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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

Simple Addition

Pairing: Shy!Peter Parker x Reader

Request by @satanswitchings : reader asks a very shy Peter to help her with her math homework. They become close, but Peters feelings get hurt when reader won’t admit they’re friends in school

Masterlist

“Hey, wait up.”

Peter stopped in his tracks when he heard your voice from behind him in the hallway. He turned around slowly just as you caught up to him. You gave him your million dollar smile and ran your fingers through your hair, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“It’s Peter, right?” You asked, but you knew the answer. He’d sat in front of you in math half the year and though he never raised his Ahmed or participated in class, he aced every test. The same, however, could not be said for you.

Peter gulped and nodded rapidly, not trusting his voice enough to speak.

“Cool.” You smiled. “So, I have no idea what we just learned. I paid attention and took notes but it still doesn’t make sense to me. I um, I saw you got a 100 on the test. Are you good at math?”

It took Peter a minute to process what you had even said. He was focusing so hard on listening that he didn’t listen at all. He blinked a few times and forced himself to nod, internally kicking himself for being too shy to speak.

“Well, I’m not. Like, at all.” You sighed and shifted your books in your arms. Peter’s eyes clocked the math test on top of your notebook with a failing grade. “I was wondering if you could help me out with the homework? Logarithms for right over my head.”

Peter made sure to listen this time and wordlessly took off his backpack. He went into his red math folder, because math is red, and handing you his completed homework. Your eyes widened in surprise at how easy it was to get it as you looked over the sheet.

“Oh, thanks. I’ll see you-“ You looked up to thank him but he was already gone.

“-later. What a little weirdo.” You chuckled to yourself and put his homework in your folder.

“Who was that?” Your friend Gwen came up to you to ask as she squinted her eyes in Peters direction.

“I don’t know. Some boy in my math class.” You lied. “He gave me his homework though.”

“Nice. I love getting nerds to help me.” She nudged you teasingly with her elbow.

“You’re such a bitch. I love it.” You teased her back as you walked to your next class.

You were walking by the library the next morning when you spotted Peter inside, sitting alone at a table. You went in and took the seat across from him, chuckling a little as he slowly looked up at you in disbelief. A blush spread from the bridge of his nose all the way down his neck as you smiled at him.

“Hey. Thanks for letting me copy it.” You greeted him as you gave him back his math work.

“N-no problem.” He stammered, not looking at you as he put in back in his folder.

“Ahh. So you do speak.” You commented, pleasantly surprised to hear his voice for the first time. He gave you a weak smile and quickly looked away, eyes going back to his Spanish homework. You noticed what he was doing and furrowed your eyebrows. His homework was barely done and it was due later that day. You knew because you were in the same class and breezed through it the night before.

“Is that for Señor Kuhn’s class?” You nodded towards his paper. He looked at you quickly and nodded as he toyed with the cap of his pen.

“You know it’s due today, right?” You asked just to make sure he knew.

“Spanish isn’t my speciality.” He said softly as he brushed some hair out of his eyes.

“Really?” You wondered. “I thought everything was your specialty.”

You knew Peter was a smart kid, some might even call him one of the schools nerds. It surprised you to hear he also struggled with schoolwork.

“I, um, can’t really figure things out without an equation.” He was barely audible but you still heard him. He was painfully shy, and that made him all the more endearing to you.

“Well, Spanish is kinda like an equation.” You told him. “You add the subject to the verb to get the conjugate. Like, this is your homework and you didn’t do it. No hiciste la tarea. I did do the homework. Hice la tarea. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” He smiled a little. “Kinda.”

“Here.” You took out your Spanish homework and handed it to him. “You can copy mine. I owe you one for the math homework.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t look at you as he accepted the paper, but his tone told you he was grateful.

“You can look at me, you know.” You chuckled. “You won’t turn to stone or anything.”

Peter’s face flamed red again as you acknowledged his shyness. As much as he wanted to talk to you, he didn’t know how. The words came to mind but died in his throat, leaving him speechless.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” You asked softly, but not meanly. Peter shook his head as he slowly looked at you, a sheepish look on his face.

“Not really.” He mumbled.

“Thats okay.” You shrugged. Talkings overrated. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around?”

Peter nodded eagerly at you as you stood up from the chair. You waved at him, and he weakly waved back. As soon as you were out of sight, he banged his head on the desk a few times out of embarrassment. The girl he’s been crushing on since third grade had finally noticed him and he couldn’t hold it together long enough to speak to her. He picked his head up and sighed, eyes flickering over to your Spanish homework. He smiled a little at your unmistakable handwriting before picking up the paper and copying the answers down.

This was the first of my many homework trade offs. He’d give you the math homework and you’d give him the Spanish, an arrangement that benefited the both of you.

“Peter.” You came up to him the following week. “Did you happen to do the math homework last night? I got up to number 7 and my mind shut down. It was totally lost on me.”

Peter silently handed it to you, already having it ready since he knew he’d run into you between classes.

“Thank you so much.” You sighed in relief. “I have the spanish, if you need it.”

“Thanks.” Peter mumbled as he took the Spanish from you. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You called after him, but he had already run away.

He came to your locker the next morning with the math homework in his hand, wordlessly holding it out to you.

“Oh my God, thanks.” You took it and slipped it into your folder. “Stay here, I’ll get the Spanish.”

Peter stood there in silence as you began to rummage through your locker. He peered inside, smiling to himself at all the pictures of you and your many friends you had hanging up. Your lives couldn’t be more different, but this single thread tied you together.

“Are you on the Decathlon team?” You asked suddenly as you took out your Spanish folder. Peters face flushed as he nodded, too shy to speak. You got the homework out but didn’t give it to him just yet, knowing he’d run away once you did.

“Is it fun?” You asked. “I almost signed up freshman year until I found out you have to take a bus all the way to Washington DC every year. I get crazy motion sickness.”

“It’s fun. I- I like it.” He stammered, surprised at you making small talk with him. Though you’d never admit it to your friends, you liked Peter. You liked him a lot, in fact. He was far better than the jocks you had pinning after you. You appreciated his help with homework, but you wanted more from him. Despite his obvious shyness, you were determined to get a conversation out of him.

“That’s cool. Do you do any other clubs?” You kept the conversation going just to keep him there.

“Marching band and robotics.” He told you, speaking a little louder now.

