoever. Yet Jafar, while still maintaining that sneaky side of him as well, has no problems whatsoever letting a little hang loose whenever he so chooses to.

Vil and the Evil Queen. This one honestly may be a bit more self explanatory than the others- but the difference between these two is their expressions of themselves. The Evil Queen was the very first animated counted Disney Villain within Disney's history- yet, she barely had any lines throughout the film at all. Her ranges of expression were almost little to none thanks to the era in which the movie was released in- but she always looked like she was pissed, huh? Vil is the exact opposite of her in this sense. He is able to fully express himself through his various facial expressions, theatrical abilities, musical experiences, fashion style, and even how he behaves. Vil is able to do so much more than the Evil Queen did or could do within that time period, that it's almost a little staggering if you fully picture it.

Idia and Hades. Now, now. We haven't honestly seen too much of the flaming blue boy yet in TWST, but one thing is apparent here right off the bat- in terms of his personality? He is the exact opposite of Hades. Idia is much like Jamil but to a more "geek" degree- he's extremely introverted, shy, a bit snippy, yet mainly keeps to himself and his gaming tech. Hades is most often renowned as the Disney Villain with the most personality- and the best humor. Hades has no problem whatsoever being "out there" with his crazy puns, sassy remarks, anger, and even mocking behavior. I mean, please, guys- I haven't been this choked up since I got a hunk of moussaka caught in my throat!

Finally, Malleus and Maleficent. Ooooohoooooooo boy. We have to count out the live action movie Maleficent for this one (sorry horned queen fans). One thing that basically everybody even with their toe in the water in that of Disney movies kind of knows this fact- Maleficent is c r u el. She's got a bizarre set of dark powers and an even blacker heart than that. Hell, we basically had to "soften her up" a little bit in Maleficent thanks to just how seemingly irredeemable her character is in that of Sleeping Beauty. I mean, c'mon now- cursing an infant? And we get no explanation for that in the original? C'mon, now. Anyways, Malleus? As we all can tell by now, this dude is the compleeettteeeeeee opposite. Sure, he has those repressed bits here and there too, but it is evident that this dude has a heart crying out for the MC and it is big, bold, and golden to the core once you look past how he looks. He sent the MC a card for winter break, for crying out loud. Yeah, let me know the next time you see Maleficent do that smh.

Now, I have avoided using a certain word up until this point to see if anybody could catch on to what exactly is happening here. Did you figure it out? Reverse. The boys that either have Overblotted already or intend to Overblot soon stop holding out on us, Chapter 6 have had the exact opposite personalities compared to that of their Villain counterpart- until one prime point in their "character arcs". Their Overblot.

Riddle wished to have all bow before him and obey his rules.

Leona led his entire dorm into ruin and nearly sanded away the entire school in the process.

Azul let himself finally free of his personal shackles entirely and "took what was his".

Jamil finally let himself go and opened up more in his personality, almost seeming to be driven insane in the process.

Vil wanted to become the most beautiful one of all and would kill anyone within the way of that goal without any hesitation whatsoever.

The moment that the boys' Overblotted, that was the exact moment when the "soul" of their Disney Villain counterpart took control. Keeping that idea in mind, that should mean that this will happen in the upcoming chapters and their Overblots:

Idia will show off all of the personality, powers, and intelligence that he has been keeping down within this introverted self of his.

Malleus will become so broken by being left out and alone in the cold for the final time that he will turn into a completely cruel Fae and possibly nearly kill either the MC or the representation of Prince Philip within that Chapter in the process.

(Hello, my dear Readers! Guess who is trying to get back into her bigger pieces of writing? This gal right here~ feel free to drop a comment and tell me what you think of this theory- I'd love to hear your thoughts! 💕)

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emperor-palpaminty · 3 years

Note

Hey! I love your tech writing!! Can I request a cute fluff where reader is an oblivious Jedi and tech is an awkward boi in love? Bonus points if the rest of the batch know exactly what's going on and low-key tease him

TEEEEECH, i love whipped tech and i love forbidden pining for jedi, send help

fluffy and pining and ooooh, i love

Neurons

___

Neurons fired chemicals across synapses in the brain faster than light, faster than human comprehension. And yet Tech’s neurons seemed to work in reverse when the General smiled like that.

She leaned out of the gunship, looking down, then turned back to look at him and his brothers. The general has not worked with them for a long time- a few months. But it was enough time for his body to short circuit when she was around him. “Okay, boys!” She yelled. “We know the plan?”

“Sir, yes sir!” The boys replied, leaning closer to the edge. Tech's lips moved, but he was unsure if he said those words- his throat was dry.

Her eyes landed on him and she offered him a smile- a little smile that absolutely made his heart fidget- and she simply stepped backwards, falling out of the gunship, allowing the gravity of the planet to yank her down.

Wrecker jumped first, whooping, and Tech followed him, tugging the visor of his helmet down over his goggles. He planted his hands by his side and dove down, the shape of the Jedi just below, racketeering for the planet's surface, flipping, before landing heavily, feet first, in the middle of the droids, saber summoned into her hands and she activated it.

Dramatic and a show off, yes. But she was still humble, smooth, confident. Soft to rough edges, fluid as water to the sturdy soldiers. Tech turned, activating his jetpack, yanking out his blasters and shooting towards the droids as the Jedi danced between the blaster fire, moving rapidly, saber deflecting otherwise fatal fire from her Batch.

Tech ducked around her, without a word, and fired a round. She moved with him, though feet apart, in their defensive sort of waltz. And again, though apart, Tech could sense her, and she moved him, in him and in tandem, as if they were tethered on some string. A nudge and Tech would pull, a tug and she would push. The only thing that kept him steady in moments like this were his extensive years of battle training and experience in other moments, where he had to put his reflexes and his head in front of his heart.

She led them to victory, every time, and he was right behind her.

___

“Hey, Tech.” Hunter leaned back on the wall of the facility they had just won over, examining his bandanna splayed in his hands. Tech only hummed in thanks, pressing the cooling pack to the welt of purple on his cheek, already swelling up.

Crosshair chortled from his position, leaning on the wall. He was wrapping his hands, the broken teeth of his knuckle swollen and purpled and battered. "He always does good with the General- except for off the battlefield." He grabbed the end of the bandage in his moth and tightened it. His eyes darted to Tech, smirking past the bandage. A reaction- that was what he wanted.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you mean." Tech scoffed. He leaned back, applying more pressure to the cold pack.

"Come on, Tech," Wrecker laughed in his boisterous way. Fantastic, he was in on it too. He nudged his bespectacled brother. "We know how ya feel!"

Tech's brain shrugged in his skull, skidding to a halt. "You... Do?"

The Sargent betrayed him with a chuckle. "Yeah. You and her work so well together in battles, and he see how smart you talk when she's around."

The back of Tech's neck felt hot. Really hot. He tried to fight it off, lest his face follow and blotch like a forest aflame. "I always talk smart." The cold pack stung his skin.

Wrecker's huge hands smacked Tech's back with the same cackle from earlier. "Not around her!"

Ah. So Hunter was being sarcastic.

Tech managed a half snarl- it was all his partially working brain could manage at the moment. He dropped the pack on the table and stalked out, face warm as he made a beeline for the door. "A clone falling for a Jedi is strictly taboo."

"Our whole exsistance is Taboo." Crosshair huffed.

Wrecker's laughter as muffled as Tech stalked out, the door sliding shut behind him, and he tried to shut the feeling that they were correct in there, too.

He shouldn't fall for the jetti- and yet he did. The only thing that made his neurons fire back up was him forcing them to jump-start as he thought of excuses, solutions, a name and a label for his most wonderful of problems.

His brain stuttered out one word that made Tech's feet stop in its tracks- love.

#tech #bad batch tech #bad batch tech x reader #star wars reader insert #tech x reader #tech x you #bad batch reader insert #minty writes #clone force 99 reader insert

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willowbleedsonpaper · 3 years

Text

Happy With You

Sirius Black x Female Reader

W.C. : 2800

Request: Hiii wifey ;) may I request a fic for the love of my life sirius black? Maybe the reader is james’ little sibling?Also, lots of yearning/ mutual pining please 😭 but please pleaseeee make it a happy ending cause shattered part one left me HEART BROKEN

A/N: Thanks for the request lovely! I had so much fun writing this I hope you and everyone enjoy it.

| Masterlist | Request are open |

Maybe it was the way she spoke, like her words were written in the finest sheets of parchment by all the blessed people that got to listen to her, as if her voice carried the melody of a siren and attracted everyone in her direction. It definitely had that effect on Sirius Black.

Sirius wanted to follow her to every place she set foot on, listen to her talk as full of passion and excitement as she always did. She had a magnet to her, a magnet that pulled him and made him want to talk to her all the time. Or just be with her, sitting on grass just outside of the castle as she played and ran, maybe he’d play with her. Laughter flowing with the cold breeze as he wrapped his arm around her waist and spun her in the air.

“Sirius!”

That wasn’t her voice.

“Merlin, we’ve lost him.”

But it was close enough.

“Huh?” Sirius murmured, lifting his head from the book open in the desk in front of him. He shook his head softly, eyes focusing on round glasses before he could see beyond the lens and into brown eyes. Not quite the ones he was hoping for, though. “What is it?”

“Never seen you so invested in something.” James chuckled. If only he knew. “Do you get what the professor is talking about?” he asked, spinning the book in the air to see if maybe he got it upside down with no luck, the book was on the right side and just as it was supposed to be read “I reckon he stopped speaking English hours ago.”

Sirius laughed at that, turning to see Peter just as confused as James and then to Remus, the only one actually taking notes “Moony gets it.” he said, pointing towards the brown haired boy with a small grin. “Ask him.”

“Oh, we know Moony gets it.” James said humorlessly, snatching the book from Sirius’ hands “He’ll explain to us later, but I need to understand now.” He turned back on his seat, stealing glances from Remus’ papers as Remus moved slightly to the left, giving James a better view.

“Do you get it?” Sirius whispered in Peter’s direction, the boy calmly taking notes as he nodded.

“I think so.” he answered “Just found the part in the text that he’s talking about. But the professor already asked James, he didn’t know the answer and he’s about to get detention that would get him out of the next Quidditch practices. He 's desperate.”

“Figures.” Sirius laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he started taking notes about what he thought was important or worth remembering “Maybe whisper the answer to him next time.”

“I’m barely understanding myself.” Peter murmured, turning to Sirius “I thought you would know, we lost you to that book for a minute there.” He said, pointing to the same page Peter had opened in his book, but Sirius just shook his head “Just as lost as you.” he mumbled, but the hint in his voice was clear that he didn’t mean the class.

*******

You stood next to your professor’s desk, your friend just behind you as you asked the few questions you still had about your class that just ended. That was when the loud voices reached your ears and you smiled internally, James was close.

“...and that would be the more complicated uses of the charm.” the raspy sound of your professor’s voice ceased and you had to stop yourself from running out of the classroom right there and then. He is always with him.

“Thank you, professor. I understand better now.” you smiled at him, taking your friend’s wrist as you slowly started to walk “We’ll see you next class.!” you said, your face a blur as you ran outside dragging your friend with you.

“What 's the rush?!” she yelled over the fuzz of the students changing classes and the wind flowing in your ears. Her hand shot up in the air, holding down the hat on her head as you sped through the halls following the trail only they could leave.

“They were here.” you informed her, avoiding all the people in your way.

“Godric, you’re out of your mind.” she laughed, but followed you anyway.

Just as the hallways started to get clearer you got the advantage of finding the four heads you were looking for, just standing in the middle of the entrance to the castle like they owned the place. Somehow, you knew they did and no one had the courage to admit it. They knew it too well and had no need to put it into words. Yes, they got detention and caused more trouble than the entire school together, but most of Hogwarts loved them and they got away with more than they should be able to, even professors had a soft spot for them. They had a nameless power over Hogwarts and they knew it. But you had power over one of them.

“James Potter!” you yelled, marching towards them as you still held onto your friend's hand.

His head snapped up to you, the momentarily fear that he showed on his face quickly turning into a grin as he ran towards you with open arms. You squealed, leaving your friend's side to run to him, bodies crashing as he hugged you tightly.

“Hello, little one.” he said excitedly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he ruffled your hair, the groan leaving your mouth only making his grin grow.

“I'm almost as tall as you.” you complained, standing on your tiptoes to see him eye to eye for one second “See?” you said, the effort making you drop to your actual height, the low giggles coming from your friend making you get away from James. “And only a year younger.” you said matter of factly, taking his hand and guiding his arm away from you, just it time to see his friends catching up with him. “Hello boys.” you greeted them with a smile. They all thought you had a light to you that they loved, your first days at Hogwarts had been spent with them and they immediately made you feel like a part of their group. The feeling had stuck until the present day, even if you had your own friends and didn’t spend much time with them as you once did, they had grown to look out for you in their own ways. They all saw you like a little sister and you saw them all like family, but the ache in your heart screamed to this day for something more from a certain someone, your eyes lingering a second longer on him before you turned back to James.

“What did you do now?” you said accusatively, crossing your arms over your chest. You had seen the terror slide from his face the moment he saw it was you calling his full name, he had done something and you knew it.

“Nothing.” he answered defensively, his face tensing as he turned away from you. “We actually have to get to class so I’ll see you later , you goblin.” he stretched his arm, ruffling your hair again before he took off running. “Bye Willow!” he yelled, waving his hand in the air as your friend did the same.

Remus, Peter and Sirius said their goodbyes quickly, following James closely as you and Willow stood there watching them go, only you noticing the slow steps that Sirius was taking, his head turned towards you as he waved his hand. Your giggle echoed the stone walls as he winked in your direction, a smile forming in your face as he finally disappeared from your sight.

“Merlin, that lasted forever.” Willow breathed out.

“What lasted forever?” you asked her, starting to walk beside her.

“Please, I had to fight the urge to cover my eyes.” she said, laughing in the end. A silence followed her words and she turned to see your confused face as you walked “You and Sirius?” she explained in a whisper, as if the words were forbidden to anyone to say out loud.

You continue walking, your confusion only growing as you stared at her “Wh-What about me and him?” you asked with a string of voice, the sound making Willow relax as she flashed you with a smile.

“Are you that oblivious or you're just in denial?” she asked incredulously “He obviously has a thing for you.” You shushed her quickly, covering her mouth with your hand when her voice raised, the sudden motion capturing the attention of a couple of older students. You smiled tightly in their direction, letting go of your hold on Willow as she stuck her tongue out in your direction, the other students gave you an awkward look but carried on their way without a second look in your direction.

“No need to announce it to the entirety of Hogwarts.” you muttered under your breath, a knowing smile on your friends lips as she nodded successfully.

“So you agree he has a thing for you?” with a huff you nodded, rolling your eyes at the squeal she let out. Her hand took hold of your shoulder and she shook you gently “And do you?” she asked “Do you feel something for him?”

Suddenly, your eyes found every single detail of the castle interesting, your eyes landing on every wall with the most intense curiosity as to avoid Willow’s eyes, but there was no escaping her glare “Oh, c´mon!” you hissed, covering your face and dragging your hands down your face “Have you seen him? Of course I have a thing for him.”

Willow laughed but kept her now warm gaze calm on you “But do you have feelings for him?” she asked.

You snapped out of the embarrassed state you were in, turning to her with a frown “I don’t know.” you admitted.

Truly, you didn’t know.

*******

The weekend arrived at Hogwarts, the sunlight shining softly through the windows and over the faces of those closest to them as the birds sang just outside to greet the early risers.

You groaned as soon as the sun caressed the side of your face. “Five more minutes.” you mumbled, covering your face with your pillow, turning to the opposite side with your back to the window.

The quiet room soon was filled with soft snores that you tried to ignore, the noise only growing louder as you pressed the pillow harder against your face. Your eyes snapped open and you rose, supporting your weight on your forearms as you glared to the bed right to yours. One minute passed, then two and then three and you thought you held back enough. Your hand reached for your pillow, throwing it with all your force towards Willow’s face.

Her sudden scream was muffled by the tangled covers that got all over her face as she fell from her bed. The entire mess of limbs and sputter of words lasted for only a second before she emerged from her covers, her eyes instantly landing on you “What was that for?!” she demanded, taking the pillow from beside her and throwing it back.

Ducking her throw, you narrowed your eyes “You’re loud,” you said, getting out of bed “and I’m hungry.”

*******

“I looooove pancakes.” Willow murmured as she took a seat, getting her plate and starting to serve the food without another thought.

A breathy laugh left your lips, taking your spot right in between James and Willow “What Willow means is good morning.” you said with a smile. It had become a habit to have breakfast with James on the weekends when your house didn’t matter and everyone could enjoy their meals without colors keeping them from other students.

“And she lives.” James laughed at the sight of you “You’re an early bird now?”

You glared at him, glancing at Willow once before you huffed heavily “You can blame the bear having breakfast over there.” you said, pointing at her.

She limited to wave a dismissive hand in your direction, her focus on the food in front of her more than in any other thing.

Everyone laughed at your friend’s behaviour, the sleep still in her eyes as she ate. She was oblivious to all the eyes in her.

“Can someone get me the syrup, please?” you asked, reaching your hand in the air. A familiar warmth in your fingertips made you raise your head, your hand lingering there for a moment before you smiled “Thank you.” you told Sirius, a glint in your eyes as you stared at him. His own smile didn’t go unnoticed by you and that sense of calm filled you once more. How could someone so chaotic be such a calming presence to you?

Breakfast became your favorite moment of the week. It was the moment of the week where you had an excuse to be near Sirius, where you could sit next to him and no one would question it. Breakfast became more than just being able to sit close to him or accidentally brushing your hands together. Saturday mornings became your mornings, just you and Sirius. As if the world knew it was the only time and place you could share knowing glances, where smiles looked brighter and the feeling of butterflies wilder. Sirius could swear that holding your hand underneath the table was the best feeling, one where he could swear your skin felt softer and your palm warmer. No one could say a thing, because it was just you and him. Y/N and Sirius.

In those short minutes or rapid hours no words were needed.

But Sirius loved taking risks.

You look lovely, by the way he would whisper in your ear, away from the noise and praying eyes of the rest of your friends.

Soon, the time you two had on the weekend over breakfast wasn’t enough. You started meeting late in the evenings when most of the students prefer to stay inside the castle to avoid the chill air. You two had no problem with it, you had come to enjoy it.

“Tell me more about it.” he asked you gently, his back resting against a tall tree. He held your hand in his, both intertwined and resting against your chest. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

You looked up at him, your head resting on his lap as you thought about it “Well, some muggles believe in witchcraft but not like we know it. You see, we have magic and come here to study it but only a few of us. They believe everyone can perform a spell with the right motivation, they use all kinds of herbs and crystals that we don’t.” you said, your free hand moving with your words as if it was a melody and you were directing “Some of them work with their ancestors and work hard to heal. It’s a completely different kind of witchcraft. They do spells, charms and rituals but not like we do, they even do it dancing. Can you imagine?” you asked, lifting from your position to look at him.

If it weren’t because you waited for his answer he could’ve stayed there watching you. For a moment he swore you were gleaming and he never wanted to let the image go from his mind. He saw you in a different light for the first time, one he hadn’t been able to see you from before. “Dancing?” he asked.

You nodded eagerly, standing and pulling him with you. You let go of his hand and started to move, spinning in your spot with your robes flowing around your bare feet. You took little jumps and started to move your hands with the flow of your hair just above your head.

He really couldn't resist.

You had closed your eyes at some point, giving him the chance to run up to you, the squeal that left your lips didn’t cover his laugh, his arm secured around your waist as he spun you in the air. You were both laughing, the sun setting behind your backs as he finally set you down and then he realized, he felt like all this was coming out of his dreams.

His arms stayed around your waist, swaying gently to the sound of your humming, his head resting comfortably on top of your head. “Are you happy?” he asked you.

You expected for your heartbeat to go crazy, for the palms of your hands to start sweating but all you felt was an overwhelming calm taking over you. You sigh, resting your back against his chest as he held you “I am.” you told him “I feel happy with you.”

TAGS

Skittles

@iwritesiriusly / @trinimalfoyyy / @megaprincesscakes / @lunalovegoodsgirlfriend / @amourtentiaa / @zaidlyn / @aconfusedslytherin / @animprxperworld / @aconfusedslytherin / @the-lonely-poet-loves-to-weep / @dreamcxtcherr / @angelsandsorcery / @badass-yn

Marauders

@destourtereaux / @ktyflwr / @nehireerdogan / @medalloway-blog / @waxsealed-letters / @j-cat / @aleksanderwh0r3

Sirius Black

@funravenclaw2002 / @blackst0nes7077 / @lilylikethefl0wer / @just-wordsandthoughts / @bhavanaa

#sirius black #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x fem!reader #marauders era fanfiction

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Someone to Love.

Hello!!!

Here is my gift for 8k subscribers!!!

Alpha Jungkook x Omega OC Werewolf Au!

Genre ! : Fluff . Mild Angst. Mild Smut.

Work Count : 6k

Summary : Widowed Omega Aerin isn't really looking for love. But Jeon Jungkook the handsome alpha who gets washed over a waterfall, is willing to offer it to her anyway.

Complete!!!

The thing about living in a clan as small as ours, was that word always travelled fast.

We were a close knit pack, everyone knew everyone and more importantly, everyone was always in everyone’s business. Which is why, it was no surprise that, even before the Head Alpha could send word for me, I already knew about the young alpha who had , apparently, washed over the waterfall. The drop was a good twenty five feet and the bottom of the pool littered with sharp rocks. He was obviously injured.

As the healer, I would have to be there to examine him.

Nevertheless, I waited till Jinyoung came knocking on my door, sometime after the midday meal, his face urgent and voice a little shaky. I had just finished wrapping my daughter against my breast, tying the end of the flannel across my back and over my shoulder . I pulled on the ends, securing the wrap around my torso, and making sure her limbs were free to move about.

Sera giggled, chubby fists wet with drool as she shoved them into her mouth. She was teething and that meant excessive drooling and a penchant for biting everything I sight. But like this, she was usually well settled, the warmth of my body and my scent lulling her to a drwsy state. She would be asleep by the time we reached the injured wolf.

My son was still out playing with the other alpha pups in the woods. He wouldn’t be back till sundown. And even if he did, Joowon was almost nine winters old now. He could fend for himself in the hut till I got back.

I quickly grabbed my shawl, wrapping it over my shoulder, before moving to the door and opening it.

“Aerin? Alpha Kim sent for you, there’s an injured wolf you need to tend to.” He said urgently and I didn’t miss the four or five young omegas hovering behind him, giggling and coy. I shook my head. Apparently, even a half dead, injured alpha wasn’t safe from these younglings. I gave them a chiding smile but they merely laughed some more.

“Of course, Jinyoung . Let me just grab my bag.” I quickly picked the small carry-all tote I used for visits. It had almost all the tinctures, ointments and salves that I stocked in the apothecary attached to my hut, in smaller quantities. I also kept a polished set of needles and tools in case I had to extract stubborn splinters of jagged rock ends out of flesh. For being one of the strongest breed, it was ridiculous how often alphas got hurt doing the silliest things.

Like going over a waterfall.

As we began the short trek over to the Head alpha’s cabin, the throng of smitten omegas surrounded me, looking bright eyed.

“They say he’s very handsome, unnie. And young!” One of them laughed.

I hummed.

“Then one must hope the rocks in the pool didn’t leave too much of a mark .” I said casually.

“I wouldn’t mind a scar or two, as long as he has his…you know..” Another set of giggles.

I shook my head, laughing. The girls were incorrigible but that was their right. They were all young, barely twenty and unmated. They knew nothing about the marriage bed , nothing about the intimacy that came with it. The love the commitment. My heart ached.

Two years and still my heart ached something fierce .

“Just tell him he has to rest for a month at least, unnie. Tell him he can’t leave for a month and I’ll work my charm.” The Head Alpha’s daughter Jisoo gave me a sharp little smile and I shook my head.

“I’ll do no such thing. And I don’t appreciate you lusting after a man who may well be dying.” I said sternly and Jisoo had the good grace to blush.

“Unnie, its just that…. I’m bored of all these dumb alphas panting after me. They’re so…uncouth. I just want to meet someone new.” She pouted.

We reached the small hillock that would lead to the Head alpha’s house and I gave her a smile.

“Well, in that case, I’ll patch him up real good for you. But till then, you and your girls, why don’t you go occupy yourselves elsewhere.”

Jisoo wrinkled her nose but listened and I smiled at Jinyoung, hugging sera closer to my chest and making haste to the hut in front of us. Jinyoung led me to a side door and further into a room at the end of the narrow corridor.

“Aerin! Child… You’re here!” The Head alpha held his arms out and I embraced him quickly. The injured alpha was laid out in the middle of the room on a thick pallet of straw and blankets. They had stripped him of his wet clothes and he looked like he was sleeping. I stared at his face and felt my breath catch.

