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spookysmujer · 4 years

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Issues, O. Diaz

Summary: Spooky and his S/O having jealousy issues at a party.

requested by: @gemini0410

warnings: Angst, semi-toxic!Oscar, f r e a k y shet 👅 (smut/18+)

A/N: Hi everyone, I finally got a new laptop!! Which means that I can post again, f i n a l l y. I’ll be working on requests that I’ve gotten nearly over a month ago, I feel so bad! This turned out more smutty more than anything, LOL. As usual, please show some love: heart it, comment, reblog, follow and turn on the notifs for when I post, thank you for requesting! And again I’m so sorry this took so long to get done.

(gif belongs to @merakiaes 🦋 miss you babes!)

It had been a long day, the ache in your shoulders prominent as you’re staring down at diagrams on the too thick stack of papers. You sigh as you blink away the tiredness. The half day shift kicked you in the ass as you’re now doing a late night study in the community college library.

The face clock creeping towards 10:45pm, you’ve been here for 2 hours trying to finish up this section that you’ve been struggling with. An exam around the corner. However, the night is still young as your boyfriend, the infamous Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz always says. You promised him earlier in the day that you’d stop by the usual weekend party at his place, though you said you’d show up by 8:30pm.

Where you at

Nena, hello???

Puta, don’t come by then.

I got all these other hynas anyways

You pick up your phone again, the 4th time in a half an hour span, seeing another message come through from Oscar. He has issues when people don’t stick to their word, for everything and anything, if you slip up on your promises you’re scum of the earth. That’s why he reacts the way he does, like he is now with the nonsense.

“Okay, I am all studied out and I gotta go, before he sends someone to get my ass. Thanks for studying with me, I appreciate it.” You begin to collect all your papers and stationary items which consists of far too many highlighters. “Yeah, of course no problem, whenever you need it!”

After gathering all your things and exiting the library, you send a text to Oscar that you are finally on your way, though he reads it and doesn’t reply. By this alone, you know it will be a long night ahead of you. Issues run deep between the two of you. It falls more heavy on Oscar’s side, you tend to be a bit more tame. When it comes to him, he can make it very... personal.

The music is bumping, feeling the bass of it as you step out of your car. The front lawn filled with a few people, most of them all drunk and half asleep already. You trek through the house, keeping an eye for a hot-headed Santo. The idea of a red Oscar making you laugh to yourself. After finally getting through the house to the backyard, you spot him chatting away with other santos.

One of them happens to look your way and nudges your boyfriend to which he follows his line of sight and spots you. He stares at you with a look of almost disgust. He doesn’t move from his spot for a moment, finishing his conversation and then his beer.

You sigh, walking over to the cooler to get a beer because though you aren’t much of a drinker you know how tonight will pan out, so all the help you can get to get through it.

“Why you here for?” He says, sporty the signature ‘Spooky’ look. You know how he likes to play this game.

You take a sip of the cold, bitter liquid, “Here for the party like I told you I would be.” He lets out a breathy laugh, sliding his tongue between his lips while looking down at you. “Yeah, told you not to come by since you wanna be fake. Show up by 8:30 my ass, pendeja.”

Now the tone his voice is changing, he’s looking for a fight. Though Oscar can hold his alcohol, it does boost ego more than usual. You roll your eyes, shifting your weight onto your other leg and shoving your free hand into your pants pocket.

“I told you that, yes. But I did tell you that I’d be studying after work so you know what that means too. I’m here though so let’s enjoy the night, hm?” You pull your hand out of your pocket to wrap your arm around his waist but he stops you, “Nah, you didn’t have to go out of your way to come, go. Go back to studying with your puta friends.”

And he knows exactly how to get under your skin, talking all kinds of shit.

Before you can retort back, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Your eyes still on Oscar’s, him with a sly smirk on his face. You pull your phone out and see it lighting up with your friends name, Ricardo.

That ‘Game Over’ voices play in your head as you stare down at the illuminated phone screen, you click the lock button a couple of times to end the call and you quickly shove your phone in your pocket once more.

Oscar’s eyes flick up to yours as you look back up at him, his lip twitching up. Damn it, you say to yourself. You should have ignored it and continued your pursue on your boyfriend.

When Oscar is really upset, he tends to be quiet, that’s when his thoughts are louder than his words. He stares at you for a moment more then he steps back and away from you, still no words.

“Babe.” You call out, “Oscar!” This time a little louder but he continues with his back towards you and into the house. You let out another sigh which has to be the 10th since you arrived. Heading into the house to see where he went off to, you just in time as he slips through the front door as he slams it behind him.

When you step out of the house you see him unlocking the car door of his impala. “Where are you going?” You call out to him as he slips in. You hurry over in time to catch the door with your hand before he can close it, “Let go.”

Oscar’s voice is eerily calm as he keeps his line of sight off of you and straight ahead. He is holding onto the door, waiting for you to let go. You pull it more open and stepping closer, “Where are you going?”

He scoffs at you, “You seem real interested in me now but where was all this at 8:30? Hm? Studying with that pendejo, huh? Bet you weren’t even fuckin’ studying.”

The venom in his voice begins to drip at you, his eyebrows touching at this point. The fact you were late and also it was because you were studying with a dude is fuel added to the fire.

Issues ran deep between you two, especially the jealous issues. Oscar couldn’t help but get insecure, you are a gem. He’s damaged goods and you always remind him that he is more than you thought you deserved, but moments like this one though? Only infiltrates his thoughts more.

“Oscar, Ricardo is my accounting partner. We work in pairs this semester. So yes, we were studying. And you know I was, don’t start that shit.” You explain to him to which he doesn’t immediately reply. A sign that he is trying to reason with his demons.

He pulls the keys out of the ignition, dropping his hands to his lap, “Why’d you hurry your phone away then? Hm? If he’s just this so called partner?”

Demons winning.

You cross your arms over your chest, tipping your head back and closing your eyes for a brief moment, “If you want me to pull up my roster, I can show you he is just a study partner. I did that because I knew how you would have acted, just as you are now. You’re already upset for me being late. There is no reason to think anything, I promise.”

Oscar sighs and moves to get out of the car. He stands and towers over you, looking down and staring deeply into your dark orbs. He searches them for a moment for extra confirmation that he has nothing to worry about. And as he see it in your eyes that it simply was just a study session, he begins to ease up.

“Please, let’s just drink and enjoy the night, hm?” You close the space between the two of you as he wipes his face of any physical agitation. As he does you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning the side of your face against his chest.

He wraps his arms around you, feeling you under him for a moment as he places a chaste kiss on top your head. When you let go, he looks at you with a look at only means one thing. He pushes some stray strands of hair behind your ear as his eyes begin to rake your body.

Oscar tilts his head towards the house as he grabs your hand, you interlock fingers while he leads you into and through the busy house. You’re close trailing behind him as a few of his compas give him a boosting look.

Once the two of you make it to his room, he locks the door and pulls off his shirt in one swift movement over his head, tossing it to the side. You take a few steps back before you sit at the foot of the bed. Oscar stalks towards you and positions himself in between your legs. You gaze up at him through your lashes as he pushes his body into you. As long as the two of you have been together, you two can communicate with each other with just looks.

Your hands move up to his bare stomach, feeling his skin as they fall back down to his waist and you begin to work his belt. You pull it through the loops of his shorts and then work the button and zipper, it’s a moment of complete lust and there is no tender moments to be wasted.

He pushes his shorts and boxers down enough for his semi-hard member to slip out. You push his clothes down to his ankles to which he moves his hands behind his back to hold there. He juts his chin forward to you to give you the go. You’re biting your lip as you move your face closer to his now fully hard cock.

“No hands.”

He says barely above a whisper as you set your hands down on your thighs. You maneuver your face to be set directly in front of his girthy length, placing your lips on the tip, holding it between your lips as you gaze up at him.

The rough inhale from him and contraction of his abdomen muscles tell you that just your lips on his throbbing head alone is enough to send him into the void. You know better than to tease him in moments like this, you know when it’s no sweet kisses or lingering touches that there is no room for torturous or slow whatsoever.