“Wow. So you’re like a total nerd, huh?” You joked as you shut your locker. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His ears turned pink as he struggled to talk to you.

“Relax. I’m just teasing.” You assured him as you squeezed his arm. “I think robotics are cool. Have you built one yet?”

“I’ve built a few.” He nodded. “It’s probably not the kind of robots you’re thinking of, though. It’s mostly machines that can complete basic tasks.”

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak at once.” You smiled happily. “Here’s the Spanish.”

“Thank you.” He mumbled through a smile as he took it. “Uh, I’ll see you later. Bye.”

And with that, Peter bolted away without another word. You laughed to yourself at his odd behavior before one of your friends came up to you.

“Hey girl.” She greeted. “Who was that?”

“No one.” You lied again, wondering briefly why you even did it. “Let’s go to homeroom.”

In a slight change of events, Peter was the one to approach you the following week. He spotted you in the library and had every intention of minding his own business when he realized you were crying. He couldn’t be totally sure because you had your hands over your face, but your body language told him you were very upset. He took a deep breath and smacked himself on the cheek before walking up to your table.

“Hey.” He said softly, startling you a little as you looked up. You quickly wiped your face free of tears and gave a weak smile, gesturing for him to sit down.

“Hi.” You nodded, averting your eyes so he couldn’t tell how glassy they were.

“You okay?” He asked as he slid a packet of tissues towards you. You laughed sadly as you accepted the packet, quickly taking one out to dry your eyes.

“This is so embarrassing.” You sniffled. “I cannot understand this math for the life of me. You know I got a 67 on the last test? I’m gonna fail this class.”

“You won’t fail.” Peter assured you. “You just need to practice.”

“I try to but I get frustrated when I can’t understand the problem and then I stop. How is it so easy for you?” You asked desperately.

“The same way Spanish is easy for you.” He said. “Different people have different skills.”

“But math is a basic skill that we learned when we were five. The teacher told me if I fail one more test, I’m gonna go to summer school. I’m so stupid.” Yoh began to cry again, turning your face so he wouldn’t see. Peter felt a strong urge to walk away due to his inter hatred of awkward situations, but he felt a stronger urge to comfort you. He got out of his seat and took the one beside you instead, placing a gentle hand over yours. You turned your head sharply in his direction at the unexpected contact, eyes flickering from your hands to his face.

“You’re not stupid.” He said at the loudest you ever heard him.

“Then why can’t I get this?” You whispered.

“Um, I…I don’t…” Peter struggled to find the words to say to make you feel better. He frowned and shook his head, cursing himself for being shy.

“It’s okay, Peter.” You said suddenly. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this. I’m sure you have your own things to deal with, you don’t need me to burden you with mine.”

“You’re not being a burden.” He found the words this time. “Doing the homework is what helps me remember how to solve the equations. Since you’re just copying my work, you’re not getting the extra practice.”

“You’re probably right. Actually, I bet you’re exactly right.” You sighed as you looked down at the math you’d been trying to figure out for the last hour. You chewed your bottom lip as you through about what he said and came up with a solution.

“Could I get your number?” You asked him. “Maybe it’ll help me if you explain the homework to me instead of just giving me the answers.”

“Oh, sure.” Peter gulped nervously as he took out his phone, handing it to you with shaking hands. You typed your number into it, smirking at his Lock Screen, a picture of him and Mr. Stark.

“Cute background.” You mumbled as you handed his phone back. “You can put your number into mine as well. I have a feeling you’re not one for texting first.”

“That’s, um, that’s true.” He laughed shyly as he put his number in your phone. “You may be struggling with math, but you’re excellent at reading people.”

“I do my best.” You shrugged. “I’ll talk to you later, Peter.”

Just as you promised, a text from you appeared on Peters screen later that evening.

“Hey Peter. It’s Y/n.”

Peter gulped nervously and picked up his phone, thumbs dancing over his keyboard as he thought of a response.

“Hi. Need help with math?” He texted back.

“Eager to get started I see. We could talk first, you know.” You teased him, hoping he would get your sarcasm through the text.

“About what?” He asked, having literally no idea what a girl like you would possibly want to talk about with a boy like him.

“Idk. Our days, the weather, the fictional character from our childhood that we projected on. Whatever you want to talk about.” You sent, making him laugh.

“I have nothing to say.” He wrote back. He knew it sounded lame, but he was being honest.

“Then I’ll start. What’s your favorite fruit?” You texted. The random quetsion made him chuckled as he rolled over and hugged his pillow.

“Strawberries.” He answered back.

“This is the part where you ask me what my favorite fruit is. That’s how a conversation works.” You wrote, poking fun at him once again.

“I’m not good at conversations.” He reminded you, a cheeky smile on his face.

“So I see. Come on, Peter. Let me pick that pretty little brain of yours.”

Peter rubbed his face as he grinned, blushing over you once again.

“I already told you I like strawberries. Idk what else I can say. That’s basically my whole personality right there.” He texted you, letting a little bit of his personally shine through.

“Hark! 😳Is that a sense of humor? You’re three dimensional after all” You wrote back.

“I have a glimmer of a personality every now and then” He laughed as his own joke as he texted you.

“I’m shocked. I thought you were just the token cute but shy background character that gets his arc in the third season” You sent. Peter let out a shaky breath when he read that you called him cute. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were flirting.

“Oh I’m much more. I only think about the way I said “here” during attendance for HALF the day now. Used to be much longer 😏”

You laughed out loud when you read his text, loving that he was finally showing you his personality.

“Say less 🙈😍” You texted back.

“Sometimes I hold eye contact when I’m really feeling wild” He wrote you.

“BABY stop you’re turning me on”

“One time I coughed in class instead of holding it in even though I already coughed a few minutes before” Peter was feeling much more comfortable with you now, your reaction to his texts giving him the confidence to go on.

“You’re such a bad boy 🥵 Do you ever ask to go to the bathroom during class?”

“Never 😉” He sent, making you giggle.

“That’s so hot 🥴” You texted him, imagining the blush it would put on his face.

“I’m glad you think so. I’m just a little 👉👈”

You sat up in bed and laughed loudly, falling in love with him with every text. It’s always the people you don’t expect who make you smile the most.