He was breathtakingly beautiful. I couldn’t look away. Right up , I could make out three flesh wounds, jagged and slightly deep : one across his brow, another across his shoulder and one right over his chest. Dark ink curled all over his torso and he looked young but also like a warrior.

“We just found out he’s from the Jeon clan. The head alpha’s son.” Yugyeom, knelt by his shoulders, pointing out the inked shoulder which marked him as the heir to the Jeon pack.

“We’ve already sent word. They’ll be here to fetch him in a day or so. We need only tend to him till then. Well. Give him all hospitality and treat him like a king. We need to remain in the Jeon’s good graces.” The Head alpha said sternly and all of them bowed.

I quickly, grabbed my bag, laying it out on the floor and crawling over to his side.

“Hot water and spirit , please.” I told the maid standing by but the Head alpha quickly held a hand up.

“Aerin ah? I have a meeting here with the Min and Jung clan leaders. The autumn festival is set to begin tonight. Its impossible for me to keep him here and all the other alphas are going to be busy too. I want him to get the best care possible and I can think of no one better than you, fort this task. Can we shift him to your hut?”

I swallowed nervously. I didn’t really entertain patients in my house. Especially not alphas. My son got jittery and my daughter was too used to my own scent.

“As a personal favor to your alpha?” He said insistently, eyes flashing red and I realized it wasn’t a request. Rather a command.

“I… Yes, alpha.” I said hesitantly. “ Can I just examine him now, make sure nothing’s broken, before we shift him?”

“Yes of course my dear.” The alpha bowed before stepping aside. I quickly glanced at everyone else.

“Please leave.” I said quickly and they flushed, bowing before moving out of the room.

“Should I stay , Aerin?” Jinyoung asked nervously and I shook my head. “ Just wait outside and close the door for me, Jin.”

Once the door shut, I quickly glanced down at Sera who had curled into my chest and fallen asleep. I brought a bit of the fabric by chest over her head, so she wouldn’t get too much of the alpha’s scent. Kneeling down, I went about peeling the blanket off him.

He was a beautiful man, I thought absently, long limbs and thick muscles all over and it was no doubt his strong, well kept body that had saved him.

Other than a few more surface wounds on his legs and a gash on his thigh, he seemed relatively unharmed. I did run my fingers over his joints and arms, carefully looking for any swelling or discoloration that would signify broken bones. I carefully gripped his shoulders, turning him over gently to examine his back. I made a mental note of all the cuts that looked like they would have to be sewn together, so I could prepare enough string for it. I leaned over to press my ears against his chest, noting the rise and fall of his lungs.

A hand brushed over the back of my head, gentle and soft.

I jumped, wrapping both hands around sera and scooting back in panic, eyes wide as I stared at the man on the floor, now blinking tiredly at me.

“I… I..” I couldn’t get my words out and he groaned .

“Am I dead? Are you an angel?” He whispered.

I blinked, blood rushing to my face as I tried to calm my breathing.

“Jinyoung!!!” I yelled sharply and the door opened, Jinyoung stepping in and staring wide eyed at the alpha on the pallet. He was struggling to sit up and I quickly pulled myself together.

“Alpha Jeon! Please… You must stay still. ” I said quickly, pushing my palms against his chest, helping him lay back down, trying to ignore how his eyes danced all over my face, nostrils flared .” I’m Aerin, the healer from the Kim pack. You remember what happened today?”

He groaned again, lifting a shaky hand to press against his head. I moved closer, gently reaching out to grab his wrist, pulling his fingers away from the still wet wound on his brow, and his eyes clashed against mine, wide and steady. He stared pointedly at where my fingers curled around his wrists and I let go quickly.

“Yes….. one of the pups almost went over the waterfall. I… I tried to get him out.” He said softly. He glanced at Jinyoung. The latter looked away, clearly nervous.

“Pup?” I asked, heart dropping and he gave me a small smile. I tried not to let my gaze linger on his lips as he chuckled lightly.

“Can you help me up, kid?” He asked softly and Jinyoung startled, glancing at me.

I shook my head. I turned to Jungkook, heart racing. He sighed, resting back against the bed.

“Don’t worry, angel. I managed to toss her back to her father just before I went over the edge. I’m certain that she’s perfectly alright.”

“well, that’s a relief.” I hesitated, feeling awkward. Sera stirred and Jungkook’s gaze went to her again.

“she’s yours?” He asked gently and I blinked, glancing at Jinyoung nervously. It seemed too personal but I couldn’t imagine not answering without seeming rude.

“Yes, sire.” I bowed politely, moving back a bit more as Jungkook inhaled and reached out again, this time gripping my wrist. He scented the air and I flinched , yanking my hand away and quickly standing up, uncomfortable. He was still staring at me, gaze steady.

“You… You can tell the others that he’s conscious. We can move-” I stopped when the alpha cut me off.

“You don’t smell mated. You haven’t been with a man in years.” He said quietly and now Jiyoung looked uncomfortable too.

“Alpha Jeon, I-”

“Jungkook. Call me Jungkook.”

My heart jumped at the thought of addressing him so intimately. I shook my head.

“I’m looking for a mate. Can I court you, angel?” He said suddenly and my jaw dropped.

“There’s… There’s a dozen unmated omegas outside.” I choked out. Was I dreaming ? This couldn’t be happening.

“That’s not what I asked. Whom must I speak with? To court you? Your Head alpha.” He turned to Jinyoung. “ Please send word to Alpha Kim that I require an audience with him. And that its very important that he come here as soon as possible.”

“Please don’t.” I said quietly, feeling my body tremble and he froze.

“What’s wrong?” He said quietly.

I shook my head.

“I have a son. I’m not… I have a son. He’s almost nine winters old. He still… He loves his father. The man who raised him… I can’t…. it would break him. Please, Alpha Jeon. You have power here and I have none. Your word is law and I’m bound to honor it but please, please consider. My son…”

Jungkook’s gaze softened incredibly at that.

“I have a ten year old brother.” He said gently. “ What you’re saying is that it isn’t the head alpha’s approval that I need. It is your son’s.”

I blinked, thrown.

“I…”

“Then you must promise me this. If your son…” He paused, “ What’s his name?”

“I… Joowon.”

“If Joowon tells you that he wouldn’t mind having me in his life….will you consider letting me court you.”

I could only stare. Jinyoung cleared his throat looking completely enthralled by the drama unfolding in front of him. I saw a glint of mischief in his gaze and felt my hackles rise.

“Alpha, there’s a festival in our clan. It lasts three weeks and is filled with festivities and joyous celebrations. I do believe the Kim pack would be honored to have you stay with us, enjoying our hospitality and the bountiful gifts of nature we here in the lowlands enjoy.”

I gaped at him in disbelief.

“I… “

“That’s settled then. I will send for my pack members as well. They would love to share this time with you.” He turned to me.

I exhaled, certain that he had hit his head on the way down the falls.

“You’re insane.” I said softly, shaking my head. “ You’re free to enjoy all that my clan has to offer…. But, I’m not on the menu, Alpha Jeon.”

I quickly stood up.

“Tell Alpha Kim that he can fend for himself in one of the huts we have for heats and ruts. I’ll send one of my apprentices to sew up his wounds and apply salve on him.”

“I’m afraid not, Aerin. You know what the chief said. It has to be you.” Jin grinned and I glared at him.

Jungkook was smiling too.

“Come now, angel. Just because you don’t like me ….yet… don’t shun your duties.”

Good Lord.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fucking hell, what the actual fuck…” Jungkook swore and I glared at him, grabbing a strip of white linen and balling it up before pressing it into his mouth, gagging him.

He stared at me, eyes wide in surprise and mouth open around the fabric.

“Stop swearing in front of my son.” I snapped. Joowon laughed, carefully threading the twine through the eye of the cleaned needle. He dipped the twine and the needle into the warm water and the spirit again.

“Come now mother, you know I can say worse things.” He stuck his tongue out and I glared at him.

“Not in this house, you can’t. Also keep it down… I’ve just put Sera to bed.” I carefully pinched the skin over his chest together before reaching out and slipping the needle into his skin. I worked carefully and diligently, focused on the task and when I was finally done, I glanced up, only for my gaze to clash with Jungkook’s.

“I.. were you staring the whole time?” I asked, blushing. Jungkook spat the gag out and grinned, boyish and naughty.

“Can’t help it. The view is truly breathtaking.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said that there are omegas here who would love to be courted by you. You haven’t met any of them yet and that is why you seem to be … so… “ I shook my head.

“Joowon ah… Who’s the most beautiful woman in this clan?” Jungkook asked firmly and my son hummed from next to me.

“Mother, of course.”

I gaped at the pair of them.

“See? I trust Joowon’s judgement implicitly. “ Jungkook shrugged.

Joowon laughed again and I didn’t miss the looks he kept tossing at the alpha. Curious but also laced with a lot of admiration. I wasn’t surprised. Joowon had never been suspicious or hesitant in offering his friendship to people. And Jungkook had regaled him with tales about hunts and fishing trips and kayak rides in rapids….. and the younger was now clearly intrigued and almost halfway to smitten with the man.

My own heart raced , pulse pounding in a way it hadn’t in years. And yet, I knew it was futile. Men like Jungkook…. They didn’t really fall in love with women like me. All these flowery words, all this flirting….it was for one thing only. And once he got it, he would leave. Of course he would.

But that was the problem. For the first time in two years, I considered it. Considered letting him have it….have me. But with it , came a nagging wish that he wasn’t joking. That perhaps, I wasn’t as….undesirable as my late husband had made me feel.

I shook my head to clear the haze of dreams, impossible girlish dreams that came with his scent and his proximity. I didn’t want to go down that road. I wasn’t… I may be younger than Jungkook but I was still too old to be courted and to start a new life with someone. Least of all someone like Jungkook.

I glanced back up at him as I carefully applied salve on the stitches, fingers light on dusky smooth skin. He was still staring at me, and as I bent in closer, his hair brushed my forehead. My eyes fell on his nipple and my mouth went dry. I breathed out and looked up at him, shaking my head and pulling away.

“You’re all done alpha.” I whispered.

His hand crept up to my knee, squeezing gently.

“I’m just getting started.” He whispered and I bit my lips, looking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Father… you shouldn’t have come .” Jungkook was groaning and I could only stare in horror , trying to process the fact that both Alpha Jeon and his wife were now standing in my hut, fussing over their son and ruffling his hair like he was five years old.

“Nonsense !” Alpha Jeon thundered, making me jump. “ You went over the waterfall and you expect me to not be worried. I brought our healer but I see the Kim clan has an exceptionally talented young healer themselves. My son looks as good as new , dear girl.” He grinned at me and I smiled shakily.

“I’m going to court her, father.” Jungkook said without any preamble and my heart dropped to my knees. Lady Jeon’s gaze snapped to me and I retreated further, clutching Sera to my chest in panic.

“No.. I.. no he’s not. I’m sorry, Alpha, I… I should go…” I dived for Joowon’s wrist, yanking my son along and moving to the door.

“Wait, child.” Lady Jeon’s voice made me still and I bit my lips, squeezing my eyes shut in horror. Surely whatever was coming…it couldn’t be good… t would be the same thing I’d heard over the years, the same threats, the same insults…

“Let me look at you.” Lady Jeon said and I trembled a bit, turning to her nervously, prepared for rejection and annoyance.

I found none.

All I could see was genuine interest that morphed into pleasure as she took in my features.

“What a beautiful girl you are.” She whispered , “ You can do so much better than my savage son, who apparently doesn’t know his way up or down a waterfall.”

Jungkook growled from the bed.

“Mother.”

Lady Jeon gave him a look.

“I’m serious. The Kim clan , I’m sure must have several fine young men, all of them willing to court her. What makes you think they would hand her over to you, Jungkook.” He said regally and I hesitated.

“I… I’ve been mated before. These are my kids.” I said hesitantly.

Lady Jeon blinked.

“Does that make a difference?”

I couldn’t respond, mind in shambles.

“Unless …what we’ve heard about the Kim clan isn’t true? And they are archaic and small minded when it comes to their women?” She said sharply, turning around to glare at my Head Alpha who looked horrified as he bowed.

“of course not , my lady..we… We all treat Aerin with the utmost respect.. She is as our daughter.”

“That is not what I asked. Has she not been courted?” Alpha Jeon asked gruffly and Jungkook made a noise of impatience.

“I’m saying I’ll court her, why is everyone-“

“Quiet Jungkook. “ Lady Jeon said sharply before turning to me.

“Have you not been courted after your husband’s death. Its unheard of for a young wolf to remain without a mate. Did none of the men in your clan step up?”

I hesitated before deciding on the truth.

“Joowon-ah? Could you go play outside for a while?” I said softly and he hesitated before glancing at Jungkook and running off. Once I was sure he was out of earshot I turned to Lady Jeon.

“They only offered to take me on as a mistress.” I said honestly, staring at my feet. “ And … I have a son. Old enough to understand these things. He… He heard his friends talk about how I was … He asked me if what they said was true…. If I was just anyone’s to use or take, now that his father was dead. I…. I had to reassure him that it wasn’t the case…. That I wouldn’t… That I didn’t need to warm anyone’s bed to survive.”

“She’s coming with us tomorrow.” Jungkook growled from the bed and I glared at him.

“Please let me finish.” I snapped. “ And yes, there are men here who feel that way but Alpha Kim is right. They have for the most part, treated me with great respect and I … I enjoy my life here. I’m not lacking for anything..” Except someone to love, someone to hold through cold winter nights, someone to share bright spring sunshine with…someone to kiss in the rain… someone who would go to war for me…

“So? You don’t accept my son’s offer of courting? Is that what you’re saying?” Lady Jeon asked gently.

“Don’t answer that.” Jungkook’s voice came from my right and I stared at him.

“Alpha Jeon…”

“Could all of you give me a moment alone with her?” Jungkook said quietly and Alpha Kim bowed.

“Please let me show you to your resting quarters.” He said gently and Jungkook’s parents shot him one last look before leaving the cabin. I stayed still as everyone filed out, one after the other.

Once it was just him and I, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“Just three weeks.” He said softly, “ Give me three weeks. Three weeks and if at the end of it you tell me that you don’t want to leave your clan…I’ll accept it without argument. You’ll never see me again.”

I sighed in exhaustion.

“You’re going to be here for the three weeks of the festival anyway. My answer isn’t going to change. I’m not going to fall in love with you, alpha Jeon. ” I said quietly.

He grinned.

“I’m going to remind you of what you just said….six months from now…when you’re my wife.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook was out and about three days later and to my utter horror, jealousy reared its head when I saw the extent to which he was popular with the other omegas. I stayed in the sidelines, holding sera and keeping an eye on Joowon, watching Jungkook get accosted at every turn.

But Jungkook it seemed, had no interest in wooing me.

He was wooing my son.

“These are delicious, Jungkook.” Joowon said excitedly, hands full of candied fruits and honey dipped grapes.

“Stop calling him that…” I hissed , but Joowon merely stuck his tongue out at me, stuck firmly to Jungkook’s side. Jungkook sat on the hard ground of the hut, surrounded by wooden strip and workmen tools, building a miniature windmill for Joowon who had never seen one before. The wind didn’t hit the lowlands much but Jungkook’s clan lived up hill and the windmills helped bring water to the canals.

He gave me a grin, his eyes trained on my lips as I sung gently to Sera, rocking her back and forth on my arms.

“You must give some of that honeyed fruit to your mother too, won-ah… perhaps she will have something sweet to say to me.” He grinned.

I rolled my eyes.

“I believe you’ve heard enough honey dipped words from the many omegas who can’t get enough of you.” I said impishly.

Jungkook laughed.

“ All I need is one word from you my lady….” He whispered and I flushed.

“ One word? No matter the question…? What word is that. ” I shook my head.

“Yes.” Jungkook smiled. “ Because it is that way with me. No matter the question , if you were the one asking, my answer would be yes.”

I stared at him, thrown by the magnitude of sincerity in his tone.

“Mother, ask him if he hates you…” Joowon giggled snapping me out of my thoughts.

I laughed and Jungkook glared.

“You’re supposed to be helping me brat.” He said with faux anger, eyes still excessively fond as he pulled my son into a playful headlock.

I watched them wrestle around Joowon smiling in a way that I had never seen him do in a long long time and my heart ached. Was it wrong… I wondered, to be this greedy? To want a lifetime of this….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ They say you never mourned him.” Jungkook sat on the rocking chair, shirt unbuttoned and Sera lying on his chest, the warmth of his body and the staccato of his heart lulling her to sleep . I sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall, Joowon was already asleep nect to me, head resting on my lap.

I watched him, watched the large, rugged hand, so gentle on my daughter’s back, stroking her gently, as he hummed sweetly.

“there was nothing to mourn.” I whispered bitterly, threading my fingers through my son’s hair, the silky strands falling through like water.

“He wasn’t a good man then.”

I shook my head.

“He married me when I was sixteen. And when I was old enough to see him for what he was, he didn’t want me anymore. And he died because he tried to rape the Head Alpha’s daughter.” I felt that familiar sickening feeling of disgust.

Jungkook didn’t say anything merely staring off into the fire blazing in the hearth.

“Is that why you think…you’re too old?” He asked gently and I flushed.

“It didn’t help with my self esteem.” I admitted.

“And is that why you..hesitate? To tell me how you truly feel.”

“It’s complicated. I … It s not easy baring my heart to you…” I looked away.

“You’re beautiful. I want you. Everyday I feel like I’m falling deeper.” Jungkook said quietly.

I stared at him, stunned.

He turned around and smiled at me.

“It’s not complicated for me. Its hard to watch you keep me at arm’s length. It’s hard to go to sleep on the floor, knowing your warm body is at touching distance. Its hard watching these omegas mistreat you because they’re jealous of the attention you get from me. And its hard….telling myself I can’t just pull you into my arms and kiss you in front of them all so they know . ” He smiled, “But telling you how I feel? It’s not hard at all.”

I felt my mouth go dry and stared at my knees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Marry me.” Jaebum had cornered me by the apothecary and I stared at him in shock.

“What?” I snapped, “ What nonsense is this? Move out of my way.”

“Alpha Kim wants Jisoo to marry Jungkook. He has asked one of us to get you out of the picture. And no one else wants another man’s sloppy seconds. I’m the only one who agreed so you should be honored. Just say yes and come with me.”

He made to grab me and I stumbled back in terror only to crahs into a broiad back, right behind me. A familiar scent and strong arms coming around to hug me.

“Perhaps, Alpha Kim should reconsider his plans. Because I’m sure he doesn’t want the entire Jeon clan to come to war with him.”

Jaebum stepped back.

“you would start a war over some omega?” He scoffed.

Jungkook grinned shaking his head.

“No. But I would start a war over my woman.”

Jaebum scoffed again before spitting at his feet and walking away. Jungkook glared at him till he disappeared from view. My limbs started trembling the moment I realized what had just happened. After years of working for these people…healing them and mending their wounds….Was this how they saw me?

I went limp in his arms and he hugged me close.

“Angel….are you alright?” Jungkook whispered and I swallowed, turning around and staring at him.

“I… They… Why would he do that?” I whispered and Jungkook reached out cupping my face gently.

“I don’t know. But he’s an idiot. As if I would let another man lay a finger on you…” He said softly and I laughed, shaking my head.

I looked back up at him, letting my gaze fall to his lips. As if on cue the heavens opened and it began to rain… Jungkook swore, moving to find shelter but I grabbed his arm, pulling him closer.

“Alpha Jeon…” I said quietly, water dripping down my face as the rain intensified . “ Will you kiss me?”

Jungkook’s eyes went comically wide. He was already dripping wet, hair falling in soaked strands into his eyes.

“Wh-What?”

“I’ve waited for many years for this kiss. A kiss in the rain. With a man who would go to war for me.”

Jungkook laughed at that and I stared as he leaned down, gently pressing his lips to my forehead. Tears sprung at the tender gesture and I gripped the fabric of his tunic hard. Laughing I buried my face into his chest, as he pressed a multitude of kisses on top of my head.

“Angel. When I kiss you for the first time…it’s not going to stop with a kiss.” He winked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving my clan was easier, when I reminded myself of what they had done. But I did my duty, offering my greetings and farewell to all the elders, before moving to link my fingers with Jungkook , who held Sera in his arms.

“ I owe you my gratitude. Because you’ve kept her safe all these years. But from now she holds no ties to your clan.” Jungkook said firmly, and I stepped closer to him.

I watched as Jungkook’s father shared a ceremonial glass of wine with the head alpha.

And just like that, I was no longer a Kim.

I was a Jeon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mother…” I whispered , mortified , watching Lady Jeon, wrap my daughter in her baby clothes, Packing her clothes and Joowon’s clothes as well. “ Please it isn’t necessary.”

“Nonsense. Jungkook and you need to spend time together. Alone. And I need to spend time with my grandchildren. I’ve already missed out on nine years of Joowon’s life , I refuse to miss out on another second. Besides, he has never seen a windmill he says? My husband has made arrangements for us to pitch our tents right next to one.”

I could only smile and watch as my excitable son practically bounced off the wall, eager to go on a trip with halmeoni and harabeoji.

Jungkook stood next to me, wrapping both arms around me.

“Say the word and We’ll leave in a hour right behind them.” He said gently and I smiled, shaking my head.

“No… your parents want this. I can tell. Let them enjoy some time with their grandkids.”

“Excellent.” Jungkook gripped my shoulders and turned me around.

“I’m in the mood for some honeyed words.” I said quietly.

“Jeon Aerin. My angel. Mine and Mine forever.” He said softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six months later :

Jungkook pressed kisses down my back and I grinned into the sheets, watching the springtime sun spill into our room, soaking the sheets in warmth . I stretched as he gently turned me over, feather light kisses on my belly, now slightly curved . He pressed his ears to the taut skin, listening.

“What is that, pup? Oh…yes.. yes yes… You’re right . Absolutely right.” He pulled away and climbed top of me, gently parting my thighs before slotiing himself in between. I sighed as he pressed against me, gently pushing in till he was buried to the hilt inside me.

“God, that feels good…” I whispered and Jungkook hummed, pressing a kiss to my ear before biting the lobe between his teeth.

“Know what our pup just told me , wife? “ He whispered and I looked at him, curious.

“What?”

“Well, he told me that I should remind you that you were so sure you would never fall in love with me.”

I shrugged.

“I’m sure you were once, pretty sure that you would never get washed over the waterfall.”

Jungkook laughed.

“Touché. So we both admit we’re wrong ?”

“The perfect marriage.”

Jungkook kissed me nose before beginning to move gently inside me again and I closed my eyes in bliss.

Someone to hold during cold winter nights.

Someone to kiss in the rain.

Someone to love in the springtime sun…

Someone like Jeon Jungkook, the perfect alpha.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I LOVE ALL OF YOU. THANK YOU FOR 8K.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook smut #jungkook fics #bts smut #bts smut fic

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kimnjss · 4 years

Text

game nights | ot7

⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader ⇢ genre: smut. // pure unedited filth. ⇢ word count: 4.7K ⇢ theme: established relationships. ⇢ rating: explicit. ⇢ warnings: cursing, slight dirty talk, fingering, voyeurism, oral sex (f/m. receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, soft noona kink, riding, cum shot, light anal play, exhibitionism, idk if this is an orgy buut... handjobs, masturbation, think there’s a bit of dry humping too. ⇢ A/N: yall, this was so !! i had a lot of fun writing this and this is my first time writing all of them so like pls be nice :( seven is a lot tho ., yn really out here living her best life x

Several kisses are placed to Yoongi's cheek as you stand from the bench in the camper van. Wanting to give him some space to work as he got sucked deeper inside of his music, his grin grows at the feeling of your lips against his skin, a distracted peck being placed on your lips before you're heading out of the van.

Quick steps are taken toward the main house, set on seeing what the other guys are up to in there. Joon and Tae busy preparing dinner for tonight. Jimin is the first to notice you as you slide the screen door open, lips stretching into a pretty smile.

He's sat on the table, Hoseok in front of him and Jin on the other side. “What you guys in here talking about?” You're asking, sinking into the open space between Hobi's legs. Your back resting against his chest, strong arms wrapping around your waist. His head cranes to the side, wet lips grazing over the shell of your ear.

“They're playing the game,” His words tickle your ear, teeth nipping at the skin. He has your eyes fluttering from the gentle touch of his tongue, tips of his fingers brushing against your thighs.

The soft swipe of his tongue shifts into bold sucks from his lips, a single hand sliding underneath the fabric of your shirt. He's tracing patterns against your stomach, grip tightening around your thigh, parting your legs slightly – just enough so he's able to fit his hand between your legs.

A soft laugh falls from your lips, head tilting a bit so you can get a better look at his face. “What's gotten into you?” His fingers managed to creep up high enough underneath your shirt, fingers just underneath the wire of your bra. “You look good. This Kookie's shirt?” You're nodding, barely registering his words.

Mind too wrapped in the anticipation of what the and between your legs plans to do. Never one to beat around the bush, it's no surprise that Hoseok is skipping the formalities, going for what he wants. Jimin has hopped up from his spot at the table, singing is heart out with the karaoke lyrics that appear on the screen.