Your mouth opens the more you take him, eating up ever inch of the Santo leader. It’s when his tip hits the back of your throat that you breath through your nose and swallow, your throat muscles squeezing him like a vice.

“Fuck, nena,”

Then you been your assault, bobbing your head on his member, up and down and never removing your mouth. When you get back to the tip, your swirl your tongue and suck harder as if its a yummy lolli. Giving Oscar head always gets you turned on overdrive. It’s something about the ability to make him come undone, making him come undone is a feeling that sends shocks right to your core.

Oscar is letting out soft but guttural groans, the sweat beginning to build around his body. The entire time you’ve been taking him, he’s had his arms locked behind his back but that changes when you take his entire length and into your throat, holding you it when working your throat muscles. He grabs the back on your head, pressing you into him more than you were prior.

His moans getting a pitch louder as he begins to buck his hips forward. You begin to lose your breath and getting in oxygen through your nasal cavity proves difficult as your nose is pressed up against his skin. The automatic instinct to pull back kicks in but he has you in a tight hold against him, he’s now completely fucking your throat.

You push on his thighs with your hands to give him the besides the obvious hint that you need air. As you begin to gag, he finally releases the hold on the back of your head and you pull your head up and off his cock.

“I’m about to fuckin’ bust, bebe. Go again.”

After take a few more breaths, you take his slick with your saliva cock in your hand to pump him so you are able to get a few breaths in. You guide him back into your mouth, this time pumping him along with the sucking.

You begin to moan as you do so, adding the pleasure you are creating. And the ache between your legs begin to grow, as you shift you can feel just how wet you are getting. The ache becoming too much to leave unattended. Your hand massages your clothed heat, sending you into a frenzy.

Oscar had his head tipped back and eyes closed since you started again, but when he begins to hear and feel your moans he looks down to see your free hand in your pants. The pleasure you’re creating for both him and yourself draws you close to an orgasm.

You purposely begin to gag on him and it doesn’t take too long before Oscar cums in your mouth. The release of profanities and groans sends a shock to your cunt, you double over as your hand begins to falter, the orgasm ripping through you.

After swallowing his seed, he tells you to show him that it’s all gone. He bites his lip and pulls you to stand. Oscar grabs your hand that was in your pants and brings it to his mouth, taking your fingers and sucking on them.

He wanted a taste, you got a taste of him so it only seems fitting.

Oscar jumps in the shower for a quick rinse, as you simply just change your underwear. The night a success as the two you ended up relieving the tension in a beneficial way.

“And mamas? If I find out you bail on me to study with some puto again, I promise Freeridge will be one less body and with a begging puta for my cock to which she won’t get shit for weeks.”

#Oscar Diaz #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x y/n #oscar diaz x reader #spooky imagine #spooky x reader #spooky x y/n #omb #netflix on my block #omb imagine #on my block imagine #Los Santos #spookysmujer

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whoknowsbud · 3 years

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Stand Mutation AU

Warning, this is FILLED with body horror! And somewhat loose but present connections to the recent epidemic! Mainly in part 4...

These are mostly just lists of the designs, and this post will only contain parts 3 & 5. There’s a lot more bulk to what was written to part 4, and there’s a lot more angst written, so that’s going to be a separate post.

(Which is now here!)

The idea here is essentially taking the ‘stand sickness’ Holy and Josuke had and twisting it into overdrive. Rather than gaining stands, the infected mutate (often horrifically, but there are some who look almost unaffected) based on their in-canon stands. The uninfected don’t see the full image; the shapes and colors come through, but not completely. The common headlight-style eyes are a big giveaway (until they’re not).

The mutations here will also commonly hinder most functions, especially rational thought. It’s most often temporary as the infected adjusts to the changes of their body. This can take a number of forms, but what happened to the Nijimura brothers is the worst it gets. The term for this for now is going to be ‘fried’.

The infection is only transferred by the arrow, and genetic relation.

Part 3

Holy has flowers growing on her body. Has a way better handle on it than Jotaro; fully present and coherent, the flowers just need to sap a little of her energy to grow big and bright. So, yeah, she's completely fine.

Jotaro ends up this ethereal star man with so much luscious hair, but also partly fried at the start; ends up being essentially like a big dog for a while (acts on base instinct and can’t articulate).

Joseph’s arms become vines. That’s it, that’s all. Vines for arms.

Avdol is pretty much just fused with Magician’s Red. I say ‘just’, but he’s pretty damn rad.

Kakyoin is basically a bunch of wires, wrapped to make a more human shape. Rather than shooting solid energy bursts, he can send energy through the wires.

Polnareff, like Avdol, is also just fused with his Silver Chariot. The armor and sword are still removable.

Iggy is made of sand. Can shapeshift, often takes the form of a wolf, because he can and he wants to.

Hol Horse has a gun for a hand. Yes, that's all.

Gray Fly... tiny man. Beetle sized old man with beetle wings and dagger tongue. Nasty nasty.

Imposter Captain Tenille is a fish-man, simple as that. Basically take Dark Blue Moon and put it in the mans clothes. This makes it obvious that he’s the enemy the moment he comes out, but Anne is still under some suspicion at first.

Forever is just Strength. Green ship with orangutang face.

Devo basically is Ebony Devil. Imagine making a (somewhat crappy) almost life size doll of Devo, and there you go. Rather than needing a grudge to act, he forms his grudge as he fights, making him stronger.

Rubber Soul is just Yellow Temperance; when he went through stand puberty he just pretty much melted.

J. Geil is just Hanged Man; only seen through reflections. Tied a knife to his hand.

Nena is almost the same as canon; she assimilates a beautiful woman to host her real body (which has no skin covering, so here she needs a host, the looks are just preference), and still leaves parasites on victims through her blood.

ZZ's stand mutation is actually his arm. His arm is the car.

Enya… ghost? Still uses fog for the illusions, still does puppet stuff? But then Jotaro would still have to suck her down so NO, THANKS

Steely Dan, the crab man. Can duplicate himself but at NOWHERE near the same rate. Not as effective either. He's about the size of your average 14 year old.

Arabia Fats is just. On fire. Fire man. Human torch. But more fire. Just fire.

Mannish boy appears with a flat, jester-like face, so the group knows to refuse.

Cameo... genie?

Midler is basically herself with High Priestess's power to become any mineral. Still can shapeshift, but its limited.

N’Doul… could be a water man. Sends his hand out so he can stay safely out of most people’s range.

Anubis... is just the same Anubis as canon. It's a sword, what were you expecting?

Mariah is the magnetizer. It happens through contact, and feels like a small static shock. It does not work on normal people, although they do feel the shock.

Alessi has just become a shadow, his own silhouette, that de-ages those it touches like in canon, with the same eyes and manifesting ability, too. Cannot talk.

The D’arby brothers are a terrible amalgamation of the souls they’ve taken.

Pet Shop is... just its stand I think.

Vanilla Ice is another stand/user mix. As uncomfortable as the v o r e is, it seems like the only sensible thing...

Dio is similar to Jotaro. But green & yellow, with more disturbing growths (those... bullet chain suspenders looking things, and the apparent oxygen tanks on the back). He's a bit distorted, rippling in time with the seconds.

Part 5

Haruno becomes a plant creature (Oh you want limbs? Limbs to hold things? Too bad, you get tendrils!), changes his name to Giorno. The human body is still inside, controlling everything. When he’s truly happy, he blooms.

Bruno's body is just zippers. They can all be opened or closed (although if they're all opened he's kind of a mess, and its an awful noise), and what's under them is just a void. He seems to have glowing orbs as eyes, revealed by a single open zipper over where his eyes would be. To resemble a more human form, he has zippers on his head to look like hair. There are a few zippers that hang off his arms and legs almost like fins, and he will whip you with them.

Abbachio is a glitchy creature that looks like someone constantly flipping channels, with a sort of goo coating his body in almost the exact way it does Moody Blues.

Narancia is a ‘cyborg’, fighting logic output to stay ‘human’

Mista basically goes through mitosis, becoming 7 of himself; but it takes time for them to truly separate.