“BAHHAA I cannot believe you. You should talk more!! You’re actually really funny” You texted him, hoping he would listen. If he had been this open in school, you would’ve noticed him years ago.

“You mean I’m not just a pretty face? 😔🥺” He stole your joke from before. It was a minute before you answered, his heart pounding as he waited.

“You’re that too” You finally said, making him smile.

“Don’t get used to this.” He told you. “It’s a lot easier to talk over text. It may be months before I make eye contact with you”

“Well lucky for you I’m a patient person”

“Are you ready to do the math now?” He asked, feeling his social better beginning to drain.

“Yes I’ve gotten my Peter fill. Can we FaceTime?” You asked and his heart skipped a beat. Not knowing what to say, he turned to humor.

“Sure but I’ll only show my ceiling and barely speak 🥰” He wrote. You let out a breathy laugh and shook your head at his antics.

“That’s okay.” You sent. “I’m calling you now”

Peter sat up in bed and swiped his hands through his hair to tame it before your contact lit up on his screen. He took a deep breath before clicking the answer button.

“Hey. What are you doing?” Your smile appeared on his screen. Your phone was propped up against something as you sat at your desk, homework all out in front of you. A smile tugged at Peter’s lips as he saw a glimpse into your room, and you think thinking the exact same thing. Your walls were full of pictures of friends and his were full of decathlon posters. They were different, but different was okay.

“I’m just laying in bed.” Peter told you. Only his eyes could be seen from his camera and as promised, you were looking at his ceiling.

“Aw. Without me?” You teased and shot him a wink. Peter’s face flamed red before he disappeared from your screen all together. You let out a laugh at the surprised squeak he made as he struggled to find words to say.

“Wait, come back.” You chuckled. “It’s so fun to flirt with you because of how red you get but I genuinely fear you’re gonna have a heart attack. Does your family have a history of heart problems?”

“No.” He answered your joke question seriously.

“Okay.” You nodded in satisfaction. “Then you looked really cute today.”

Peter’s face left the screen again but you heard him let out a flustered laugh, which made you laugh as well.

“Let me see your face.” You whined as you leaned your cheek on your hand.

“No.” Peter laughed. “Open your textbook to page 56. There’s a good practice test I want you to do.”

“Okay, I see it.” You found the page and looked over the question. “How do you do number one?”

Your face timing sessions became a nightly routine as you tutored each other in your respective subjects. Peter eventually worked up the courage to ask you to come over to study for midterms, which you gladly accepted. Even after you got an 81 on the midterm, you continued to go to his house twice a week for studying. Two months later, he had become one of your best friends, even if he was still a little shy around you.

“I think of it as BAE.” Peter explained, lying on his stomach beside you on his bed. “Base, answer, exponent. Do you want to try this one?”

“Okay.” You nodded and took the pencil from him. “The base is 2. The answer is 8. And the exponent is 3?”

“That’s right.” Peter smiled but didn’t look at you. “You got it.”

“Finally.” You sighed in relief. “Do you think I’ll be ready for the test on Friday?”

“I think so.” He nodded as he wrote down another problem.

“I think so?” I need to hear your confidence, Peter.” You urged as you nudged him with your elbow.

“Fine.” He spoke up. “You’re going to ace this test, I know it. You are going to ace this test because you are smart and capable and I’m so proud of you.”

A shocked smile lit up your face at Peter’s words of encouragement.

“Wow. That was almost a normal volume. I’m impressed.” You remarked.

“Shut up.” He mumbled through a laugh as he went back to his equation.

“Sorry. I’m just teasing.” You assured him. “You can speak at whatever volume you want.”

Peter looked up from his notebook and smiled softly at you, holding your gaze for a moment before returning to his work.

“Hey.” You smiled in realization.

“What?” He wondered.

“You looked at me.”

“I always look at you.”

“Yeah, but you held eye contact with me.” You gushed. “You don’t normally do that.”

“I guess I’m getting more comfortable around you.” He shrugged bashfully as he averted his eyes. You knew he was getting overwhelmed, so you didn’t push the subject. It still meant the world to you, though, as he was finally coming out of his shell.

“Good.” You mumbled. “Good, I’m glad.”

Peter looked at you again with a shy smile, and you looked back. As you stared at each other, you saw his eyes drop to your lips before returning to your eyes. You picked up his signal and leaned in a little, but he quickly looked down and away. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and cleared your throat to hide your disappointment from him.

“Um, so do you want to start Spanish?” You suggested, not wanting to spend another minute in that moment.

“Y-yeah.” He stammered. “Let’s start Spanish.”

You walked into school the next day with a heavy heart after Peter rejected you. Being in the popular crowd, you were usually the one doing the rejecting. You had always assumed Peter wasn’t making the first move because he was shy, but now you knew it was because he didn’t feel the same. Your friends were already waiting for you at your locker, so you painted on a smile and let it go.

Peter spotted you at your locker and could immediately tell something was off. He knew you well enough to know when your smile was forced and he was a sneaking suspicion that he was the reason why. He hadn’t meant to dodge your kiss the night before. He wasn’t even entirely sure you were leaning in for one, which is why he short circuited and pulled away. He’d been beating himself up over it but had an idea of how to make it right. You were always encouraging him to be bolder in school, and he couldn’t think of anything bolder than walking up to you while you were with the popular kids. Before he could lose his nerve, he walked up to you and cleared his throat.

“Hi, Y/n.” He said a little louder than he was used to, surprising the both of you.

“Uh, hi Peter.” You looked at him briefly and quickly looked back at your friends. You couldn’t hear what they were saying anymore because of the range of emotions you were going through. You were frankly a little pissed at Peter for pulling away from the kiss, but you were also proud of him for having the courage to come up to you at school. That pride was currently being overshadowed by embarrassment as your friends gave you strange looks for talking to him. On any other day, you would’ve been happy to talk to him in public. But him pulling away from your kiss and then talking to you was sending you mixed signals that frustrated you to the point where you didn’t even want to speak to him.

“Um, do you think we could meet an hour later that usual today?” He asked sheepishly. “I have a feeling band practice is gonna run late.”

Your friends looked at you in amusement and one of them made kissy faces in your direction. Your face heated up in embarrassment and you decided you needed to get rid of Peter as quickly as possible.

“Sure. Whatever, that’s fine.” You said quickly, hoping he’d get the message and leave.

