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leossmoonn · 2 years

Text

After

masterlist

pairing - peter parker x fem!reader

type - angst, fluff

summary - after having your memory washed away, you still find yourself falling for peter

warnings / includes - mild language, food consumption, kind of bittersweet, lil suggestive, steamy make out sesh, takes places after no way home.

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“You’ve come in twice already today! Don’t tell me you actually like our coffee,” Y/n grins.

Peter lets out a bashful smile, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets and shrugging. “I also like the waitress.”

“Oh, really?” she raises her brow, a knowing smile growing on her face. She peers down at the register, typing in Peter’s usual order. “Well, I hate to disappoint, but Lucy is out today.”

“Well, luckily for me, I’m not talking about her,” Peter smiles.

Y/n giggles like a school girl. “Shame. She really would have liked to be missed.”

“Well, she is a nice waitress, but we both know there’s another girl I come here to see.”

She grins up at him. “Just pay here and I’ll get your coffee.”

“Thank you,” Peter says.

Y/n walks away from the register, grabbing a cup and pouring a hot cup of medium-dark roast coffee. Peter stares at her, admiring her from afar. His heart breaks while it heals simultaneously. Seeing her brings back bittersweet memories that made his whole body ache. Seeing her also brought a sense of calmness and reassurance.

Right after the incident, Peter used to avoid anywhere his friends might’ve been. The pain was too much. But as time passed, weeks and months, he found that spending time away from them was doing more good than harm. Especially when staying away from his girlfriend. Although she didn’t remember who he was, she still welcomed him with open arms, creating a new friendship. It wasn’t the same, but it was enough.

Regarding Y/n, the two of them used to date. “High school sweethearts” is what everyone coined them, and they were right. The two were opposites, yet they both fit so well together. Peter was convinced that after she lost her memory of him if he showed up again, she wouldn’t be interested in him because he wasn’t the same boy she had met in high school, and she wasn’t the same girl. But he was corrected as she flirted with him as soon as he walked through the door of the cafe.

It turned out that although she had no recollection of Peter, she was still charismatic and flirtatious. It was obvious that even though he was a stranger to her, her feelings for him never deceased. It gave him a sense of hope that he could rekindle their love.

“Mmhm. You know, your body must be loving the caffeine.” Y/n saunters over to him, placing the hot coffee cup on the counter. She began to put on a lid, becoming too distracted with Peter’s handsome face. The coffee cup slid out of her hands, spilling hot coffee all over her hands and clothes.

“Ow! Dammit!” she groans. Tears prickle the corners of her eyes as the coffee burns her skin.

Peter drops his backpack onto the ground, making his way behind the counter. He grabs a mountain of napkin, running them under cold water and slapping them onto her hands. She lets out a relieved sigh, the corners of her mouth curling up. She laughs bashfully, hiding her flushed from him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so clumsy,” she mutters.

“Everyone is,” Peter assures her. “You should have seen me this morning. I was getting out of the shower and I slipped. I ended up breaking my sink counter from grabbing it.”

Y/n’s eyes widen, gravitating towards Peter’s hands that were on hers. His hands were a good size. Strong-looking fingers with veins running across the back of his hand. It was no question that Peter worked out. Even under a button-up shirt she could tell that he was ripped. But was he that strong that he could break a sink counter?

“I-uh - have a lot of strength in my hands,” Peter explains awkwardly.

Y/n laughs, “obviously. You’re cutting off all the blood flow from my wrists.”

Peter’s eyes widens and he jumps back. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to. I was trying to make your burn better.”

Y/n smiles, “it’s alright, Peter. I was just teasing. Thank you.”

Peter blushes, hanging his head down low. “You’re welcome.”

“Ugh, now I have to change clothes. I don’t even have a fresh pair!” she shakes her head in annoyance.

“I have a fresh pair,” Peter says a little too quickly. “You do?” Y/n asks hopefully.

“Uhm,” Peter’s words falter. He did not have an extra pair of clothes. In wanting to make her happy, Peter offered a false claim. But with the look on her face, he couldn’t disappoint her now. Plus, both her top and bottom were drenched in coffee. What kind of guy would he be to not try to help?

“It’s okay if you don’t. I can live with damp clothes for a day. It’s not the end of the world,” she chuckles. “Although, I do have to wash this apron now.” She unties the back of the apron, pulling it over her neck.

“I do have a spare change of clothes! Can I just, uh, use the bathroom real quick?” Peter asks.

“Yeah, of course. It’ll give me time to wash my apron,” she nods.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back,” he says. He picks up his backpack and rushes to the bathroom, flushing the toilet and sneaking out the window. He swings to his apartment, which fortunately was only a couple of blocks away.

“Hey, May,” Peter greets as he enters the fire escape. He’s met with silence. The pit in his stomach grows and his heart drops as he remembers. May wasn’t there, and she wasn’t going to return.

Peter pushes those thoughts of out of his, focusing on the one thing that truly made him happy and was able to get him through hard time: Y/n. He rushes into his room, grabbing a pair of sweatpants with a graphic t-shirt. He hopes that her apron will cover up the sweatpants enough that her boss doesn’t notice.

He swings out the window, quickly sliding in to the bathroom of the coffee shop. He turns on the faucet and then back off, exiting the bathroom and walking to the front.

“No customers?” Peter asks. “I actually had three. They all asked me why I have coffee on my clothes,” Y/n chuckles.

“Well, I have your clothes. Well, my clothes, technically,” Peter jokes, handing them to her.

“Thank you,” she smiles. “I’ll return them to you… um… when can I do that?”

“I can just come back after your shift to pick it up,” Peter suggests. “Oh, please,” Y/n shakes her head, “that’s so much work. You probably have so much school work to do.”

“I… I do,” Peter nods. Prior to the incident, Peter had been applying to colleges, one of them being MIT. His other friends were able to get in, yet he was not. Since Y/n didn’t remember anything about Peter, he could choose whatever story about his life he wanted to tell her. But he had never been a liar, especially to Y/n, and so he told her what made sense and provide information that was as close to the truth as it could be.

He came to the conclusion of telling her that he was in college, but it was community, and on the way to the cafe. This allowed Peter to come and see her whenever he pleased without suspicion. And as for Y/n, she decided on taking a gap year to figure out what she wanted to major in, and save money. She was seen working at the cafe almost every day, which was a fortune for Peter and allowed him to rebuild their relationship.

“Unless you don’t want me to come over or anything,” Y/n shrugs.

Peter’s eyes widen and he perks up. “No, no! I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just… I never have girls at my apartment.”

Y/n brows raise and she smiles teasingly. “Oh, really? That’s a surprise, actually.”

Peter’s cheeks turn pink. “R-Really?”

“Mmhm,” she giggles. “You seem like the perfect guy to spend time with. You haven’t met any girls at college?”

“I… no,” he shakes his head. “Shame. They’d be lucky to date you,” Y/n hums, peering at him from under her eyelashes.

“I-I… thank you. So would you,” Peter says.

Y/n’s face morphs into confusion. “Wha—”

“I-I mean, someone would be lucky to have you as a girlfriend, too. Sorry. Sometimes I don’t know how to speak.” Peter blushes deeper. He ducks his head down so hopefully, she can’t see.

“No worries. I’m that way, too,” she winks. “So, should I return the clothes after work?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Peter smiles. “I’ll see you then!” Peter spins on his heels, rushing out the door. As soon as he thinks he’s saved himself from embarrassment, Y/n stops him.

“Um, Peter?” Y/n asks. “Yeah?” Peter spins around.

“You forgot your new coffee, and you didn’t give me your address.”

“O-Oh. I’m sorry, again.” he takes out a piece of paper from his backpack, writing down his address.

Y/n begins making him a new cup of coffee. “Stop apologizing, Petey. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Peter nods, his heart fluttering at her nickname for him. He wanted to agree with her in that he had nothing to be sorry for. But contrary to her belief, he did. He had lots to be sorry for.

“Here’s your coffee, Pete. See you soon,” Y/n grins.

Peter reaches out for the cup, his fingers brushing against hers. Their eyes meet and there is a quiet moment where the air between them is thick and warm.

Peter pulls away first, giving her a thankful smile. “See you soon, Y/n.”

————

Y/n parallel parked on the street, reading over the name of Peter’s address. She had to quadruple-check that she was in the correct place. His apartment was huge. She didn’t mean to stereotype him, but it appeared that she did. She thought that since he was in community college, he probably lived in an average apartment with multiple roommates, or maybe with his parents. But that was far from the truth.

She walks to the apartment complex, his folded clothes in her hands. She finds his door and knocks. It swings open almost immediately.