Fugo appears to be normal, but he has this ‘oxygen’ tank & connected mask. The Purple Haze virus is more of a gas here, produced in his lungs, so he has to have a way to contain it when he's around others. Once he starts getting emotional, he sort of melts into a zombie-like form; starts looking like a typical victim of Purple Haze.

(Giorno's able to take in an absurd amount of toxins and pollution and spit out a shit ton of oxygen, so there's much less concern.)

WE RETAIN THE DINOSAUR SPICE GIRL HERE, TRISH IS A STRETCHY & SQUISHY LIZARDWOMAN.

Mr President is a cube, still with the room. He's like a box. A box turtle, you might say.

Polpo is still in prison. His shadow does pretty much everything Black Sabbath does. Permanent poggers face.

Zucchero is a slug. Has spikes on his body that perform Soft Machine’s ability, and they’re barbed to grab the deflated forms.

Sale... maybe he's already dead. Infection stopped his own heart or something. Or hes like.. a landmark. Like Angelo in canon; fully immobile, but sort of immortal. /till you destroy the body I guess...

Formaggio’s size is constantly fluctuating, not always proportionately consistent.

Illuso... doesn't exist outside of mirrors. He can still communicate to those on the other side, and pull them in, but can't leave, himself. He works similarly to Yoshihiro Kira; ig seal the mirror, you seal him.

Prosciutto has so many eyes. Just all over, so so many. Somewhat shriveled up from the waist down.

Pesci has a fishing pole arm I guess...

Melone is some sort of... digital-ish cyborg thing. The Babyface kids are the same though

Ghiaccio is essentially fused with his suit, with the weak spot in the back of his neck frozen over. It’s actually like the mane of a lion, but ice; he can’t turn his head at all, speaking is near impossible, and eating is a struggle as well. The white album fight reveals a lot:

Due to literally being plants, Giorno has to revert back to Haruno or risk serious danger. This is the first time he’s come out; they knew he existed (he was mentioned in passing) but they weren't sure if he was alive or dead. When he can take his plants form again, it’s... kind of horrifying. Roots and vines coming out of his body, wrapping around him...

Risotto is basically a living Metallica colony. Take risotto, make every 5x5 pixels a metallica bean, there you go that’s him.

Squalo... Sharkboy

Tiziano looks fine, but his mouth is all wrong. Tongues like a starfish.

Secco... mud? Mudman?

Cioccolata looks like a zombie, moldy and decomposed an shit.

Diavolo and Doppio are... basically, literally, just King Crimson and Epitaph. They can apparently switch places? Maybe

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naptoons · 4 years

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Triggered-Joel Pimentel

warnings: Sexual Content, Cheating,Mild Language, Alcohol reference.

Theme: Angst

A/N: this is a part two of story of us , this is requested by @cncogirl18 ! i hope it’s great and it meets your request!. Read the first part here!

joel and i have been getting more and more distant for the past 2 years. sometimes i blame it all on tour, sometimes i blame it all on maybe he’s cheating. maybe hes fallen out of love with me. but to be honest i blame it all on me. i pushed him away because im not ready for the limelight. im not ready for the flashing cameras and gosspi pages. most dont even know what i look like, they just thought i was a fanpage commenting under his posts all the time. some he didnt respond to so it didnt look so obvious.it’s been on my mind all day, even my friends noticed it, urging me to go home and talk to him about it. but i cant. maybe cant because im afraid of the answer.

leaning back in my chair picking at the peeling skin on my thumbs. debating going to joel’s apartment or heading to the party richard invited me to for his daughter. i might as well go home first, maybe get a nap. getting up from the chair, i grab my keys to his aprtment, heading for the door.

arriving at his apartment i walk in the house,hearing the noise of heavy breathing and muffled moans. the grunts that only i would know. but apprantly im not the only one whom knows it. biting the bullet of crying, i walk towards the living room dropping the keys in the bowl. after today i dont think i wanna come back. walking past the room to the bathroom i hear the voice of someone farmilar.

“i told you, you never loved her, you’d come back to me papi” emlila swoons him in, joel sighs with his feet shuffling against the carpet “why cant you admit it?!” she yells at him “she is nobody anyways why do you care so much?” feeling anger in my broken heart i swing the door open, gritting my teeth against my jawline, the atomsphere turning colder than stone.

“yeah joel, im fucking nobody” i choke through my clogged airways

“baby-” cutting him off i smack his hand away from my frame, i grab my back packing all of things “bre listen it didnt mean anything!” his voice breaking and pleading to get my attention, joel grabs my arm but i push him back making him hit the edge of the dresser groaning in immersed pain. but i feel no remorse.

“if it meant nothing why the fuck did you do it?!” i yell through the tears, i tried to be strong. to not cry in front of him. he didnt deserve my tears, he didnt deserve anything from me at this moment. “get the fuck away from me joel, i never want to see your fucking face ever again” grabbing my packed bag i place it on my shoulders before stepping out the room, i look back at emailia to see her smiling.

“you think you have everything right now, but if he did this to me, what makes you think he wont do it to you?” i pour my venom on her, her smile slowly falling flat and changing into anger “misery loves company, i hope you guys are miserable together karma is a bitch” with my words i feel my shoulders become lighter, running downstairs i hear joel yelling my name behind me, getting to the front door i slam it behind me getting in my car.

“what a fucking fool i am” i breathe out “thinking we could ever be something, neither of us was ready” i grab my phone calling lunay as i back out of his driveway, the tears begin to roll down my cheeks clouding my vision all i can see if dots of red and white lights.

“hola mami” lunay’s voice hones in on my ears. insatly my voice cracks trying to keep it together, i just break down and cry gripping the steering wheel as my knuckles drain the blood from them. “hey bre are you okay? where are you?”

wiping my face i inhale heavily “joel cheated on me” i let out “can i come over?” i ask, before hearing the answer all that fills my ears is the skid of tires on the road, and the reverb of a collision. The vision I once had colored like a void.

Pitch dark.

Opening my eyes to the angelic light, I groan as it burns my cornea, covering them with my fingers I sigh heavily. “Welp I guess that’s a sign to use night mode” I let out, slowly regaining my eyesight looking over at a puzzled wreck of a cousin. Smiling slightly I reach for his hand “hey, what’s got you so tangled up Charlotte?”

“You’ve been unconscious for three weeks, that’s what, and get a better joke that was corny” Christopher smiled slightly at the end, but I could tell that smile was fake. “And I’m wondering should I kill someone” his voice taking the form of malice.

“If you were to do that you couldn’t see your precious cousin” I smile followed by his scoff “wouldn’t say precious” he insults me. Lunay walls into the room sighing of relief “wow, did y’all really think I was going to die?” I laugh “y’all had no hope for me huh? What a sha...” getting my sentence cut off by his hug around my neck, I smile softly my fingers rubbing his back. “Hey you” I let out. He must’ve been so worried.

Lunay has been taking care of me for a whole month. I had to go to recovery, I lost a little bit of feeling in my legs so I started walking little by little, they also recalled my brain is a little fuzzy prior three minutes before the crash. Sadly it didn’t make me forget I got Joel cheating on me. With the girl who tried to break us up even before a label. I guess she got what she wanted. I haven’t seen or heard from Joel since that day. Part of me wants to reach out. But another part says “fuck him he pushed you away” tapping on the bow empty cereal bowl I hear the chunks of shoes hitting the floor.

“Aye mami, you okay?” Lunay rubs my shoulders, moaning at the tension in my body I nod my head slightly “are you sure? I’m here for you if you need a shoulder to cry on”

“Hm no I’m tired of crying, I’m moving on now”

“Aye nena! That’s right, you can do better” he encourages me. Lunay was throwing a party at his house tonight for a celebration on winning an award. I joined in even though Lunay told me I didn’t have to I just couldn’t be soaking in my sadness. It’s not going to fix anything so what’s the point of moping? Grabbing the drink on the counter I gulp it in one shot feeling it burn down my throat rapidly. Every cnco member was here but Joel. Made me wonder is he trying to avoid me? Why should he? He cheated on me he shouldn’t have any shame he knew what he got himself into. He shouldn’t have any shame it’s what he wanted anyways.