“Did have any trouble with the practice problems I gave you?” He asked and your jaw almost dropped. Your friends raised their eyebrows at you, looking for answers you didn’t want to give them.

“No.” You stated bitterly.

“Practice problems?” Gwen snickered and looked at you questioningly.

“It’s nothing.” You assured her before looking at Peter. “Is there something else you needed?”

“No.” He said, shocked by your bitter tone. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.” You nodded vaguely and turned back to your conversation. Peter took that as his cue to leave and began to wonder if the way he was feeling was how he had made you feel the night before. If it was, he understood why you didn’t want to talk to him.

“What was that?” Your friend laughed tauntingly, making the rest of the group laugh as well.

“Nothing.” You dismissed quickly. “Let’s just go to class.”

Peter was already waiting for you in your room when you got home, the sight of him making you let out an angry huff.

“What was that?” You demanded with your hands on your hips.

“What?” Peter asked curiously as he looked up from him his notebook.

“This morning. You totally embarrassed me in front of my friends.” You whined.

“How did I embarrass you? All I did was talk to you.” He pointed out, hurt evident in his voice.

“Yes, and that’s how you embarrassed me.” You stated. “They don’t need to know that you and I are hanging out all the time and they certainly didn’t need to know that you’re giving me practice problems. Now they’re gonna think I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid for needing help.” He said quietly.

“But they don’t get that. I never wanted them to know about this, or us, or any of it.” You explained. “What you and I do in private is between us. You can’t just come up to me and act like…”

“Like we’re friends?” He finished your sentence as he stood up from your bed. Your face fell when you realized how bad it sounded. The hurt look on your best friends face, a look you put there, made your anger evaporate. You realized almost immediately that you were in the wrong and shouldn’t be scolding him.

“Peter, please don’t do this. You know I care about you. Love you, even.” You walked to him and put your hands on his shoulders. “You’re my best friend within these four walls. But when we’re at school, people expect me to be friends with girls like Gwen and boys like Flash. People like you and me don’t really hang out, you know?”

“And I expect you to be kind.” He snapped as he pushed your hands off. “Should I not do that? Are you not capable of that?”

“Why are you yelling at me?” You stepped back from him, knowing he was getting overwhelmed. “I’ve never heard you raise your voice above a mumble.”

“I’m yelling because I’m hurt.” He yelled, voice cracking at the end. “Are we even friends? Do you regard me as that much or am I just a tutor to you?”

“What are you talking about? Of course we’re friends.” You reached for him again but he pulled away.

“Well you’re being a bad one.” Peter shot back. Your face twisted in pain as he stared at you, both of your chests heaving. Peter tore his eyes away from you and went into his backpack, quickly getting out his math folder.

“Here.” He took your practice test from his folder and held it out to you. “You got them all right.”

You took the test and looked at in in disbelief, momentarily forgetting about the fight. You’d never gotten all of the questions right before. You looked up in time to see Peter leaving with his backpack.

“Where are you going?” You grabbed his arm gently to stop him.

“Home.” He told you. “You don’t need tutoring anymore so I have no reason to stay.”

“We can still hang out. You’re not just my math tutor.” You made a desperate attempt for him to stay as the weight of your actions hit you. Peter laughed darkly before looking up at you, an amused look in his eyes.

“Would you ever admit that outside this room?” He asked.

“I…”

“Then I am just your tutor.” He spat. “Goodbye.

Peter managed to avoid you the next morning, dodging you all together until math class. You knew you had to focus on the test and not your fight, but all you wanted to do was make up with him. Once the tests were over and handed in, you took your shot.

“Hey.” You whispered as you poked him with your pencil. “How do you think you did?”

Peter didn’t turn around, which you partially expected.

“I bet you did really well.” You tried again. “I actually think I did well too, thanks to you.”

Again, silence.

“Peter, please talk to me. I’m sorry about our fight.” You rubbed his shoulder kindly but he still didn’t move.

“You are my friend.” You said a little louder. “You’re my best friend. What can I do to prove that to you?

Peter was tempted to say something to you, but the bell rang before he could. He grabbed his books and hastily got out of his seat before you had a chance to to speak to him again. You grabbed your backpack and ran after him, determined to make this right.

“Excuse me, sorry.” You pushed past people to catch up to Peter. “Hey, Peter!”

When he didn’t answer, you called out again.

“Peter! Wait up.”

Still no answer, and you were starting to get frustrated.

“Hey! I’m talking to you.” You caught up to him and grabbed his hand. He looked at your hands before looking you in the eyes and dropping your hands harshly. You stood there stunned for a moment as he began to walk away until you decided you had enough.

“PETER PARKER.” You screamed, making everyone look at you. Every pair of eyes in the hallway was looking in your direction, but you were only looked at Peter.

Peter, who was about to pass away from the attention, by the way.

He looked around sheepishly as people cranes their necks to see who you were yelling at and felt his face turn redder than it ever had.

“You don’t talk much, and that’s fine.” You continued, loud enough for everyone to hear you. “I just need you to listen.”

Peter blinked a few times before nodded slowly, signaling that he would listen. You smiled in relief before digging in your backpack and pulling out your math test from earlier that day. You held it up over your head and turned in a circle so everyone could see it.

“I got an 92 on my math test last week.” You announced. “That’s the highest I’ve gotten since middle school and I couldn’t have done it without Peter tutoring me. I came to him for help with homework but I ended up with a best friend whom I love very dearly.” You were only looking at him now. “I will admit that behind closed doors and I will admit that here. But I also have to admit that I have not been a good friend and for that I am truly sorry.”

Peter smiled a little as the shocked looks of the crowd faded to nothing when he looked at you.

“You don’t have to do this here.” He whispered, but you weren’t finished yet.

“I haven’t even done it yet.” You half smiled as you shoved your test into your bag.

“Done what?” He asked as you walked up to him. You got to him and gave him an apologetic smile in advance for the attention you were about to draw to him.

“What I’ve been wanting to do for a long time now.” You told him. Peter barely had time to react before you put your hands on his face and pulled him into a kiss. You could feel his body tense up momentarily, so you pulled away just enough to whisper…

“Relax.”

Peter’s body did a better job at listening than he did as he slowly loosened his muscles. A hesitant hand found your waist and rested there as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel the heat of his skin against your face and pulled away before he could get too overwhelmed.