“Oh, hey,” Y/n grins. “Hey! Come on in!” Peter gestures.

“Thank you.” she walks in, jaw-dropping.

Peter’s apartment was like a house. With oak hardwood floors and the windows made the room feel open and lively with the sunshine shining. There was a gray couch and a love seat in the living room with a flat-screen TV. The kitchen was on the other side, beige granite counter on the tabletops with a roomy fridge and a walk-in pantry. The apartment also had an upstairs that she hopes she will be able to see.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks. “Uh? O-oh, yeah,” Y/n chuckles. “Your apartment is beautiful.”

“Thank you. It was my aunt’s,” Peter says. “Oh, really? Is she here?” Y/n asks.

“Um, no. She died a couple of months ago,” Peter frowns. He looks down at his shoes, trying to push away the tears.

“Oh, Peter,” Y/n gasps. She puts his clothes on his couch ledge, taking his shoulder and bringing him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers in his ear, cradling his head and rubbing his back.

Peter closes his eyes and wraps his arm around her. He basks in the sweet scent of her shampoo and her warm and comforting touch. It had been so long since he had hugged her, let alone touched her. It made him almost cry. He forgot about her caring nature, how she was able to comfort somebody in just a couple of words. The sincerity in her voice, the way she didn’t hesitate to hug him. It made his heartache even more than it has in the last three months.

“Was your aunt rich or something?” Y/n jokes as she pulls away.

Peter laughs genuinely. “Oh, I wish. She, um, was dating this really rich guy. This is technically his apartment.”

“Wow. And he left it to you?” Y/n asks. “Yeah,” Peter nods. “He said I can stay during college.”

“Wow, that’s awesome,” she smiles. “Have an extra room for me?” she jokes.

“Oh, definitely,” Peter says, a little too eagerly. Heat crawls up his neck. He steps back, his arms falling to his sides. “I’m joking, obviously.”

Y/n smirks, “obviously.” She walks around the apartment, making her way towards the windows. “The view is beautiful,” she hums as she looks down at Queens.

“It is,” Peter agrees, eyeing her. He slowly walks up to her, resisting the urge to reach out and hug her from behind. He takes a moment to take her in. This is the first time in three months that he was able to see her outside of the cafe. It was the first time in three months she was at his apartment.

Y/n had changed out of his clothes and into a pair of cotton shorts and a Midtown High School t-shirt that was, ironically, Peter’s. He assumed that she had thought it was hers, although it smelled completely different and was a size too big for her. But the knowledge that it was still his sweatshirt that he had loaned her a year ago still warmed his heart.

“Do you have any siblings?” Y/n asks. “No,” Peter replies. “I’m an only child.”

“Lucky,” she mutters. “Oh? How so?” Peter acts completely clueless.

“Well, I have four siblings. One older sister and two younger brothers,” she explains. “They all suck.”

Peter tries to act completely innocent, even though memories of him meeting her siblings, family game nights, and being a big brother to her little ones run through his mind.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Peter says.

“Well, not for my little brothers. I love them to death,” she grins. “Even though they are tyrants who terrorize my parents.”

Peter chuckles at her words and at memories of her little brothers being the worst company.

“Although, they aren’t so little anymore. The oldest one, Tucker, is thirteen now. And my younger brother, Lucas, is ten. They’re growing up,” she sighs.

“They’re still pretty young. Tucker has a couple of years before high school,” Peter states.

“True,” Y/n nods. “And what about your sister?” he questions. From his recollection, her sister and her were the bestest of friends. Although her sister was older than her by three years, the two never failed to stay close. From the day Y/n was born, her parents remarked, her sister was always there for her.

“It’s complicated,” Y/n frowns. “She’s a few years older than me. She just turned 21 and has made a few… questionable decisions.”

“Ah, I see. Well, she is an adult,” Peter notes.

“Yeah, but she never was like that,” Y/n says. “Not saying she was a goody-two shoes or anything, but she always had common sense. And in the last three months, she got a DUI and she had been skipping classes to hang out with this guy.”

Peter frowns in thought. Y/n was right, her sister had never been uptight, but they were all raised with level-headed parents. They all were taught right from wrong and were virtually perfect by the time they left the nest.

“I’m sorry. That seems tough,” Peter says.

“Yeah,” she nods. “And my parents forced her to come home and she tried to invite the guy over. His name is Rufus. A stupid name for a stupid guy. Anyways, she tried to sneak him in and I was home, and I guess she thought that I would help her, but I knew my parents would kill me. I mean, I’m not the most perfect person, and I definitely have lied to my parents. I’m not a saint, but lying to my parents about serious things was lethal. Especially since they were so open-minded and fair. Every time I wanted a guy over, all they asked was to meet his parents and it turned out fine. But Claire is something else.”

“Was Claire mad at you?” Peter asks. “Oh, she was furious,” Y/n laughs sourly. “I had called my dad immediately and they came home from their dinner early. After they had yelled at her, I guess they told her to apologize to me for putting me in that position, but instead she yelled at me.” Tears prickle her eyes and she sniffles.

Peter strides to her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“She called me a prude and saying how I have a stick up my ass, I’m such a rule-follower that no guy would ever want a uptight girl like me. She also said that I’m never going to amount to anything in life because no one likes a tattle-tale.”

“Y/n,” Peter sighs. “I’m so sorry. That’s not true. I hope you know that.”

“How do you know? The only thing we talk about is you,” she chuckles, wiping her tears away with her sleeve.

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. She was right. How did he know? Ten minutes ago he swore he knew everything about her, but he quickly discovered how wrong he was. Not only his life had changed but hers had, too. He wasn’t the only person going through a difficult time.

“Well, just from talking to you I know,” Peter explains. “If you’re such a rule-follower and tattle-tale, then you wouldn’t have let me have two free coffees a week, now would you?”

Y/n grins sheepishly, “I guess not.”

“I’m sure Claire didn’t mean it. She felt betrayed by you and was hurt. People say things they don’t mean when they’re hurt,” Peter assures her.

“Yeah,” she nods. She looks at Peter, a grateful smile on her face. “Thank you. I haven’t told anyone this. I haven’t told anyone anything, honestly. I’ve been keeping it all inside lately.”

“How come? What about your friends?” Peter asks, furrowing his brows. Surely the last three months hadn’t been so detrimental that she had lost Ned and MJ as well.

“They’re both at college at MIT, studying their dreams. My best friend and I talk sometimes, but she’s always so busy. I think the last time we talked was four days ago, and that was just to say “Happy Easter”.”

Peter frowns, “oh, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I have absolutely no friends.”

“Hey! That’s not true. You got me, silly,” Y/n punches his shoulder lightly.

“You consider me a friend?” Peter raises his brows. “Well, of course. Only a true friend would spend like, 50 dollars a day on shitty coffee,” she smirks.

Peter laughs, “I guess that’s true.”

“And speaking of food, do you have any? I am starving.”

“I do not have anything that is like a meal, but we can order something. What are you in the mood for?” He asks.

“Pizza?” Y/n suggests. “Sure,” Peter nods. “I’ll call in an order.”

“Great! And in the meantime, do you mind showing me the rest of your apartment?” she asks, her eyes darting to the upstairs.

“Of course. Lead the way and I’ll tell you about everything,” Peter nods.

The two ended up in his room after the tour and the pizza came. The two were sitting on his bed across from each other, music in the background as they got to know each other.

“How come you don’t have any friends?” Y/n asks. “You seem like someone who would have tons of friends.”

“Well,” Peter sighs. “I was kind of a nerd in high school.”

“A hot nerd,” Y/n mutters, low enough so he wouldn’t hear, but with his super hearing he was able to. He fights the growing smile and attempts to hide his blushing cheeks, but he was unsuccessful.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asks, her heart beginning to race as she thinks he’s heard her.

“I just get embarrassed when I talk about my life in high school,” Peter lies to save her the embarrassment.

“Oh, I understand. Me, too,” she chuckles. “Oh, really? You don’t seem like the nerd type,” Peter says.

“I wasn’t. I’m more into the liberal arts,” she explains. “Oh. Art, music, literature?” He asks.

“Music,” she smiles. “I play two instruments, well, three, technically. Both acoustic and electric guitar and piano.”

“That’s awesome. You’ll have to play for me sometime,” he suggests.

“Of course! I’ll blow your mind,” she winks.

Peter smiles, “I bet you will.”

Images of her at the piano, singing to him with her sweet voice enters his mind. Her singing voice was heavenly. Music to his ears, literally. He replays the memories of her soloing on electric and strumming on acoustic. She was so talented. Her music abilities were something he had missed dearly.