Jin is still in his spot at the table, focus on the character running across the screen. Neither of them picking up on the way Hoseok has slipped his hand underneath the waistband of your shorts, bypassing your panties completely. Cool fingers find your folds, stroking them slowly.

“So soft,” He sighs into your ear, fingers moving further between your legs. The tips of his fingers finding your entrance. With each gentle stroke he leaves behind, paired with the wet kisses he's leaving on your neck, you're growing wetter. And he's quick to notice, a groan falling from his lips at the feeling of your slickness. “Getting so wet already.”

With his words, his fingers are picking up speed. Moving up to find your clit, applying light pressure to the nub and you're eyes are rolling. Hips lifting slightly as your head lulls back against his shoulder. If he was trying to be discreet, that's now shot to hell with the sounds that leave your lips.

He doesn't seem to mind, rolling your clit between his fingers allowing you to lift your hips into his hand. Hoseok sucks hickeys into your skin and you feel heat bubbling in your chest. Close already and it's a little embarrassing how quickly he managed to get you there.

“Oh, fuck!” The cry tumbles from your lips automatically, as he's pushing two long fingers past your walls. He's chuckling, sliding into the knuckle, curling up, and just barely brushing against the soft spot inside of you. Jin's attention is flickering to you instantly at the sound of your voice, recognizing the roll of your hips automatically.

Thick lips caught between his teeth, sitting up slightly to get a better look at the movement of Hoseok's fingers between your legs. He's pumping his fingers in and out quickly, pressing against that spot each time he can reach it. Pulling whiny moans from your lips that has Jimin turning to face you.

Dark eyes zeroing in on the look on your face. Brows furrowed, jaw slack as a string of moans falling from your lips. A tightness rises between his legs, brow arching slightly. The karaoke forgotten as he lowers himself in front of you. “Is Hobi making you feel good, baby?” His tone soft, fingers reaching out to catch your jaw.

He uses his grip to tilt your head to his, pinning you with that sexy look that has your toes curling. You nod, but he's shaking his head instantly. “Wanna hear you,” Hoseok has pulled his fingers out to the tip, pushing them forward with a force that has a loud shout breaking through your chest.

Keeping his fingers pistoned inside of you, his thumb lifts to toy with your clit. Jimin's waiting expectantly in front of you, hands set on your knees to keep your legs from clamping shut. Weakly, you nod again – quickly realizing that wasn't enough for him the last time.

“Y-yes. It fe-els... so good.” It's the stroke of his ego that has Hoseok speeding up the movement of his fingers, mind set on making you cum in front of his members. Jin has moved from his spot behind you. Sat beside you with a large hand set over the growing bulge at the front of his shorts, not daring to look away from you.

It's different, having all of their eyes on you. Use to the times that Jungkook has watched, but this was much different and you liked it. So much that it has your walls clenching around Hoseok's fingers, pressure building in the pit of your stomach. “She's so close,” Thumb pressing down rougher on your clit as he speaks.

His name falls from your lips on a broken cry, orgasm washing through your body. Long fingers fuck you through the entirety of it, lips pressing soft kisses against your skin as you ride it out. He's not pulling his fingers out until your body is crashed against his chest again.

Jimin allows you no time to breathe, hands instantly reaching from the waistband of your shorts. He's tugging them down your legs before you're able to register he has a hold on them. Catching your panties along the way, effectively revealing your wet lips to the entire living room.

“Fuck, you're so messy.” He's whining before leaning forward, Hoseok's hands now on your knees – holding your legs open. Jimin's thick tongue takes a bold lick over your slit before he's diving in, lips attaching to your clit as the tip of his tongue flicks against it.

Hoseok's chin is rested on your shoulder, watching Jimin's tongue fuck into you. His thick length pressed into your lower back, the slow lift of his hips dragging it against you. Soft groans from the friction falling from his lips, mixing with the husky moans that echo beside you.

Eyes shifting, landing on Jin. Cheeks flushed and teeth scraping against his teeth, eyes downcast, focus on the twist of Jimin's tongues over your folds. He's since pulled his cock from behind his shorts, glistening tip on full display as his large hand strokes over the base. His hips move to match the movement of his hand and you can't keep yourself from reaching out.

His cock is thick, heavy in your palm. There's a stutter in his hips when you're stroking him, a pit more power in your movement than he had been applying before. The tongue between your legs moves swiftly, pushing past your folds and slipping into your entrance.

He's lapping up the juices that have leaked from your core following the orgasm Hoseok just gave you. Moaning against your core like the taste of you is the most delicious thing to ever hit his tongue, the sound sending vibrations through your body that has your pussy tingling, not far from your next release.

“Jimin,” The gasp falls from your lips easily, free hand reaching down to tangle in his hair. Pushing his face further between your legs as they threaten to close, if it wasn't for the firm grip Hoseok had on your thighs – no doubt they would've clamped down around his head by now.

Jin hisses, your hand squeezing around him a bit hard – moving faster over him. He's moving against you, cursing under his breath as the tightness in his stomach grows. The steady roll of Hoseok's hips behind you doesn't let up either, driving himself closer to the edge which each thrust.

“You're so sweet. Gonna cum all over my tongue?” His words are murmured into your entrance, but you hear him as if he's right at your ear. Nodding breathlessly as your hips lift, silently begging him to bring you to your climax all over again. Strong hands reaching out landing on your inner thighs.

His nose is pressed snugly against your clit, pushing against it with each movement of his jaw. Desperate pleas and mules fall from your lips and it's not long before you're falling apart, hand loosening around Jin's length which has him reaching to finish the job himself.

He watches you as you cum, grunting out his own release moments later. Jimin doesn't let up between your legs, taking in the new flow of arousal that leaves your body while Jin's cum splatters onto your cheek, rolling down the side of your face. Soft kisses are being placed to your clit before Jimin is lifting his head from your legs completely, hooded eyes finding your flushed face.

Your juices drip from the tip of his nose all the way to his chin. You don't bother to mask the soft moan that falls from your lips at the sight of him sucking his lips into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you. Thick lips capture yours a soft hand set on the back of your head to keep you still, mouth instantly flooded with your taste.

Jimin pulls away after a while, grinning down at you. Hoseok is the one to wipe your face, sleeve covered palm reaching up to wipe the stickiness from your cheek. He's cooing sweetness into your ear, gentle praise of how good you were for them. Hearing his words is enough to have your head spinning.

Jin is helping you to your feet after Jimin has secured your shorts onto your hips again. Soft lips finding your forehead and the moment is so sweet. Being surrounded by them, the way they care for is enough to make your heart swell.

And for the hundredth time, you're filled with the simple happiness that comes from being her. With them.

Dinner was delicious, much to Namjoon's surprise. He had been so worried about cooking for everyone, but it turned out well in the end. Paired with the delicious stake prepared by your Taehyungie, it made for a great meal. Now the eight of you were gathered around in the game room, figuring out what game to play together on your last night.

Last night. You couldn't believe that the week had flown by so fast, had enjoyed yourself to the fullest here with them. It was nice to get away from it all, be in a place where only you guys existed. A definite breath of fresh air being able to step away from the constant hustle and bustle of their everyday life, finally able to breathe.

And them wanting you to be here with them made it that much better. This trip could easily be placed high up on your list of time spent with them. Whether it was spending mornings with Jin, cuddling with Yoongi, or working out with Jungkook you had enjoyed yourself.

Even if it was something as simple as watching Jimin and Taehyung sing karaoke, it felt like the best moment. Reading with Joon, driving with Hoseok such simple things but each moment felt precious. Even now, sat around the table listing off the different games you could play, it felt special.

It's Taehyung that suggests strip poker after the game of Avalon has grown too confusing to keep up with. And it's no surprise how quickly the suggestion is picked up, wide grins spreading across features as the cards are passed out. The game quickly turns competitive, it's inevitable with these boys. Although, their goal isn't targeting each other – no, what they were focused on was which one of them could trap you. A secret alliance formed to get you undressed but battling to see who could make you take off the most.

You're not the only one that has stripped down, though. Sat in the t-shirt that you stole from Jungkook and a pair of panties is almost nothing compared to what Taehyung is left in. the one that suggested the game, but he wasn't doing so well. His shirt and pants discarded, as well as his socks. He sits in nothing but the clingy briefs that leave very little to the imagination.

And you don't even bother to keep yourself from looking down. He's hard, which isn't much of a surprise. You had been pressed against him since he took his shirt off, seconds from nuzzling your way into his lap. His cock seems to twitch at the new bit of attention, lips parting as you all but drool at the sight.

He notices instantly, shifting so that his crotch is on display. You can clearly see the way it fights against the fabric of his boxers and your mind is wandering to all the things you know he can do with it. Yoongi's attention is spiked at the lull in your game, eyes following where you're staring. A brow lifted in Taehyung's direction.

Tae doesn't even realize he's got another set of eyes on him, the game the farthest thing from his mind as he reaches for your hand. Movements slow but there's direction behind them. Yoongi watches the entire time Tae sets your hand in his lap, spreading your fingers over his crotch.

A breathy moan falls from his lips when your fingers flex around him, hips lifting just slightly to meet your touch. The others are so wrapped up in the game, attention on Hoseok who has lost two rounds in a row. Shirt ditched as well as the sweats that hug his hips so nicely.

Your focus doesn't shift from the movement of your hand, though. Encouraged by the soft whines that fall from his lips, paired with the intense stare from Yoongi beside you. The tightness grows between his legs, not sure if it's from the sight of Taehyung getting worked up or watching the both of you. He doesn't care enough to dwell on it, though.

He's scooting closer to you without a second thought, arms wrapping around your waist. It seems like the game has been forgotten, an argument broken out about Jimin cheating the entire time. All so caught up in the game, they're not even realizing that's going on right beside them.

That's until Taehyung is letting a loud groan fall from his lips, a reaction following the swift way you've slipped your hand into his boxers – grasping his length in your palm. Yoongi ignores the new set of eyes on you, continuing his movements in spreading your legs. Effortlessly pushing your panties to the side, long fingers finding your sensitive clit instantly.

“Noona,” The breathy moan follows the whine that falls from your lips, your eyes snapping up to find Jungkook's, watching you hungrily from across the table. In that alerting you to the five-set of eyes burning into you, watching as your hand works over Taehyung and your hips roll into Yoongi's palm.

“You like being watched, huh? You're so wet already?” Yoongi's deep voice fills your ears, fingers slipping past your folds. He uses your slickness to easily slip past your walls, the familiar stretch pulling a soft sigh from your lips.

Head bobbing in response to his words, catching the smirk that falls on his lips. “M-more,” You croak, wrist twisting as you work your hand over Taehyung's length. His legs are spread, making it much easier for you to stroke him. Head cocked back slightly as his hips move with the rhythm of your hand.

“More what, princess?” He's asking as if he doesn't already know, the slow drag of his fingers enough to drive you insane. He doesn't show any signs of speeding up either, having too much fun teasing you.

Your eyes are finding Joon, the one that has always been sweet on you. Hitting you with a simple pout, silently begging him to implement his leader skills somewhere in here. Anything that would get you to your release quickly, you could already feel the dull ache growing between your legs.

One look is all it takes to have Joon rising to his feet, large hand pushing the soft hair back off his forehead. “You want all of us, huh, baby?” His words are making your eyes go wide, the opposite to be said about your walls that clench around Yoongi's fingers.

“Fuck, she just got so tight,” Yoongi announces, eyes lifting to land on Joon. That is all the confirmation that he needs to round the table, taking up space behind you. A hand set on your shoulder to pull your body back, just enough where he's able to reach your lips.

He kisses you hungrily, plush lips taking over yours. Wet tongue slithering past your lips and meeting yours, the moans Yoongi is able to pull from your lips are swallowed with each twist and push of the appendage. Jungkook rises across from you, instructing his hyungs to lay you down and you're still trying to keep your focus on Taehyung.

Thrusts have grown weaker, but the soft sighs still seem to fall from his lips. Obviously getting off on more than just the way your hand was able to make you feel. Joon is quick to follow the younger's request, pulling back from your lips as Yoongi pulls his fingers from inside of you. He's able to easily lift you onto the table, amazing you with the way he's able to handle you as if you weigh nothing.

You're laid out for them like the meal they just feasted on and they're looking at you like you're the most delicious thing. Yoongi's got his fingers pushed into his mouth, sucking your juices off the digits. Hands catch the hem of your shirt, you're not registering that it's Jungkook in front of you until the boyish chuckle leaves his lips at the sight of your bare breasts.

“So pretty, Noona.” He groans, soft lips latching onto your raised nipple. Teeth grazing over it as his hand reaches to pinch and twist the other one. Long fingers curl around your calves, lifting your legs and pushing them toward your chest. The soft suck around your clit has a pang of arousal shooting through your body, hips lifting.

A firm hand pushes your hips back down onto the table, thumb brushing against your hip bone lightly. “Be still for Hyung,” It's Yoongi's voice, don't even have to open your eyes to pick out his gruff drawl, which could only mean it's Jin who's between your legs.

Somehow, the twist of his tongue is exactly opposite to the swirl of Jungkook's on your chest. It's hard to keep up, hips fighting against Yoongi's grip – desperate to move closer, take more than Jin was willing to give you. The velvety brush against your lips as your eyes peeking open, eyes focusing on the flushed face of Taehyung.

Crouched over your head with his cock in hand, just inches from your lips. He looks strained, as if he's holding back from pushing his way into your mouth – you don't doubt that's exactly what he's doing. “Open your mouth for me,” He pants, brushing the tip of his cock over your lips again.

You're opening up immediately, head tilting back making it easier for him to slide his cock down your throat. A hand reaching back to grasp his hip, forcing yourself to get used to the odd feeling at this angle. Lips wrapping around the base, pulling a grunt from his lips. Despite the bold licks Jin delivers between your legs, you try to focus on sucking Tae off – trying to keep yourself from choking.

Jungkook has switched sides, moaning against your skin. Your throat constricts around Taehyung's shaft when Jin's thick lips wrap around your clit, sucking down harshly on the sensitive nub. “Ah, shit.” Tae groans, not being able to help himself from fucking deeper down your throat.

“Damn, you look so good, baby. Does it feel good?” It's Jimin's voice beside you. Taehyung is pulling back, the drag of his cock leaving your throat forcing a cough from his chest. Drool and precum dripping from your lips, head bobbing at Jimin's words. He grins, reaching for your hand.

You watch with watery eyes as he places soft kisses to your knuckles, grin stretching as he lowers your hand to his cock. “Feel what you do to me?” There's a soft whine behind his words when your hand moves against him. At the same moment, Jin is pushing two long fingers inside of you. Scissoring his way past your walls and your hips buck into his palm.

Yoongi's attention has shifted, grip loosened on your hip as his hand finds it's way back between your legs. Rolling your clit underneath the pads of his fingers, effectively adding to the pleasure that Jin's fingers bring you. Taehyung is pushing his way back into your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he sinks into the warm wetness.

His hand is reaching forward, set on toying with your breasts only to be met with the softness of Jungkook's hair. Gripping the strands between his fingers, he's quickly rocking his hips back and forth. Fucking his way to release with your distracted sucks. The tingle between your legs stealing most of your focus.

Tae's able to bring himself to release with the roll of his hips into your mouth, a slight hiss falls from his lips moments before he's filling your mouth with his thick cum. The warmth paired with the pressure between your legs is enough to push you over the edge, walls clenching almost painfully around Jin's fingers as your orgasm washes over you.

He fucks you through the whole thing, the pressure being lifted from your chest as your body tenses. Jin doesn't pull his fingers out until your body has fallen slack on the table. Taehyung's cock slipping from your mouth moments after and you're parting your lips to show off the fact that you've swallowed every last drop.

Jungkook's hands are quick to grip your hips, lifting your body off of the table. He holds you up as he shuffles, laying himself down on the table instead. It always amazes you how easily he's able to maneuver you in his arms, setting you on his lap. A whimper slips past your lips feeling the thickness of his cock against your thigh.

Not even bother to hide the way your hips roll against his, craving that friction between your legs. “You gonna let our youngest fuck you?” It's Hoseok's voice, crouched at your side, long dick clutched in his hand. “P-Please,” You sigh.

You're the center of attention and that fact alone is enough to have your skin burning. Eyes watching you hungrily, lips glistening from the orgasm Jin had just given you, panting and ready to be fucked for all of them to see. Jungkook doesn't waste a minute with slipping past your folds, wetting his cock with your arousal before he's pushing his way past your walls.

“Fuck, Noona.” He gasps once you're seated on him completely, buried inside of you to the hilt. Your thighs pressed on either side of his hips, large hands gripping your thighs. He gives you a moment to adjust to his length, a drawn-out moan falling from his lips as you begin to move over him.

Allowing him to slip out to the tip before you're lowering your hips back onto his. He groans, tips of his fingers pressing into your skin. He's holding back, you can tell. And all it takes is the sound of your breathy moans, encouraging him to move. His hips are snapping up, bouncing you on his lap. Tits bouncing in his face.

Just as his lips are catching one of your nipples, warm hands land on your ass. It's Taehyung behind you, using the grip he holds on the globes of your as to keep you steady. The bold swipe of his tongue over your puckered hole has your toes curling, moaning out loudly as you push your hips back.

Tae holds your hips steady as he licks into you, Jungkook's cock dragging against your walls. He doesn't let up, only growing rougher in his thrusts. A direct contrast to the sweet roll of Taehyung's tongue, the sensation has pleasure shooting throughout your core. Hoseok is still at your side and your hand is lifting to wrap around his shaft, pulling a hiss from his lips instantly.

“Mmh, baby.” He sighs, hips instantly moving along with the movement of your thrusts.

A euphoric feeling cruises through your veins with the more force Jungkook puts into his thrusts, jaw falling slack as your eyes flutter. Just barely focusing on the other men around you, Jin watching you with lust-filled eyes as he strokes himself to completion. Heavy breaths falling from Yoongi's parted lips as he palms himself over the fabric of his shorts.

Joon is making his way to you, sweats pushed down his legs. His thick cock gripped in his hand, glistening with precum. “Wanna feel your mouth. Think you can do that, baby?” You're opening up instantly, tongue pushed out welcoming him into your mouth. The velvety tip brushes against the roof of your mouth, long fingers curled in your hair to keep your head steady.

Mind all over the place and a bit overwhelmed with all this attention, you can't concentrate on sucking him off properly. Yet, he doesn't seem to mind. With the grip he holds on your head, Joon's able to easily buck his hips against your face, fucking his cock in and out of your warm mouth.

“You look so good, baby.” Jimin's close to you now and you don't hesitate to reach for him, hand wrapping around his length. Stroking him quickly, in time with the way you're working your hand over Hoseok. He's whining, gasping with each stroke of your hand. The roll of Jungkook's hips, the stretch of Joon in your mouth and Taehyung fucking his tongue into you has you tumbling over the edge quickly.

Muffled moans falling from your lips as your walls convulse around his shaft, thighs shaking as your body crashes onto him. Jungkook is not far behind you, releasing noisily against your thigh. Joon moves quickly to stand behind you, hand working over his shaft already close from having your mouth around him it doesn't take long before you're feeling the warmth of his cum splatter onto your ass.

Your quiet moans grow louder, mixing with the sounds coming from Jimin and Hoseok's mouths as they reach their climaxes, covering your back and hair. “You're so messy, Noona.” Jungkook points out with a laugh, words falling on sleepy ears. Eyes fluttering as you sink into the comfort of his chest spent.

Jin is reaching out after a moment of you laying there, the sexual haze seeming to fade away now after you've all reached your peaks. Soft hands wrap around your waist, carefully lifting you. “Let's get you all cleaned up,” He speaks in the softest of tones, carrying you all the way to the bathroom.

So comfortable in his arms as they pamper you, running a warm bath for you to soak in. Taking such good care of you as if you were precious. And to them, you were.

- seven days in the forest spent with your seven boyfriends while they film their upcoming reality tv show. there’s no telling what the eight of you will get into when the cameras are off.

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Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 22

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 22 - This Venerable One's Shizun is Getting Angry

When Chu Wanning heard this, he was so angry that he could barely keep himself from retracting Tianwen and slashing the Chen couple. But he couldn't open his eyes to confront them. Once he opened his eyes, the barrier would be broken. The Return to Truth barrier could only trap a ghost once. If his interrogation was interrupted, he wouldn't be able to listen to any more of Luo Xianxian's story.

All he could do was contain his overwhelming rage and continue listening to Luo Xianxian.

After she died, her soul entered the underworld, unaware and confused.

The only thing that she could make out was a woman wearing red and green robes with facial features that resembled the Master of Ceremonies Ghost enshrined in a temple. The Master of Ceremonies Ghost stood in front of her and asked her in a soft voice: "You and Chen Bohuan couldn't share a bed in life. Would you like to share the same grave in death?"

She hurriedly agreed: "Yes. . . Yes please!"

"Then I can let him come join you right away. What do you think?"

Luo Xianxian wanted to blurt out a yes, rushing to agree, but suddenly remembered something and froze. "Am I dead?"

"Yes. I am the Master of the Underworld Ghost. I can give you the destiny you deserve and fulfill your long-cherished wish."

Luo Xianxian was startled: "Then, if he comes to join me, will he. . . also die?"

"Yes. However, if loves persists in the afterlife, life and death are irrelevant. What difference does it make?"

Chu Wanning heard this, he thought to himself that he had been right; this Master of Ceremonies Ghost would persuade others to make a wish so that she could reap the benefits. This immortal was truly diabolical.

Although Luo Xianxian died unjustly, she hadn't yet become a malevolent ghost, so she repeatedly shook his head: "No. It wasn't his fault. You can't kill him."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost smiled compassionately: "And what did you get in return for this kindness?" It didn't force Luo Xianxian to do anything. As an immortal being, they could persuade someone to make a bad wish, but they couldn't force them. Its figure gradually faded away, its voice becoming hazier and hazier.

"Return to the world in seven days. During those seven days, go and see how the Chen family is faring. After that, I'll ask you again if you still have no regrets about your decision."

Seven days later, the day arrived.

Luo Xianxian's soul returned to a conscious form and returned to the world of the living.

Following the old road, she eagerly walked towards the Chen house to see her husband for the last time.

Unexpectedly, the Chen house was decorated with lights, and outside the courtyard, there were fireworks. Bridal flowers were decorating the halls. and a big "double happiness" banner was hanging in front of the main hall. Madam Chen was radiant, not appearing sickly in the slightest. She was smiling and instructing the servants to wrap the bouquets with red silk.

Who. . . was having a wedding?

Who. . . were the bride and groom?

Who. . . no one was engaged, what was going on?

Who. . .

She walked through the busy crowd, listening to the sound of people in the world of the living.

"Congratulations, Madam Chen. Your son is getting engaged to the daughter of the county magistrate. When's the wedding?"

"Madam Chen, you're so fortunate."

"Yao Qianjin is truly the lucky star of the Chen family and they aren't even official yet. Madam Chen, you look so much healthier already."

"Your son and Yao Qianjin are a match made in heaven. I'm so jealous, hahahaha."

Her son. . . Her son. . .

Which son?

Which one was marrying the daughter of the Yao family?

She shuttled back and forth across the familiar front yard, growing more and more frantic, looking for that familiar figure in the midst of all the laughter.

Then she found him.

In front of the peony flowers in the back hall, Chen Bohuan stood with his hands behind his back with a haggard face and sunken cheeks. However, he was dressed in red. Even though it wasn't a traditional wedding outfit, it was a Caidie Town custom. When a prospective son-in-law comes to propose marriage, he should wear this type of red gown.

Was he. . . going to propose. . .?

The decorations in the whole house, the strings of gold and silver beads, was it all. . . was it all from Chen Bohuan, her husband, as a dowry for the daughter of the Yao family?

She suddenly recalled the time when they got married.

There was nothing but two people that shared one heart - nothing else.

There was no master of ceremonies, no bridesmaids, and no dowry. The Chen family weren't wealthy at that time and didn't even own a decent set of jewelry. He went into the yard and picked a delicate orange blossom from under the orange tree they had planted together and carefully tucked it behind her ear.

She asked him: "Does it look good?"

He said it looked beautiful. After a moment of silence, he stroked her hair with some sadness and told her: "You deserve so much better than this."

Luo Xianxian smiled and pursed his lips, saying that it didn't matter.

Chen Bohuan told her that when he married her three years later, he would hold a lively wedding banquet. He would invite people from all over the world. He would have her make a grand entrance on a large sedan chair. He would give her gold and silver to wear, and the dowry gifts would fill the entire main hall.

Those vows still echoed in her ears. Now, all those promises have come true, the hall filled with gifts and guests.

He was getting married, just not to her.

A monstrous flame of anger and sorrow surged through her. Luo Xianxian screamed, trying to tear at the hanging red silk in the room.

But she was a ghost; she couldn't touch anything.