“I.…just…heh…um - wow - uh…” He stumbled over his words as he looked at you with a shy smile.

“Don’t speak.” You laughed and shook your head. “Just kiss me.”

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queenoftheworldisdead · 3 years

Text

Help wanted

Summery: Boarding house with the occasional unwanted tenant.

Note: I don’t think Arvin is dark in this, but it might be for other people.

Warning: non-con/dub con, dark theme, choking, slight spanking, cream pie

Grey Arvin Russell x Reader; Dark Lee Bodecker x Reader

🛎

The bell rung on the door of your boarding house. Drying your hands with a dish rag you got yourself ready to meet whoever it was coming through the door. When you crossed through the archway you were shocked still.

He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his clothes looked all greased up, the hat that hid a thick tuft of hair peaked out looked like it had seen better days.

His type weren't known for being on this side of town so you figured he was either new to town or looking for someone.

You welcomed him with a soft smile and gave your name.

"How can I help you today sir?"

"Hello Ma'am." He said politely, tipping his hat slightly at you. His thick country twang confirming the former. "I saw the help wanted sign out side. Y'all still hiring?"

"Um..Y-yeah... I need a handy man, job includes free room, and board, but I won't just hire anybody though. There is a washer in the basement, if you fix one of them the jobs yours."

🛎

Waddling to the basement with your Daddy's old toolbox, the heavy rusty thing knocked at your knees each step. He jogged over to you, taking the kit from your grasp and you thank him for it.

"The left one broke down a month ago and the other I'm guessing couldn't handle the over use. Dryers work just fine though."

Before he could reply you heard the door bell ring again. You excused yourself and left him to work.

"I'm coming, just a minute!" You shout down the hall as you hurried.

🛎

"Sorry it took so long."

"Saul right Ma'am" he said rising from the floor. You watched from the door as he twisted a dial. The hum of the machine filled the growing awkward silence.

"Well aren't you something! I guess that means your hired."

He lifted his hat to smooth back stray strands of hair, his shy smile hid as he looked down to the floor.

🛎

"Your room's on the third floor. Has a bed and a little sitting place. It's really small just enough room to lay your head really." The sound of foot-steps coming down the stairs halted you. Your eyes watch their back disappear into the night, until he cleared his throat bringing your attention back.

"That'll do just fine Ma'am." Something about his southern accent made your heart flutter. He picked up his duffel, throwing the strap over his shoulder as you dug out your ledger.

"Just down there is the supper table. I cook breakfast and dinner. You can eat in your room if you like, a lot of them do." You explained as you watch him sign the book. Arvin Russell it read.

He adjusted his strap as you talked, his deep brown eyes made it hard for you to keep his gaze, making you fidget nervously in place. "Most folks are gone during the day so I don't make lunch, but if you like no problem just give me a holler. Bath rooms are at the end of each hall."

Digging in your desk you find the master keys and a list of things that needed to be fixed. His fingers grazed yours lightly in the transfer, Arvin's touch sent a ripple of heat up to your face. He flipped through the wrinkled papers, scanning over the chores with a wrinkled brow.

"S-sorry to put so much on you, but when my daddy got sick things got out of hand and I never been one for fixing things."

"No problem Ma'am."

🛎

During the day you kept busy. Scrubbing windows and mopping the halls of each floor. Arvin crossed paths with you on occasion. Gently brushing past you with his tools as he headed to his next assignment.

The door to Odis', one of the tents, room was left wide open when you walked by. Curious you glanced in, catching sight of Arvin lifting his shirt. Your legs stop moving as you watched him wipe away beads of sweat from his brow with the hem. You couldn't stop yourself from ogling his well toned exposed stomach.

The clanking of the dust pan hitting the floor caught his attention. Your face burn with embarrassment when he found you standing outside the room. Panicked you quickly picked up the pan and rushed off to the ground floor.

🛎

You heard Arvin call your name. "Yeah?" You replied weakly still embarrassed.

*Relax he isn't thinking about you. Probably just thinks your a clumsy dits.

He came halfway down the stairs, looking down at you from the banister. "You got a minute? I need a little help" he asked politely.

"Oh sure... Uh sure" you reply looking up at him. Arvin abandoned his cap, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, curling from sweat. More sweat pooled on his shirt, the dampness helped stick the fabric to his lean figure.

Following him up the stairs he led you to a room on the third floor. In the corner of the room there was a large metal pipe leaning against the wall.

You watched as Arvin lifted the heavy pipe, angling it vertically in position.

"Can you hold this?" he called over his shoulder.

Walking over you grabbed it and Arvin moved to get behind you. He took your hands and placed them along the pipe as you steadied yourself to hold it still while it slightly wobbled.

"OK hold still just like that." He bent over beside you, digging into the tool box that rested on the floor. When he rose, Arvin stayed close behind you. You could feel the heat coming off him, he smelled like sweat and after shave. Your hands felt sweaty as you felt rattled a bit by his closeness.

The pipe shifted a bit, you tried nudging it slightly, but couldn't get it back in place.

"Stay steady" his breath tickled your ear, you gasped making him chuckle lightly. "Just like that" he moved the pipe back into place, pushing into your butt when he stepped closer. "Just hold right... here." He placed a hand on your hip and you tensed. His fingers lightly squeezed your softness. You had to fight hard to bring your mind out of the gutter, he just needed your help, nothing more, the spot between your thighs thought otherwise.

With his arms raised above you, Arvin tightened the nuts to secure the metal tube. You swallowed thickly when you heard him grunt as he forced the wrench to move. Looking over to your right you spied his exposed arms. His muscle flexing as he moved.

"Almost done" he said to you, pushing you almost flush to the steel, bumping you gently with each twist of the wrench. You only nod, unable to conjure words to speak properly. Through the cheap fabric of your dress you felt something hard poke at you through his jeans.

*Stomp it now get your mind out of the gutter.

You don't know what had gotten into you lately. First staring at him like a creeper now thinking about his manhood. Maybe its about time you started going back to church you thought to yourself. Cause right now it felt like the devil was leading you to temptation.

When Arvin stepped back you had to choke down a whimper from the loss of his feel. Pressing your lips together you prayed he aint hear you.

Tapping a hand on your shoulder you turn to look at him. "All done." He smiled at you, your hands release the pipe and you backed away.