“Oh, it’s so pretty outside!” Y/n exclaims as she looks out his window. It was nighttime now. The city lights of Queens lit up the streets, the stars shining brightly in the night sky.

“We can go up to the roof and get a better look,” Peter suggests.

“Really?” Y/n’s eyes lit up. “Yeah,” he smiles, loving the way her whole face shined with her smile.

“Ah!” She squeals. “Show me the way!”

He opens his window, crawling up the fire escape, keeping a careful watch on Y/n so she doesn’t fall. The two lay down next to each other, Y/n admiring the night sky while Peter admires her.

“Do you know anything about constellations?” Y/n asks.

“I don’t,” Peter answers. “Me neither,” she chuckles.

She lets out a content sigh, scooting herself closer to him. She tries to get as close to him as she can without making it seem weird. Unbeknownst to him, Y/n had managed to fall in love with him over the last three months.

For some reason, at the end of her senior year, things seemed to have taken a turn for the worst. She didn’t know where she wanted to go to college, all of her courage had suddenly been sucked up and she was scared to apply to Juliard and Berkeley. Her sister and her relationship was broken, and her friends seemed to have forgotten all about her. On top of it all, there was this space in her heart.

She felt as though she was forgetting something, but at the same time, she wasn’t. There was a void in her life and for a little while, it stayed empty and grew bigger and bigger each day. But it seemed as though the universe had seen her struggling and gave her an out. The universe gave her Peter. A kind, handsome, generous boy who had entered the cafe she worked at and entertained her each day.

Y/n grew to love him. At first sight, she flirted with him. How could she not? He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Soft brown hair, the sweetest honey-brown eyes, the kindest smile, bright laugh, not to mention, a great physique. The more she talked with him, the more he visited, she discovered that her feelings for him were not just physical, but very much romantically.

She had been meaning to spend time with him outside of the cafe. She had all these plans for them. Coffee shop date, picnic, inviting him over to meet her family, meeting his, etc. But now that she was here alone with him, she had no idea what to do.

Being in his presence made her nervous, but in a good way. His stare set her body on fire. His touch made her heart warm and her body shiver. She had always been an outspoken, charismatic girl, and that never changed, but he managed to make her question her confidence. Especially since she had no idea how he felt about her.

Peter’s lips upturn as he notices her move closer to him. He could see the goosebumps on the skin of her legs.

“Do you want me to get a blanket?” He asks. “I’d like that,” she nods.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

Y/n watches as he gets up and disappears down the fire escape. He returns moments later with a soft blanket big enough for the both of them.

“Can we, um, share the blanket?” He asks.

She nods slowly, her heart hammering against her chest. “Yes, of course. I’m not a blanket hog.”

He grins, sitting back down and covering both of them. She moves closer to him, basically sticking to his side. She set her head on his shoulder, her skin becoming warm all over.

“You don’t mind, do you?” She asks. “Not at all,” he shakes his head. Peter slowly slips his arm around her middle back, pulling her a couple inches closer. “Do you?” He echos her.

“Nope. This is perfect,” she breathes out. She inhales slowly, her nose filling with the musky scent of his cologne and deodorant. She stops herself from inhaling again but turned her head so her cheek rested on his body so she could be engulfed in his scent.

“When do you have to be home?” Peter asks, staring down at her. He admires his features as they are outlined by the moonlight. Her soft skin and the couple of blemishes that shower her cheeks. Her perfect nose and arched eyebrows. Her long eyelashes are covered in mascara and her smooth lips that he wanted to kiss so badly.

“Doesn’t matter,” she whispers, obviously lying. “Are you sure? I don’t want your parents to be mad at you,” Peter says.

She smiles and looks up at him, her eyes meeting his. “As long as I’m home before like, two in the morning.”

“Seems reasonable to me,” he nods.

“Even though I’m an adult, they still have rules. I don’t think they care very much, but I know it’s to set a good example for the boys,” she explains.

“Totally understandable,” he agrees. “Plus, it’s only 11.”

“Exactly. We have plenty of time,” she smiles. Her eyes wander his face as silence falls between them. She traces his features, paying attention to every detail so she could commit them to memory. She didn’t want to forget him, ever.

“You’re really handsome,” she breathes out, lower than a whisper. But it’s quiet enough to where Peter can hear her. This time, she doesn’t care if he does or not. She wants him to know how she feels about him. The last three months have been painful for her. As much as she enjoyed getting to know him, she longed to be in his arms, to be close to him, to be his. Now that she had the chance, she wasn’t going to waste it.

“You’re really beautiful,” he compliments, his eyes searching her face.

Y/n’s eyes land on his lips. His perfectly shaped lips that looked so soft. He licks them as he stares at hers with the same desire, making them glisten under the starry night. She sat up on her elbow, towering over him slightly. Newfound confidence overcame her and she took her chance.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks.

Peter’s breath hitches and his mind goes blank. “I-I, um —”

Y/n backs away, becoming ashamed and embarrassed. Had she read all the wrong signs? Was she imagining things? How could she have messed this up?

“I’m so sorry, Pete,” she rushes out. “I didn’t mean to —”

“I want you to kiss me,” he blurts out. Her mouth snaps shut as he keeps speaking.

“I would love it if you kissed me. It would be perfect, in fact, if you kissed me. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long —”

“Good because me, too,” Y/n grins. She crashes her lips onto his, pressing her body against his.

Peter’s eyes flutter close and he melts into her. He suddenly feels complete. Their lips move together in a perfect rhythm, fitting together just like puzzle pieces. Peter’s arm around her waist tightens and his other hand comes up to cradle her cheek, caressing her soft skin.

Y/n lets out a soft moan as she kisses him, nuzzling into his warm touch. Both of her hands grasp at his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. He kisses her passionately and fervently. Taking his time to feel her, but there’s also an urgency to his movements. It’s as if he’s been waiting for this for his whole life. That this kiss sparked something in him.

“Peter,” she sighs against his lips. The sweet sound makes his mind buzz. It’s like he is intoxicated with her. He can’t focus on anything but her. His mind swirls with her scent, how her lips feel, how her body feels. He can’t get enough, and neither can she.

Y/n takes the liberty of rolling them over, swinging her leg over his waist and straddling him. She took a moment to catch her breath, pulling away and sitting back. Peter took in her on top of him, his heart pounding against his chest. It’s so loud in his ears that he’s sure she can hear it, too.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes out. Y/n grins, her flushed face and bruised lips encompassing his mind. “Thank you. You’re so sweet, Petey.” She dives back down, taking his lips into a deep kiss. She slips her tongue inside his mouth, moaning when his tongue slipped against hers.

She kisses him slowly but deeply, putting her all into it. Having his lips on hers, his body against hers, being entranced by him made her feel alive. More alive than she’s ever felt in her entire life. Being with him filled that void to the brim. It seemed like there was barely any more capacity.

“Y/n,” Peter grunts, his hands slipping down from her waist to her thighs. His fingers trace her bare skin, causing her to jolt. It seemed as though electricity played at his fingertips, diving deep into her skin and making her heart palpitate.

Y/n pulls away, eyes fluttering open as she peers over him. “Peter,” she breathes out, a smile lighting up her face.

He stares at her, stars in his eyes. He reaches up to cup her face again, becoming starstruck for the hundredth time. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you. You’re so pretty, Peter.” she places her hands on his chest, leaning down to peck his lips. “I don’t know how anyone wasn’t interested in you in high school. I mean, look at you: perfect smile, charming personality, amazing body, great kisser.”

Peter blushes. “There was this one girl in high school.”

Y/n raises her brow. “And now is the time to tell me?”

“You were the one who brought it up!” He exclaims. She laughs, “I know. Well, where is she now?”

“That doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head, speaking a bittersweet truth. “What matters is now. I’m here with you and that’s all that matters.”

He missed their old relationship, but being with her tonight made him realize that the past didn’t matter. He couldn’t keep dwelling on what was. Instead, he should focus on what could be. And what could be would be the two of them. All he ever wanted was to be with her, and the universe had granted him a chance to do so. He wasn’t going to mess up, not like before.

She grins, “you know all the right things to say, Petey.”

“My Aunt May raised me right,” he says. “Hmm, well, I owe it all to Aunt May, then, for raising the perfect guy,” Y/n gushes.

“Would I be even more of a perfect guy if I asked you out on a date for tomorrow night?“ he asks.

Y/n’s jaw drops in excitement. “You have no idea how much more of a perfect guy you’d be.”

“Alright,” he sits up, placing his hands on her waist. “Y/n, will you do me the honor of accompanying me tomorrow night to dinner and dessert?” He asks, taking her hand into his and kissing it.