Drinking down another shot Richard furrows his eyes at me smiling I wave at him “what’s up Richard? You scared to drink?” I ask him

“Scared of you drinking, I don’t think you’re in the right headspace to be drinking nena” his lips fall in a flat line leaning against the counter, grabbing the bottle of liquor I grab my red solo cup this time.

“I think I’m just fine, I can’t sit around here and fucking waste my time in being sad, it’s been a whole month Richard, im fine” I crack open the cranberry juice to fuse with the liquor. “So stop worrying about me okay?”

“I’m worried about the both of y’all, hoping neither of you collapse first” Richard mumbles while walking away, I wanna ask him what that was about but I’m stopped by Lunay. With the biggest smile on his face.

“Hey? You good having fun?”

“Never better! Let’s dance” grabbing his hand with my left I sip with my right, everyone was bumping and grinding on their designated partner. Everyone here was having a great time. No one had a mask on themselves. Drinking, smoking falling in love in his backyard. Five cups down and the world was spinning. Taking off shoes and dancing on tables. I was dancing it away.

The pain away. Fuck it still hurt.

But there’s always three sides to a story.

His. Mine. And the side neither of us talked about.

Giggling on the couch I lay my head on christopers shoulder “hey cousin how are you?” I slur followed by a hiccup “I haven’t seen you since the hospital what are you up to these days?” My face felt hot and was probably showing hues of red. Maybe even pink.

“Babysitting two broken people is what” Christopher groans, he was rarely serious so this caught me off guard. Being to drunk to even ask I hug him.

“Aye, there’s no use in worrying, you gotta have a hurricane before the rainbow, I’ll be okay I promise”

“I hope so, we don’t want any more collateral damage” he hums in my ear.

The party was over and I watched as the few people that stayed over, Lunay was cleaning up trash until he saw me laying in the couch. “Mami, go to bed, or would you like me to drive you home?”

“Id rather not be alone” I mumble, almost throaty, suppressing the cries I want to let out. I can’t I’m done crying. I’ve been doing it for a whole month.

“Hey” he bends down to my level, running the pads of his thumb on my cheek “you’re never alone I promise” his eyes twinkled in love, I’m feeling the same way I did towards Joel. How can this be true? Have I moved on that quick?

Richard went back to Joel’s apartment, just as he was about to knock on the door, emailia opens it, her face showing signs of panic. “Wheres joel?” She asks

“And you think I would tell you? Plus that’s why I’m here to see was he here” Richard smugly answers

“So wait, hes not with you?” emailia asks

“Nope” Richard grabs his phone dialing his number, but to his demise it goes straight to the voicemail. Richard mumbling a soft curse word under his breath. “His phone is off”

“Oh my god fuck” she paces while chewing on her thumb, Richard looks at her with no sympathy but he just knew his mind had to ask.

“So what lie did you tell him hm?” emailia turns around on her heels looking back at him dumbfounded

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me I didn’t stutter, Joel is completely and utterly in love with bre, what did you say?!” Richard snaps are her, feeling Christopher pull him back slightly, “rich calm down”

“I didn’t tell him anything! He told me he felt bre was fading from him, and the more he tried the more she pulled, all I said was maybe she found someone else”

“Then took his sadness as your advantage to comfort him” Richard spits, walking away slowly

“You know damn well I love him!”

“If you did he wouldn’t be in this situation” Richard mumbles before getting in the car. “So? How are we going to find Joel?”

“We can’t, he’s been so secretive lately. Who knows where he is, the only thing I can think of is just wait for band practice or for him to come home” Richard sighs heavily “this is a fucking hurricane”

The bright sun beams on my eyelashes, squirming I feel a arm wrapped around my waist and the feeling of a chin in my shoulder. Slowly lifting the covers I gaze upon our naked bodies entwined together. Sighing and softly cursing to myself I sink my head deeper in the pillow.

Lunay and I hooked up.

Drunk hookup.

Slowly getting up from the bed I grab my clothes putting them on one by one. Until a hear a husky groan “good morning” he mumbles, my luck. Smiling I make it back to the bed sitting in front of him.

“Good morning” I whisper back

“How you feeling?” He asks

Embrassed.regretful.sad.

“Good, I had a good sleep”

“I imagine so” he jokes, getting up from the bed slowly “look bre, I don’t wanna be your rebound, I know this is the worst timing but, I’ve had a crush on you for the longest, and seeing how broken you are hurts me” freezing at his sudden words I looking down at the my tangled up fingers, “I want you to find what you mean to yourself, I want you to fix yourself, even if that means talking to him again”

“Lunay, I can’t even look him in the eyes and not want to cry”

“So? Isn’t better than wondering and drinking alcohol, not to mention losing your mind not knowing what to do” Lunay grabs my hand kissing my knuckles softly “bre, you deserve love okay? Don’t think that there won’t be someone out there for you”

Nodding my head I decided to face him head on. To talk about the problems I’ve never discussed.

Arriving at Joel’s apartment my stomach drops in depths. Never thought I’d come back here. Having ptsd just by looking at the snowflake walls, the way his plants on his patio are slowly decaying. He really isn’t doing to well just like me. Why is this so hard on him? I’m the one that should be triggered.

Knocking on the door I wait for his answer, the door swings open, smelling like a strand of weed. “Richard I told you-” his sentence is cut off by the sight of my eyes glued in his. “What are you doing here?”

“To talk” I answer

“What is there to talk about, I made you look stupid” Joel sighs

“yeah you’re fucking right you made me look like a fool, but I can’t blame you, maybe I pushed you towards that resort, not saying what you did was okay, but maybe the way I treated you inflicted this” I sigh leaning against the wall “can I come in?”

Joel opens the door for me to come in, closing the door behind me I see the mess his living room is in, I see the empty beer bottles and burned out half blunts. The edibles wrappers over the floor. Looking back at joel I see his hand is wrapped in a gauze. What has he been going through? I grab a bag as I start picking up his trash, “no it’s okay I’ll clean it up” Joel suggests but I grab his hand leading him to the couch.

“Let me help you, let someone help you okay? We gotta stop shoving people out” I stammer through my tears. Finish with cleaning up the mess, Joel and I sit on opposite sides of the couch.

“I’ve had two boyfriends in my lifetime, and when it got past two years, shit just started going downhill, one was abusive and one was a pathological liar and a drug addict” I start off, Joel’s eye filling to the brim with water, with just one touch they would pour down his lips. “It’s tiring opening and closing parts of me just to repeat the cycle, and when you cheated on me, I just saw you as the rest, I yelled at you and blamed you, I claimed you ruined everything, I wanted to fight you guys both, knowing she’d probably sue me or charged me with battery”

“In that heat of the moment I was willing to catch a case for it, cause you know me, when I get mad I get big mad, weeks after my accident I was going to call you, maybe even text you but I couldn’t, when I typed on the bubble I Tried my hardest not to disrespect you After what you did, man, what you expected?” My eyes looking at the tearful golden boy, his cheeks and nose were pink, so was his ears, glistening cheeks swelling up at the minute.

“I felt so Triggered, when I hear your name but also I was Triggered, because I am not okay, I was getting drunk partying hooking up with people all because I still missed you, Of our memories All you meant to meAll that history All that's history” my fingers trembling to grab his hand, caressing my thumb over his.

“But ain't no me and you without you in it, so I just wanna say I’m sorry, I pushed you away and made you feel like I didn’t love you, because I now know I do, I really do love you joel” the tears now falling out of his eyes, mirroring mine in the same gesture.

“I’m sorry too, I should’ve never talked to her about our problems, I should’ve came to you, but it isn’t your fault, I was the one who decided to have sex with her in our bed, no matter what I should’ve came and talked to you” Gravelly his voice echos the room, pulling him towards me, I wrap my arms around his head, letting him sob into my hoodie. As I begin to cry along with him.