"Thanks Ma'am."

"You're welcome Arvin" You smiled shyly then rushed off back to your desk.

🛎

No matter how hard your days were the nights were by far the worst. Lying in bed you felt the mattress dip. The fear of the impending figure behind you prickled your skin.

Your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you tried to force yourself to sleep. Holding your breath in a dumb attempt to force yourself to pass out. The blanket covering you pulled away and you felt water fall from your closed eyes.

🛎

Propping your head on your hands you leaned on your desk. Your eyes drooped as you zoned out, looking into space.

"You alright Ma'am?" Arvin startled you as he walked down the stairs.

"I couldn't sleep." You stand up and stretch, yawning a bit. He walked closer to your desk, dressed in his work pants shirt.

"Try some warm milk. Used to help me." He passed by your desk, walking down the hall with tool kit in had to the washers. The old machines acting up again since last time he fixed them.

"Oh Arvin" you shouted at him before he passed through the door. "Um.. can I add something to your list. No worries if you can't get it done today, but I would much appreciate it if you could."

Placing the box down by the laundry door he walked back over, digging the sheet from his back pocket. You grabbed a pen hopeful it was a task he wouldn't mind sorting right away.

"If you can't fix the lock today no problem. I will just go sleep in the attic." You spoke casually as he slipped you the paper to write on. He read over your assignment and you watched as his lips made a hard line.

"I locked myself out of my room, didn't want to wake you to get the spare, sorry. Now I done made more work for you" you laughed, but their was no humor in it. His features softened and you hoped he wouldn't press the issue.

Pushing the paper back to him, you bid him a due and turn to face away to pretend to make a call. When you heard him walk away you let out a breath.

🛎

Arvin was a saint among men. You don't know where he found the money, but he added a chain lock to your door. You smiled at the shiny gold. Sliding on the chain and the bottom lock you prepared for bed.

Laying in bed the thought of the extra lock helped sooth your nerve as you slipped into sleep.

You felt an uncomfortable lump at your back rousing you awake. Your eyes shot open and a hand covered your mouth before you could scream out.

"You think your smart, putting that chain on that door" the beer on his breath hit your nose. Your tears soaked his hand as he held you.

You shake your head 'no' repeatedly in reply. He was still dressed in his work clothes as he laid next to you. The sound of his belt jingling made the tears fall harder.

"I told your daddy I would look out for you. How am I gonna do that if you lock the door?"

Lee, a local cop, only came around when his wife was either on the mends or she just flat out kicked him out. Your father had offered the man a free bed whenever he needed. His way of thanking him for keeping the neighborhood safe.

Lee pushed up your night gown and tsked when he felt your panties. The hand on your mouth slipped down your neck and you blubbered out your apologizes. He hated panties, too much work he called it. "What I told you about these?" he grumbled, forcing the fabric down.

"I-i'm sorry I thought my monthlies were coming on." You sniffed. You tried hard not to cry, you just hopped he would squeeze hard enough to make you pass out.

You heard him spit in his hand, he bumped into your back as he lubed himself up. You yelped when he smacked your ass hard, the sudden sting of pain loosening your locked legs.

"Yea you said that last week. I aint forget girl." He shoved himself inside after he found your opening. "Fucking bitch. I run the house gawd damn it!" Lee was mad at his wife agin. What ever his spite with her, you were paying for it. "Not gonna tell me what to do. Fucking bitch." He growled, panting heavily as he pumped.

You jolted with each thrust, no matter how many times Lee did it, it never got easier.

"Please." You panted desperately. "Please don't come in me" you choked out, his hand tightening his grip around your throat. You had been lucky so far, but you knew it was only a matter of time before your luck ran out.

Lee didn't like back talk, this was his show and you were just here for the ride. Pushing you completely flat you grip the fabric of the sheets. Lifting your ass as he rose to his knees he fucked into you harder. You cried out unable to adjust to his lengthen. He chuckled darkly at your pain, slamming into you repeatedly with a punishing rhythm.

He cursed your name. Reminded you of your place as he came deep in you. His seed filling your cunt as you pressed your head into the mattress and cried.

He slipped out of the bed. His pants once again jingling as he fixed himself up and headed out the door.

🛎

It was that time of the month again.

Whenever he shouted he spit. It was disgusting. You had given him chance after chance, but he used them all. "I'm sorry Tommy if you don't have the rent by Thursday you are going to have to leave."

"Fuck you bitch you let that boy stay here rent free!" He shouted. Trying to make sure tent knew.

"He works here. He earns he keep."

"Then let me earn mine? or give me another week." He barked. His tone more of a demand than a request.

Sighing you hung your head low. Rubbing your temple with one hand you hugged your stomach with the other. First of the month was the worst. Tents ducked and dodged. Begged and pleaded or straight up demand just to not pay rent.

"Next Friday Tommy... That's the last time you hear me." You try to sound strong, but you knew he didn't give a shit as long as he won. "If you aint got it then, then I'm changing the locks and putting your stuff on the street."

He slammed his door in your face and you turned on your heels headed to the next delinquent.

"You alright Ma'am?" Straight ahead, Arvin poked out from the bathroom. You had to fight yourself from looking down at his lower half. In your peripheral you could see he was just in a towel that hung around his waist.

His wet hair seemed to curl under the towel on his head. Strands sticking to his forehead, his face still damp from the shower.

"Umm yeah. Uh just rents due and folks get a little uppity around this time of the month." You dry chuckle turning your eyes up at the ceiling. Fighting yourself from venturing further.

You couldn't tell if it was the steam that came from the bathroom or you. Whenever he was close, your body would react. The heat would turn up making you sweat.

"Well alright then. You have a good night Ma'am."

🛎

*Bang Bang Bang

"Tommy!" You bang again. "Tommy! I will give you to the count of three. If you don't open this door and pay up. I am coming in and kicking you out!" You huffed tapping a foot.

"Ma'am?"

"Morning Arvin. Sorry did I wake you?"

"No was working down the hall."

"Tommy, skipped out on rent I think." Taking a deep breath you lifted your master key ring and unlocked the door. When you peered inside the room was a mess, no sign of Tommy.

Arvin followed you in side, with a hand on your hip you groaned. The amount of clean up you would have to do to ready it for a new tenant would take all day.