Chen Bohuan seemed to vaguely notice something. He turned around, staring at the silk moving despite there being no wind. His eyes were dull and hollow.

His little sister came over, a white jade hairpin clipped on the side of her bun. She didn't know who she was secretly mourning by wearing it.

She said: "Big brother, go to the kitchen to eat something. You haven't had a proper meal in days. You have to hurry up and go to the county magistrate's house later to propose. Your body won't hold up."

Chen Bohuan suddenly asked without thinking: "Sister, did you hear someone crying?"

". . . What? No, brother, I think you're still. . ." She gritted her teeth and didn't finish her thought. Chen Bohuan still stared at the fluttering silk sheets.

"How is my mother? Is she happy? Has her illness been cured?"

". . . Brother."

". . . I'm glad she's feeling better." Chen Bohuan stood there, muttering to himself. "I already lost Luo Xianxian, I couldn't live without my mother."

"Brother, go eat something. . ."

Luo Xianxian wailed. She yelled and bawled with her head in her hands.

Don't go. . . don't go. . . please don't go. . .

Chen Bohuan said: ". . . Alright."

The tired figure disappeared around the corner.

Luo Xianxian stood alone in a daze, large tears rolling down her face. Suddenly, she heard the brothers of the Chen family who killed her approaching. The second eldest brother and the younger brother were whispering to each other.

"Mother is finally happy. Finally, things are going our way."

"Right? She pretended to be sick for half and year. Now that that cursed bitch is gone, how could she not be thrilled?"

The younger brother tsked and said, "How come she died? We wanted to force her out, not kill her. Was she really so stupid that she couldn't even find someone to help her?"

"Who knows. She was weak, just like her rotten father. It's not our fault that she died. Even though mother pretended to be sick to get rid of her, our family has its own struggles. Think about it, when the options county magistrate’s daughter and some pauper girl, only a fool would choose the latter. Besides, even if Yao Qianjin is a brat, she's got enough money to go around."

"Yes, she's so dumb. She didn't want to live so she let herself freeze to death. No one could've saved her."

The words drifted to her ears.

After Luo Xianxian died, she finally understood the so-called "Divine Fate". She was completely broke and couldn't compare to the county magistrate's daughter who was so noble and honourable.

Only a fool would choose the pauper girl.

She finally snapped.

She returned to the Master of Ceremonies' temple full of hatred and resentment.

She died there. Unlike how weak and helpless she was when she died, she returned with overwhelming hostility.

She used to be such a kind person, but now, all the hatred and evil that had been built inside her while she was alive came flooding out. She roared, her eyes turning red, her soul trembling.

She said: "I, Luo Xianxian, would like to give up my soul and follow the path of wickedness. I only ask you to avenge me! I want the Chen family - I don't want you to kill them!!! I want. . . I want to let my beastly mother-in-law kill her sons by her own hand! All her sons!!! I want Chen Bohuan to go to hell with me!!! Let him be buried with me!!! Do it for me!!! I hate them! I hate them!!!!"

The eyes of the clay sculpture on the shrine shifted and the corners of its mouth slowly raised.

A hollow voice echoed through the temple.

"I have heard your prayers. It will be as you wish. As an evil spirit - kill all those that you resent -"

A piercing blood-red light flashed, and Luo Xianxian couldn't remember anything after that.

However, Chu Wanning already what happened next. After that, the Master of Ceremonies Ghost manipulated Luo Xianxian's spirit to possess Madam Chen and force her to kill each member of the Chen family.

The red coffin on the top of the mountain, the reason why Chen Bohuan was dug up, naturally, was because the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was fulfilling Luo Xianxian's greatest wish - "Let Chen Bohuan and I be buried together." Moreover, it deliberately placed the coffin on the property of Chen Bohuan and his new wife as an act of spiteful revenge.

As for the floral scent in Chen Bohuan's coffin, it was the scent of the butterfly fragrance powder that Luo Xianxian had worn before her death. The resentment and fragrance in the coffin were both extremely strong because Luo Xianxian's soul was resting alongside Chen Bohuan inside it.

Luo Xianxian had no family. According to the customs, if a person like that dies, their bones should be cremated instead of buried. Therefore, she had no physical body and could only be contained within the coffin by the Master of Ceremonies Ghost. That's why, when Chu Wanning opened the coffin with his willow vine, Luo Xianxian had escaped the coffin's containment. Her soul flew away, and it was difficult to recapture. It was a situation of "a closed coffin being heavy with resentment but an open coffin being light".

But during the illusion, why did other people have dead bodies as their partners but Chen Bohuan only had a paper-mache ghost bride?

Chu Wanning thought for a moment and figured out this much:

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost didn't break its promise. The paper-mache bride was the "physical body" that it gave Luo Xianxian. It was a vessel so that Luo Xianxian could be buried with Chen Bohuan.

Everything was clear.

Chu Wanning looked at the weak and helpless girl in the barrier. He wanted to say something but didn't know what to say.

Elder Yuheng wasn't particularly good at comforting words. He couldn't think of anything, so he stayed silent, not having anything he could say.

The girl stood in the vast darkness with her soft round eyes open.

Chu Wanning looked at her eyes and couldn't bear it. He wanted to leave. He didn't want to take another look. He was about to open his eyes and leave the Return to Truth barrier.

Then the girl suddenly spoke.

"Lord Yama. I. . . I have something else I want to tell you."

Chu Wanning: ". . . Alright."

The girl suddenly lowered her head, covered her eyes, and cried. She said softly, "Lord Yama, I don't know what I did after that. But, I. . . I really didn't want to kill my husband. I didn't want to be an evil spirit. I really. . ."

"I didn't steal the oranges. I really am Chen Bohuan's wife. And I truly, truly didn't want to hurt anyone either."

"I truly didn't want anyone to get hurt. Please believe me."

Her voice choked and trembled, her words breaking.

"I. . . didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

Why is it that, in this life, almost no one believed me?

She sobbed and screamed. Chu Wanning's voice sounded low in the darkness. He didn't say much, but he said it with conviction.

"Okay."

Luo Xianxian was shocked.

Chu Wanning said: "I believe you."

Luo Xianxian wiped her tears with her hands indiscriminately but couldn't hold them back. Hiding her tearful face, she lowered her head and bowed her head in his direction in the darkness.

Chu Wanning opened his eyes.

After he opened his eyes, he didn't say anything.

Time in the barrier wasn't the same as in reality. He had stayed there for a long time but, for the people waiting outside, it had only been a moment. Mo Ran hadn't returned yet. The few remaining people in the Chen family were still looking at him with bated breath.

Chu Wanning withdrew Tianwen and said to Madam Chen: "I'll avenge you. You can find peace."

Madam Chen froze and opened her blood-red eyes, and suddenly fell to the ground with a thud, knocked out cold.

Chu Wanning raised his head again. His eyes swept across Chen's face then landed on the youngest son. His voice didn't waver, and it was still frighteningly cold.

"I'll ask one last time." He said each word slowly and decisively. "Did you really not recognize whose voice that was?"

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#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #bl novel #danmei novel #danmei #mo ran #chu wanning #ranwan

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cockslutpadalecki · 3 years

Text

New Rules (1)

Summary: Y/N and Dean are strictly “Friends with Benefits”, however she soon finds herself falling in love and does her hardest to keep Dean at a distance to save herself from getting her heart broken, but he can’t keep away which just makes her mission practically impossible.

Characters: Dean x Reader.

Words: 5265.

Warnings: angst, age gap relationship (ish), squirting, female masturbation, multiple orgasms.

A/N: Based on song of same name by Dua Lipa. And yes, this has been adapted from an old fic I wrote for Negan eons ago which has been rewritten and split into two parts. Betas: @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons, but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Masterlists can be found in my pinned post. Subscribe to Patreon and get access to fics, just like this one, two weeks before Tumblr for as little as $3.

The dull buzz of your cell vibrating against your nightstand pulls you from your already disturbed slumber, head slightly fuzzy from the one too many wines you had with dinner. Rolling over, you lazily reach for it and turn it on its side, the glare from the screen completely absorbing every ounce of sleep from your eyes. A too-familiar name flashes across it, and the pit in your stomach begins to flutter. You can never tell if it’s from excitement or dread due to the fact you know exactly why he’s calling.

Dean.

You tap the screen almost cautiously, and bring it to your ear.

“Yeah,” you mutter sleepily.

“Hey darlin’.” His voice purrs like a kitten and you know the tone in it instantly— one too many whiskeys as usual. “What’re you doing?”

Glancing at your alarm clock, you notice it’s far too late for this charade, and let out an uptight exhale. “It’s 2am, Dean, what do you think I’m doing?”

“Thinking of me?” he chuckles, and you’re thankful he can’t see you roll your eyes through the screen— you know exactly what thinking is code for.

“De—”

“Come over,” he interrupts rhetorically.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.”

“That was before I knew better,” you sigh. “Look, you’ve had a few, go to bed. You need sleep, okay?”

“I need your sweet little pussy,” he cajoles, and the way the word rolls thickly off his tongue down the receiver makes your cunt clench around nothing. Normally, you’d be telling him the same in return, but you remain tight-lipped— he doesn’t need extra fuel to get him even more fired up.

“You need sleep,” you repeat, choosing to ignore his comment.

“Y/N—”

The way he says your name makes your chest ache, while your mind screams at you to hang up, and go back to sleep, but deep down you know that’ll never happen. Not now you know he’s at home desperate for you when you’re aching just as much in return. But when it comes to Dean, your body and mind are clearly on two very different wavelengths.

“I promise I’ll make you come real hard,” he begs, voice heavy with solicitation.

Sighing deeply, you quickly search for an excuse that would placate him, but nothing would come. However, if you take Dean on his word— which was usually gospel, you could be coming within an hour if you gave in to his dulcet insistence.

“I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

Your obsession with older men began when you were sixteen. Infatuated with actors and musicians twice your age, you adopted the same ideology when it became time to start dating. Purposely seeking out relationships with those of a more experienced calibre, that tenet followed you right into your mid twenties, a small string of ex-boyfriends trailing behind you with the combined age of a hundred.

Dean Winchester was no exception. In his early 40s, he was at the older end of your spectrum of lovers, but with his rugged charm and audacious attitude exuding from every pore, he came across much younger than his birth certificate stated. With the considerable age gap there were moments when it showed— like trying to introduce to bands you’d never heard of, but with the relationship you have, that’s as deep as it got.

You say relationship, but really, you mean complicated. Friends with benefits. Fuck buddies— whatever you wanna call it, that’s what Dean thought. You, on the other hand, were unreservedly and irrevocably infatuated by him and he knew it— using your inability to say no to him to get what he wants, and after he’s satisfied, you’re sent on your way until he calls again, expecting you to cave in instantly. And you usually do, much to the dismay of your own brain, but you can’t deny the unimaginable electricity and heat between you, pulling you in like a magnet, unable to detach yourself from it.

The first time he caught your eye across the dimly lit bar, raising his whiskey tumbler in your direction as the bartender placed a fresh glass of wine in front of you, muttering almost incoherently of where it came from, you were left completely blindsided. It wasn’t the gesture that made you weak, but the cocksure smirk that followed.

You met in the conventional way— you were out with friends, celebrating one of their birthdays, and while Dean had been accompanied by his buddy Benny and brother Sam to “shoot the shit,” as Dean so eloquently put, it was you he spent the majority of the night hovering around. When the time came, you ended up sharing an extremely heated cab ride home before fucking on his couch until the sun came up.

Neither of you really expected for your rendezvous to lead anywhere, and it didn’t. You stayed friends, occasionally meeting up for a casual hook up, but it wasn’t until a couple of months later when you happened upon each other by accident at the same bar, and Dean spent the night fawning over somebody else that you realised you felt more for him than he did you. Jealousy bubbled up inside you watching him flirt unabashedly with the blonde, and when a offhand comment was made about you being his daughter, you left in a hurry.

He had called you later that night, after his attempts to bed her had failed, and came crawling to you for release. You knew then in that moment when Dean pushed you up against the wall— not even bothering to take your panties off as he bottomed out inside you, that you were nothing more to him than just a piece of ass when he couldn’t score anything better. Used was the only word to describe how you felt as he fucked you that night— the first time you had ever failed to come for him.

That had been a year ago, and you were yet to learn your lesson.

Dean still calls in the middle of the night, and you still always answer.

1. Don’t pick up the phone, you know he’s only calling cause he’s drunk and alone.

“Seriously, you need to tell this asshole to just keep it in his pants, and stay outta yours.” Your best friend Jo grumbles at you, amid mouthfuls of your homemade bologna. Since you met Dean, she ends up at your apartment most nights, if not for a detailed breakdown of her day and the never ending tales of her boss’ messy divorce, but to eat you out of house and home. In all honesty, you’re just happy for the company.

“It’s more complex than that,” you grumble. With the back of your fork, you mindlessly move the food around on your plate, despite the gnawing hunger eating away at your stomach.

Two weeks have passed since you crawled to Dean’s, and you’re still punishing yourself for being so weak. It didn’t matter how satisfied you felt in the moment— Dean deep seated inside you as he fucked away your melancholy. What mattered was the cruel ache that sat in your chest when you left. The one that feels like you’ve been doused in acid, crumbling into pieces the further the distance between you and Dean becomes.

“You gotta tell him how you feel,” Jo states matter of factly.

You scoff. “I can’t, he’ll laugh in my face. I’m just an immature little kid.”

“Well I’m here to remind you that you’re not,” she clarifies, “and that you’re really gonna have to start using night cream to, y’know-” using her fork, she points it at your face, and swirls it around in circles, “-work on those wrinkles.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, trying to stifle a smile. “Bitch.”

She laughs, lifting another forkful of spaghetti to her lips before steering the conversation back to Dean. “You can’t spend your life pining for this guy. He clearly only cares about getting his dick wet.”

Listless, you watch her eat, wishing you had the same voracious appetite as she does, your stomach rumbling as if to taunt you further. You let out a little sigh, hating that she’s right. She always is.

“Maybe I’ll just start dodging his calls until he gets the message,” you mutter jokingly, unsure who you’re trying to convince more— you or the blonde sitting opposite you.

“Ah! You cracked it,” Jo rejoices as you look at her quizzically, and she winks, adding, “you’re finally thinking like a man.”

You both burst into a fit of giggles as the hunger pangs in your stomach overwhelm you just enough that you give in, and bring your fork to your lips, not before flashing Jo a smile to match hers.

An hour later, you wave the small blonde off, watching her drive down the street, as you hug your arms around you in an attempt to keep out the cold before stepping back into the warmth of your apartment.

Letting the door snap closed as you slump against it, a feeling of loneliness washes over you, suddenly wishing you’d asked her to stay the night.

Get your shit together, your brain berates harshly. Stop acting like a lovesick teenager.

Pushing yourself from the wood with the intention of soaking in the bath with a fresh glass of wine, the sound of three small knocks against the door prevents you from moving more than two steps.

You turn back around quickly, grabbing the door handle and pull it towards you, half expecting to see Jo, but the face you’ve been trying to shift from your thoughts for days stares back at you.

"Dean, what are you doing here?” The shock is evident in your voice. He never shows up at your apartment.

In fact, you don’t think he’s ever made it to your door— the sidewalk was always as far as he got on the rare occasion he’d actually care to drop you home. You figure it’s a power strategy— if he calls and you go running, he’s in control. But having him standing on your doorstep, it must be so far out of his comfort zone that you can’t imagine he likes it much.

“Can’t I come and see my favourite person?” Dean compliments, flashing you his trademark smirk. He leans forward to kiss you gently on the cheek before stepping inside without invitation, and as he passes you, the heady scent of his fading aftershave highlighted with soft hints of whiskey absorbs into your pores like a damp mist.

In a daze, you shut the door behind him, and stand aghast at the audacity of the man before you— not only for showing up unexpectedly, but for assuming you were going to allow him inside in the first place. He starts casually looking around, no doubt judging your taste in possessions as you watch him eye with intrigue the Salvador Dali piece hanging above your fireplace.

“You sure you’re at the right apartment?” you ask, a little guarded.

The truth is, him being in your home has instantly put you on edge. What’s the motive here? There has to be one. Dean Winchester doesn’t just turn up out of the blue. He simply laughs as he shrugs off his jacket, and hangs it haphazardly on the back of a chair.

“What are you really doing here?” you question, tentatively following his footsteps.

Dean turns, slinking back towards you like a panther with eyes on its prey, tongue tucked subtly between his teeth. As he reaches you, he slowly stoops his head, and brings his lips to yours. “Well, you sure as hell can’t fuck your own brains out.”

Your knees almost give way hearing the words tumbling from his lips, and the combination of his breath on your neck. You strain to speak, but Dean’s mouth is already on yours and his hands are at the buttons of your oversized shirt, hurrying to undo them.

Y/N, kick him out! your brain screams. Don’t do this. Don’t let him win. Stop him—

Your thoughts are too easily drowned out by the blood thundering in your ears as you hungrily kiss back, snaking your hands around his neck to pull him even closer against you. Dean groans as your tongue slides past his lips, and he suddenly leans down, grabbing hold of the backs of your thighs to lift you up around his waist.

Everything around you melts into one big blur as Dean carries you into the lounge, practically running to get you to the nearest surface he can lay you down on. The couch is the closest, and he slumps against the cushions as you straddle his lap, accentuating the roll of your hips to make sure your damp cunt catches his swelling length through his pants just right.

You know you should stop him— the ethical voice inside your head tells you so, but by the time he’s pulled your panties to the side, cock nestled deep inside your pussy, you’re too bewitched by his touch to conceivably think about stopping him from doing anything except fuck you.

2. Don’t let him in, you have to kick him out again.

Almost three months pass without a word from Dean, and you’re struggling to the point where you actually crave a phone call at 2am. You even itch for him to show up at your door, and nail you into the couch as you come screaming his name.

Each night you go to bed hopeful that maybe tonight he’ll make contact, but you find yourself lying awake, staring impassively at a blank screen until you fall asleep from sheer exhaustion, tears drying on your cheeks.

You do what you can to take your mind off of him, even going as far as hooking up with someone else on a rare night out with Jo, but it failed to do anything. Didn’t even come close. His lips weren’t soft like Dean’s, his touch lacklustre in comparison, and the meagre orgasm— which you had to see through, with thoughts of Dean between your thighs, left you feeling more frustrated than satisfied. And as you walked home, leaving your one night stand passed out in bed— still in the same position he rolled off of you into, you resigned yourself to the fact that while Dean is in your life, or lack thereof, you’re destined to be alone.

You’ve never been so happy to lay your eyes on your parked car after leaving a particularly hectic day at work, beyond ready to drive home, and polish off the bottle of white sitting in the door of your refrigerator.

With your hand firmly wrapped around the door handle, you bring it towards you as a palm slams against the window, startling you. You glance up, about to give the arsehole a piece of your mind, but the sight of Dean standing beside you knocks you for six, and despite being dressed in a suave black suit, he looks horrendous. His usual stubble has grown to give his beard more definition, but it’s unkempt and in disarray while his eyes are red and bloodshot, not to mention the fact he stinks of alcohol.

"Dean, what the— are you alright?” you ask shakily, your heart still thumping hard against your rib cage. Stumbling towards you with a lazy smile, the whiskey cloud above his head completely engulfs you.

“Just,” he hiccups, “great.”

“Well you don’t look it.”

"You mean, you don’t want this?” He slides his hand down his torso, grabbing his crotch with a smirk.

“Oh, I’m certain,” comes your clipped reply.

Carefully you open the door, using it to create a barrier between you— the more distance the better, but seeing him look so dishevelled and somehow a little… lost, you take pity on him, and find the next words slipping past your lips before your brain has a chance to register them. “C’mon, let me take you home, you’re in no state to be wandering around on your own."

What was that about the more distance the better?

"I’m fine,” he spits defensively.

“Dean, get in the fuckin’ car."

"No,” he huffs, face stiffening as he stumbles backwards to walk off, but you’re faster than he is in this state, and manage to grab him before he falls flat on his face.

The whiskey smell is overwhelming, but through the alcohol, you can just make out his own scent — that sweet mix of leather and cologne, and it warms you in a way you wish it hadn’t.

You struggle against him for a second before he gives up, allowing you to help him to the passenger side without a fight. You pull open the door, and he slumps down into the seat with a sickly groan.

He better not throw up in the footwell.

You shake your head in silent rebuke, cursing yourself for being so concerned about the cost of getting vomit out of your carpet, as you slam the door behind him and round the car to get in yourself. You glance over at him as you switch on the gas, watching his chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. With his eyes tightly closed, mouth slightly agape, he’s practically unconscious as you slowly manoeuvre your way out of the parking lot.

Dean falls onto the couch with a loud thud, your arm aching from carrying him in from the car. As you leave him lightly snoring, you give your bicep a soft rub as you head to the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water.

The ride back to his apartment was peaceful, but you were so aware of him next to you, it was difficult to concentrate on the road, your thoughts continuously reminding you of what a bad decision it was.

You’re dangling yourself like a piece of meat in front of a starving lion that’s ready to pounce and devour you at any moment.

Walking back into the lounge, you nudge him gently with the back of your hand.

“Hey, wake up,” you say soothingly despite the slight grit of your teeth. “You need to drink something.”

Nothing.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you decide to change tactics.

“Oh Dean, my pussy’s so wet for you,” you purr, bending to kneel at his feet. “Aching for your big hard cock.”

Well, it’s not exactly a lie...

His eyes stay closed, but the sides of his lips pull up into a smirk.

"I knew it, I can practically taste you from here,” he grumbles, shifting his weight onto his left elbow, his eyes slowly fluttering open. His jade stare keeps you at his feet and you hand him the glass, careful not to let his fingers brush yours.

"Drink."

He takes it, downing half in one go, his eyes on you the whole time. You suddenly feel uneasy— like you need to go and take a long, cold shower.

"So, are you gonna tell me why you’re drunk at five in the afternoon?” you challenge. Dean fidgets against the couch, clasping the glass tight between his fingertips.

"Nope,” he mutters defiantly before taking another swig, pulling a face as he swallows the final gulp.

“No?”

His lips draw into a tight line. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Gotcha,” you reply curtly, and push yourself to your feet.

“Stop,” he snaps, reaching out to grab your hand. “Stay.”

You look down at him, trying to gauge and somehow predict his next mood, but his face remains impassive. “Not until you talk to me.”

He sighs, “we are talking."

“Forget it, De.” You attempt to snatch your hand from his grasp, but he’s holding onto you too tightly.

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, placing the now empty glass onto the coffee table before motioning for you to sit down, which you do hesitantly.

It doesn’t escape you that last time you sat on this very couch, you had your legs spread while Dean had his face buried deep in your cunt. You do your best to make yourself comfortable despite the very uncomfortable heat blooming beneath your clothes as he turns to face you. You can see from the anxiousness in his features that he’s toying with his words— opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, but nothing comes out.

“I was at a funeral,” he eventually manages to croak, glancing down at his hands to avoid making eye contact with you.

“Oh,” you say. “I’m sorry. Was it somebody close to y—”

He interrupts, the words coming out like vomit. “I had to bury my best friend in front of his entire family and kids.”

Benny?

“He had his whole life together, and poof-” he snaps his fingers, “-snuffed out just like that.” He takes a moment to glance up at the ceiling in an attempt to compose himself, but you can see the way his eyes glass over as the next words from his lips tumble out.

“I have no-one.”

“I’m so sorry about Benny.” You gingerly reach for one of his hands, and entwine your fingers within his, watching as Dean’s eyes cast down at the simple act of reassurance in his lap. "But you have Sam,” you remind him, and after letting out a deep breath, you finally add, “and me.”

His eyes flicker towards you— relief with a dash of confusion muddying his features.

Taking a second to look away, you immediately regret your words, wishing they hadn’t come out so… desperate. You glance back, prepared to give him a comforting speech before making your excuses to leave, but everything happens too quickly.

Dean lunges forward, mouth hot and feverish against yours while his tongue seeks out relief past your lips, as his hands roam your hips edging towards the zipper on the back of your skirt. You find yourself reacting in a similar way— your hands hurriedly peeling off his jacket before urgently reaching for his suit trousers.

You can’t help yourself. Three months you’ve been craving just a slither of his touch, and now you’ve got a taste you’re like a ravenous animal who hasn’t eaten in weeks.

Breaking the kiss, Dean slides off the couch, this time kneeling at your feet and strips you of your skirt, as you slump back against the cushions, watching him in awe as he expertly tugs the black material down your legs.

In your haste, you grab one of his hands, and guide it against your soaked core, allowing him the opportunity to tease you through the damp seat of your panties. Dean flicks a lazy finger up over your clothed clit, and you buck into his touch, urging him to continue with a frustrated whine.

He smirks at the sound before pressing his lips to your thighs, placing a soft trail of stubbled kisses against your fevered skin, as the hand focusing on your heat moves to join the other working your panties down your quaking legs.