She giggles like a school girl. “I would love to, Peter.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up when your shift ends?” He asks.

“Well, I need to get ready. So, meet me at my house. You can meet my parents,” she explains.

The first time in three months he felt okay. Sadness still lurked in his heart and ached him all over, but a sense of normalcy overcame him at the same time. For the first time, he could confidently say that he was going to be okay.

“Sounds like a plan,” he grins.

————

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rosietrace · 23 days

Text

Elias Jones

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Second Oc for my Inheritance Games fanfiction, I wouldn't marry Me, either

Face Claim: TBA

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Full Name ; Elias Bouchard Jones

Nicknames : Eli (Veronica, Alisa), Prince Charming, Elias Darling, ‘Lias, Lie (Nash)

Age : 26 (January 18th, Aquarius ♒)

Occupation : Lawyer for McNamara, Ortega, and Jones || Employer in the Hawthorne Foundation

Height : 167 cm

Color Palette : Honey Yellow, Black, Varying shades of Brown

° • ° • ° • ° • °

PERSONALITY

Elias is... Well, he's like an older Jameson with a bit more of a Broadway flair to him. In a way, Elias was one of the many influences in Jameson's life that made him turn out the way he is.

Elias goes with the flow, unafraid of taking risks because, as a wise old man once told him, “You only live once”; and he happened to take that advice to heart.

Though he and Jameson share their similarities, Elias is less impulsive and reckless when it comes to making decisions with high risks— while he understands that he wants to live his life to the fullest, the little boy in his heart can't help but let paranoia overtake his decision-making every once in a while.

RELATIONSHIPS

Alisa Ortega — Close friends, and a fellow colleague! Elias met Alisa through Veronica, as well as the three's parents working together; while the trio aren't attached to the hip, they still care about each other a great deal.

Veronica McNamara(Oc) — Also close friends! During Elias' third year at Yale University, he met Veronica, who was a freshman at the time; thanks to their parents' partnership and them being coworkers at the same law firm, they've been closer than ever!

Nash Hawthorne — Mixed bag of feelings, the two of them. Nash trusts Elias well enough, but he can tell that Elias — in a similar vein to Nash's own brothers — had been influenced by his grandfather into being the way he is now. Elias has a hard time getting along with Nash due to, in Xander's words, his ‘unresolved grandaddy issues’; with it only amplifying tenfold when Nash and Alisa broke things off.

Jameson Hawthorne — Big influence in Jameson's life. They didn't interact much when Jameson was growing up, but the interactions they had sort of shaped Jamie into being who he is in the present day; in both good and bad ways. Mostly bad, on the part of Jameson's recklessness

Avery Kylie Grambs — Although he technically works for her, Elias doesn't interact much with Avery, which is a given as unlike Alisa, he isn't Avery's personal attorney.

TRIVIA

LIKES : 80s movies, thrifting, horseback riding, earrings, gossip

DISLIKES : Skye Hawthorne, Veronica and Alisa's caffeine addiction, overtime, movie remakes

HOBBIES : Movie marathoning, visiting clothing thrift shops, learning how to crochet, horseback riding

He, for some reason, does not like Skye Hawthorne and who can blame him /j /j

According to Veronica, Elias gives out the best hugs! (Xander confirmed her claims when Elias comforted him around the time Emily died, and his friendship with Rebecca and Thea seemed fell apart)

He jokingly flirts with Veronica and especially Alisa to garner a reaction from Mr. Ortega and Mr. McNamara 😭 (Nash too, but shhh)

He has the hospital on speed dial in case Veronica and/or Alisa collapse from being over caffeinated 💀💀 of the three, he's the only one with a seemingly normal sleep schedule and work ethic

Elias wanted Veronica to adopt a cat instead of a dog, but when she adopted her dog Heather, he adopted a cat out of spite (Alisa has no idea why they're like this)

He studied in Yale University and met Veronica during his third year! Elias majored in Computer and Information sciences, while minoring in interdisciplinary studies

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quandaryqueen · 1 year

Text

Riveting torture III

Masters of fear Jonathan Crane X Reader

Breaking news: Man learns something new about himself; He's an asshole and he's in love (fucking finally) more at 9.

Part I, Part II

🧡 Jonathan's mind has been in a haze after what the stunt you pulled, had him staring at the void for firmly, fingers entwined with one another and press under his chin. He has been deep in thought yet none of them coherent. They just ran pass him, make sense for a moment, before it returns to being nonsense.

He is currently the human embodiment of static; unmoving, uninterrupted, uninteractive.

To be disarmed of rationality is something he didn't expect, let alone from you. Empty of thought, reduced speechless, unable to think of anything else.

It's like you've wrung him out. Of sense, of mind... All with a simple gesture. It's something you've done before, but something about this was different.

How come a gesture less worse from the last one, become impactful? It's as if with the feather-light kiss, on the cheek, managed to make a dent out of his mind.

It's all he ever thought about ever since it had transpired.

🧡 From the other side of the coin, there was you, snug in your jacket Jonathan had kindly provided for you when you needed it most, as you stare into the moving scenery of the countryside. Skies tinged with oranges and pink, golden glow cast upon the trees. You cannot stress your gratitude for Jonathan, it was cold and this jacket was the only thing you owned.

Having been woken up early, the others have taken upon themselves to restore their needed zzz's as the bus has yet to arrive at the venue, so it was new to you not to hear your companions fooling around. They'd be in a chorus of singing trending pop songs, Lee happen to have brought her guitar for the trip too, so there's that. But everyone was fast asleep. Maybe you'll be seeing the squad active when you reach the field.

You felt like you didn't need to sleep. Everything about your interaction with him that early morning had you unable to let go of the grin you've had since boarding the bus. It was as if you didn't need to jacket anymore to stay warm.

"Thinking about your boyfriend?"

You almost jumped from your seat. Upon glancing behind you, you find Adonis cheekily grinning with his arms draped atop your seat. Rolling your eyes at him, you dodge the possibility of explaining your lack of label with the suspect of making you smile like this.

"Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" He was easy to distract, so you opted to answer his question with another question.

"I have energy drinks flowing in my veins." He giggles, before holding out his hand to demonstrate how the caffeine, or rather, the lack of sleep is currently affecting him right now, his hands shaking.

"Bitch, I thought you of all people would know how sleep is important." You squinted at him, holding his hand to feel just how worse were the tremors in his muscles.

"In my defense, I had to submit some assignments and requirements to some of our teachers early. You know how they are with students like us,"

Being reminded of that, you were then faced with the memory of one of the teachers shaming you in front of the whole class. Again, in your defense, you were prepared! You just needed your notes (idiot notes, as she referred to them) just to clarify certain aspects of the report just so you don't explain it wrong.

"Hmm... Yeah..." You can only sigh in agreement. Shaking your head, you faced him again. How about something more light-hearted? A grin rose from your features. "Remember that dare you told me?"

"Which one?"

"If the the squad and I won the cheerleading competition, you and your boys are going to party wearing the cheerleading uniforms. You are going to do that, right?" You searched his face in anticipation.

"Sure, if you win, that is." He challenges with a smirk.

"Oh fuck yeah we will. Just you wait." Oh Adonis and his boys in the cheerleading uniforms... You can almost imagine it. "How about you try to catch some zzz's? We still have a long way to go."

"Yeaaaah, you're right. Need my energy for the field." Looking over your seat, you see Adonis lift his hood up and tugged it over his eyes, before readjusting his blanket to his chest. "You should do the same. Maybe you'd dream about your boyfriend."

You hold yourself back, not wanting to argue with the boy who is going to attempt to sleep. And so, you slip back to your seat and save your remarks for later. You may not find yourself able to sleep, but it would be nice to just relax for a moment, let the scenery pass by with Jonathan in your head.

🧡 He wonders how you were doing...

At this time, it might be possible you've finally arrived on the venue. By now, perhaps you just finished performing. Maybe you were watching the sport unfolding in the field, all the while, waving your pom poms and chanting the school's team. He hopes you wouldn't forget to drink water in the midst of it... You do have the tendancy to get a little too preoccupied in certain events, not to mention, he hopes you remembered to apply sunscreen too.

...

No...

He hopes you forget to drink that you'd collapse in the middle of the heat and you contract skin cancer! He doesn't care whether you're done performing or not, you can go cheer that football player Adonis for all he cares!

Oh that's right, he never forgot about him, that boy you replaced with him the moment Jonathan was out of the picture, how typical! That imbecilic jock you've managed to string along in that cursed charm of yours! My, how fast did you drop him at the sight of an opportunity when Jonathan walked back into your life? He doesn't even see you interacting with Adonis anymore! It's like he never existed!