"Arvin can you change the lock on the door. I hate doing this, but I gotta kick him out"

"Sure thing ma'am"

As you turn to leave you over at Arvin who was still assessing the damage to the room. "Oh and can you possibly stay close. If he comes around I might need your help."

Arvin only nodded in response as you took your leave.

🛎

Tommy didn't come back that day or the next. Putting up a sign you thought that you could clean up the room a bit, before the weekend. With the storm you figured not to many people would be coming around anyway.

Taking up a few boxes you get to tossing. One box you would keep in the addict. Somethings were just to hard to throw away sometimes, but a good chunk would go.

Thunder bashed down filling the room with a blinding white light. You yelped loudly bringing the sound of feet rushing down your way.

"You alright Ma'am?" Arvin looked in the room worried.

"Sorry Arvin, it’s just the storm. Lightening makes me a bit skittish sorry." You apologize as you get back to clearing the room.

"Well I am finished with my list for today, would you mind if I trouble you for some company?"

"U-um sure" you tried to fight off the smile.

His lips curled as he walked in the room. The instant he crossed the door frame you heard shouting coming from down stairs. When the voice made itself more clear you frowned.

"Oh uh sorry.. I need to tend to that" you say softly. With your head low you walked past him.

🛎

Lee was wet and agitated. "Fucking bitch had the nerve to accuse me of drinking again." He spat while you sat waiting on the bed. "I aint touch a drop today" he said smugly.

You looked at your feet as he undressed in front of you. The sound of a siren blared loudly from out side, Lee turned and squinted at the sound. "Shit!" He stopped undressing and ran out.

Getting up from the bed you grabbed your robe and peered out the hall. The front door was open and Lee wasn't there. The rain still coming down hard, blew in through the open door so you walked bare foot to close it and see if he had really gone. His car was gone that was for sure and as you looked into the rain it seemed he had disappeared too. You exhaled in relief, backed away and closed the entrance.

"Ma'am?" Arvin called to you out of breath.

"Shit!" You gasped, turning to face him. Your heart bashed in your chest as you stared at him crazily. He was soaked to the bone. "Your gonna catch a cold walking around like that" you scolded tightening your robe.

"Do you have any clean towels?" You asked, but you turn back to look at the door. Hoping that Lee wouldn't suddenly comeback.

"I think so.. I know I need to do laundry, not too good at it so I've been holding it off."

"Well, I don't normally do this, but if you like I can mix yours with mine. I don't have enough clothes to justify using all that water anyway."you shrugged.

"I don't want to put you out" he stepped closer to you. "The way his clothes clung to him you had to try hard not to stare.

"N-no trouble. Um wait here I'll give you a towel just in case." You leave him and head back into your room. Digging in your cabinet for the towels. When you turned around again Arvin stood in your living room, looking around your meager abode. "I know it aint much, but at least I got my own bathroom" you chuckled.

When he stepped closer and you had to hold yourself together. Arvin dragged his teeth over his bottom lip while his eyes fell to the opening in your rope.

"S-sorry" your face felt on fire, embarrassed you looked down to your feet. You held out the towel and closed the robe with the other. Arvin’s hand lifted your chin and your eyes went wild.

His lips felt so soft. You just wanted to kiss them all day. Arvin's arms wrapped around your waist and you wanted to melt into him.

Arvin turned you around and backed you up until you both fell backwards onto the bed. Arvin rested comfortably between your thighs while his manhood pressed on your mound. You didn’t know if it were his jeans or your nature making you go wet, but either way you welcomed it.

You gasped when he sucked on your neck, kissing the spot after pulling off. Arvin ground his hips into you making the warmth between your legs soak with desperation.

Holding himself above you, you forced yourself to finally look back at him without shying away. He smirked down at you as he peeled off his top, the wet garment hit the floor hard. His muscles moved and tightened as he freed his shaft. Biting your bottom lips you hummed when he rubbed the tip hard against your slit then lining himself up. Arvin pressed his weight down as he pushed inside slowly. You moaned his name at his fullness. The bed frame squeaked as he rocked.

Kissing you again swallowing your moans, you wrap your legs around his back urging him deeper. Ever the gentleman he obliged.

🛎

*Bang Bang Bang

The furious jiggling and banging was most definitely Lee. You were surprised he hadn't popped the lock as usual, but it was only a matter of time before he got through.

Arvin must not have noticed so you slapped his chest. Pushing him off, but he wouldn't stop. Instead kissing you again as you tried to speak.

"Arvin please, that's Lee... he's.. cop" you spoke on his lips, but your words meant nothing.

Arvin's eye were darkened with lust. You tried to spin away, but he hooked your legs keeping you there, fucking you with his slow pace. He was splitting your mind in two. You wanted to cum so desperately, but your reason told you that Lee wouldn't take kindly to this.

Arvin continued to rock into you as Lee screamed at the door. Your back arched when Arvin took your nipple in his mouth.

"That's it. That's my girl. Come for me." He mumbled over your nipple. Licking the areola and sucking it again, you came around him, squeezing his cock making him hum with approval.

The banging on your bedroom wall brought your high down fast. "I will shoot through this gawd damn wall if you don't let me in!" Lee threatened. You looked at Arvin with panic in your eye. Arvin kissed you gently again as Lee screamed on. You were terrified, you hoped you could explain Arvin's presence away as a maintenance emergency, but before you could properly forma a though he pulled up his pants as you fixed yourself. Arvin didn't stop or look back as you called out to him. Paying you no mind as he opened the door and walked out.

The sound in the hall was so loud you thought lightening had broke through the roof. You rushed out of your room and found Lee out cold, with a pool growing around his perimeter. You looked at Arvin, the young man unconcerned as he began dragging the cop into your room by his feet.

"Get a bucket and a mop" he commanded, the pistol tucked deep in his pants. Without a word you followed his orders.

🛎

#Dark Lee Bodecker x Reader #Dark themes #dark!arvin x reader #dark!arvin!russell x reader #dark!arvin x black reader #dark!arvin x black!reader #dark arvin x black reader #darkish arvin x black reader #dark arvin x black!reader #dark lee x black reader #dark lee x black!reader #dark!lee x black!reader #black writer

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Read Into Me Chapter Two: The Importance of Being Earnest

Steve Harrington x Reader

Catch up on the series HERE

Word Count: 2,030

Warnings: Swearing, death illusion

Author’s Note: This chapter is a bit shorter than I’d like, but I promise that the next one is longer! Also, some of the tags aren’t working for some users, so I’m so sorry if you aren’t getting notifications for this series! If you know how to fix this lemme know!