“We’re both you blame, all we needed was to communicate” my wobbly voice whispers on his ear. “I accept your apology Joel, just promise we won’t run away from each other” feeling his body stop shuttering his head pulls out hovering over me.

“Yeah, I won’t run unless you promise to not run, and let’s better ourselves” Joel sniffs

“I’m not going anywhere, maybe someday we’d could be something more than friends again, you have my heart joel. We just need to fix ourselves before becoming one, but I don’t mind taking it slow with you”

“No labels? Just chilling?”

“Yeah” I smile caressing his face “slow burns”

“Slow burns”

#joel pimentel concepts #cnco joel #joel pimentel

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queerchoicesblog · 5 years

Text

Rooftop Talks (Platinum, F!Raleigh x MC)

Since I noticed so many fics starring M! Raleigh but none with F! Raleigh, here’s my attempt to fill that void. Inspired by the rooftop scene, this is my entry for the prompt “ honesty” of the @choicesjulychallenge hosted by @kinda-iconic !

In short, Raleigh and Rachel (Dorian, MC) grow closer as they make a habit of meeting on the abandoned building’s rooftop to avoid paparazzi and spend with each other. Then one night Rachel has a question for Raleigh...

Prompt: Honesty

Discalimer: mild use of bad words and hispano hablantes over here: I tried to incorporate some occasional Spanish in here - I wanted to incorporate that trait in Raleigh’s character- so please tell me if I messed something up with the language (I took Spanish classes ages ago) or in general and I’ll fix it!

Word Count: 2328

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @melodyofgraves @bhavf @abunchofbadchoices @silverhawkenzie @begging-for-kamilah @kennaxval @strangerofbraidwood @crazypeanat @desiree-0816 @universallypizzataco

F! Raleigh x MC Tag: @hellospunkiebrewster @furiouscloddonutpeanut

________________________

The night of the charity gala none of them would have expected it to happen again but Raleigh and Rachel made a habit to sneak away from the paparazzi and hide on the rooftop to catch some breath. They would chat and flirt, share takeaway food and views and suggestions about each other new songs. Some nights they would even bring their guitars and jam together: most of the times they would end up playing and singing their heart out silly hits of the past or campfire songs only to laugh till their cheeks hurt as if they were teens at a party their parents knew nothing about. Other nights they would be a soundboard for each other, especially Raleigh: she would listen to Rachel's ramblings and second-guessing herself and offer her advice: how to keep the tune on that note, a better rhyme, a few sick moves for her next video...even how to make the right impression during interviews, because Raleigh was a professional, not just her rebel stage persona, and she had been around journalists and paparazzi way more than the new sweet shining star.

In return, Rachel would suggest new kinder strategies to deal with fame and fans or to call home every once in a while: even if she left when she was fifteen, she must have someone who missed her. The thought made Raleigh smile, but in a good way: it was almost painful to see how genuinely good the Dorian girl was.

"Are you homesick, Rachel?" she inquired to divert the question.

"Hm, not really, no...” she said, stirring her noodles as she considered her answer. "But I've lived with my parents longer than you did. I just wanted to break free and find a place of my own after I got my high school diploma. I mean, I love them but at a certain point in life, your roads need to part, so to speak, right? But you, it was different for you...that's why I asked. I hope I didn't overstep though" Raleigh shrugged and took a bite of sesame chicken.

"I talked with dad a couple of weeks ago. It was his birthday, mom and the whole family squad set up a party for him. And just so you know, he hates parties. He's a good ol' grumpy fellow"

"Aw cool! I bet he's your number one fan even if maybe he doesn't show it much? I mean, your whole family should be your number one fan!"

"Nah, papi sticks and will always stick with the classics till the end of time and mamita y tìa were and still are -I guess- huge fans of Ricky Martin, el Rey del Pop Latino" Raleigh explained.

She didn't realize until the day after that she couldn't remember the last time she had talked about her family with someone. Everyone always asked her about future plans, career path, tips maybe, but private life? Never. Unless it meant asking out on dates, heavy flirting or scandalous gossips about a former lover. Only Rachel asked her about the life she had left behind in Puerto Rico and everybody had long lost interest in.

"You don't strike me as a fan of Ricky Martin" Dorian chuckled.

The R&B singer flashed her a wide grin.

"Not exactly, but thanks to them I can make quite a good impression of him. Wanna see it?"

"Is that even a question? Of course!"

Raleigh laughed and reached for her phone as the new star put down her empty food box and shifted to sit more comfortably. She scrolled down a YouTube playlist then her eyes met Rachel's again.

"You ready?"

As the young woman nodded she pressed play and ran her hand through her hair and produced her best puppy dog eyes, making Rachel laugh. She put down her phone and walked backward theatrically opening her arms.

Un, dos, tres Un pasito pa'lante María Un, dos, tres Un pasito pa' atrás

Then as the tune became more upbeat she produced herself in a complicated yet effortlessly fluid sequence of hands clapping, swirling and hips swaying. Latin Pop may have not been her favorite genre but damn, she owned the choreography just as she owned the stage during her shows.

Así es María Blanca como el día

She sang quickly stroking Rachel's cheek with one finger before spinning and turning away.

Pero es veneno si te quieres enamorar Así es María Tan caliente y fría Que si te la bebes de seguro te va a matar

After striking a dramatic pose, she winked just before bursting into laughter.

"Oh my God! That was everything, Raleigh!" Rachel enthusiastically applauded.

"Muchas gracias, nena" she said ruffling her hair and taking her seat beside her.

"Now I'm living to see a Ricky Martin and Raleigh Carrera duet"

Raleigh looked at her and snorted.

"I don't see it happening but paradoxically my team might love the idea so never say it out loud when they're around. Never!"

"A girl can dream, right?" Rachel shrugged and giggled.

All of a sudden way less bubbly considerations crossed her mind and she lost in her own train of thoughts. A girl can dream...she had repeated those few words in her head so many times lately. Every time Raleigh absentmindedly stroked her arms on a fake date, every time she caught her looking at her from afar, every time they kissed.

Then the night of the gala happened. When the two of them sneaked away and hopped on Raleigh's motorbike. She still remembered the cool breeze of the night caressing her skin as she held herself to her "girlfriend". That was a moment of rare perfection: the two of them finally alone and careless, the adrenaline of the ride, the warmth of "the R&B time bomb"'s body pressed against her. When they arrived on the rooftop and she admired the breathing view of New York skyline, her head almost started spinning, just like when Raleigh twirled her in her arms on the gala dance floor.

But what made her heart skip a beat was hearing Raleigh talking about that place, sharing memories of her past, when her teen self felt lost and lonely in the big city...and her project to turn the abandoned building into a community center for kids.

"You make me feel like I want to tell you things. I don't know why" Raleigh confessed that night.

That was when a familiar warmth settled into Rachel's chest. The same feeling she experienced when her high school crush caught her singing to herself in the auditorium and told her that she sounded like an angel and stopped to chat. She didn't ask her out before leaving - Rachel Dorian life had never been a romcom so far- but the little casual talk stole her younger self's breath away.

Rachel instinctively knew that Raleigh never shared that with anyone else. It was just her tone, the way she said it. And she couldn't remember a single interview or tweet mentioning it. So...Raleigh's walls were crumbling down? You don't share secrets, very private secrets with anyone!

Maybe I was just being paranoid as my usual...maybe I didn't misread the signs, she thought as Raleigh not only accepted but enthusiastically returned the kiss that followed. And took her to the railing, her lips never leaving hers or her neck.

But later...

Raleigh suddenly making a loud noise with her soda breaking her train of thoughts.

"Earth to Rachel"

Avery's protege turned to see her looking at her with a slightly amused grin on her face as she played with the straw.

"Sorry, I spaced out" Rachel smiled shyly, avoiding eye contact.

"No biggie. Just glad we're on the same planet again"

Rachel looked at her sideways: Raleigh was happily humming one of her latest songs. She seemed to be in a good mood, she always was in a good mood when she was on that rooftop. Or so Rachel could tell by what she saw over the past few weeks. Which lead her to summon up her courage and ask her a question that had been troubling her for a while.