🧡 "Go Adonis! You can do it!" You cheered, cupping both hands over your mouth.

Behind you, the captain cues the whole team to chant again through a megaphone. Her ever so chipper voice amplified and not easily overpowered by the various of voices joining her to cheer. Under the heat of the sun, who performed your chants, even being joined by your whole school in the stadium.

Adonis is a close friend of yours who was deeply invested in this sport. You find yourself envying him at the fact he can balance his extracurricular with his academic curriculum. It was noticeable how he put the work in, both academics and extracurricular that he sacrifices his own well-being. Winning this game was important to him, as he was under the gaze of possible offerers of scholarship not just for him, but for the whole team.

Upon hearing you, and the whole school cheer for their teams, you find yourself jumping in excitement when he managed to dodge an opponent and score a point.

🧡 He knew he had to move fast, are you even aware of the effects you were imposing on him? Oh you certainly knew, didn't you?

You... Everything about you was compelling, in a way he sees as beguiling, like a mirage of an oasis in a desert. How your presence seems to present him a sense of calm and relief, in which he knows behind that warmth of yours is a hellfire waiting to reel him forward and trap him in the cage of of your embrace. How you melodic giggle is a siren's call, your voice that being Lucifer's serpentine tongue, with all your deceit hidden beneath honeyed words, your reassurances, those compliments...

For awhile it was starting to feel good, how he began to yearn for these, for you— only to be reminded of your underlying want to humiliate him. To be oh so patient when it came to him, you are considered to be a victor to even get close to him whilst wearing the same cheerleading uniform Sherry used to wear, not even her went through the lengths of kissing him several times, nor held him, anything at all. He was tied at the tip of her fingers and had him strung along with her words alone and he has noted you've been in the same team as she was, of course you would know how he ticks.

You have never talked about her, why would you? Why wouldn't you? He has seen you before, holding Sherry up during practice, converse with her and such. Of course you wouldn't, acknowledging her would have made him reminded of her and recognise your motives! He has underestimated you before and he's learnt —acknowledged even— just how conniving of a little snake you are. Time and time again, you do remind him how much of a scheming little thing you can be, my, how much time do you devout yourself to draw intricacies on your little note to ruin his life? How pathetic can you be?

🧡 Everything was going well, you kept a smile so distinct from the pageant smiles your other squadmates upheld during the performance. It was as if Jonathan was watching you from the crowds, you can feel as though if he'd have been there, seated by the bleachers, supporting you. It was a shame he couldn't attend, but having the thought of knowing he supports you is enough.

Thoughts of him reassuring you played in your head whilst you perform, it burned through you and kept you at a high spirit to recall all the times he has taken a time of his day to sit you down for a moment, in your time of lowest, to remind of the others things you are capable of and how you were great at them. He made you better in believing in yourself.

Your friends, of course, knew that kind of smile and where it came from. Friends being friends, of course, proceeded to do what friends do.

"Ooooh~ is that Jonathan I see?" One of them tease, placing a hand above their eyes whilst squinting at the bleachers.

"Where?" You whipped your head around like a dog lighting up at any indication of their owned arriving.

Not wanting to end there, the other members spurred on. "Right there!" One of them points.

"I don't see him!" You squinted your eyes further.

"Oh my god, Y/N. And you're telling me I need glasses? He's right there!"

Upon hearing the others snicker, you glanced over them with a glare, in which they finally broke out laughing.

"Fucken' pricks." You playfully smack the nearest person on your right, before pouting and crossing you arms to your chest.

🧡 When you return, his plan was to unfold. Specifically, at the party. He will have to make the first move before you can even do it, he fucking swears it. It would be all for nothing if you got him first, he might as well tie his own noose at the strings of your fingers, it was imperative he succeeds.

After glancing at a calendar did he realise that the party you mentioned was Halloween... Of course it would be Halloween, fucking hell, do you really intend to make Sherry Squires proud from the grave, huh?

Oh we'll see about that...

If you really like Sherry that much, then he might as well do the same to you. He will personally see to it that your suffering would be as slow and careful as you are with him.

🧡 You practically made a beeline to him when you arrived back to continue with your usual day to school, a weight being lifted off your shoulders. Thank god the tournament was over, now you can get back to focusing on school. You came back with a wide grin, happy from the various achievements from the tournament for yourself, the whole cheerleading team, of course for Adonis' success, and to top it all off, you get to see Jonathan again. Not to mention, since practices are on hold for now, you could spend more time with him!

"So yeah, since we won, Adonis and his gang are going to wear the cheerleading uniforms at the party!" It was almost as if you were happy about winning the cheerleading competition for the sole purpose of getting to see the whole sports team in cheerleading-wear, rather than the win itself. "Speaking of which, are we still going?"

... We, huh? Interesting. Were you going to attend regardless whether he goes or not? You talk as if that were the case.

"Of course, by then I get to see you perform." That was what you told him, didn't you? 'see you perform'... Perform your heinous deeds.

"Awesome! Soooo, as you expect, it's a costume party and the squad pulled me to some scheme to dress up in sexy Santa costumes from Mean Girls and like... That's so fucking ironic, but it's just simply iconic, I couldn't say no, so um... It's okay if you don't have to wear anything— I-I mean, any costume at all."

Is it because I already share semblance with a Scarecrow? Can't you think of something new?

"The gang and I won't be just performing the dance we did at the competition, we're actually choreographing something new... I mean, since the guys are going to be performing the cheer, we might as well just make a new one. I hope that's alright."

Or does you performance include me being the center of the attention? Of humiliation?

"I still can't believe you're actually going to watch me perform! Anyone who's been with me either thinks I'm wasting my time or that they're just plain mean about what I like, but you are just so nice and supporting and—" you took a break to fan yourself with your hand for a moment before resuming to your statement. "— you're the best. Legitimately, you're like the best. I appreciate you so, sooo much."

I... Surely that statement holds no truth to it. It's just another one of your lies to lure me in.

🧡 He knew what you meant by choreographing a new routine to perform. Since it was not something adhered to the school extracurriculars activities, your means of practicing were limited to noons and possibly weekends. Translation, you won't be able to walk home with him...

Unless...

"Oh my god..." One of the girls covers their mouth in shock when they heard the song you'll be dancing to. "That song is dirty. You little harlot you," She looks over the leader with a look so eager, which reminded Jonathan of a little child who finds delight and thrill in disobeying curfew for the first time.

"Alright, people!" You clapped your hands to gain the attention of your fellow dancers. "So the song we'll be using is a bit in the raunchy side of things, is that okay?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Alright, cool! Now let's get some work shall we?" Looking over your shoulder, this prompts the choreographer to clap her hands as well.

"Positions, everyone!"

Jonathan didn't mind to come along with you and watch you practice. It's not like his parents were strict, I mean, he could go home at midnight and no one would be concern about him. Besides, he'd prefer to have you in his sight. Not in that way of course, just so he knows whether you're scheming with friends or not.

🧡 The state of the relationship well... It wasn't official yet, but everyone fucking knew. It doesn't take a genius for one to figure popular cheerleader Y/N has the hots for the mildly interested hostile nerd Jonathan Crane, which was weird, but you do you honey.

Oh there were whispers, it is something Jonathan knew he would not be able to escape whether you are involved with him or not. With your presence, it helped to maximize the volume of what used to be 'whispers' behind his back, as rumours began to circle the entirety of the school grounds like wild fire.

It was something you immediately addressed at the beginning of your 'relationship'. Giving him all sorts of reassurances he pretends to be believe, oh he knows what sick games you're playing, this just prove the lengths of how your serpentine tongue can go.

"Jonathan, I couldn't give less of a fuck about what the others think. If I can't hold your hand without garnering unwanted attention from the others, fuck 'em. I want you and I— I want us to not care about them and what they think."

No matter... In no time, you alone shall be the hot topic throughout the school year. As the poor little fool found insane or critically injured and locked away or the memoir on the front page. Oh Jonathan knows the hand he is playing, it is indirect, in all of this, in his kindness, it is your choice whether to live miserably for the rest of your life with no possibility of recovery or to have your life snuffed abruptly.

🧡 The night of the party finally arrived, Jonathan has yet to see you but he expected you'd be donning a costume matching with your clique. He was told to wait by a spot to pick him up as soon as you and your friends were done doing whatever the fuck you were doing.

He wore no costume, opting to just wear a flannel to warm himself from the cold, October air. And in others words, he has always been parading around like a scarecrow anyways. You yourself had said that as well, no surprise there.