Once exposed, you watch Dean pause, eyes trained firmly on your bare cunt before he kneels up, landing sporadic kisses to the small peeks of flesh available to him as he travels further up your torso— a delicate placement on your navel, a hungrier taste to your breast as he tugs your shirt and bra out of his way, tongue flicking masterfully over your pebbled nipple.

Your fingers snake around his neck when he finally reaches your lips, capturing them with prurient impatience. He grinds against you, the heat and thickness of his cock prominent through the fabric of his trousers. You buck against him once more when a perfectly placed roll of Dean’s hips catches your bead just right, and you clutch fervently at his tie, giving it a sharp yank in the hopes your rising coveting is obvious.

He lets go of a small moan against you before pulling back, his lips still skimming yours as a small unscrupulous smirk spreads across his face.

“You like that?” His voice is crisp, ragged and with all the roughness of gravel, it sends ripples straight down to your core as Dean does it again. There’s always been a deftness to the way his hips move that never failed to take your breath away, and it’s no different now. A strangled inhale catches in your throat as he repeats it for the third time, and on this occasion his thumb accompanies it, rubbing over your throbbing pearl.

Somehow you’ve forgotten how to speak.

“And this?” he husks, tongue tugging at his bottom lip while his fingers nestle between your folds, tips breaching your heat until he’s knuckle deep.

“Fu— ck,” you choke, feeling your eyes prickle hot with tears when Dean crooks his fingers inside you.

“Right there, isn’t it?”

You try to shake your head, but it’s no good. You swear he’s intent on breaking you apart one piece at time as his digits retreat before he’s duplicating the movement once more. Each nerve, cell and everything in between seizes inside you at the pressure and Dean’s chuckling against your lips.

“Knew it.”

He withdraws his fingers, a tumble of complaints falling from your mouth on a loop before you catch him suckling on them as if they’re covered in honey. It’s entrancing really, watching his tongue dart in and out of his lips while he licks your sweet elixir from his flesh, his jade eyes never leaving yours.

Leaning forward, Dean’s mouth captures yours once more, the slightest hint of sweet brine clinging to his tongue reminding you of where his fingers have already been, and where you desperately ache for his cock to go. You claw between your legs, reaching for the open V of his trousers, hands eager in their search of the swollen length that feels like it’s been burning into your thigh like a brand this entire time.

Beneath his crinkled dress shirt, you fingers finally curl around his shaft, causing a low growl to rumble from the depths of his chest, and as you pull his throbbing shaft free from the confines of his boxers, his teeth tug gently on your bottom lip letting it pop back into place before he catches your lips in a zealous and messy kiss.

Wet heat pulses against your own, a frantic pressure manipulating its way through your folds as the head of his cock breaches your entrance, and he slides inside you like he was made to fit.

You cry into his mouth as Dean moans back, unable to stop himself from responding to the way your cunt spasms around him as he powers his way home, one delectable inch at a time.

Despite the fervid haste to get you both to this very position, he takes his time in pulling out, making sure you feel every bump and ridge as he does so. You whine when you think he’s going to leave you bereft for good— knowing it would just be your luck to have him inside you for all of five minutes before he came to his senses and saw you out the door, more concupiscent than ever.

But just as unhurried as before, he drives himself back inside you and waits a few seconds— a lifetime to you— before ever so delicately, he begins to move his hips in that same agile way that almost has you coming before he’s even fucked you six ways from Sunday. Carding your hands through his hair, his head droops onto your shoulder, spreading soft kisses and starved nibbles along your clavicle.

You whimper in delight when Dean suddenly leans up on his haunches, and with his hands curled around the meat of your hips, he practically tugs you off the side of the couch, all the while still impaled on his cock. Your feet lay flat against the plush carpet, knees clamped either side of his hips as he rises up between your spread legs, the shift in position leaving you vulnerable and completely at his mercy.

The disparity in depth, the change in angle, even the way Dean adjusts the movement of his hips— it all merges into one flawless surfeit of sensations, ones you can barely piece together into a singular coherent feeling.

You know you’re not going to last— three long months without this level of stimulation, you’re going to come quick. And unforgivably hard.

“Oh shit, De... I’m… fuck, I- I’m gonna... cum,” you keen, back arching off the couch. Dean mutters something in response, but you don’t quite catch it, only feeling the way his grips tightens around your waist and the rhythm of his onslaught increases.

Three more bestial and vehement thrusts come in hurried succession, each more powerful and damaging than the last. You count each one pillaging your body, your limbs weak as you strain against him, struggling to hold on, but the last of the three is quick to claim you.

You fall silent as rhapsody rips through you, surrendering entirely to it as if you actually had a choice. Dean doesn’t let up, using the moment you’re at your most defenceless to fuck into you even harder, which in turn only causes your delirium to multiply and you find yourself coming again without warning.

You don’t know when you blacked out, but the next moment you’re aware of he is squeezing at your tits. His thumb and forefinger pinch your hardened nipple as he uses the grip to pull you off his cock before slamming home, while the thumb of his other hand is placed perfectly between your thighs, working your clit in a lazy figure of eight.

It’s too much. The overstimulation almost buries you into the couch cushions as a guttural scream bursts from your throat. All the bliss still left inside you squirts all over Dean’s cock, dripping down his thighs and onto the floor beneath you.

As your body begins to cease its convulsions, his rhythm starts to slow and as if to marvel the mess between your legs, he glances down, a cocky smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

“What’re… you so… smug about?” you ask, voice thick and lust-dumb through his deliberate thrusts.

“Knew I’d… make you… cum that… hard one day.”

You return his proud smile as he slumps over you, placing another slew of sloppy pecks to your damp lips. You pull back, begging in his ear to come inside you and as you close your teeth around his earlobe, Dean does just that.

He empties into your womb, hot and wet, trembling in your grasp. As he leans up on shaky arms, he regards you in a way he never has before— there’s a softness in his features, a longing behind his eyes and when he finally dips his head, he kisses you with an alien tenderness that leaves your lips bruised.

You wake the next morning in a daze, bed covers tangled around your feet, jolting upright in an attempt to try to figure out where you are. The dresser is familiar, but it’s not yours and neither is the closet on the other side of the room.

Fuck.

You know exactly where you are.

Craning your head slowly to the right, your fears are confirmed. Dean’s sleeping soundly next to you, laid on his back with one arm above his head, his bare chest rising and falling softly in sync with his shallow breaths.

3. Don’t be his friend, you know you’re gonna wake up in his bed in the morning.

***

Supernatural: @angelofthetrenchcoats @ambthegamer @akshi8278 @becs-bunker @caspleasesavemyass @clemanime @deanwanddamons @deans-mind-palace @deanwinchesterswitch @deanloveboi @dawnie1988 @doctor-hp-mcu @ellewritesfix05 @fandom-princess-forevermore @flamencodiva @fanngirl19 @gayasslookinass @gabbywindsor @heavensangel45135 @hoboal87 @hobby27 @inlovewithspencerfuckingreid @katymacsupernatural @joseyrw @michellemxndes @mrswhozeewhatsis @peachyafshawn @patrick-hockslutter @pinkshenanigan @quxxnxfhxll @spnbaby-67 @stoneyggirl @sammykb1994 @sharp-cheekbones-locked @shylittlewolf @sidbecross @tumbler-tidbits @tvdspngirl314 @uncreativezx @vicmc624 @waywardbaby @winchest09

Forever: @anaelsbrunette @akumune @amandamdiehl @buttercandy16 @crashdevlin @castiel-has-bees @daughterofthenight117 @donnaintx @dandywinchesterbras @dumbbitchenergy17 @death-unbecomes-you @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @hurricanerin @hoewkeye @heyyouwiththeassbutt @ilovefanfic86 @itsjustfics @itsthedoctah10 @imyournewfairygodmother @imcastiel-youassbutt @jewelswrites-ish @jenmisheels-bi-kid @letsby @letsdisneythings @multi-fandom-fanfiction @maddiepants @mogaruke @my-fav-imagines-17 @nightsbite @notyourtypicalrose @onethirstyunicorn @pink1031 @princessmisery666 @petitgateau911 @randomparanoid @ssworldofsw @sambucky8 @sea040561 @sillygoose6969 @sweeterthanthis @softie-socks @that-one-gay-girl @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox @zpandaqueen

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

Could I request a Jaskier x female reader where the reader is a princess who during daylight, is condemned to be a bear, after being cursed by an evil sorcerer At night she become a human again. Which the curse can only be broken by a man (who would be Jaskier) who pledges his heart solely to the reader (something like true love’s kiss). Please and thank you!!!

Bruin

jaskier x reader

masterlist

Warnings; mentions of witcher killing, mentions of death and angst, curses, nudity, some fluff, implied smut

“G-Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice shivered, as he saw a great mountain of brunette fur, wading through the long grass, heavy breathing exhibiting from its wet snout. “There’s a bear!”

“If you’re that scared, try to speak quieter.” The Witcher’s speech remained monotone, as he continued walking, leaving the bard to catch up with his hardy footsteps. “We need to leave before nightfall, that is when the true monster is unleashed from the bruin vessel.”

“You kill monsters, we’ll be fine.” The bard waved off, though he was terrified, and Geralt was all but convinced with his dismissal. “We will, won’t we Geralt?”

“It’s bad luck to remain out here at night, it’s an old wives tale, however, no one survives the night out here. Not after the disappearance of the princess of Arafell.” Jaskier remembered that tale, he had even seen the princess at a banquet once when they were both young in age.

Neither of them had the opportunity to converse with one another that evening, it was the night she had ran away. and he certainly had regretted never asking her dance. Before that though, they had often strode through the gardens hand in hand, conversing on the beauty of the petals that veiled around the stems, and she, unlike most people, listened to his descriptive forms of poetry. Back then, he had been shy, and not to mention, she was of sought after royal blood. That evening was the last that anyone from the kingdom had ever been seen, after the slumber of eternity wept over their souls. One thing he severely remembered though, was that she loved dandelions.

The princess had ran away, leaving the king and queen in search of someone that could find her, and thus they hired a private sorcerer to complete their wishes. But instead of seeking out the lost girl, the old man took the gold and the lives of old, wallowing the land in distress that clambered into a delving of madness.

A shout bellowed from the bear, and Jaskier found him to “How long will it be til we reach the borders?”

“The bad luck will loom over us Jaskier, we will not make it out of here in the span of the next countless hours. There will be a moon in the sky, but perhaps we’ll be able to seek out cover in the old guard’s tower.”

“Where are we Geralt?” The brown haired poet feared to be met with the answer “What makes you think that we’ll survive the night?!”

“This is what remains of Arafell.” Stated the white haired hunter, as he continued to plod through the thick foliage beneath his dark boots. He stepped on the dull green life form, not encouraged to pursue any further into the depths as he heard the destination that they were travelling through.

“Arafell, great.” Huffed the irritating bard, clutching his lute as he spoke the haunting name. “There’s no need to be afraid, when you’re in the land of torn bodies, because the witcher is by your side. He’ll slash and dice, protect the mice, from the darkness that falls from above. The people are dead, I am filled with dread, in the land of Ar-afellll.”

“Stop singing.” Whenever there was any fault present in their adventures together, Jaskier had a tendency, wallowing similar like a pie without filling to sing. It shrouded Geralt with epitomised frustration, his betrothed follower sure knew how to pull his strings, it was as though he were a moral lute, a practice run of socialisation for the noble’s son.

“Sorry.” Apologised the traveller, with a shrug encompassed by a spark of coldness affecting his posture. There was a breeze, filled with the pinching of icicles in the air, and it clawed through his clothes, clashing with the meat blanketed warmth of his bones. “It’s just- we’re in bloody Arafell, or what remains of it, and you are so calm. Have you maybe perhaps forgotten what happened here?!”

“No. I was here when it queen Ara and her kingdom fell. And that bear has lurked every inch of these demolished castle lands searching for scraps, and if you cannot tell, it is almost night fall, and she has come up sufficiently short of anything, for all these decades.”

The listener frowned, bears did not live so long. It was a curious prospect, it remained loyal to these grounds, although it was empty. There had to be a reason why, a pattern that supposed why it, or she as Geralt had divulged, remained to lurk in the midst of the overgrown forestry. And then another thought (yes, Jaskier had the ability to do that despite what his protective travel mate may have wondered), hit him, like a bolt of lightning.

“Um, Geralt, where is the bear?” He gulped, hearing the rustling of the thick foliage metres behind them. The moon scourged the sky with its global presence, inducing another shot of ambient fear through Jaskier’s veins. “It was-“

“Shut up a moment.” It was almost impossible half the time to silence Jaskier, but this time, he actually obliged the command. Geralt drew his sword, the one that glistened a predominate silver and was made from the compound, clutching the handle in his vice and skilled grip, as his feet took him closer to the imposter that was imbedded within the weeds.

“Oh.” Jaskier covered his eyes, he couldn’t look as Geralt pointed the weapon at the beasts throat; a whimper escaped it as Geralt took a step back, alerting his companion. “Kill it Geralt, it’s a bear, it’s going to kill us.”

“It was a bear.” Geralt elaborated as he watched the beast transform and lose its course coat of brown fur, turning into a less monstrous beast. It was only a girl, with unruly and wild hair that was matted in all directions, her face contorted into fear. “Of whom are you, my lady?”

“A witcher.” It trailed from her lips as a whisper, her tone alerting Jaskier that it indeed was not a bear, rather it was a woman, laid on the forest ground, in nothing but her own layers of skin. His eyes widened for a moment, until he earned an elbow in the rib from his friend for his long and convicted ogling. “I have only heard legends but...

“You speak english?” Jaskier wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, hinting at his subsequent misunderstanding of the situation. “but you were a bear?!” This was all growing more confusion with each passing second, there were too many angles of the world.

“I’m cursed.” It was an easy consequence to admit, for the lady of the worlds already lived through them. “Each day, I am forced to pad about in the brute body of a bruin, a sorcerer brought by darkness himself to this dimension damned me to this abomination, his name was-“

“Lament.” From hearing that name, the woman on the ground was taken aback as the women, trying to prevail some decency, attempted to cover her breasts with her arms, as she crossed her legs over one another. “Your parents sent me to find you, lady. I came up empty handed in my search for you, there was no trail that I managed to find, nothing that would point in your direction. And that night, as I returned with short of nothing of any news of your whereabouts, Lament was there.”

“He killed them all, didn’t he. My family?” The answer didn’t require any verification from Geralt, the solemn, yet usual expression on the Witcher’s face was all the confirmation that she needed. “Of course he did, he’s a poisonous shadow, when he finds something he wants, he takes away its home, so that it can’t run back to the hearth whence it came from. I regret every running away from home...”

“Wait a moment.” This was all beginning to add up in some mind boggling way. Jaskier flitted his gaze aside for a moment as Geralt pulled a fine blanket from his luggage, knowingly seeing the movement out of the corner of his curious eye that she was pulling the material that conducted warmth over her shoulders, and across her sachet of flaunted skin.

"Shut up Jaskier." Instantaneously stated the bard, whom had returned his cerulean gaze back upon the y/h/c woman, depositing a composition of interest to her form.

"You're the princess of Arafell, aren't you. Y/n, it's you, isn't it?" Y/n's expression was one of shock; how did this man know of her identity? She understood how the witcher did, though with considering he was condemned with the duty of finding her. The brunette man was slightly familiar, and so he revealed why that was. “it’s Julian.” Jaskier held his hand to his chest, almost hurt that you didn’t recognise him, but it had been years, so many, none of which had been kind to you. “My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz.”

“Dandelion!” The reprised title spun from y/n's tongue, remembering the nickname that she had given the now gentleman all those years ago, when he was nothing more than a persisting boy that made her flash an unashamed laughter in the midst of poised quality showrooms of noble gatherings. "I remember you." She dwelled on the fact, if she weren't clothed in only a shrill and frayed blanket that was pebbled with small dots of soil, from where it had been laid on the ground, y/n surely would have jumped up and spun her arms around his 'sexy goose' neck.

"You've got to be kidding me, it is just my luck that the pair of you know each other." Geralt crossed his arms, shaking his sleek silver head, being deprived of attention as he spoke. "Is there any way to get yourself out to get you out of this prospected curse of turning into a bear, y/n?"

"To be betrothed to a man, confirmed with a kiss resonating true love, though, nobody with any sense would put themselves in that position for me, there is no wealth to my name anymore, nor is there relevance with my heritage, for there is nothing that remains, as you have confirmed for me. This man must certainly be one of a kind, for he has to pledge his loyalty solely to me, forbidding himself from ever being with another woman again."

The mention of a lack of sense reminded Geralt of one man in particular, and he was stood right beside him. But it couldn't have been Jaskier, of all people, and- Geralt found himself overcome with dread as the bard stepped forward, crunching his shoed feet into the withered grass, closer to the rediscovered princess.

"I have waited my whole life to see you again." Oh god, here he went, Geralt thought. "When we were younger, I was infatuated with you, and here we are, united again in a union. If my betrothal means nothing then you will remain in this shrine of gloom, but to me, it would mean everything to me."

"Y/N come on, have some sense, it-" There was lack of reason for Geralt to continue speaking, as y/n sprung up, the blanket flowing down from her shoulders, baring her body cold to the crisp air, as her hands clasped both sides of Jaskier's face, and pressed her lips to his.

The witcher cringed, turning away as the pair practically ate the other's face, like starved animals that had been distanced for many years, which in their case was true. "Do you know if the curse is broken, is there any indicator if so?"

A hum fell from y/n's mouth as Jaskier's hand traced the curve of her spine, causing Geralt to scoff. That was the only response he earned, and to a high stake, it disgusted him. "I think I'm just gonna let you two have some time to yourselves, I guess we will see in the morning if you're being mawled by a bear you flippant."

And thus he walked away, leaving the two to pursue their primitive instincts, under the blessed moon, and on the routed curfew on the dark and dead land of Arafell.

#jaskier imagine #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #jaskier fluff #jaskier fic #jaskier oneshot #jaskier x y/n #jaskier imagines #jaskier one shot #jaskier fanfiction #Jaskier reader insert #the witcher x you #The witcher jaskier x reader #the witcher x reader #joey batey x you #joey batey x reader #the witcher fluff

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xhanisai · 3 years

Text

List of my fics that have Marichat in it cos it’s Marichat May!

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2019 - Five times he got flustered and one time she did

"Cool? Yes. Handsome? Correct. Hot? Most definitely. But CUTE? No. No way! Not at all!"

Chat Noir doesn't like being called cute. She and the world took advantage of that.

Adrien Agreste doesn't like being called cute. She and the world took advantage of that.

As for her...?

(Humour, comedy, tooth rotting fluff and romance- perfect for readers who like to see Adrien be simultaneously appreciated and embarassed by his loved ones.)

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2019 - Disconsolate

She never really saw the colour white and blue the same way again.

She never wanted to see those colours again.

(Angst, hurt and comfort, happy ending, romance, minor PTSD- a meal for readers who absolutely loved the episode Chat Blanc and are eager for a happier ending between Adrien and Marinette.)

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2019 - Selfish Touch

Everyone's soulmarks are completely unique. Some have markings on their skin, some have telepathy, some even have the red string tied around their little finger. The weirdest ones stray from tasting whatever your soulmate's eating to seeing their reflection in the mirror instead of yours. No two pairs are the same.

However, Marinette and Adrien are fated with a bittersweet destiny instead. After all, every time they touch, they end up in excruciating pain.

(Slight angst in the beginning, romance, some humour, fluff, AU- quite a change from your usual soulmate AUs but still incorporating canon’s events and the lovesquare has already sailed.)

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2020 - Only idiots try to woo those who are already in love with them

"So...Marinette Dupain-Cheng Noir, huh?"

Oooh, Adrien wasn't going to let her get away with that so easily. His lady seems to have a crush on him, Chat Noir him! And there's no way in hell he's going to let that go. However, he has a plan and he refuses to go off tangent.

"Personally, I think Marinette Agreste has a nicer ring to it, don't you think?"

(Comedy, humourous, romance, slight angst and blood- a feast for fans who enjoy Adrien bringing out his inner Chat Noir after figuring out who exactly his Lady is.)

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2020 - Wo Ai Ni!

Plagg thought that having his holder moon and squeal about Ladybug this and Ladybug that was utter hell.

He should have realised from day one that it was absolutely nothing compared to his babbling adoration for the heroine's civilian identity and now, his waxing poetry for the raven haired girl as he finally shattered the whole 'She's just a friend' delusion and accepted his feelings for her.

(Comedy, humour, fluff, tooth rotting fluff and romance- those hungry for hot mess Adrien, smug little Marinette and their class playing cupid, come get yo food.)

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2020 - Without you, what is the point?

The relief was instantaneously doused with ice cold water, freezing Ladybug from head to toe as Noir asked the question that has been eating him away since he woke up. "I want the truth, and the truth only..."

"Who the hell was that white monster?"

( One second Ladybug and him were fighting a brutal akuma; a malevolent, broken person whose powers enabled you to experience the most traumatising memory the person closest to you have suffered (an absolute insane method to enforce empathy), the next second, he was...

Here.)

(Angst, hurt and comfort, romance, emotional and happy ending- perfect for the masochists who enjoy reading the endless possibilities for if Adrien were to find out about Chat Blanc.)

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2020 (Ongoing) - Blanc Noise

It first began with the feeling of being watched and the flicker of shadows.

Then along came missing items being returned in the most odd places.

Soon it was the glimpses of blue eyes in the darkness and a silhouette of white that haunted her.

Marinette thought she saved him, that she saved her Chat Noir from the dystopian timeline.

She was wrong...oh so wrong...

(Horror, suspense, supernatural, romance, angst, mutual pining, hurt and comfort and emotional- readers with a love for horror and Chat Blanc will find this ongoing feast both filling and terrifying~)

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202(?) - Now that it’s raining more than ever, know that we’ll still have each other

Thunder roared in the background one last time and the rain intensified, slapping the surface of the umbrella like stones and soaking their feet. The nearby lamp posts that illuminated the streets gave the scene a golden hue, one in particular behind Marinette gave her a celestial glow whilst the rain looked like exquisite diamonds in the background. A moment worth photographing and exhibiting at a famous museum. However, Chat Noir chose to be selfish and instead branded the scene into his mind only for his eyes to see over and over again. 'Mon Dieu...I’m in love...'

(Romance, fluff and rain- let’s be honest here, Chat Noir falling in love with Marinette all over again under the rain. It’s a meal!)

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202(?) - And maybe it's true I'm caught up on you, Maybe there's a chance you're stuck on me too

"I’ve been waiting hours upon hours, days after days, weeks after weeks, wondering where on Earth you have been." The hero pretended to faint like an overdramatic lady during the medieval times, the back of his hand against his forehead whilst the other clutched his heart. "You had me so worried! I was THIS close in scouring the city for you, Marinette!"

As the cogs started to turn in her head, Marinette finally understood her mistake and she smiled sheepishly which only egged the vigilant on.

(Humour, fluff, romance, sweetness- aren’t we all the equivalent of flustered damsels in England from five centuries ago when it comes to Chat Noir being a silly, clingy boy with Marinette~?)

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202(?) - Baby I'll tell you all my secrets that I'm keepin', you can come inside

The shrill screams from the fleeing civilians and the furious rants from the raging akuma a few streets away snapped the duo apart in an instant, waking them up to the harsh reality.

That’s right...

Chat Noir was the first to arrive at the scene beforehand, quick to save Marinette from the line of fire heroically. Before he knew it, the smirking, devious girl grabbed him by the bell and pressed her lips against his with a softness that he's never, ever felt in his entire lifetime, pooling his entire body with a warmth that turned his insides into goo.

(Romance, slight comedy, cheeky and sauciness- kISS KISS FALL IN LOVE!)

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And that is all I have so far~ I hope you enjoy lads!

#my writing #my fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #some of the fics have more than one side of the square incorporated #but they all do include marichat #gotta show mah loooooove

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deaconusdelirium · 3 years

Text

Have you ever felt so lonely?

Requested: “do it. Break my heart, Crosshair🥲”

Oof, actually this should be better OOF. What you’re asking for is... has to have two parts... maybe three. And I have to change it up a little so it’ll match the story and all, so don’t mind it

———

You ran behind the Batch, keeping your eyes on the back in case any clones were following. You wished Rex would have stayed on Bracca just a bit longer to help with the Empire and Crosshair. Everyone had their chips removed, Wrecker first since he was the one who lost all control of himself. But you didn’t get a chance to do yours since Tech and Omega commed back, saying the Empire was landing. Everyone gathered their things, one thing after another happened, Crosshair was targeting Omega the most. He knew how important she was to Hunter, maybe it was because he was trying to protect her, or maybe to bring Hunter to his lowest point and take him. It didn’t matter, he was still trying to hunt you all down.