"Why did you bring me here the night of the gala?"

Raleigh was probably caught off guard by that but concealed it well. She shrugged again and leaned down on the carpet, propping herself up on one elbow.

"I told you, I had to take a break from those stupid fraud activists and this is where I go to catch my breath. We were at the gala together so it made sense to ask you to join. Lie to me and tell me you don't like it here" she said, flashing her signature grin.

"Of course I do" Rachel gave a quick smile.

Maybe that's the problem. I like it here, when it's just the two of us, no one else in sight...probably I like it too much.

But this conversation was going nowhere. So she sighed and spoke again, hoping to find answers and hopefully reassurance:

"Our time is ticking out, right?"

When Raleigh looked up to her, the usual cheerfulness of Rachel had been replaced by what looked like...melancholy?

"What? It's barely midnight, the night is still young, Rachel!" she joked to clear the mood.

Then she gave another grin and reached to playfully bump the other girl's arm.

"I have a bad reputation in case you haven't noticed. You should know that I'm not the kind of girlfriend who respects nor gives a damn about curfews."

But Rachel didn't play along this time.

"That's not what I meant" she said as her eyes met Raleigh's again.

The Puerto Rican singer knew what she meant. The big issue that had been lingering between them for a while and that was written all over Rachel tired face. She felt a pang of pain at the thought of it and she decided to conceal it as she always did.

"Oh well who knows, Rachel? I haven't spoken to my PR manager about it on our last meeting"

But the other woman didn't seem satisfied with that brief explanation.

Raleigh grimaced and sat up. It actually hurt more than she thought. She reached for Rachel's hand.

"Hey, we both knew the deal. Start a fake relationship and get a career and reputation boost"

"It's all it is, huh?"

The Dorian girl looked at her with painful expectancy. Gosh, I knew this is what we would get out of this, Raleigh thought.

"Well, yes and no. I mean, I like you, Rachel, I'm glad we got closer. You're shockingly pleasant to have around, rising star. And you've been...well yeah so far you're the best fake girlfriend ever, seriously. I hope we will still be friends when this...you know..."

"Yeah, sure"

Rachel diverted her eyes as her chest tightened. She misread the signals, shit. She kept fantasizing and being oblivious of their current situation...but she couldn't blame Raleigh for it. That night, their first night on the rooftop, when the kisses grew hungry on the railing, the Puerto Rican star too soon parted and told her to follow her, she wanted to go on another ride on her bike. Rachel reached for her.

"We don't have to stop, you know..." she noted, gently stroking her hip.

"What? Too scared to admit you might be catching feelings?" she teased, since the other woman just stared at her in silence.

"Whoa, there. Let's not get crazy. I'm a seasoned professional" Raleigh interrupted her, walking backward.

What a stupid I am! What was I thinking? That she, Raleigh Carrera, might fall for me?, Rachel grimace, her face hidden from the R&B star's view. Your life is not a romcom, Dorian, and you have embarrassed yourself already. God, that night she might have...she totally thought I was taking advantage of the situation? Oh shit shit shit!

Her phone beeped. She picked it up as a deep blush spread on her face: Low battery warning.

"Rachel, are you okay?"

The girl didn't turn but she felt the weight of Raleigh's concerned gaze over her.

"Yeah, I'm good...I just-I just forgot that I have a meeting with Avery early tomorrow. Very early. Like dawn"

"Why so early?" Raleigh gave her a quizzical look.

"Oh it's Fiona's doing actually" she said as she stood in a swift motion and gathered up her belongings. "She just want to introduce us to some yoga routine or something like that. She said it stimulates creativity... the point is I gotta go. I'm sorry"

She gave a quick apologetic smile and moved towards the staircases.

"Oh, okay" Raleigh was visibly confused by the sudden change in her "girlfriend". "Do you want me to give yo-"

"No no, I know the way! I'll call a cab!"

Before she opened the metal door leading downstairs, Raleigh spoke again.

"You sure, you're okay though? Did I say something wrong? About the-"

Rachel stopped and slightly turned her head.

"No, of course not. It's just...my silly little head that keeps forgetting things. How things go. Buenas noches, Raleigh"

That said she speed up down the stairs and only the echo of the door resounded on the rooftop, "their place", before the other woman could say goodnight back.

Something doesn't add up, Raleigh thought, still struggling to make a sense of the last few minutes. What did I-

Then her eyes fell on the purple guitar she gave Rachel sitting not far from the wooden bench. Dorian jealously kept her ever since the first day they met. She wore it on every show, even in the music video they filmed together. She even caught her smiling down at it as she strummed a new melody. She really made her happy with her guitar: Rachel would never go anywhere without it, even the press noticed...and now it was there. Did she forget?

"Oh crap!" Raleigh sprinted to the staircases and opened the door, calling her name.

"Rachel hold on, your guitar! Rachel!"

But her words were welcomed by silence only.

#choices july challenge #platinum #raleigh x mc #raleigh carrera #playchoices #choices fanfic

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rayalez · 7 years

Text

A Crack in the Window

№ 8 in a series of stories on their way to a novel.

“He doesn’t care,” Blanca said aloud. She pretended she was talking to little María Amalia, whose big black eyes stared at her through the bars of her crib, but even when the crib was empty, after the Nanny carried the girl off to her playroom — out of sight, out of mind, Blanca spoke to it.

“He doesn’t,” she repeated. She repeated nearly everything she said, for emphasis or to fill the void. Alfonso said that it was because she used to teach toddlers, that schoolteachers always repeat things at least twice so their little charges would be able to bend their minds around the unfamiliar words. “Like talking to pets,” he said.

She tried to stop doing it because it annoyed him, but stopping would be like yanking out flowers instead of weeds. She prayed to the Virgin to help her stop, but as usual, the Virgin was mute. “Anyway, mother repeats everything and no one tells her to stop. No one tells her. Anyway, let him be annoyed.”

She adjusted the new wave in her hair in the kitchen mirror. “Thank God I had time to go to the Beauty, nena, with the girls coming over later. Thank God for small miracles.” She polished the already gleaming surface of her Italian espresso machine, pouting at her reflection. She reached for her Hermes handbag, extracted lipstick and retouched her already perfectly painted lips.

“Look, nena, look at that ugly crack in the window. Look at that crack, isn’t it ugly! I’m going to have to call someone myself, and get it fixed. I’ll call someone. Your papa won’t do it. He doesn’t care. He says he has no time, but how much time can a supermarket take? It’s not as if there weren’t all those boys running around shuffling cans and bags around. He has time, alright, but it just isn’t time for us. That crack will be the death of me. Imagine Mia and Flora sitting right over there at the table and seeing that crack, right next to my new kitchen curtains. I have to seat them with their backs to it, but they will notice. They won’t say anything, of course, but they will notice and they will talk about it for weeks. They will talk about it for weeks, how our house is falling apart. They have perfect houses and perfect husbands and I have a house falling apart and your papa, who doesn’t care.”

Blanca filled a glass with ice from the door of the refrigerator, surveyed the liquor in the cupboard and chose a squat bottle of cognac. She poured a hefty shot into the glass and topped it off with cola. “Must be 5:00 p.m. somewhere in the world,” she thought, putting the bottle away.

The baby plopped down and let out a soft cry. “Are you pipi, María Amalia. Are you pipi or caca? Where is Nanny? Can you wait for Nanny?” The baby reached up.

“Por favor, amorcita, Nanny will be here any minute and she will change you and give you your bath. Can’t you wait a few more minutes? You know I can’t bear smelling your awful poo. I can’t bear it. You’re supposed to smell of baby powder, not caca. I really can’t bear it. Can’t you wait, dear?” The baby threw herself back and started crying in earnest, as the kitchen door opened and Doña Fernando, the Dominican nanny, strode in, ignored Blanca, scooped up the child and carried her off.

“I don’t trust that woman,” Blanca thought. “I’m sure she tells Dona Amalia everything. About the house falling apart. About her precious Alfonso not sleeping with me. She cleaned enough of his shit when he was a baby. The woman should retire. I never should have let them foist her on us. They have money, but no class.”