He hears a distant vehicle approaching and as it grew near, he hears the distinctive giggles from within, blaring along with some generic pop music. Sure enough, he recognised the cherry red Camaro as the so-called 'leader' of the clique and the cheer captain's car. Rolling your window down, you stick yourself out to wave at Jonathan, your make-up glimmering under the dim moonlit road.

"Hi Jon! Sorry we're late."

"Yeah, Lee was being a cunt."

"Bitch, you started it!"

"Alright, alright, settle down!" The driver shouted, before looking over you. "And for god's sake, Y/N, do you want him to get in or not?"

"My bad!" You nervously giggled, before sitting back and opening the door for Jonathan.

He promptly takes his seat next to you and the moment he does, he felt the eyes of everyone from within give him a quick glance in a way of expressing distrust. You, on the other hand, made sure your mask never slipped. You were asking him whether or not he's had dinner yet, if he's cold, telling him about what he should do should he feel overwhelmed in the party, etc etc, whilst your friends chime in with some agreements, reminders and tips, finally did they regain their masks again.

🧡 It wasn't difficult to spot which house was the party venue... Located near heavily wooded areas, where the leader decided to park her precious car in.

"Okay, so who among you are planning to drink?" The leader asks and was met with resounding 'me's! from the group...

"Nah, I'm good. Maybe have a little shot, but I do t plan to get shitfaced."

Except for you, apparently.

"Great, so I'll entrust you my spare keys, should you need for..." For a moment, the leader's eyes land on me. "Emergencies."

"Yeah, Lee needs her ass to be looked after a few shots and you can't be the only one sober since we have the whole ass group with us." You didn't catch the suggestive nature of her statement, or perhaps you chose to feign innocence.

"Alright. Now that's settled, shall we?"

And so, the show commences.

🧡 By now, your friends have scattered everywhere, for a moment he has heard the leader's ever so loud voice from the deafening music, shouting at a member of your group not to drink too much as you'd have a performance to put up later. At some moments, you would excuse yourself to tend to some of your friends to remind them not to drink too much, as the leader had ready made it clear, do not get hammered yet.

The scene before Jonathan was something familiar. The flashing lights, the blaring music, drinks at the hand of those who are not allowed yet, costumes, the popular kids, smoke so thick... For a moment he caught the stench of Sherry Squire's perfume amidst all this, with the scent of alcohol in her breath.

His chest started to raise... Fuck, he could have just pulled you aside for a moment instead of entering the house. It was a wooded fucking area, for god's sake, he would've easily gotten rid of you with the loud, blaring music, absence of lingering eyes, the cover of darkness, everything was perfect and he just had to follow you in this party for some ridiculous fucking reason—

"Jon?"

His neck snaps aside when he swore he had also heard the dead Sherry's voice, only to then realise it was you. Just you... The next to follow after Sherry Squire for attempting to deceive him just as she did.

You have just returned after stopping Lee from doing ten seconds of chugging from the bottle of vodka, putting a hand on Jonathan's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" You tilt your head.

"Never better. You should join your friends." He dismissively turns for a moment, shrugging your hand off. For a brief moment he considers getting himself a drink, only to remember he had to fulfill what he needed to for the longest of time whilst sober. He need not liquid courage to commit such a thing, he would gladly do so without any substance to further fuel his already intense abhorrence.

"But... I want you..." He glanced at you again. With a certain grimace on his face, you couldn't help but to retract and edit your statement with flushed cheeks. "I-I mean... I want to spend more time with you... If that's okay..." Either way, there was no difference from what you've said just a second ago.

"You'd be a laughingstock when they see us together."

You blinked at the revelation and realisation. "Was that why you dropped my hand?"

He never even realised you were holding it in the first place... Now he knew why he entered this god forsaken party, god damnit it, he was holding your hand and enjoying it without him knowing... You held his hand the moment you got off the car, lacing your fingers through his, relishing his presence, his warmth, the fact he coming with you and he shall be watching you perform. But when you entered the house party, he suddenly drops your hand when the popular cheerleaders' entrance had inevitably captured the eyes of the school body in the party.

"Jonathan, I thought we already talk about this I..." You nervously fumbled with the end of your costume, by now you were starting to regret for not bringing your jacket with you. "Didn't we?"

"I don't want to embarrass you." Jonathan avoids your gaze, opting to look elsewhere, anywhere just not at the pathetic, teary eyed pretender. He hoped this would be the end of it... But he knows how annoyingly persistent you can be.

"Why would I be?" You took his hands within yours, once again feeling his warmth, a soft smile filling your lips. "I don't care about what they think about us."

You were truly taking this charade all the way here? All this time? Well, what are you waiting for? You're in the party, easily the center of attention where everyone can see, you have him by the strings of his heart goddamn it, he fucking loves the way your hands warm his cold ones, but by fucking god he knows what would happen if he were to relish it.

You were looking up at him with those eyes again... Those damn eyes which made his knees buckle and fail, yet warm and comfortable at the same time. Have you any idea how much power you have over him, how much he had to fight back with the foreknowledge of what someone like you is capable of? God damn it, why did he had to allow you close to him? Why did he grant you the chance to touch him in all sorts of ways, why the fuck did he have to fall for you in the midst of his distrust?

If he had only strangled you when had the chance instead of walking away—

"I love you... Nothing and no one can change that..."

He didn't realise how much distance he himself has closed in until he realised the can smell that one shot of alcohol you took upon the peer pressure of classmates urged you to take was hitting his face. His eyes darts to your lips, then back to yours. All thoughts filling his head suddenly faded for a moment at the realisation of the distance (lack thereof) between you.

He finds himself closing his eyes... All tensions he has held, all the grudges he held against you, finally slipping from his shoulders... When a bright light suddenly points at you. His heart drops to his stomach and he drops your hand and shields his head.

JONATHAN YOU UTTER FOOL! YOU FELL FOR IT AGAIN!!!

"Sorry to distract you, love birds. But we have a show to put." The leader has been calling you on stage after the whole group gathered up to finally perform. So not once did you hear her screaming your name from the stage.

"Oh, my bad!" You shouted after her. The spotlight returns back on stage, once again leaving you in the dark with Jonathan. "Well... This is it!"

He opens his eyes for the first time, only to observe before him the bright slights casted upon the makeshift stage in the middle of the house pointed at your friend group getting to formation. The boy glances at you, tears were welling in his eyes, only to then feel lips against his cheek, before you sprinted for the stage, in your high heels.

"For good luck!" You shouted after him, before you made your way to the stage.

Jonathan stood still for a moment, before he heard the cue of the music for the beginning of your performance.

"WOOOH! GO CROWS!" One of the students cheered, prompting the entirety of the audience there follow his suit to chant the name of the school's sport group.

🧡 After watching the group choreograph, fail at some points from the lack of synchronization, accidents and other mishaps during practice, he couldn't help but to feel a certain chill when he saw your performance. He knew how much of your group worked hard to perfect this dance in a matter of only days and the way you delivered it to the crowd was something he finds admirable.

At some points of your performance, he couldn't help but to flush at the sight of you performing suggestive acts, such as the way you traced a finger between your chest before licking the said finger, the way you sway your hips, how you caress other dancers passionately, even having the whole group pretend as though they were lifting their skirts up only to wag their fingers at the crowd...

At the end of the performance, you were stopped by the leader by getting a hold of your neck before you make a beeline for Jonathan, reminding you of the final bow. After doing so, you were back to sprinting back to your Jonathan.

The thrill still in your veins, you pull him by the collar of his shirt before crashing your lips against his. He had long since let go the notion of you humiliating him the moment you got on that stage to be the center of the cheers, to perform real entertainment, that he had instantly reciprocated your gesture eagerly. Locking lips had never felt so right and to feel all his worries slip away from the euphoric explosions from within his body.

Jonathan found himself disappointed when you pulled away, only for him to realise you were leading him the wrist to go outside to resume the activity away from the eyes of others.

It was a good thing Christine entrusted you her keys... For emergencies.

#masters of fear scarecrow x reader #mof scarecrow #mof jonathan crane x reader #masters of fear jonathan crane x reader #mof scarecrow x reader #dc x reader #dc jonathan crane #dc scarecrow

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drivin-down-i-20 · 6 months

Text

I don’t really know how to start this kind of thing off so I guess I’ll just introduce myself? I don’t want to get too personal, for reasons that I’m sure you’ll come to understand later, but I can at least tell you my job. I’m an employee of my state’s Highway Patrol. I’m not a cop or anything like that; I clean up accidents.

Semis, mostly. I’m part of a crew that is responsible for the section of I-20 that cuts across my state. We get calls mostly at night, so we’re all night owls, perpetually sipping caffeine in one form or another. Except for that one guy, but he’s a whole story all by himself.