The Marauder came into view, you stopped before ramp, turning around, they weren’t going to stop coming. And even then, if you did leave, Crosshair would know and tell the Clones to follow. “Y/n, come on” Echo called out from inside the Marauder. “Let’s go” Hunter joined, seeing you weren’t on board. “Hunter, you have to go. They’re after Omega, maybe even you. You’re the head of the Batch and without you, we’re goners” you exclaimed, “what are you talking about. Get on the ship, that’s an order” Hunter said, slightly yelling since Tech fired up the ship. “Hunter, listen to me. Crosshair is after you and Omega the most. He’s not going to stop until he gets either one of you, I’ll be fine, I’m going to stall him until I’ve got a clearing. Then I’ll come back to the ship” Hunter walked down to where you stood, “you could get caught, we need you” “you may, but you guys are more important. Make sure Omega stays safe, she can’t go back to Kamino. Stay close to the ground and off the Empires radar until you can’t be seen anymore. Once I get a clearing, I’ll come back”

Hunter seemed to think about it since he stood there, “Hunter, we have to go. We don’t have much time” You both turned to look at Tech. “I’ll be fine... if I’m not back within twenty minutes, leave. If even more clones show up, leave. You can’t risk it” “the odds of escaping are not in your favor” Tech calculated, “still, if it’s worth keeping you all safe, so be it. I’m with you till the end Hunter, but it seems we’re going to have to part for now. So I suggest you leave before Crosshair finds us” He moved his hand, maybe to put it on your shoulder, or to make a point, but you gave him a nod, running off down the Star Destroyers hallway until they couldn’t see you anymore. “Hunter, I don’t think it was the best idea to let her leave” Echo called out while Omega ran towards Hunter, pulling on his belt. “Tell Y/n to come back, we can’t leave her” “get on the ship Omega” “Hunter” Omega said, still trying to yank him towards where you ran off, “come on” he picked her up and walked aboard.

“Where’s Y/n?” Wrecker asked, trying to see where you were on the ship, Tech looked at him and looked back down. Wrecker understood, not wanting to ask any further. “Be careful Y/n” Hunter commed you, “I will”

—

You ran down the hallway, your helmets HUD adjusting to the darkness inside. You put your blaster away, crawling through the fallen metal panels that use to be the roof. Once on the other side, you seem clones scanning the halls, you stopped, not wanting to attract them with your footsteps, “hey! Freeze!” You turned and seen other troopers down the hall, one of them called somebody. “They’re still here, we have one pinned down” it must have Crosshair they commed, you shot both clones. The other two you were looking at down the other corridor, ran towards the shooting, you took cover behind an old crate. Firing when possible. You could either stay here where the Batch was close, and attract more, or you could take off in another direction and go as far away as possible. The problem with that was, if the Batch did find somewhere safe and you were free, then you’d have to run back. Too far.

You thought harder, you’d lay your life down for your sergeant and your colleagues. For they were all you ever known. “Do it for Omega” you whispered to yourself, she hasn’t even gotten the chance to start her life, and right when she has, she’s already being tracked and trying to be taken away. You kneeled up again, not shooting at the clones but dodging their shots and running off down the hall you stunned the first couple of clones. You ran down the hall, hearing the repeating of their boots bounce off the walls. You kept telling yourself ‘get as far away from the ship as possible’ while taking different turns and running into other patrols. You now had no other choice than to shoot. You stayed your ground, being outnumbered in a room while a group of troopers were out in the hall waiting for you. You listened to the troopers radio others, saying that the Batch was still here and they haven’t left. So that either meant all patrols would follow you while still thinking the others were here with you.

“Surrender. Now!” Ok, here it goes again. “Hunter” you commed him, “Y/n, are you coming back?” He asked, sounding worried, “Hunter you need to leave now” you peaked and seen the clones still aiming their weapons while trying to tell you to surrender. Of course Crosshair would want you alive, “Y/n, I told you this was a bad idea!” He yelled from the other side, hearing the clones in the background. “I don’t care, leave Hunter. If they find me, their going to know that you’re still here. Get off the planet as fast as possible” “were coming back” “Hunter. No. The place is swarming with Troopers, if you come back and get captured, then I failed at protecting you. I’m no soldier if you do, go” you waited for Hunters objections again, but Omega spoke next, “Y/n, please don’t do this. Come back, we need you. I need you ” you heard her plea, “no can do, I’ll see you later ‘mega” you closed off the line, standing up while raising your hands. Putting your blaster down and doing as they told you.

The cuffs were bind tightly against your wrist as you tried to get at least a bit more comfortable with them. One of the clones pushed you into a room, the engine room? Crosshair stood there, a datapad in his hand while other Elite troops tried telling him that if you were here, than the other must be. “Sir, we found one” you stood in front of Crosshair, looking at him through your helmet, he was quiet, seeming like he was examining you. “Leave.” He told the others, “but commander-” “I said, leave.” He turned his head a little, sounding threatening as he grew impatient with them. They nodded; walking out the both doors and you were left alone with him. “Y/n. What am I going to do with you?” He asked, looking you up and down, you didn’t respond, not knowing what to say.

“Forgotten already?” He asked, “no” you replied, he scoffed, “you don’t see the bigger picture do you? They left you, why do you think they sent you on your own?” he emphasized the ‘left you” part, circling you while trying to look for any sort of communication device to the Batch on you. “I may have been sent on my own, but they haven’t forgotten about me” you followed his movements as he stood back in front of you, he suddenly took his helmet off. Oh that same face you fell in love with, it was just his chip that made him this way. This wasn’t real. “Tell me, where are they? Maybe I’ll even consider letting you go” he spoke. He wasn’t going to, you knew him better than that to believe that he never went through with breaking an order. He watched as you stood there, not moving. You wanted to just disappear under his gaze, for this to be all over.

“Y/n” he called out, his hands came up to your helmet as you pulled away, not wanting for him to take it off. He grew annoyed as you turned your head again, he pushed you on the ground, finally taking it off. You glared at him, “come on Y/n, you deserve better than them. Better than what you’re being treated as now, you’re even lower than that Reg Echo” you never took comments from other people that tried to bring you down, but something about words like that, coming from him started to shatter the glass. You blocked his words, looking away, “join the Empire... join me. Together, we’ll be unstoppable Cyar’ika” he bent down to your height, pushing your head to meet his gaze. The one name he use to call you, sounding so sweet and loving, now sounded cold and broken.

“I hope you know that I’m not doing this for our relationship” you snapped, he only hummed. He knew you were stubborn, one of the many reasons why he fell for you. “I know. That’s why we’re weren’t working out with the Batch. We couldn’t be together, but now. If you tell me, join me, then we’ll be with each other forever” if it was the real Crosshair talking, then maybe you would have said yes, but this wasn’t him. “We still wouldn’t be able to work out, I fell in love with the other Crosshair, not. What you are now” he heard the pain in your voice alright, and took that as an advantage. “Why are you even protecting what you could be so higher, for? Or is it a who? Have you been sneaking around with Hunter, should I have to worry about him?” Something struck a string with that sentence. Was he questioning your love for him?

“I’m keeping them safe. From you” “from me? Or from yourself? The only reason why you’re on this planet is for those chips to be taken out, these Star destroyers have the technology to do that” he pointed out, pushing your hair back and seeing no sign that you had your chip removed. “I could have your chip activated any time I wanted” “then why didn’t you do it?” You asked, he was always known to be one step ahead but this went in the wrong direction from what you planned, “because I wanted you to come back to me. To where you belong” you shut your eyes from that sentence.

You and Crosshair had just gotten the chance to get away from the Batch and Marauder. Taking the time to be together without someone always around the corner, “Crosshair?” You called him, as he looked down at you, “Y/n” “we belong together, right?” “Now why would you ask something so absurd? We don’t belong together, we’re meant for each other. You watch me, I watch you”

Of course he’d use that against you, he knew how to break you. “No” you whispered as he grabbed the hem of your blacks, “you have the chance, you join me, save the Batch while they run with the time they have for now. Or you could be thrown in with the other traitors while he continue this hunt for them. You’re choice” he threatened, pulling you up so you could be closer. “Cross... what’s wrong with you?” You questioned, looking at him in his brown eyes, trying to look for the old Crosshair in them. Your cuffed hands came up to his wrist that held your shirt. “Don’t stall, I can give you the answer when you’ve made up your mind. Now hurry. We wouldn’t want your friends to get any further” did the Batch even leave? Or were they still here?

“I see whats happening, you’re weighing your options aren’t you?” You looked at him, he found innocence in them for a second. “Wh-what are talking..” “why else would they have agreed for you to stay behind and be used as a distraction? You’re useless to them now, if you meant more to them, then you would be far away in the galaxy somewhere with them while you tended to your own wounds. Right? Remember I’m the one that used to help you while no one else did? They wouldn’t leave their own behind, and it shows they you aren’t one of them. They’ve probably already forgotten about you like they have to me, they’re taking care of that.. child. While you’re here taking the blame for them. Think about it” his grip tighten on your shirt, you felt it through his wrist as it tensed.

“But I’m the one who told them I’d do it” “and they believed you. If they actually loved you, they would have stayed and fought for you. Or maybe they’re scared of you, that your chip might activate and you’re going to hurt them so they took the opening chance they had to go and leave you” the more he talked, the more it made sense. “You trust me right?” He asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as he caressed your cheek with his gloved hand. You weakly shook your head no, his words already taking effect on you, on your heart, on your love for him. “Perhaps you’d like to know more? Cause I can take you back to Kamino and interrogate you all day and tell you everything that Hunter hasn’t. You’re what we have, and you’re what we need. I’ll take you over the others any day” a tear slid down your cheek as he watched, now that you were vulnerable, he took it upon himself to actually try and get you to cooperate.

“Now Mesh’la,” he kissed the tear away, “you’re going to be the good lover you always were and follow me. You have no other choice, they’re not coming back for you, even I would have turned back around, even stay behind with you” he stood up, grabbing the middle of your cuffs and pulling you along with him. “This is another one of your tricks, isn’t it? You’re going to use me. Under that chip of yours, you’re only a toy for the Empire” you called out, “it’s better than disobeying all orders from the republic and making us look bad” his silver hair fell into his face as he bent down to pick up both helmets. “I don’t even know who you are anymore” you whispered to him, he was taken back at your words. Your sentence hit something in him and he almost felt sorry, “then.. maybe think of me as the old Crosshair, just.. stronger and superior than the last” he pulled you along while he commed the other troopers and Elites to get on the ships and that he was coming back.

You staggered after him down the hallways as you followed, “Cross..” you gently called out, he heard the pain in your voice, he stopped, turning to look at you. “Do want the weak, unwanted old me to love you? Or do you actually want the me who can protect you, protect us from people trying to tear us apart. Hunters been telling you things about me, hasn’t he?” Now he sounded like he was hurt, “no, no no. He always spoke good about you, even Omega. We missed you Cross... I missed you. And, and I’m not going to help you unless you give me the freedom I want. No cuffs, no guards, no spying on me while I’m on your side” something switched inside you, making you see the outcome Crosshair tried to tell you about, he sarcastically laughed at your attempt, “I’m not that dumb Cyar, try again” he looked at you, and you had that serious look on your face that mean you weren’t going to go unless you got what you wanted.

“How can you trust me when I can barely even trust you with all these things on and around me? I mean it Cross. I’m already outnumbered, there’s no point in trying something” ok, you had a point, there was troops outside waiting for the both of you as well. “I’m not going to follow you unless I know you’re following me” you spoke, he slowly nodded, understanding what you meant. He hand came to undo the cuffs that binded your hands together. “Tell me, why? Why all of a sudden change your mind, just a few minutes ago you declined my offer” he asked, curious on your answer since he thought you had nothing to say. “Because I’ve thought about it, you’re making more sense than Hunter has these past few days. I never realized how much they used me until you pointed it out... I want them to feel what they made me feel. What I’m feeling”

He nodded, finally seeing what you were explaining. “I didn’t know how powerful we could be together, if only you can take me again?” you asked, “who said I left you?” “Hunter did, he said once you changed, you weren’t the same. That meant we wouldn’t be what we used to, he seen us together and he warned us” “only because he knows how we can both get things done, and he’s scared of that” he walked up to you, handing you you’re helmet, “good soldiers follow orders” he spoke against your ear as he moved over to your lips. He passionately took them in his. You could tell it was him, it was the real Crosshairs love but it was the new him that held him back. You returned the gesture, wanting to feel him against you one last time as you were leaving the old you here to die with the Batch.

He smirked, pulling away, “I suggest we get a move on if we want to catch Hunter and the others” you nodded, the thought of Hunter now made you feel betrayed, was this how Crosshair felt? Why risk your life for Omega, she’s a clone, she can always be recreated again. Crosshair motioned for you to follow him, along the way, he told you about how better the Empire was than the Republic. And how planets were brought more freedom than under the republics watch, and if you wanted to keep your homeworld safe, then the Empire would be right behind you to keep it that way.

The sky was dark, and the ships were already running, the troopers aimed their weapons while Crosshair told them that you were on their side. Everyone reluctantly agreed to have you around, you both jumped on a ship, sitting there and thinking about all that’s happened and how Hunter along with the Batch, treated you “here, put this on” Cross threw a helmet your way while he took your old one and put it in his locker. He did like the new sight of you in the new armor, maybe you were meant to work for the Empire. But he’d only know for sure when you got out in the field

———

Ok, so I’m not sure if the heart break starts here, and judging by how it doesn’t seem here yet. I’m thinking there’s gonna be a part three, definitely a part two. But I hope you enjoyed

#crosshair #star wars tcw #Crosshair x reader #Crosshair x you #Star Wars the bad batch #TBB #the Batch batch #Hunter #omega #wrecker #tech #echo #Rex #oneshot #requested #part 1

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casicroaks · 5 months

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CHAPTER 8

NEW JERSEY, 1985

Halloween was just around the bend and, for the first time in almost a decade, I had an invitation to celebrate it. Molly had heard from a friend about a costume party taking place at a bar downtown, and she had told me she would love for me to come. She had even told me I could bring a plus one, so I was even more excited to break the news to Chucky. Certainly, I didn’t know whether he would even want to go, but in any case, I was thrilled –and I was going, no doubt about it.

“You already know what you’re gonna go as?” I asked Molly that Sunday, while wandering around the stores already all decked out in their best spooky décor.

“As a witch,” she said with a shrug. “Like every Halloween. This year I’ve thought of changing things up, painting myself green and going as that one hag from ‘The Wizard Of Oz’… but I guess there’s a reason my younger brother was terrified of her for years.”

I laughed. “What, is your brother coming to the party too?”

“No, I mean…” She rolled her eyes and made a hand gesture. “I don’t think guys will find me particularly ravishing when we step out of the dance floor and onto the street to suddenly realize they’ve been making out with a woman slathered in paint.”

“Well, that’s their problem, not yours.”

Molly laughed as well. “So, what about you?”

“Vampire queen,” I said proudly. “I’d really love to dress up as Elvira, you know, from TV?”

“Yes, of course I know who Elvira is!”

“The problem is getting a good wig…”

“Bah, that’s not really an issue –you work at a hair salon, for God’s sake!” Molly said. “Even though I’m great at styling wigs I’m pretty bad at applying acrylic nails… I’m used to working with my hands.”

We got inside a little shop Molly said she bought almost her entire wardrobe in. There was a holiday sale, and it was crawling with people, all of them clearly knowing that the place was their best bet for creepy fashion garments to build up their costumes.

“Do you think Elvira did rip off Vampira?” Molly asked me, tossing me several black dresses to choose from. “Assuming you know who Vampira is.”

“Of course I know who Vampira is,” I said, almost buried in the growing pile. “I think the more the merrier. Besides, Vampira, Elvira, Morticia, Lily Munster –they’re all rather similar anyways.”

“Oh –Lily Munster, that’d be a good Halloween costume too,” she said with a big smile, briefly distracted by a display of metallic belts.

I put the pile down for a moment, on a nearby velvet chair, and examined each dress while Molly went to look for accessories. It had to be something I liked and would wear, but not something that I’d get too attached to and would be sad to put under the needle of my sewing machine. All of the dresses were pretty, but none were exactly what I was looking for. I had to settle for a simple one with bell sleeves, which all it was really needing were some snips and slits to get to look just right.

I turned around and sighed, watching Molly’s tall, backcombed black hair bobbing in the crowd, as she continued her search for some baubles with which to adorn what was otherwise a pretty plain costume.

“I’ve decided I’m gonna ask Annie to dress up as the Good Witch of the North,” she declared, now carrying several jingling bangles in her wrists. “At least so she doesn’t come as a cat again. Cats aren’t scary…”

It was Molly’s turn to go through the pile of dresses. I watched her in silence, thinking about when I had gone to see that Madonna movie with Annie. Now, I had the feeling Molly’s tastes were probably closer to my own.

“Hey, uh, there’s this movie that came out last week,” I commented, once Molly seemed satisfied with her choice. “Fright Night—”

“Ah, yes, I’ve been itching to check it out!”

“What’d you say, if we go watch it next week?” I said with a shrug and a smile.

“Sure!”

I smiled even wider. Last time it had been Annie who had asked me to go to the cinema, since another friend of hers couldn’t make it. It had been a good time, but as kind as Annie was, I could tell we didn’t have that much in common besides being coworkers. Inviting Molly to come along with me, though, and having her accept, felt like a real confirmation of us being friends, or at least friendly enough. It was just the polite thing to do after she suggested I come to the Halloween party; but still, I did like that warm feeling of knowing that maybe this could be the beginning of a true friendship.

“You know, Tiffany,” Molly said with a little smile, getting in line to pay. “If I had known you were so cool, I’d have started talking to you sooner.”

I looked down at the long black dress I had picked. Whose fault was it, that she didn’t know how cool I was earlier?

“Oh –very important –you know how to make fake blood?” Molly asked me.

“Fake blood?”

“Yes, with corn syrup. For your vampire costume.”

“Oh, um, no…”

“No worries. I used to be quite the go-getter back at community theater. Makeup, costuming, set designing sometimes… Guess that explains a lot about me.”

I laughed. “Alright, you teach me how to make blood, I can teach you how to make really good fake nails for your witch costume.”

“Deal.”

We both repressed a grin and shook hands in mock seriousness. The line was moving slowly. I gave the dress another look, up and down and around, just to make sure I had made a good choice.

“… Why didn’t you or Annie ever talk to me before, though?” I asked her.

“We did!” she replied with a frown. “We invited you to stuff, to go out for drinks after work –but you always said you were busy. And besides, you always seemed so bitter and upset over your breakup, even after we gave you that makeover to try and cheer you up…”

I touched my now-blonde curls. The red had washed off completely, and I was back to bleached. It had been gradual, over the course of a few months, with just a decision to stop dyeing it crimson: but one morning I had looked at myself at the bathroom mirror, and saw the same happy moonstruck girl that had fallen in love last time. It was nice to see my reflection so happy again, and yet I was unnerved by remembering how that had turned out…

Molly smiled at me again. “Anyway, I am glad you’re feeling better now, though.”

I smiled back at her, hoping I looked thankful enough, and made an effort to push those gloomy thoughts off my mind, at least long enough so I could enjoy myself on the shopping trip with my newly appointed friend. All I needed was a distraction. And, thankfully, once I got back home, I had my baby to keep me distracted.

“Honey, I’m home!” I said in a sing-song voice, locking the door and kicking my heels off. “You here?”

He didn’t answer, but I saw his mop of dark hair hanging by the armrest of our little couch. That was what we had forgotten about, that time we went to the Ikea. We really needed an actual lounging chair, or something, so we could watch TV without having to find complicated ways to drape ourselves over that sorry excuse of a sofa.

“I got news!” I continued saying in a lilt, with a big smile, raising the bag with my purchases. “One of my coworkers told me about this Halloween party at The Raven’s Nest –a costume party! So we went buying things for our costumes…” I pulled the long black dress from the bag, dropping it and unfolding the garment for Chucky to see. “I got this on sale, isn’t it perfect? Though I’m planning to do some modifications…”

I waited for him to say something. He blew some smoke, still looking at the TV, which I then realized was not even on. A few seconds passed, in which none of us said anything. I finally huffed, losing my smile.

“You can at least pretend to be excited, you know,” I grumbled, folding the dress and stuffing it back in the bag. “I was thinking of inviting you to be my plus one, though I don’t think I’d want you to come along if you’re gonna go as Oscar the goddamn Grouch.”

He snorted a laugh, but didn’t do anything else. Typical of him.

“Alright, that’s enough. Why the silent treatment?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

Chucky finally turned towards me, giving me a look as if he had just realized I was there. “I just thought you’d be home by now, that’s all.”

“Geez, do I need to tell you when I go out and when I don’t, now? What are you, my mom?”

He took a drag and grumbled something under his breath. “What’s for dinner?”

I huffed. “I don’t know. See if there’s some leftovers in the fridge that we could heat up.”

“You could have brought something, since you were out shopping…”

“I was out with a friend,” I said, crossing my arms. “And the H-Mart isn’t exactly a hot spot, I gotta say. Not that you would know –you probably haven’t stepped into one in your life.”

At least before he met me, Chucky had a pretty shitty diet, consisting mostly of fast food and drugstore snacks. It was a miracle he was so skinny –though there was also the fact that he often forgot to eat his meals. He simply wasn’t hungry until he was reminded of it, for some weird reason. And, when he was hungry, he was usually straight-up starving. And an empty stomach didn’t help with a bad mood.

“There’s a food court at the mall, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he said. “People go there to eat, sometimes. You can even bring boxes of the stuff back with you! Does that ring a bell?”

I closed my hand in a fist. I had grown pretty thick skin over the years, but something that always particularly irritated me was when someone treated me like I was stupid. Of course, Chucky knew that very well. “Excuse me if I wasn’t feeling like having that crappy cardboard pizza again.”

After a whole afternoon of being out and about, I needed some coffee, pronto. Unlike Chucky who, despite everything, could be pretty fussy at times, I knew that a good quick rinse of hot water was enough to get the grime off old used coffee mugs –dirty dishes and cutlery were a different matter, of course, since they accumulated grease and crumbs –but with mugs and glasses, one could be a bit more forgiving. At its most difficult, the worst stain a glass could have was lipstick. I fished the mug that I always used, one that Chucky had gifted me for our first Valentine’s Day. It was the cutest thing, a creamy white with a fluffy grey cartoon kitten drawn on the side in the style of those pretty Hallmark card illustrations, a big blue bow tied around her neck. He had told me he had thought of getting me earrings or something like that at first, but that when he saw it at the store it reminded him of me, and that he liked to think it matched with his own Garfield mug. I still think it was the sweetest, most adorable present anyone has ever given me for Valentine’s. At the sight of it, I smiled a little, against my best efforts to stay angry.

“Where’s the sugar?” I asked out loud, opening the sugar bowl in the cabinet and finding it empty.

Chucky shrugged. “How should I know? Guess it would have been nice if you bought some on your way back, huh?”

“Don’t you work at a goddamn store?” I asked, slamming the cabinet door for emphasis. “Why don’t you take care of groceries for a change?”

“It’s a convenience store, not a grocery store!” he claimed. “And you’re the one who’s always saying we should eat healthier. What’d you want me to do, bring home a bag of Cheetos for dinner?”

“You know, it’d be something!”

“It’s not my fault you’re the one who knows how to cook,” he said, crossing his arms like a sulky brat.

“You can make a grilled cheese,” I replied. “You’re not that clueless around the kitchen.”

“There’s no cheese,” he said, pointing at the fridge.

“Then make scrambled eggs! Improvise!”

“I thought you liked cooking!”

I scoffed. “Like my mother used to say, ‘there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing’. Just because I like cooking doesn’t mean I dream of being chained to a stove for the rest of my damn life.”

“Jesus, you’re so dramatic…”

“I’d like to see you do it every single day, and then try and call me dramatic!”

He rolled his eyes at me. I think that was the last straw. I could reply to his teasing and his bitching, but when he decided that he had had enough, that I was the one being ridiculous, and that he wouldn’t even argue with me anymore –when I was clearly in the right –and assume a silent victory –that was when I would lose it.

“For God’s sake, I do everything here –I cook, I clean, I work the most hours –what do you do?” I yelled and stomped, demanding his attention. “You don’t even chip in! You just slack around, doing nothing—”

“Oh, sure, it’s really clear how much you’re breaking your damn back!” he yelled back at me, gesturing towards the sink, where the dirty dishes had begun to pile up. “And that’s without even mentioning the dirty laundry that’s begun to stink up the bedroom!”

I laughed out loud. “These are your dirty socks, baby! I should know –I’m the one who’s left having to darn them!” I cried. “Besides, you said you’d take it to the laundromat! You promised!”

“And I’ll do it—!”

“When? Huh? When?”

“I’ll –I’ll do it, eventually!” he stammered. “Right about when you wash one damn dish! I always have to end up doing it!”

“I’m the one who cooks here –it’s just fair that you at the very least help out with that! Like my mother always said—”

“Shut up with your goddamn mother’s sayings!” he yelled, covering his ears with his hands. “You’re fucking insufferable! It’s all bitching from you, twenty-four-seven!”

“Oh, so says Mister Happy Camper!”

“Aw, go get fucked, Tiff,” he said finally, opening his eyes wide and furious, in that way he did when he was about to lose whatever patience he had left. “Maybe that way you’ll loosen the fuck up!”