Not like her, she mused. Not much money but plenty of class. Everyone at the U.P. said so. When she entered a classroom, everyone knew something special was happening. The way she dressed. The way she always had the highest heels, the nicest shoes. The way she held herself, upright, elegant, precise. The way she pronounced every syllable, every vowel. She never dropped a “d” or said “Usté” instead of “Usted.” She always used the formal form of address, even to her friends. It was an affectation, of course, but she decided that the informal “tu” was vulgar and the last thing she wanted to be was vulgar.

At first they tried to make fun of her, especially the caserío types. They had no ambitions, no goals but to get a government job, an assistant to an assistant at the Autoridad, the state-run electric utility or Acueductos, the water and sewer company. Sure they made ten times what other government workers made, but they were funcionarios, digits in a dead-end sinecure. She had higher aspirations. She was gente. She married money. Money that was sitting in her humanities class. Miguel Alfonso Villanueva Mendoza. A little electric current had traveled from her heart to her thighs every time Dr. Almodóvar had called the roll.

He was, as the gringa exchange students said, a hunk. Hot. Curley dark hair, movie star features. Slim, muscular. She admired the way his biceps pushed out the short sleeves of the shirt that he never tucked it in. And that smile that never seemed to leave his face. Gleaming white teeth… and his father was Don Miguel, hugely rich, owner of an entire mountain in Cayey — his house could be in Architectural Digest.

The teasing stopped after she made friends with Salvi, the caserío boy who sat next to her in class. Her bookends, she called them: Alfonso — he preferred to be called Alfonso — on one side and Salvi on the other. She called them bookends but they were really books. Both men seem to absorb everything they read and everything the prof said. Soaked everything up like those paper towels in the commercials, while she had to read and re-read and listen and question until even then she forgot half of what she thought she knew.

She knew one thing, for certain. Both boys were handsome. She would shove her pupitre slightly back so she could look them over during the lecture. The bright light from the wall of windows behind Alfonso made it hard to see him clearly. It added a magical quality to him — besides his signature tight plaid shirt and snug fitting trousers, and that package in his pants, a halo formed around his head, making his hair sparkle but obscuring his face. She suspected that he would look at her when she was not surveying him, but because of the sunlight, she couldn’t be sure.

Salvi, on her right, might just as well have been sitting in a spotlight. She admired his perfect complexion, thinking why is it that some men have such flawless skin while women need makeup — the gringas called it ‘foundation” — to smooth theirs out. Blanca wouldn’t be seen dead without makeup and bright red lipstick.

Salvi’s hair was almost the exact same color as Alfonso’s, but it was straight and he wore it slightly long. She assumed it was the style in the projects where she knew he lived. Her friends warned: “He’s trouble,” they’d said, meaning poor, low class. She had no intention of getting mixed up with someone like him. The purpose of life was to aspire to greater things and Alfonso was the greatest she could imagine.

But Salvi couldn’t be very poor. He wore Air Jordans and a decent gold chain over a tight black t-shirt. She had no idea what his baggy black shorts concealed, but the way he walked and held himself contrasted with the aristocratic Alfonso. He didn’t hide his interest in her, often looking straight at her — sometimes she thought he could look straight through her — until she blushed and had to look away. He always had something to say, punctuated with profanity. He was cool, but she had to keep him off her radar.

Until that day they bonded in the student center. Salvi spotted her, pulled out a chair beside her and plopped down to devour his lunch. Alfonso sidled up carrying his tray and asked permission to join them — a true gentleman, Blanca thought. There she was with her bookends, hoping her makeup was perfect and her hair — oh why didn’t she go for a recomb this morning — looked good. She wished she hadn’t made the rare decision to wear slacks and flats. She tugged at her blouse to reveal a little more cleavage.

Blanca rode in the front of Alfonso’s sports car while Salvi straddled the back seat, the wind doing wild things to his hair. She hesitated before accepting their crazy invitation to cut class and explore a special spot Salvi knew of in the rain forest. She could hear herself explaining to her mother: “We were just college students having fun — and I was never alone with one of them. You told me never to be seen alone with a man and I was not. We were never alone.” Her mother didn’t seem too convinced, but Blanca didn’t care. She had to keep her goal in sight.

The road through the rainforest had barely enough room for two cars to pass, but people rarely visited this side of the mountain, and never early on a Monday afternoon, so there was no traffic. Following Salvi’s directions, Alfonso parked in a small clearing next to a narrow concrete bridge. The jungle growth had nearly covered the trailhead, but Salvi found it in a moment. Blanca looked at it askance. It was steep, rocky but climbable.

“Consider this a biology field trip. Think about this,” Alfonso said, “El Yunque is here because our Spanish ruler, King Alfonso, had the good sense to set this land aside as a preserve. Before them, the Taínos worshipped it as the home of the god Huracán. We are climbing in the footsteps of great caciques, conquistadores and kings to sit on the throne of Yuquiyú.”

Salvi chimed in. “And before the Taínos were the coquis and after the Spaniards annililated the Taínos were the African slaves, plucked from their huts on the dark continent to serve the fucking conquistadores, plant their crops, and work their mines. They called this mountain Furidí, which sounds to me like they were justifiably furious. But they were poets not fighters and Furidí means ‘mountain in white clouds’ in their language.”

Blanca looked at both boys in wonder. “How do you know all this stuff?”

“We read a lot,” they said nearly in unison and laughed.

They started up the trail, Salvi ahead, Blanca in the middle and Alfonso behind, ready to help her if she slipped.

“And we also have to thank the americanos for this forest preserve,” Salvi shouted back. “Your Spanish king set the land aside all right — but as his private property. He didn’t want his greedy countrymen stealing his timber to build their haciendas. He wanted it for the ‘crown,’ so he could sell it for the highest price. The americanos made it a National Forest, a public park. Then they went and cleared nearly every inch of the rest of the island. First it was sugarcane and now it is Levittown.”

The trail widened and evened out as it followed a noisy stream for a few hundred yards. Alfonso moved to the front. “So the gringo invaders are to be thanked for saving El Yunque and then bombing Culebra and Vieques?”

“Así es,” Salvi said. “And don’t forget Utuado. They — or their minions — bombed Utuado, too. Had to wipe out a half dozen nationalist cucarachas before they infected the whole colony. American citizens bombing American citizens. Another moment in history to be proud of.”

“Is any of this true?” Blanca asked.

“All of it. None of it. History is written by the survivors. If there were such a thing, what do you think a history of Puerto Rico would have been if it had been written by Taínos?”

“Very short,” Salvi said. “Genocide didn’t take long.”

“I’ve never met a Taíno,” Blanca said.

“My point, exactly.” Salvi said.

They came to a steep rock climb. Salvi once again took the lead and Alfonso gallantly helped Blanca when she conveniently slipped. The group was mute at the sight of a sliver of a spectacular waterfall, its steady roar and cool wind rushing through tree ferns and Sierra palms to greet them. They ran the last ten yards and gathered around a pool of crystal clear water that stretched back to the unseen bottom of the waterfall, nestled in a long narrow canyon carved from the rock.

As if on cue, they sat, pulled off their shoes and dipped their feet into the cold water. Blanca reached out and held the hands of the boys on either side of her. They sat in silence until Alfonso spoke.

“We have so much beauty on this island and so much ugliness. We have the beauty of nature and of our race and the ugliness of half a millennium of colonial subjugation. The slaves freed themselves of their yoke and their ultimate descendent, Don Pedro Albizu Campos, tried to free us all. But we smothered pride at La Princesa prison and mortgaged freedom for MacDonald’s milkshakes.”

“And don’t forget the fucking coquís,” Salvi said, getting on his feet and taking off his shirt. His friends watched him carefully. He was perfectly proportioned, his chest hairless, light bronze skin shimmered off his six-pack gleaming in the sunlight. Blanca caught her breath.

“Coquís?”