I’ve seen some of the most horrific accidents you can imagine. Cattle trailers overturned. Sleeping truckers. Spills. And I’d like to tell a few stories if that’s okay. I’ve never believed that people living and working in places where secrets are kept is a good idea. Especially when those secrets are kept by those who are supposed to protect them. This is the “I’m sure you’ll understand why later part.” This is a throwaway account and it’ll be deactivated when I’m through with these stories. In the meantime, feel free to shoot me any questions you’ve got. Asks. Whatever. I figure Tumblr isn’t as… monitored as Reddit so maybe I’ll be okay. Just. Spread it around yeah? Protect your people. Help them protect themselves.

I’ve never been a superstitious or conspiracy type person. I was raised hand to mouth and didn’t really have time to think about any of that. I did go to church. Mama made all of us go. I loved lessons in Sunday School about the great heroes in the Bible. David. Moses. Samson. Superheroes of the Bible the old woman who was my teacher called them.

As I got older though, I realized they were just men. People. David was a murderer, murdered a friend to steal his wife. Moses was a murderer, but I’ll be honest, I’d have done what he did too. Samson got himself in an entire bind over a woman. They weren’t to be idolized. They were to be learned from.

Guess this is what my first story’s like. Learn something from it. Maybe.

It doesn’t snow much where I am. Instead, we get the ice. Yeah that real good pipe-busting, road-slicking ice. It’s not every year, heck we get balmy Florida sun as many winters as we get ice, but it can happen.

Couple years back there was an ice storm that put the bits of the state that were affected on a screeching halt. No school, no stores open, nothing. So everybody stayed real snuggled and safe at home until the thaw. Which was the next day. Everywhere was just soggy with it. The grass squelched under your feet.

A “side-effect” of this thaw was heavy fog. There was a man, husband, dad of two, minister in a local church, who was on his way to prayer early that morning. He was in a hurry so he was doing what everyone else does on a hectic morning: speeding.

Ah hush you know you do it. And sometimes, it’s okay to do. Keeping up with the flow of traffic and all that. Dude had his high beams up. It was just another day.

Until he ploughed into the back of a parked schoolbus at top speed. Doubt the guy knew what hit him.

Wasn’t anything anybody could do for him.

The bus was higher than his vehicle so most of what happened to the bus, happened to the undercarriage. The kids were scared and some were a little scratched and banged up, but they were all okay. Liked to have scared the poor driver clear to death, though.

The man in a hurry had already be taken away when we got there. People don’t really like to think about what happens to a body when it dies. Releasing the soul is kind of how I think on it. You don’t realize how many muscles and tendons are contracting right now, holding you together. When you die, it all relaxes. Yeah you go through rigor mortis, but that’s only after.

Your bowels release. Your bladder releases. If you were in an accident like this man, your veins let go. And what your body was working so hard to contain, it leaves. And it’s everywhere. All that hurrying and anxiety to get where he was going, it stayed behind too. With his wife and his kids. And it haunted them. You know it did. You know they asked themselves how they might’ve stopped that day from happening. What if Daddy had just waited a few minutes? The bus would’ve moved on, the fog might’ve lessened. And he’d still be there.

So take it from me, who’s had to hose my fair share of the refuse of hurrying and impatience off the asphalt, both of sinner and saint, being late is still being alive.

Sorry for the heavy start, but it’s the nature of my job. I’ll go in a different direction with the next one. Not all of them involve death and tragedy. We got a call to a clean up about 4:30 one morning for a semi overturn. Fella had rounded down a turn-off, coming down an overpass and cut too sharp. Whole trailer flopped over. She was hauling, wait for it, soap. Dawn. Oh my God. It was. Everywhere. Smelled great. But good sweet Lord. We got our big, coarse bristle brushes to try and sweep it into some tarps, trying to keep it from poisoning wildlife or the ecosystem, but it just made it all suds up. Bubbles. Everywhere. And then the wind got to blowing. It was a mess. Even once we got to just hosing it, it was like something out of a cartoon. But I still laugh about that one though with the guys. We might’ve frolicked through them like slow motion princesses and taken pictures. They’re in my blackmail folder just in case.

This crew’s been together the longest of any one I’ve been on. Folks usually get tired of it and want to move on to something less strenuous. Which I get. It’s not for everyone. But I like it. Keeps the bills paid. You know. I’m not unhappy. And I get sweet overtime.

Me and this older guy are the old hands. Let’s call him Jake. Jake’s older than me and I guess you could call him the foreman. But it doesn’t really work like that. He just knows what to do for most incidents and we listen. Experience is valuable.

Jake and I started working together when I moved to this crew about seven years ago. I’d been town cleanup for a bit but it was so boring. So I put my application in through the DOT, Department of Transportation, and got hired. Got a raise too. I was over the moon. I’ve always been one to feel more awake at night and Jake was the same. Guess maybe that article I read somewhere about evolution conditioning some of us to stay up and tend the fire in the night is true. Feels like it.

I’m rambling.

We got a early morning call, pre-dawn. There usually aren’t that many vehicles on the road that aren’t semis at that time of day. We’d been working on our gear, making sure it was all ready to go. Takes a lot of stuff to do this job. We drive a high-powered diesel wrecker for one with a trailer, in case of big debris. We also have kits that range from everything from corrosive chemical spills to bodily waste removal. Special containers, neutralizers, discrete disposal units, all that stuff. So you have to keep all that useful. Make sure it’s not past the expiration and so on. When we’re not on a job, that’s what we do.

So we got a call out and headed out. There were about ten of us, me and Jake in The Big’un, that’s what we called the wrecker, and then the rest took DOT-provided pickups. You’ve probably seen them. Got the emergency strobes and flags on them.

The first thing I noticed was the smoke. Thick and white, just hanging in the air. FD was already there but they weren’t working on the truck. They were trying to put out what had spread over to the trees. It was a dry year and the woods were parched kindling; everything in a 200 yard radius of that truck was already cinders. The semi had pulled over and was just resting on the side of the road. PD had already blocked off as much of the road as they could to allow some traffic through, though there really wasn’t much.

The trailer had caught fire, that much was very obvious. Whatever had been inside must’ve not been secured properly and had flopped around, fallen over and either made a spark or reacted with another chemical. Whatever it’d been was hot burning too. The driver had been taken to the hospital already for third degree burns. Which was the first odd thing, when I thought about it later. The driver’s cab was fine. Scorched a bit on the back but fine. All the fire damage had been pointing away from it, toward the doors of the trailer.

I remember Jake, who was usually very reserved and placid, booming out orders to tow the trailer away from the original sight a bit. And I was glad too. The flames that were down in the woods were so bright and so hot. We wore sunglasses in the dark, trying to protect our eyes, and the heat was so bad that we were treated for mild burns to our faces and hands afterward. I had a beard then; I shaved it the next day because patches were burnt clean off.

We didn’t stay long. There weren’t any chemicals to clean up, just hauling the ruined trailer away to give the FD room to put that fire out.

When you work this kind of job, you end up seeing the same folks at the same event, you know? Jake was having some coffee when we got back to the call our office the next day. He’d had a haircut, a bad one. And his face was all blistered like he’d been at Daytona for a week. We all slathered up for a while after that to keep from getting ashy and peeling too bad. Jake looks like something out of a Viking movie. The Avengers Thor guy wishes.

“Everything okay?” he finally asked me, in that deep thunder voice he’s got.

“Shoot man, yeah. But crispy… Did they get the fire out?”

Jake nodded. “I know a bunch of them guys. Talked to ‘em this morning. Lot of ‘em out today with arc-eye and burns all over ‘em. Said the driver didn’t make it.”

That stunned me. “Didn’t make it? But the cab was fine!”

Jake had arched a confirming eyebrow.

I didn’t know what arc-eye was, but I googled it later. It’s what happens when welders don’t wear proper protection on their eyes. Looking at the arc like that can lead to severe irritation of the eye and even blindness in some cases.

“Said he died of severe internal trauma and heat-related injuries. Insides were cooked until they burst. Guy’s eyes were clouded white from the heat. Said it took a flyover all the way from Texas to finally put all of the fire out. They had it contained but their guys kept passing out from heat exhaustion.”

I remember being so staggered by this. And I remember looking for news about it later because that was really something. But I never did see any.

And I remember breaking that trailer down. How it was still hot. How the doors had been bent outward, the lock melted solid. How the fire trailed away. In a straight line.

Jake watched me as we worked. The way his eyes rested on me… it was like he was waiting for something. When we got the doors off, he’d taken his gloved hand and run his fingers through the grooves, elbowing me so I’d look at what he was doing.