What could I even say to that? I was left speechless. Chucky had cursed me out a couple times before, so it wasn’t like it was unprecedented or out of nowhere; but it always felt like a particularly hurtful thing to do. I wished I had something half as hurtful to hurl back.

“How dare you speak to me like that!?” With everything that I did for him! “God, you can be so… So immature!”

He let out a mighty cackle. “Oh, I know you are… But what am I?”

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t have a reply. I knew that he’d just repeat that over and over, I knew him well enough to know that he had no shame to do such a thing. And, knowing he had won the argument by default, Chucky laughed at me, triumphant.

“Shut up! Shut up for once!” I yelled. He kept laughing, and laughing, and laughing… And I finally let out a scream, as loud as I could, loud enough to be louder than him, and in my anger I slammed my hands against the counter—

We both went quiet. We both looked down. My favorite mug laid shattered and in pieces, some still trembling on the counter, others in a brown puddle on the floor. The kitten’s face was cracked in half, still more or less recognizable as part of the ceramic puzzle. But it was certainly not just a little chip on the side.

“Sheesh.”

I brought my hands, holding the larger pieces, closer to my face. And I began sobbing. I wished I could say it was just out of anger, like I sometimes do when I get too mad; but I was truly sad, I can’t deny it. I really loved that mug.

Chucky clicked his tongue. “Come on, Tiff, it’s just a mug…” he said, rubbing my shoulder. “It’s no big deal. I’ll get you another one, an even nicer one.”

“It’s not just a mug!” I snapped, shrugging his hand off me, and a tear rolled down my cheek. “It’s the one you gifted me. For Valentine’s…”

“Well… You glue together dolls, right? China dolls?” he asked, and pointed to the collection on the mantle. “Aren’t china dolls and mugs made out of more or less the same thing?”

I wiped my runny nose. “Yeah… I guess.”

“So, you can put it back together,” Chucky said. He cupped my cheek with his hand, and wiped a tear away with his thumb. “Babe, come on, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

I sighed, exhausted at him and at myself, and leaned my head against his chest.

“… You know, I just miss you all the time, when you’re away,” I said to his heart. “When I have to be alone here.”

Chucky put his hand on my shoulder, stroking it gently, and slowly moved away to kneel and pick up the pieces of my mug. I kneeled too, and picked a few myself, careful not to get a cut.

“I miss you too.”

That’s all I wanted to hear. I just wanted to make sure he still loved me.

“Look, I’m… I’m sorry for not helping around,” he finally said, dropping the pieces on a little blue dish by the coffeepot.

“I’m sorry for not being around as often,” I said, dropping mine along.

“Is this gonna change anything?”

I looked up at him. Chucky kept his sights square on the blue dish, staring down the pieces I was going to have to glue back together. I wondered if he was really thinking about getting me a new one. A fixed mug might still be pretty leaky, after all. Still, even with one exactly like it, it wouldn’t be the same.

“No… No, probably not,” I admitted with a little chuckle. “I don’t think so.”

He gave me one of his half-smiles. “Yeah, I don’t think so either.”

We both chuckled bitterly, looking down at the now-cold puddle of coffee at our feet, and we sighed.

“Know what?” he said suddenly. “I think I still have an old werewolf mask I wore for a few Halloweens, back when I was a kid.”

I smiled. “You think it’ll still fit you and your big dumb head?”

He snickered. “I haven’t changed that much since then.”

“Boy, don’t I know that.”

He laughed. I giggled along, wiping away my last tears. It made no sense to argue so much, especially over such silly things. But we still did it, and it didn’t last long, but we could really hurt each other. Even if we managed to forget about it, I still had to wonder how much I could take before I really snapped. Or, on the other hand, how much Chucky could take himself, before he lost all patience with me.

As long as we loved each other, though, I had to believe that everything would be alright.

“Got any money left from your shopping trip?” Chucky asked, picking up the tie he had left hanging from the chair.

“Yeah, a couple bucks…”

“Ah, never mind that,” he said, tying the knot of his tie around his neck. “I’m treating us both to dinner tonight. What’re you in the mood for?”

I tapped my chin with the tip of my finger, pretending to give it some deep thought. “… Remember that little Italian place by Franklin Avenue, with the great food and the awful service?”

Chucky grinned, circling his arm around my waist and pulling me to him. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

I laughed, pulling him by his shirt collar for a kiss. “Let me put on my shoes and we’ll get going.”

“Don’t forget about your switchblade,” he said, putting on his coat. “I’m not sharing my knife again.”

“That was just one time! I never even take it out of my bag,” I exclaimed, holding onto his shoulder for balance and squeezing my feet into the heels. “And sharing won’t kill you, you know?”

He rolled his eyes. I huffed, but decided not to keep at it. It was nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a good meal and some fun for dessert.

“Ready to blow off some steam?” he asked with the keys in one hand, the other stretched out to me, his fingers twitching and hurrying me.

I nodded, skipping towards him, and grabbed his hand. I noticed there was a quiet buzzing in the air. I saw, just before we closed the door and left the apartment in the dark, a big fat fly hovering around the sink.

As we walked back home that night, hand in hand, sticky with strawberry ice cream and warm blood, I had the brilliant idea to suggest we played a few rounds of poker so we could decide who was gonna do the dishes, at least for the month. Chucky accepted, obviously; he never refused a game or a dare. He was quite better at it than I had expected, though of course, even as I turned a blind eye to a couple cards, I ended up winning by a landslide. He did manage to convince me to be the one to dry and put it all back into the cabinets, and, for extra measure, he also threw in a deal that he would choose what we had for dinner for the next two months or so. He already kind of did, though, so I didn’t mind much. So, while Chucky scrubbed the grease off the spoons, I dried what he had cleaned and put it back into the cabinets. When we worked together, it didn’t feel like the daunting mountain of waste it always seemed to be. If only we could find a way to keep it up, just like when, once in a blue moon, he would help me cook by chopping garlic and onions (since, for God knows what reason, he was the only person I had ever met who somehow didn’t tear up), I knew we could be so much happier together.

Not that happiness was in short supply that month, certainly.

I was really excited for the Halloween party, of course, but it wasn’t the only reason for celebration that month: our anniversary was coming up, too. Sitting on the kitchen table, with the TV keeping me company the Thursdays-to-Saturdays evenings in which I was home alone, I glued my mug back together in parts, building it up over the days, waiting patiently for the glue to dry fully before adding the next batch of pieces, while thinking about what we should do to observe the occasion. I considered booking us a table at some fancy restaurant, or preparing a picnic at Foschini Park, before finally deciding that it would be much nicer to just spend the day by ourselves at our apartment, enjoying a good homecooked dinner and each other’s company. I certainly liked big gestures, like last Valentine’s Day, in which Chucky got us a room at a swanky hotel; but sometimes smaller things were wonderful, too.

I prepared Swedish meatballs, his favorite, to eat along with that type of ribbon-like, flat wide pasta noodles, my favorite. Something wonderful about cooking was how the place would warm up, how it made what was otherwise our little, rather messy apartment, into something that felt much like a home. The water had already boiled and I had strained the pasta, now waiting in the pot to be served, while the sauce was bubbling and simmering on the stove. While he set the table, I changed into my nightdress and fixed my hair in front of the bedroom mirror, humming to myself.

“Don’t let the sauce burn, hun,” I called, breaking the silence.

“Alright…”

I took one last drag of the cigarette on our dresser, turning my head to see how my hair was looking. It was a truly lovely afternoon. The sun was setting, the last light of the day was streaming through the windows, and he was choosing a record to put on.

“I’m not in the mood for Alice Cooper again,” I said out loud, carefully taking out my curlers. “Put something else—”

Right on cue, Robert Plant’s wails came to me from the living room. I smiled. I left the pins on the box and walked in to have a better listen –and Chucky surprised me from the other side of the doorframe and hugged me from behind, picking me up and spinning around, and I let out a happy little squeal, grabbing onto his arms, before he lowered me back onto the floor. I leaned my head back, and he swayed his head to the music, mouthing the words against my cheek.

“I said, I can't quit you, babe…” I sang along. He laid a little kiss under my jaw. “I guess I got to put you down for a while…”

“Good choice?”

“Yeah,” I smiled, stroking his face. “Good choice.”

“This was my first record,” he said. I turned around just enough to shoot him a curious glance. “The oldest one.”

“Figures,” I said, closing my eyes. “I can imagine you so clearly… A little boy, having his whole world rocked, listening to this for the first time.”

Much like the books on his shelf, the record sleeve was so worn and cracked, and there was so much age and scrapes on the record itself, it made perfect sense it had some real nostalgic value. I wanted to ask him if it had been back when he lived with his family, or when he was already an orphan, living with other kids. Maybe a schoolfriend had come over and brought the record. Maybe it was a gift from his parents. Maybe an older kid at the orphanage had smuggled it in, and all the other children gathered round like they were listening to horror stories around a campfire, mesmerized by this hot new music, unlike anything they had experienced before.

I imagined that was probably a lot like what his first time had been like. A normal setting, a daily situation, interrupted by something life-changing.

“A year already…” I said, turning around to face him and resting my arms on his shoulders. “It’s amazing how time flies, huh?”

He nodded, his smile just the littlest bit weaker. I noticed it, though.

“What’s wrong?”

“… Is something burning?”

“Oh –shit.”

Chucky laughed while I ran to the stove to turn it off, and quickly checked on the tomato sauce.

“I told you to watch it,” I said, clicking my tongue. “Anyway –it’s done.”

“Good, good…” he chuckled, as I came back from the kitchen. “Hey, Tiff,” He took a paper-wrapped object out of his pocket. “This little toy seems to have your name on it.”

“Oh?” I perked up. “For me? What is it?”

Chucky grinned and tossed it at me. I caught it and ripped the paper as quick as I could. It was an absolutely beautiful nail file, shiny and silver, with a sharp edge on the side, sharp enough to slice. I gasped in delight, running the edge of it against my thumb, making the thinnest, most delicate cut, enough to break skin but not enough to draw blood. Beautiful. And miles better than my old rusty switchblade.

“Happy one year, babe,” he said, wrapping an arm around me and planting a kiss on my temple.

“Oh, Chucky… I love it,” I said, trying it out, filing one of my chipped nails. It was pretty good –heavy duty. With a bit of care, it should last me quite some time. “It’s exactly what I was needing.”

“It’s not the same as stabbing, you know,” Chucky commented. “But throat slicing’s an art you already master, after all.”

“Flatterer,” I said, turning my eyes towards him, pressing the nail file against my lips, feeling its perfect metal coldness, before smiling again and giving him a smooch. “It’s the perfect gift, darling.”

This reminded me of my own purchase. Giving him another quick little peck and slipping the nail file under the elastic of my stocking for safekeeping, I hurried back towards the doorway, where the coatrack was and where I hang my jackets and my black leather bag.

“I like to think that today’s special dinner is my present, but… I also got you this little something.”

I pulled a bag out of my jacket pocket, and carefully handed it to him. Chucky glanced at me, curious and excited, before opening the little colorful plastic bag and peeking inside. His reaction though, was, let’s say, underwhelming. He frowned, in what seemed to be confusion. For a moment I wondered if it had broken when I had brought it home.

“What is it?” I asked him.

“You tell me…”

“Well, take it out!” I chuckled. “Take a good look at it!”

Chucky picked it out from the bag and held it carefully in the palm of his hand. I smiled at the sight of it. It was this cute little porcelain clown doll, in a yellow outfit and hat, with little bells sewn to the tips of his shoes. It had this cheeky grin painted on, and half-closed eyes looking sideways, as if he knew some sort of naughty secret.

“Isn’t he the cutest?”

He kept examining it for a few seconds more –I swear, he just wanted to mess with me –but finally he let out a snicker. “It’s… Yeah. It’s the cutest little bastard of your collection so far.”

“My collection?” I repeated, putting my hands over his. “This one’s yours, sweetface…”

He shot me a confused look. “Really?”

I laughed. “Of course! It’s your present!”

“Oh… Okay,” he said, turning it around again. “Uh… Well, y’know, I have no idea what I should do with it. You’re the one who puts them around, sets them in their place…”

“Well, this one’s yours, so you get to decide all that.”

“Huh…” he muttered, inspecting the toy again, as if waiting for it to do a dance or say a joke or something. I began to wonder if it had been a good idea in the first place.

“Don’t… Don’t you like it?” I asked him.

“Yes, I do, Tiff, it’s just that… I don’t know –what am I supposed to do with a weird little clown?”

“Don’t I ask myself that question every other day,” I joked. He rolled his eyes. “You can just keep him around, like with any other toy. You can put it on the shelf with the rest of them, or you can put him in the closet to look after your shirts, or in the kitchen cabinet so he can watch out for rats—”

“Well, he looks pretty fragile,” he said. “Bet a determined rat could do a number on him.”

“Maybe he’s tougher than he seems,” I shrugged. “What would you name him?”

Chucky looked up at me, then back at the little clown. I could see how his face lit up as he was coming up with an idea. And, finally, he smiled. “I’ll keep him on the nightstand. He can watch over us… And we can call him Peeping Tommy.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh, so he’s an impish little one!”

“I bet he is,” he grinned. “Bet all the things he does when we’re not looking—”

“So, you do like it,” I said brightly. “I’m so glad.”

“Yeah, I like it… It’s just a really fucking weird gift, is the thing, Tiff.”

“What would you have liked, then?” I asked him, raising my eyebrows, while he leaned to the side and left little Tommy on the coffee table, next to the heart-shaped ashtray. “So I know what to be on the lookout for by Christmas.”

Chucky simply shrugged. “I don’t know… A pack of gum. A tie clip. A ham sandwich… Really, Tiff, I’m not that hard to buy for.”

“Alright, then,” I said with a laugh. “We’re gonna have the best ham sandwiches available for our Christmas dinner.”

“That’d be just terrific,” Chucky smiled, and kissed me again.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer. As we kissed, deeper and deeper, as his hand got closer and closer to the nail file on my thigh, my unfocused thoughts went to how full he made me feel, how I had never fit somewhere as perfectly as I did in his arms, how after a year, regardless of how short or how long a time it had felt, there was this knowledge that this was the love I was searching for, the only love in which I felt myself. Whoever I was when I was with him, it was the closest thing to a real me than there ever was. I think that back when we first met, when Chucky held the back of my neck and a butcher knife over my head, and I smiled at him and welcomed it, that was the first time I felt I was truly understood. I held him tighter, pressing myself against him fully, wanting to lose myself in him, all the while needing to breathe and needing the kiss to last a little longer. A year was not enough –I needed a lifetime. God, I wanted to be the one to bury him so badly. I wanted him to be the one to bury me.

“Did you ever think we’d end up like this?” I asked him, breaking the kiss, almost in a whisper. “A whole year together?”

“Did you?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

I scoffed, wiping his lips with the tip of my fingers –he had my lipstick all over his mouth, like a big red stain. Chucky scrunched his nose, playfully dodging my hand. “I think… I did. You know, I’d almost given up on dating by the time I met you. I had this really clear image in my mind, when I was a kid… Of this beautiful home, and this beautiful spouse, and these beautiful children, and this fairytale life… It was as if everything I did was just killing time till that dream came true. And then, then I had my last breakup,” I sighed.

He smiled proudly. I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, good for you, asshole, but back then I was devastated.”

“Good thing nobody ever broke up with me, then.”

“Nobody ever broke up with me either,” I pointed out. “That didn’t mean it was any easier on me. I was so hopeless, I felt like giving up completely.”

He frowned, still smiling. “Really? What were you gonna do with your life, then, before meeting me?”

I shrugged, clicking my nails. “I don’t know… Guess I was aimless. What about you? Did you have a plan?”

“No… Never,” he replied. I should have imagined it. “Like I told you, Tiff, best thing you can do is live for the day,” Chucky insisted, laying his hands on my shoulders. “You gotta get some fun out of life. Don’t you know? Every day above ground is a good day.”

“You ever thought of becoming a motivational speaker? You’d make a fortune,” I joked. “Back when I lived for the day, it felt more like I was chasing an early grave.”

“Guess that’s part of the fun,” Chucky said, looking away from my face and playing with one of my curlers. I tried to slap his hand off, but he laughed and kept trying to pull one off my hair. “The closest you are to the edge…”

“Guess you’re right,” I said. And I smiled to myself, thinking back of how we met. “Guess I’m the one who knows that best.”

“Bet you are.”

“Stop it,” I said, though I did let out a little giggle when he finally managed to pull a curler off, letting down a thick curl of bleached hair over my face. Chucky laughed too, tucking it away from over my eyes and to the back of my head.

“Don’t overthink it, Tiff. You overthink it, you drain all the fun from it. You’re thinking about what you should have done better, what you should have done instead… As long as you’re in control of the situation, what the hell does it matter?”

“Right,” I remembered his gift, the nail file that I had safely stored in my stocking, and pulled it out, holding it between our faces. “Can’t fear death when you’re the one holding the knife.”

Leaning forward just a bit, I ran the dull side of the file across his face, using the hooked end of it to pull a strand of hair off his face, just like he had done with mine. He stayed still, perfectly still, looking down at my lips, allowing me to stroke his cheek with his gift.

“Live for the day… That’s a good philosophy,” I whispered. I wondered if he was at the very least a little afraid of me right then. If he was, he was really good at not showing it. “What do you live for, Chucky?”

He took a deep breath and thought about it for a second. “I think… I live for that small moment of recognition just before someone’s killed. You know what they say, about your life flashing before your eyes… I think that’s bullshit. I think that the last thing passing through someone’s mind is the realization that there is no way out of this. That you are completely powerless to save yourself.”

Pontificating again. Sometimes I wondered if Chucky ever wanted to be a preacher. Or a Bond villain.

“And you like that?” I had never really cared about whatever went through people’s last moments. I just found their dying, oh-shit faces hilarious.

“I love that,” he smiled. But then he thought it over. “… I love when that happens to someone else.”

I wanted to ask him, is that why he didn’t kill me, that night when we first met? Did I not have that look in my eyes when he threatened me with that knife? Was that why he spared me? But I thought of a better, more straightforward question. One I didn’t quite remember having ever asked him before.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” I asked him, lowering my nail file. “Yet, at least.”

Chucky frowned, his hands holding my hips just a little bit tighter, pulling me closer. “Well, why didn’t you kill me either? God knows you had your fair share of chances.”

I laughed out loud. Certainly, right then and there, I was holding a sharp object dangerously close to his neck. One he had handed me himself, no less. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I—”

But I stopped myself right there. I usually don’t even think about it, when I tell someone I love them. And, besides, we had been a full year together. Still, even though I was sure I had told him, probably more than once, at some point or another, that I loved him, something made me change my mind at the last second.

“… Because I have fun with you.”

Chucky shrugged. “Same back at you.”

That felt good enough. I grinned and pressed my forehead against his, closing my eyes, focusing on the music, on the pressure of his body against mine. We both swayed to the music, kind of like dancing, softly, holding each other close. I wondered why I couldn’t just say it, that I loved him, right then and there. Maybe it was because I knew he knew already. He had to know –I showed him so every single day we were together.

“If you killed me, how would you do it?” I asked quietly. “Top three ways, don’t think too hard about it, just go.”

“Oh, um…!” He threw his head back, going through what was probably a list he already had made up in his mind. “Electrocution, because that’s always a blast… Second, maybe a classic stabbing –or maybe hanging –no, definitely, stabbing’s better—” I rolled my eyes with a little laugh. Of course he would go with stabbing. “… And I’ve always wanted to try splitting someone with an axe or something like that, right down the middle. See what’s inside.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So, being an axe murderer is still on your to-do list?”

“Yeah,” he sighed longingly. “Someday, I know it.” Having said that, Chucky pulled aside a strand of hair that I hadn’t managed to wrap around my curlers. “What about you, Tiff? How would you kill me?”

“Do I have to answer?” I asked him back with a little grin. “After all, now I got a heads up on what you might try to pull on me.”

“Yes, you have to answer,” he insisted. “I already told you mine, now you gotta tell me yours, it’s only fair—”

“Alright, alright,” I huffed, and looked up at the ceiling like he had done. “Hmm…” I did have to think it over. Chucky had obviously just listed the things he wanted to do and hadn’t had a chance yet. But I wanted mine to be more personal. “… I always thought maiming was an interesting approach.”

“C’mon, that’s not a real way to kill someone—”

“Yes, it is! If you make them bleed out—”

“But then that’d be death by blood loss,” he pointed out. “Not death by maiming.”

“Well, beheading, then. The most lethal maiming of the bunch. Then I might be able to keep your head in a shoebox in my fridge,” I said, twirling a lock of his hair around my finger. “Now wouldn’t that be nice.”

He chuckled. “Always the romantic, Tiff—”

“Okay, but second on the list, it would be burning…” I said. “Because I do really want to try that out sometime, too.”

“Jesus—”

“What? Too extreme?”

“You’re choosing all the ones that would keep me dying for longer.”

I laughed. “Oh, come on, as if electrocuting was nice, quick and easy.”

“And your last one?”

“… A shot to the heart. Truly nice, quick and easy,” I said lovingly, patting his chest. “I’d make sure it wouldn’t hurt.”

He smiled and kissed my nose. “How sweet of you.”

I smiled and kissed him back. I rested my head in the small of his neck, pressing my cheek against his shoulder. One of his hands went up and rested on my back, just between my shoulder blades. It was almost like a hug. I felt I could stay like that forever.

“… You know something I am pretty bummed by, Tiff?”

“Yeah?”

“That I wasn’t there to see your first kill,” he said wistfully. “It’s something important. Life changing.”

I giggled as I moved back from his shoulder, facing him again. “Don’t worry about it. He was just an asshole I was sort-of dating.” As with everything that had happened before us, he didn’t really need to know the details of our relationship. Just bringing up my last breakup made me feel a bit sick.

Still, Chucky was now intrigued. “Mm… But how did you do it? Shot to the heart?”

“Well, he asked me to shave him, because he was kind of high and wasn’t very lucid,” I explained with a tilt of my head, as I tried to remember the details. “He handed me the straight razor –I had done this a few times before. And, y’know, one thing led to another...”

He let out a little snicker. “You sliced his throat?”

I smiled to myself. Indeed I did. My first time. “Yes. Slowly at first, until he began screaming… Then I stabbed his throat to keep him quiet, before ending the slit just under his ear.”

“And did he keep quiet?”

“No, he kept doing this… This gurgling sound…” I said, furrowing my brow in concentration, looking back up at the ceiling, trying to remember what it was like. “I don’t know what did him in, really, the blood loss or the choking.”

“Mm… What else?”

I looked down back at him. He was grinning that familiar smirk, gazing at me with that smug look in his face. I huffed. “Alright, listen, just because I didn’t stab him fifty times doesn’t mean it’s not pretty good for a fourteen-year-old—”

He suddenly pulled me to him and kissed me, a different kiss, and then I realized what he had meant with ‘what else’. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, and after a moment I giggled, tugging at his hair to keep him a few inches away, just enough to answer.

“While he kept bleeding out, and trying to say something, I was still holding the razor…” I whispered. “And I had done it slowly enough that it was, you know, soaked—”

He moved down to kiss my neck. A moan slipped from my lips. It took a couple of seconds for me to remember what I was saying.

“… Soaked with blood. And his body went limp, and I knew it was over… And the blood dripped down to my hand –and trickled between my fingers –and it was this warm, thick thing going down my arm, as I kept looking at the razor…”

That seemed to do the trick. He kept kissing, now with a bit of teeth, moving down to my collarbone. I sighed, dropping my new nail file. His hand went down my hips and to my thighs, groping and pressing his fingers against my skin, and I bent a knee, welcoming him between my legs. And, as he pulled down my bra, licking his lips, I thought…

“—Wait –I got an idea, baby.”

Chucky groaned and grumbled, but I pulled my bra strap back up and hurried to my drawers. I had forgotten where I had put those things, if I still had kept them at all… But they had cost me a pretty penny, so I should have better not thrown them away by accident.

He eventually followed me into the bedroom, sulking, with his hands in his pockets. “Are you gonna share it with the class, or…?”

“Just look for a rope I got, they might be in there with the rest of the dolls,” I told him, still searching, making a gesture towards the nightstand.

“Rope?”

I turned to him. “Yeah, and handcuffs.”

His eyebrows shot up in what I could only describe as some kind of thrilled shock. “Handcuffs?”

I took a deep breath and put my hands on my hips. “Are you deaf? Yes, handcuffs, that’s what I said—”

“Are those for what I think they’re for?”

I gave him a smile. “Why else would I have handcuffs for?”

He nodded, looking around the room, and rummaged through the drawers of the nightstand, now slightly more hurried. I stifled a laugh at his sudden excitement. I went on through the drawers, until I finally found them among some old fetish outfits.

“Ah, here’s the sneaky little thing—”

Chucky practically jumped to my side. “So, is that your idea?” he asked, glancing at the stuff in the drawer, then at me, then back at the stuff. His fingers were twitching, as if he had received an electric jolt.