Yes, Señorita Blanca, the coquís. No one has written the history of our tiny tree frogs and they were here before any of the invading hordes of Caribs, Arawaks, Taínos, Spaniards, Africans or MacDonalds. I will write it. I will be the first Puerto Rican amphibiologist specializing in coquís. I will solve the mystery of their origin, their social order, their sex lives, their suicidal tendencies, etc. etc. etc. But in the meantime, I am going to swim.” He dropped his shorts, waded nude into the pond, and screamed. “Fucking cold!”

“Válgame, Diós,” Blanca said, pretending to avert her eyes. Alfonso contemplated his classmate, took Blanca’s hand and helped her stand up. “Do you want to go in? He asked.

“But I have no suit,” she said.

“You have a birthday suit,” Salvi yelled.

‘Blanca is a lady and she is not going to go in if she does not want to. There is such a thing as modesty,” Alfonso said.

“She’s a woman and she doesn’t have anything our sisters don’t have. Let her be free. I don’t think she’s a prude. I won’t look with lust. I have five sisters, I’m immune.“

Blanca blushed.

“Do you mind if I go in?’ Alfonso asked.

“Do I mind?,” Blanca thought. “This is an answered prayer!” She shook her head. In an instant Alfonso had shed his clothing and stood in the sunlight, contemplating the cold water as Blanca and Salvi contemplated him. He was a magnificent specimen, Michelangelo would have been dismayed if he had seen him, knowing that Alfonso would have been a better model for his David — and he was better endowed than the famous statue. He screamed as he hit the cold water and Salvi screamed in imitation, both of them laughing. Salvi playfully attacked him; they played like kids in the water splashing each other, knocking each other down. They decided to explore the channel leading to the foot of the falls, their slender bodies radiating light as they disappeared into the chasm.

Blanca stretched out on the flat rock. The sun was now much warmer, sweat beaded on her breasts and ran down into her bra. She pulled off her top. She was no prude but she wasn’t about to let Alfonso know that. A women sunning in a bra is no different than one in a two-piece bathing suit, she reasoned, weighing the effect on her boys of seeing her like that when they returned. She would not take off her slacks, she decided. Showing panties would be too brazen. Anyway, her breasts were her best asset. The breeze from the falls cooled her. If the boys were still yelling, she could not hear them above its steady roar.

When she awoke the boys were sitting near her, dressed and ready to go. White clouds coasted across the mountain, obscuring the sun. They were no longer playful or talkative; they were uncharacteristically serious: tired, she assumed. The trip down the trail and back to San Juan was quiet. She sat in the back, giving Salvi a turn next to Alfonso. From time to time Alfonso stole glances at her through the visor mirror. She smiled back. She knew she had him.

Blanca placed the cognac bottle, a clean crystal tumbler, a bowl of ice and several cans of Coke on a tray and headed for the sunroom. She paused between the double stairs that mimicked in more modest scale their majestic model in the Ponce Museum of Art. Her eyes scanned the paintings that lined the wall high above the staircases behind the hall that led to the east and west wings of the house. She thought she heard what could have been the baby’s laughter and the Nanny rummaging about in the nursery, but she couldn’t be sure. She also didn’t care.

The sunroom was a welcome sight. Floor to ceiling windows encased it. Except for the plants, everything was white: white walls, white furniture, white marble floor, white curtains that diffused the sunlight.

The air conditioning hummed almost imperceptibly. Vague green shadows from the gardens did a slow dance behind the soft undulating fabric. Blanca loved it, even if her mother-in-law insisted on Valbuena as the decorator. Blanca was proud that she was able to stop her sister-in-law Victoria from tossing in her horrid floral cushions.

A few flawless ferns and perfect palms gave just the right feeling. The plants were her own contribution to the decor, of course. She gloried in injecting her own personality into the Villanueva’s fancy world. OK, so the first ferns died and the palms turned a sallow shade of yellow. The silk and plastic replacements were perfect, and no one had to water them. She cuddled her second drink of the morning between her trembling hands.

“Perfect,” she thought. “A perfect room. A perfect house. A perfect car. Even the pool was perfect. Why couldn’t people be perfect? She thought Alfonso was perfect the day she began pursuing him in that classroom at the university. They had perfect times together, she and Alfonso and Salvi. In that first year, before the wedding, we were inseparable. Salvi made us laugh. Salvi intoxicated us, not only with rum — he insisted on our drinking Puerto Rican rum, that we were traitors to our race if we drank anything else. After Salvi was gone, Alfonso drank Scotch, single malt. He rated bars on the quality of the whiskey they had on their shelves and kept in special cabinets for him.

“And now I drink this,” she thought holding up her empty glass. Her hands trembled less. She placed some ice into her glass with silver tongs, poured Courvoisier into it, splashed in some Coke and drank.

“People aren’t perfect, of course. If they were perfect, they wouldn’t have to eat or drink and if they didn’t eat or drink, they wouldn’t need bathrooms. Well, they would need bathrooms to bathe… or would they? If they were perfect there would be no B.O. Santo Cristo, I must be losing my mind. Heaven must be like that, perfect houses with no kitchens and no bathrooms. No plumbing, no sewers. Perfect windows and perfect people with no cracks.”

It had been a long time since she thought about Salvi, crazy Salvi. He and Alfonso had been such close friends, so different but so alike. It is all for the best that he was no longer around. It wasn’t good for them to be seen together. What would people think? Thank God he only saw him on Social Fridays and never brought him into their home — or God forgive — into Don Miguel’s or Victoria’s. I thank the Virgin and San Alejo for that.

She liked that Alfonso kept Salvi a secret and included her in the confidence. Who wanted people to know her husband was hanging out with a hood? Even a hood as witty, gritty and — she had to admit it — as sexy. She refreshed her drink. “I’ll have just one more, a daycap.”

Alfonso found her asleep on the white divan, her lacy white bra visible through the thin material of her blouse. It reminded him of that day in El Verde just three years before. She was a vision, asleep in front of that infernal waterfalls, immune to the drama that transpired in the canyon pool. She was like a fairy queen, who would wake up and wave her magic wand to make him a man.

Of course, Salvi had tried to seduce him. He half expected it, half desired it. He made it seem natural, beautiful, like a movie romance. An idyllic setting, water crashing behind them, cool waters rushing below, only a sliver of blue sky as a witness. A kiss and a promise. A trick and a trap.

“A mouth has no sex,” Salvi said. “Mine is a masterpiece. Just close your eyes and think about Blanca.”

Alfonso looked at her again. “Blanca and Salvi, my Ying and Yang, the two poles of my soul; one masculine and mad, dark and dangerous; the other feminine and fearful, light and loving. Salvi sucked me dry.”

Blanca stirred. “Oh, you’re home, amor. I was just dreaming about… never mind. Remember that terrible crack in the kitchen window? I hope you remember to get it fixed. It is such an embarrassment. You know, the crack in the window? I do think the whole place is falling apart. A house needs to be maintained. A house that is neglected can simply fall apart. It’s called atrophy or algeny or something like that. I read about it in Imagen…or was it in Buena Vida? Did you know that they don’t sell Cosmopolitan in Spanish any more. Not at Walgreen’s or at CVS, anyway. We can’t have cracks. A house that is neglected will simply fall apart,” she said.

###

Note: This is one of a series of stories about my fictional character Kenneth Houser and the people he knows, loves or kills. Each story focuses on one character and (hopefully) eventually, they will all come together to form a single narrative. 1. Angels and Monsters (Introduces Kenneth, Salvi and Tito). 2. Graves and Graven Images (Kenneth’s Story; Introduces Victoria.) 3. Mineral Memories ( How Kenneth and Victoria Meet; Introduces Alfonso.) 4. Knowledge and Respect (Introduces Don Miguel, Victoria’s Father.) 5. Jesús, María y José (Alfonso and Kenneth bond) 6. Remember the Sabbath (Alfonso and Salvi’s Story) 7. Bearing False Witness (Renza, Kenneth and Tito interact) 8. A Crack in the Window (Blanca’s story; how she met Alfonso and Salvi)

Links will be added as stories are posted: More to come!

Please comment in private message or public: I appreciate feedback to improve this serial fiction as it (hopefully) develops into a novel.

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