It still feels so stupid to think this. Because who does this? Who makes this connection? It makes me feel crazy but it. It happened. The grooves weren’t melt patterns, like slag. They were claw marks. Pushed through the metal and ripped backward. Curled like paper. Peeled almost.

I’ve never said out loud what it looked like to me. But Jake made me put my fingers in those grooves. Curve my hand around that metal. Feel what it felt like. Feel the warmth living in that metal. And we looked at each other for a long time, not saying a word. Jake knew and I knew. And that seemed to be all he wanted. For me to know.

I thought about what else Jake had said about the driver. His friend in the FD had been pretty disturbed and had talked to him a while. Jake’s that kind of guy. You can talk to him. Something about him makes it easy for people. Comforting.

“FD lady said the man was screaming when they got to him. Burn victims do that, yeah, but she said he grabbed hold of them and wouldn’t let go. Had to pry him loose. Kept saying “seen” over and over. Y’know sometimes when the body’s been traumatized so bad, the mind can’t handle it. He was scared, though. The pain was bad but he was so scared that he just wanted someone to hold him.”

Sorry if the ending here is abrupt but…? That’s all I got for now. I have to get ready for work, and I’ve been thinking about maybe asking Jake if he’s ever seen anything else like that night. We’ve been on some other calls together but he’s been at this for nigh unto twenty years. We’ll see.

#personal post #drivin down i 20 #(creepypasta)#post 1 #text post #clean up crew #unreality #(JUST. A. STORY.)

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be-good-be-safe-be-kind · 4 months

Text

mkcember 13: perseverance

[ day(s) in the life of jake 🚕 | 1614 words ]

🚕 🌙 🚕 🌙 🚕 🌙 🚕 🌙 🚕 🌙 🚕 🌙

the worn leather interior of the cab is familiar; its scent is as comforting as the way he fits in the seat behind the wheel, but something is not quite right. the vehicle is his, of that he can be certain, and the soft purr of the engine settles over him like a warm blanket, but he cannot remember turning the key in the ignition.

the last thing he remembers is that he had been looking for the damn key.

stars glimmer in the clear night sky, a sky too clear for him to still be in the city, which means whatever he had been doing had been away from their usual base of operations. there is no satnav on the dashboard, and while the car has plenty of old diner receipts and scratch-off lottery tickets littered around, he still has standards. the car is still his car, and he makes the decisions around here, and as long as there is air flowing through his lungs and blood pumping through his veins, his car is going to remain as classic as possible.

there are no maps on his lap or on the passenger seat, so he must have made this trip before, and the thought causes him to relax a bit.

and you will continue to make it again, and again, until i no longer have a use for you.

¿quién dijo eso?

his hands move without his permission, sharply pulling back on the wheel as the rumbling words worm their way into his entire being.

tires squeal as the car drifts across the road, slick with rainwater, and his eyes remain open as everything fades to a black so deep that he would need a knife to cut through it.

eso es lo que pasa cuando bajas la guardia.

"jake? did you want another coffee before you head out?" a soft voice brings the color back into his world.

"coffee… yeah, that sounds good, thanks," he replies, surprised by both the question and his own answer. the voices are warm and strong, and while those traits seem to fit the woman in the apron, they do not feel like they fit him. something crawls under his skin, fast and urgent, telling him to get up and out and run as far away as possible. he keeps his body in a seated position, and while he implicitly trusts his instincts, there is no need to paint a target on my back. something else has made itself at home in his forehead, something less frantic but something just as mobile, and that, combined with a dull pain in the base of his neck, seem to hold him in place.

he looks around and tries to process his surroundings. 'jake.' bright lights, hanging over small booths. reruns of a sitcom playing on a tv in the corner. a big round clock, surrounded by a ring of neon red, showing the time as five thirty. outside, the sky is a deep blue, and traffic moves slowly; is it morning or evening? on the stool beside him, a man with a colorful sweater and colorful vocabulary talks a mile a minute like he has a thesaurus where his brain should be. there is a small shadow on the counter in front of him, and by the time he figures out it is his hat, jake has also figured out that he is jake.

gena refills his mug and takes crawley's plate back to the kitchen, and just like that, the various headaches dissipate. he smiles and nods along to crawley's rambles, sipping on the strong coffee for the sake of its taste, not the immediate need for caffeine, and for a moment, jake finds himself living.

jake is living, driving around the city that never sleeps, meeting with crawley and ricky and ray and others who seem to know him, even though jake cannot place their names nor their faces. he is living, and it is all so foreign to him, having people to check on and having people check on him just because they want to, not because they need anything. jake is working, sometimes in back alleys, sometimes in boardrooms, sometimes on rooftops, and he cannot seem to remember the details of a job once it ends, so he keeps working. he keeps moving, he keeps driving, because the slightest break in action means that jake has time to think about anything else, which means the return of la voz de la luna reverberating in his skull.

a sliver of moonlight peeks out from thick storm clouds, watching over jake and mocking him as he starts one night by swapping his cap for a cowl and ends it with his back slamming against a concrete wall. a piece of his brain breaks along with five vertebrae and a rib or two, and he knows this is far from the first time they have shattered, but he gets up and he keeps moving, driving his fist and then his car through the bastard who had the brilliant idea of selling drugs to kids behind a rec center.

surviving, it turns out, is a hell of a lot lonelier after months - years? - of living. it hurts, now, not just the physical injuries and the pit in his stomach as his dwindling supply of cash and assets lead to the once-familiar question of whether he should buy medical supplies and water or food and shelter, but the hole in his chest where his heart had been warm. he catalogues each sprain and scratch, each bruise and break, keeping a close eye on it all as he prioritises and re-prioritises how to treat each one.

he compartmentalizes everything else - name included - into matchbooks and minibar bottles and he keeps driving.

he stops to work odd jobs in exchange for gas money or food, and digs through the rubbish bins behind fast food places, and he keeps moving. he risks going to large department stores to 'try on' clothing and smuggle toiletries into his pockets, rather than taking them from the corner stores and mom-and-pop shops. this is familiar territory, manageable, and it may not be good work but he is good at making it work.

you truly are pathetic. i gave you life, ingrate, i gave you a mission, and this is how you thank me?

"if you gave me life," he mumbles, shivering in the back of his car with his jacket draped over him like a blanket. the whiskey weighs heavily on his tongue, and he should keep quiet, but he is so tired that he can no longer ignore the headaches and the voices, no longer ignore that they are not just voices, but he can no longer bring himself to care about their opinions regarding la luna. "if you gave me life," he repeats, "you can take it back."

what is that american phrase? "do not threaten me with a good time"?

he chuckles weakly. "something like that," he replies. the freezing air is so cold that it burns, and he drifts into sleep with bizarre images of mummified snowmen and floral pyramids floating through his head.

he sleeps soundly for a minute or five; he sleeps restlessly for another hour or an entire day. his dreams are vivid, filled with bursts of sounds and colors, smells and sensations and tastes that are almost too lifelike to be imaginary. the names and voices from his headaches are there, too, each one looking and sounding more or less like he does. if he was awake, it would be extremely disconcerting, but he cannot possibly be awake, not for things like this, so he lets it all wash over him.

"mon ami? s'il te plaît, réveillez-vous."

"he's gone, frenchie. there's nothing we can do anymore."

the conversation continues as he sinks lower and lower into turbulent grey waters, vaguely aware of the ambulance and fire engines around them. the ocean takes him, keeps him in a state of suspension for a week or a month, and the dreams return, taking him to new places and showing him new masks and faces.

"mama? when's uncle jake play dinos with me 'gain?"

"oh, honey. dia, uncle jake is… he's sleeping, remember? he's in this special bed in the hospital because it might be a long time before he wakes up. that's why he has all of these things around the bed, to help his body until he can wake up."

"but he sleeped already so so long!"

the little girl and her mother keep talking, but the voices of his system drown them out, panicking as they realize the extent of their injuries, and all of the tension and disorganization kickstarts jake's heart. the ventilator is suffocating, the bed-sheets are itchy, and everything is simultaneously painful and numb, but he keeps his heart rate level.

his monitors begin beeping, and a gasp causes jake to open his eyes. everything is blurry, and by the time he can see the child bouncing in marlene's arms, pink pigtails whipping around her face, reaching out to him with a plush dinosaur as big as her body, someone in the cramped room has already flagged down a nurse to help him sit up.

welcome back to the land of the living, brother.

we missed you, jake. we all missed you.

"see! see, mama! told you he's come back!"

jake's eyes water as he looks around the room, at the people who include him in their lives, at everyone who makes his existence about more than just survival.

"i always come back, kiddo," jake says hoarsely, "might take a while, but i always come back."

#🌙#📝

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