I nodded. “Are you interested?”

He let out a breathless scoff.

“Would this be your first time?” I asked him.

“Uh… I’ve tried it once or twice, but I think it never…” Chucky shrugged with something more or less similar to embarrassment. Or, rather, as close as embarrassment as someone like him could ever get. “It never quite worked out as it’s supposed to.”

“Shame,” I sighed, though, undeniably, this made the whole thing more exciting. “Guess I’ll have to teach you, then. We’ll go straight to the basics, first level, so you don’t get too overwhelmed too quickly,” I said, picking out one of my gloves. But I looked back at him and raised one finger. “Only as long as I’m in charge, Chucky. Got it?”

He let out a deep annoyed groan, like he did when he was about to throw a tantrum. To my surprise, though, he managed to strain through it, and soon was smiling his crooked smile again. “Alright. But next time we switch.”

“Of course,” I said. I pulled out the drawer and emptied it on the bed. “Now: what caught your eye?”

Chucky really had no idea at all. I ended up deciding for us, since he clearly didn’t know the first thing about what to expect. Since fully tying him up could get sticky pretty quickly, handcuffs would do. I gave him a quick explanation of what I had in mind, since I could see just how impatient he was for us to start; and, lastly, I told him about the concept of a safe word, since apparently in those previous attempts he hadn’t had become familiar with it.

“Alright… So, what’s the word?”

“‘Buttons’?” I suggested as I picked up the things we would use, and put the rest away back in the drawer. “You can say it at any moment you find yourself uncomfortable or afraid, and we’ll stop.”

“Afraid, sure—”

“There’s no shame in admitting you’re scared,” I told him with a straight face.

He just laughed, and, at my request, began undressing.

“Ah, ah –you’ll have to take it all off for it, darling,” I said once he stopped. “Briefs too.”

“What?” he frowned. “Why? What for?”

“I need to have full access to you,” I explained with an innocent shrug, as if it was obvious. “And besides, it’ll be much easier if there’s nothing between me and you.”

Chucky huffed, but complied. In the meantime, I watched him, dangling the handcuffs with one hand and holding my getup in the other. Only once he was done and fully naked in front of me, I noticed how awkward he felt by it. I was still clothed. It finally dawned on me. This was a first.

“… You okay, darling?” I asked him gently.

“Yeah,” he replied. The anxiety was obvious in his voice. “When do we start?”

“Almost there,” I smiled, and patted the bed. “Now, lie down.”

He shot me a quick glance that veered a bit too close to uncertainty for my taste, but once again, he complied. I took his wrists carefully and handcuffed them to the bedframe, and then moved down and did the same with his ankles.

“Remember, ‘buttons’,” I said right after the familiar little clicking noise that confirmed it was nice and locked. “Plural.”

“You sure you know how to do this?”

“Are you hesitating, Chucky?”

He scoffed at this. “Of course not. I’m just asking—”

“Don’t worry,” I said, going back to him, and leaving a little kiss on his forehead. “I got some experience.”

And, now with him immobilized, I gave him a wink and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Hey! Where are you going?” he cried.

“You’re ready, but I’m not!”

He groaned. “How long is it gonna take?”

“Just a minute!” I answered in a sing-song voice, taking off the curlers from my hair. I had left the bathroom door open, but I knew that, from where he was lying (and immobilized as he was), Chucky wouldn’t get a single peek.

There was some excitement in finally being able to wear those black knee-high boots for what I had gotten them for. Apart from them, I hadn’t worn any of the stuff for a couple years now, but fortunately everything still fit perfectly. Maybe the corset was a bit tighter than before, but that’s how it was meant to be worn, regardless. I went back and forth on whether I would wear stockings or not, but decided against it. The long black gloves were enough, and since the boots would be staying on, stockings would just be a bother. It may not seem like it, but there really was a lot of thought put into looking that good. Not that Chucky could ever really appreciate it, anyways.

“Hey, Tiff!” he called from the bedroom.

“What?”

“How much longer? My nose’s itching.”

I snorted. “If you can’t be a little patient, then you won’t be able to enjoy it!”

“Well, it better be worth it.”

I finished the lacing, threw on the spiked collar just for old times’ sake, checked myself in the mirror and made sure my makeup was right. I put up my hair and retouched my lipstick, taking a little longer than needed, grinning to myself while thinking of Chucky being bored to death all tied up back in the bedroom. Indeed, a couple seconds later, I heard what sounded like him banging the frame of the bed with the back of his head. I snickered, not even trying to remain serious, and I went back to the bedroom –and he immediately stopped banging his head when he laid eyes on me.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” I smiled, leaning on the doorframe, making sure he could see all of it. “Was it worth it?”

“… We're off to a good start.”

I walked closer to the bed, in no hurry. He automatically tried to move forward –pulling from the handcuffs, as if he had forgotten I had him restrained. I giggled. I think it was only then that the full situation finally hit him.

“Shit.”

“Now we start,” I declared, standing by the end of the bed. “Now, remember, one last time. The safe word is ‘buttons’. Are you gonna remember that, dear?”

“Yes,” Chucky grumbled. “I’ve already fucking told you—”

“Hey, be polite, now,” I said, raising my eyebrows and a gloved finger. “You’re in no situation to be rude.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t push it, Tiff…”

“Pushing it is what it’s all about,” I said. “Unless you’d rather we just had dinner—”

“I didn’t say that,” he interrupted me. “I didn’t say anything like that.”

“Alright, then,” I sighed. This would be a true test of patience, it seemed. I only had one previous partner in this, but it had always gone quite smoothly. It would be stupid of me to think it would go like that with Chucky, though, of course. He always had to put up a fight.

Still, I thought with a smile, maybe that was what would make this the more fun.

“I’m gonna go soft on you, but you can always ask me to tone it down,” I said, climbing onto the bed, managing to keep my balance as I stood on the mattress on my high heels. “Okay?”

He nodded, but I wasn’t quite sure he heard me. He seemed a bit too distracted.

I smiled wider, down at him. And, slowly, stepped on his thigh, leaning my weight onto my heel. This was usually bad enough for a beginner to start to hurt. For some reason, though, he didn’t even flinch. I frowned. I let almost my whole weight on the heel in one go –and that he definitely felt.

“Fuck—!”

“That bad already, huh?” I giggled and raised my foot. “Baby, we’re just starting—”

“What, now I can’t even swear?” he snapped with a nervous grin. “You’re really being cruel…”

“Oh, I do try,” I smiled. I stepped on his thigh again, pressing a bit slower now. Without me saying anything, he did just try his best to grit his teeth and bear it, staring right up at me, without blinking once. I tilted my head. I pressed down harder. Chucky trembled just slightly. He was breaking. I went down harder, raised my chin, still staring him down.

“… Fuck –shit!”

I laughed and stepped off, dropping to my knees, sitting on his waist. “I win.”

“Congrats,” he muttered.

“Thank you,” I said with a smug smile, playfully drumming my fingers on his chest with my gloved hand, stroking his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders.

His expression softened a bit.

“Help me here a bit,” I said softly as I touched his lips. He shot me a puzzled look, but understood soon enough. He opened his mouth and bit the tip of my fingers. I smiled and pulled my hand off the glove. “Thanks, dear.”

He almost spit the glove to the side. I just had to laugh. There was something delightful in Chucky being restrained like that, he who always had restless hands, who didn’t like being still for long. Even then, just having to take the glove off his face, he was moving his hands in the handcuffs as if, if he just wriggled hard enough, he could get himself free. It was kind of cute.

I leaned down and touched noses. Chucky stretched his neck forward, trying to steal a kiss, but I moved back. He was so predictable. I knew fully well what he would try to pull.

“You really have a problem with patience, you know,” I said, pulling my other glove off and throwing it to the floor. Now, with both hands free, I ran my hands comfortably across his chest. “It’s kind of a pity.”

“Can you blame me?” he smiled.

I smiled back, slinking across him. “No, I guess I can’t.”

I reached down to his thigh, and felt the slight dent on his skin that was still there after I had stepped on it. I looked at it, curious to see whether it would bruise, and then back up to his face. If it still hurt him, it didn’t show. So, I went with the next best thing: I grabbed his thigh, just as he did with mine so many times, only that I had nails I could sink in. He let out a little groan.

“What, too sharp?”

He shook his head, swallowing a curse. “Just sharp enough.”

“Good.”

I dragged my nails up to his hip, scratching hard, feeling how he tensed under me. All of him was taut as a stretched rope, shifting all his weight forward.

“Tiff—"

“Hmm?"

Chucky opened his mouth, but couldn’t say anything. For once, he was speechless. I felt my pulse quickening. I had worked a miracle. I smiled and grabbed his dick. His jaw tensed as he gritted his teeth, with just a few muffled groans.

“You can be as loud as you want, baby,” I cooed in his ear. “I’m not gonna judge—”

“Fuck off, Tiff."

I grabbed him tighter. He let out something quite similar to a yelp.

“Then I’ll have to ask you politely, then,” I said, scratching it ever so slightly with my nails. “Could you please be a bit louder? Just for me. I’d like to hear you moan… It would help me, you know.”

“Jesus—”

“Won’t you give me a little help?” I said now, in a mocking plea.

He barely managed to smile. “If you want it so bad…”

It just had to be on his terms. He finally relaxed just a bit, as I kissed him deep, and he let out a small moan. But I wanted loud.

“Louder,” I ordered, and slapped his thigh. He groaned. “C’mon, darling, loosen up…"

“Make me.”

I slapped his thigh again, harder. “It’s such a boring game if you don’t play along,” I whined.

But I wanted to keep him guessing. I leaned down and kissed him, softer –to then surprise him with a little controlled bite on his lower lip. I tasted the tiniest bit of blood, and licked his lips with the tip of my tongue. He liked that. I sucked his bottom lip, tasting it more. He really liked that. I could tell by the rattling of the handcuffs.

“Such a pity you’re all… Tied up…” I grinned, moving away from him for a moment and kneeling again on the bed. He snorted a laugh. “… Bet you’d wanna do this yourself.”

I pulled down my panties, slowly, staring into his eyes, daring him to hold my gaze. He just couldn’t do it. Almost immediately he looked down, lips parting, as my hands went down my thighs, dragging the panties along.

“Bet you’d like to help.”

I sat on the space between his legs, and took the panties off from mine, off from my boots, and tossed them to the floor along with the forgotten gloves. I allowed him a moment to look down and enjoy it.

“Wouldn’t you?��

He chewed his upper lip. I smiled to myself, getting back on my knees, and sighed as I ran my hands over his arms.

“Such a pity—”

“Then let me loose, if it makes you so sad,” he said quickly, glancing back up to my face.

“So you wanna stop?”

“… No,” he said, after a few seconds of hesitation. “No. Keep going.”

We were really going soft this first time, only restraining him, barely doing anything else. The biting was usual for us. The scratching was a bit rarer, but I had nails, and I used them liberally. The slapping, that was new. But that was enough. Just to know I could do whatever I wanted to him, and that his pride would get too in the way for him to protest, was quite enough.

“Chucky…”

He looked up. I stroked his cheek, gently at first, before beginning to dig my nails onto his skin.

“Does it scare you, that I can do anything to you right now? Anything –and you can’t stop it?”

There was more metal clinking. I laughed. He really couldn’t get the whole being handcuffed thing through his head.

“I’m not scared.”

“You sure?”

I dragged my hand from his cheek to his throat. He stretched his neck, knowing what I had in mind. I sank my nails on his skin before opening my hand, stretching my fingers, and closing them around his neck.

“… You sure, Chucky?”

It was delightful, to see that little bit of fear in his eyes. I snickered, letting go. While unlacing the first few eyelets of the corset, I stared him down again. I wasn’t sure yet if he liked that half as much as I did –but God, it felt good to me. Focusing on his eyes, on his face, as I stood over him, was priceless. I just needed to hear the handcuffs rattling against the bedframe to know just how much he wanted to do things himself. Moving my hips forward and shifting my weight, and taking one deep breath, I slipped a hand down the front of the loosened top of the corset and grabbed my tit. Gazing at him, it was too easy to pretend it was his hand.

“Fuck…”

I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment, unlacing a few eyelets more. I felt his thighs moving from under my legs, trying to get closer. I sighed, freeing my chest from the corset, and heard a little shaky sigh coming from him as well.

“Tiff—”

Finally I smiled, opened my eyes and decided Chucky had enough to watch. I stretched my arms around his head and leaned down slowly, face to face. My chest barely grazed his. He looked down, his pulse racing, his mouth watering. I finally pressed myself against him, my chest against his, my hips against his, feeling him tensing up under me, and rested my head in the small of his neck. He gave me that nice moan I had been wanting so bad.

“Oh, hun—” I moaned in return.

He breathed against my ear. He wanted to say something –anything –he was desperate to have the last word –but his mind was blank. Me, I knew where his mind was.

I kissed his neck, softly at first, then biting down. He gave a little cry. I bit harder. I arched my back, making him focus on the pain. I couldn’t hear his breathing anymore –he was holding it. I pulled away ever so slowly, pulling the skin with my teeth. If I pressed just a little more, I could do some serious damage, I thought. I could rip the skin. I could rip out his throat like a wild dog. It took a lot of effort not to do it just out of sheer curiosity.

I let go. He breathed freely. I smiled and kissed again, just to keep him on edge. I went up, to his jaw, leaving little kisses all over it, while he pushed his head back, encouraging me to go ahead. I kissed and sucked and nibbled, thinking of all the marks I was gonna leave on him. My love. My Chucky.

I was getting wet already.

Finally, I threw my head back. He moved along with me, not wanting me to stop yet –but once he got to have a good look at me, he smiled again.

“God, look at you, babe…”

I grinned as I tilted my head to the side. “You haven’t had that view before, had you?”

He glanced over all of me again before fixing his gaze into my eyes. I ran my hand from his neck, to his chest, to his waist, to my thigh, up my waist and onto my chest. My other hand rested on his naked hip, holding him down and as still as I could.

“Easy…”

I stretched my hand towards his mouth. Right on cue, he opened up and sucked on two fingers hungrily, licking them, still staring into my eyes. He was finally doing as he was told without protesting. I pulled my wet fingers from between his lips and stroked my nipple, moaning quietly. He sighed. More rattling. I closed my eyes.

“You’re thinking that’s me…”

I smiled and nodded, biting my lip. My other hand travelled down and stroked, just barely, just over my pussy. He wouldn’t do that, though, I reminded myself. He always hurried a bit too much. He wasn’t a teaser. Not like that, at least.

“Tiff, you can’t fuck yourself like I can.”

I opened my eyes and looked down at him. Chucky was smiling his usual crooked grin. I don’t know why, but something about his tone just pushed me to it.

I slapped him, hard, right across the face. He looked at me in surprise, too shocked to even curse me out in response.

“Don’t get too cocky, dear,” I said coldly. Suddenly I wasn’t in the mood to smile. “Remember who’s handcuffed, and who’s on top.”

And, to my surprise, he grinned even wider. He gulped before talking back.

“Then act like it.”

A chill went down my spine. I slapped him again –he laughed –there were three thin red lines now crossing his cheek, where I had accidentally scratched him. I didn’t mean to do that. For a moment I was nervous, for just a couple of seconds, before he opened his mouth…

“You hit like a girl, Tiff—”

Again, harder. There was red dripping out his nose. He threw his head back and cackled, his eyes shining, and licked a bit of blood that had splattered over his lip.

“Now that’s more like it—”

I cupped his face, leaned down and kissed him hard. I couldn’t stop myself any longer. I grabbed his knee, still kissing him, and forced it higher, even though I could hear the metallic scraping of the handcuffs against the bedframe. I straddled his thigh. I grunted –it was warm where I had slapped him –and I began riding it.

Chucky let out a long groan. More rattling, more kicking, writhing furiously like a captured snake. He was tensing up to a dangerous degree.

“You’re gonna dislocate your shoulder, baby, if you keep at it,” I warned him gently, pushing him down with my hand on his chest. “And the pain of relocating it… It might be too much for one night.”

He let out a sudden laugh between gritted teeth.

“Stop squirming… Just relax,” I insisted, slowing down for a moment. “It’ll be easier.”

He closed his mouth, gazing at me with wide open eyes, and just nodded. There was a throbbing vein popping on his temple. But, slowly, through quiet breaths, he managed to loosen up a bit.

“… Good boy.”

I couldn’t have ever expected the result that would have on him. As soon as I said these words, Chucky got as flustered as a nun at a strip club.

“J-Jesus fuck, Tiff—” he managed to mumble.

My eyebrows shot right up. He never blushed before, even less this bright red. It looked like he was almost glowing. That, added to the blood smeared on his face, the scratches and the slapping…

“You really like this, huh, darling?” I hummed, grinding slow but steady on his thigh, just for him to get a taste of what was coming. “You look so cute like that…”

He whimpered, shutting his eyes tight, turning his face to his shoulder and hiding under his hair. The whimpering I liked, but not so much that he could still move enough to hide from me. Running my hand across his warm and reddened cheek, I got to his scalp, grabbed his hair and yanked it.

“Look at me,” I ordered. “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

He still couldn’t say a word –just panted, just whined, like a little tortured animal. It was the loudest he had been in the year we had been together.

“You’re such a brat,” I said with a smile.

I reached for his dick. I barely had to graze it with the tip of my nails for it to stand on edge.

I giggled. “Well, that was quick—”

“Fuck—”

“Ah, ah, don’t you dare close your eyes,” I said, patting his cheek. “I want to see those baby blues.”

Whatever sort of release of tension he had managed, he got back in a second. Whatever, I thought. I liked watching him writhing regardless. I kept grinding against his thigh, harder and faster, pulling and stroking his dick along. Chucky groaned. It wasn’t easy for him to keep his eyes open.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Raising his sight to the ceiling, he took a deep breath and smiled, humming quietly. I stopped. He looked back at me with a sudden frown and a flash of anger in his eyes.

“Why d’you stop?”

“I asked you,” I repeated softly but firmly, leaning forward to him and brushing some hair off his face. “You like that?”

His expression softened a bit. “… Yes.”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes…”

“Does it hurt?”

“Just… Just a little.”

“Want to keep going?”

He was so impatient. I could see him gathering all his strength not to curse me out. I just smiled, like he always did when he teased me. After a moment, he finally gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Use your words,” I ordered.

“I want to keep going,” he said quietly.

“I can’t hear you, hun.”

“I said, I want to keep going,” he repeated as he raised his voice.

“Then you better be good,” I said. “Tell me you’ll be good.”

Something had changed in the way he looked at me. There was still that flash of pure white-hot anger, which I had seen so many times before. There was something else there now, though. Chucky had been needy and desperate countless times –but never so clearly –it had never been so plainly reflected on his face. He was unraveling. The smug mask that was his face was cracking to reveal those little peeks I could only get a few times, when he couldn’t manage to keep himself quiet and composed, and showed his hunger. He knew he was good at making me tremble and moan and shriek (he knew and was proud of it), but too often he forgot I knew exactly what got him ticking, too. The big difference between us was that he was always too eager, too hurried to get to the good stuff. Me, I could be patient. I could undo him slowly, carefully, like unwrapping a present, or gutting a fish. If I wanted, I could have him begging for it.

Charles Lee Ray, begging. It was a lot less rare than it sounded.

“I’ll… Be good.”

I smiled at him, leaned down and let him have a tiny peck on the lips, as a reward. He leaned forward and managed to get me to linger on a kiss a moment longer. I giggled into his mouth.

“You said you’d be good…”

I reached for the nightstand and picked a condom, quickly ripped it open, and slipped it on him. He let out a delighted little breath of relief.

“We’re not done, baby,” I said. “Not yet.”

Pushing myself forward with my knees, I moved away from his thigh –he let out the tiniest, most adorable cry –and gripped his dick. He began breathing heavier, his chest and shoulders moving up and down with each pant. The rattling returned. I pushed it between my wet lips, spreading my thighs to the sides so he could see exactly what I was doing to him, how I was taking him in. But he wouldn’t get in yet. Not yet.

I leaned a little bit forward, resting my weight on my hand and my hand on his chest. He was hard, he was wanting, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction yet. I still wanted to have a little bit more fun.

“You really are fucking cruel—”

“But don’t you like it?” I asked with the biggest grin.

“God… I love it.”

I smiled, stroking his cheek. He leaned against my hand, pressing the side of his face to my palm. All I wanted was to look at him, to keep watching how he looked back up at me with that special type of affection that was so close to admiration. As if I was divine.

Just one more kiss, I told myself, breaking character. I leaned forward across the few inches that were still between us and kissed him long, and deep, and laughed against his mouth when his wrists rattled again, and I reached out for his right hand and intertwined our fingers. His hands were cold. Maybe there was little blood running through them. Whatever the case, Chucky didn’t complain. He kissed me back, and meanwhile, holding onto his hand, I moved ahead and began rocking my hips, pressing my pussy against his dick. Slowly at first, slow enough that, even with the condom on, he could feel how wet I was. But I was eager, probably just as eager as him, and it didn’t take long before I got moving faster, and by then I needed to throw my head back and take in a deep breath, and as much as I might have wanted to keep kissing him, we both knew this was coming.

I loved Chucky, of course I did, but I don’t think he ever looked as beautiful, as angelic as he did then: his face blushed, his mouth open and moaning and red from my smudged lipstick, his face shiny with sweat, his eyes tightly shut and his usually angry eyebrows, this time, raised and furrowed in needy despair. It was like falling in love with him all over again.

I was getting impatient, too.

Once I was more or less sure this was as far as we could both go while holding back, I finally reached behind me, turning around a little bit, like one would when parking a car. Feeling my way underneath my butt I grabbed his dick and, gently, pushed it up with my thumb and helped it find its way inside. I closed my eyes. Slowly, very slowly, I moved back down, feeling him sliding right in.

“Oh –that’s the spot,” I sighed with a smile and a shudder. “Mm…”

Chucky pressed the back of his head against the pillow, as I closed my thighs just a bit –clenching harder –letting myself fall on him, on my knees, against his legs. Then up again, slowly, before going down, and up, and down, savoring it. He looked like he was about to cry out. I grinned even bigger and closed my eyes again, wanting so badly to free his hands so he could hold me. Now, though, what could I do to make this one special? It was becoming hard to think clearly.

“Look up at me,” I ordered, my voice cracking.

He didn’t seem to hear me anymore. I slid my fingers through his hair, the top of his head, and yanked hard to call his attention.

“Look at me… Look at me, dammit.”

At last, he opened his eyes. They were glassy, and tired, but he smiled, and raised his chin, and looked at me. His eyes were so clear and light, I could see myself in them. I could see him seeing me. I had been wanting that so badly. In these eyes, I was glorious. I was the most beautiful creature that ever existed. I was wanted, and loved. I was finally seen.

I grinded harder against him, panting, faster, pressing down. Soon enough, I was moaning, and he was writhing, and the bed was creaking and we were at that point in which it was just a matter of time.

“Tiff—”

“Not yet…” I said between gritted teeth. My voice went higher as my heart beat faster and my mind was clouded to the point I could barely form a sentence. “J-just a little longer…”

“Tiff, please—”

“Just a little…”

He had never sounded like that before. God, it was so hard for me to pretend I wasn’t being torn to pieces by it. I understood how Chucky felt. Pressing himself to stay in character, to put on a front and adjust his mask. But it was slipping. And mine was next.

It was a game, like always. Who blinked first. Who laughed first. Who came first.

And he finally closed his eyes and came. The begging had lasted too little for my taste, but it always felt good to win. It was just a little bit longer before I came too, with a big smile, triumphant. And, as we both tried to breathe again, I noticed my arms trembling, and how Chucky himself was trembling ever so slightly. It definitely didn’t happen like that often. I knew I would love for it to happen often.

“Alright…”

I stood up on my wobbly knees and got off the bed. The corset, which at first was like a second skin, now felt too tight for comfort. I ripped it off me and dropped it to the side. Only then, once I managed to regulate my breathing, I decided I deserved a few seconds more in the afterglow, and, taking off the spiked collar, plopped right beside him on the mattress, lying my head on his left arm. Chucky’s face was still slightly blushed, red from my slapping, a mess of smudged lipstick (and I was probably not much better), and crossed by the bright red scratches I had left on him. I moved closer to examine them, and touched them with the tip of my finger, just to make sure I hadn’t hurt him too badly. It didn’t seem to sting anymore. It would heal quickly and nicely.

“Did you have fun?” I asked him.

Chucky smiled, his eyes closed. “… What d’you think?”

“I think you took it like a champ.”

I uncuffed him, carefully, and checked he didn’t get a cut or something.

“Tiff…” he mumbled, gazing up at me, still taking shaky breaths. “… I love you.”

I smiled at him. “I know, sweetface.”

And I kissed him once, sweetly, and snuggled against him, his warm cheek against my forehead, and with my ear against his heart, comforted in its steadying rhythm.

#childs play #chucky series #fanfiction

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