Tags: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @banjino-in-the-whole @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @t0rment0 @10blurredsmoke10 @unussuallchild10 @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @asharpknife @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect

Steve was so very fucked. He’d been sat at his desk since he got home from school and could not think of a single fucking thing to write. He’d had his notebook open, his typewriter loaded with paper, pen uncapped and waiting to be used, and the most work he’d done was chew on its blue cap. He just couldn’t think.

Writing was not his thing. Reading was not his thing. School was not his thing. He had lines of trophies on his nearly empty shelf-swim meet, track and field, basketball, and baseball for one summer in fifth grade. He could understand how to play a sport. That was competitive, improvisational, and had a core outcome-you won, lost, or tied. The same three outcomes with a million ways to do it, a million variables to get in the way. Math and science were the same, he could swing Cs and Bs in those classes, but English was the opposite. There were too many opinions. Too many options. When he managed to read one of the assigned books for class and not merely the Cliff’s Notes, he found he had nothing to say about it. Everything the author said felt true, even when his teachers were telling him to look for specific things in the narrative. Sure, if someone told him that the conch shell in Lord of the Flies meant something, but if you asked him what he wouldn’t know. And he would believe you if you said that the conch shell didn’t mean anything. His essays were all crap.

He thought about calling Nancy. Nancy would know exactly how to help him, she always did. But Nancy was with Jonathan now and he wasn’t confident that they were still friends at all. If they were ever friends. He didn’t think that they were. They weren’t really friends before they dated. Still, his hand hovered over the egg shell white rotary phone on his desk, a gift from his eleventh birthday. He lifted the phone off its hook, dialling the number off by heart. It took three rings for someone to pick up.

“Eleven?” Mike Wheeler’s frantic voice came through the other end. Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes, the boy was far too attached to that girl, it was honestly concerning.

“Nah dude it’s Steve, your sister around?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“She’s out with Jonathan.” Mike’s voice dropped into one of boredom. “You know, her boyfriend?” he was such a little shit sometimes.

“Yeah, I know dipshit, you wanna tell her I called when she gets back?” Steve huffed back.

“If I remember.” With that, the call went dead. Steve groaned, rolling his eyes as he slammed the receiver back onto the hook. What a fucking waste of time. He’d never hear back now, that kid didn’t like him from the start and would do whatever he could to keep them from being friends.

What was to be done now? He didn’t have anything to say about his spring break! Mr. Lawrence was a bastard for even asking him to write about it. Nothing happened! His parents went to Miami Beach to rekindle their marriage for the hundredth time and left Steve at home alone. He tried to throw a party but almost got busted by the cops with a fake ID at the Pick n’ Save and Tommy’s brother wouldn’t give them any weed to supplement what would’ve been a pretty dry party. He cancelled the party after that and sat at home alone. Nothing much to tell about and definitely wouldn’t fill a page, even if he used the longest words he knew.

Steve stood from his desk, looking through his shelf till he found the heavy yellow pages he’d put on the bottom of his shelf to weigh the sucker down so it wouldn’t fall over as fast. He flipped it open, searching through the numbers till he found what he was looking for, lifting the receiver off its hook again.

Across the street, you were sprawled out on your rose printed bedspread, your head in your hands with Samantha sat on your desk chair, laughing at your pain. “You know it’s not that bad, right? You could’ve gotten stuck with someone way worse.” She said, mindlessly digging through the black jewellery box sat dusty in the corner of your desk. Your mother had sent it from Spain and had filled it with different things she found across Europe. You didn’t care much for the stuff yourself but you kept it on your desk to show that you used it, not that she was ever home to seemed to notice.

Your bedroom was clean and stark white. It used to be pink, to match the rest of your white iron rod and pink padded furniture. You didn’t like the pink that much, and you didn’t adore the white, but you could hide it behind the art you tacked to the wall. Every portrait, still life, and landscape painting you’d been proud of hung proudly in your home gallery. You’d done recreations of your favourite album covers, and splatter art with balloons, and a few charcoal drawings of your grandparents and your father. You’d painted clouds and stars on your ceiling when you were in middle school, and while they had a lot of room for improvement, you left them above your head as a comfort to you. Your father had helped you scrape the popcorn ceiling down flat and helped paint the ceiling sky blue. It was your last project together.

“Oh yeah totally…” you said through your hands, refusing to look at her, focusing instead on the yellow sun spots floating under your eyelids.

“I mean, you could’ve gotten stuck with Tracy Lords again, she’s in that class.” Samantha replied easily, pulling out a green sea glass bangle from the top drawer, running her fingers over the red velvet interior of the box. Tracy Lords was a menace to productivity, at least she was according to Samantha. They had issues, which meant that you did too by association, but she’d done nothing to you except glare and pop her gum at you.

“At least she does her work!” you sat up, letting your feet dangle over your bed. “I don’t think he’s ever done his work on time, he’s always late with stuff!”

“That’s not your problem; as long as you do your work then Lawrence won’t care.” She flashed the bangle in front of your face “You should wear this more it’s nice.”

You shrugged “You can have it if you want.” You didn’t really care about what your mother sent you, it didn’t change the fact that she didn’t care enough about you to be home for more than a month out of the year. Besides, where on earth were you supposed to wear any of it? Your mother loved to spend your father’s riches on random, useless crap and you hated the idea of showing off the money your father died for. It wasn’t anything to brag about.

“Nah, not my style, it won’t match any of my stuff.” She put the bracelet back, closing the box with a metallic thump. “But anyway, you’ll be fine. Steve’s completely harmless.” You weren’t exactly sure if you believed her.

The phone on your desk blared loudly. You begrudgingly jumped off the bed, pulling it off the hook. Your grandmother was still at the hair salon and if you didn’t answer, one of her little friends from the old folk’s home might think that she died again.

“Hello?” you asked, motioning for Samantha to move over a bit, closing your white curtains closed again, your eyes scanning the streets with a bored expression.

“Hey is this Y/N?” Steve asked cautiously. He couldn’t quite remember your voice but he had double checked your last name in the year book and the phone book.

“Yeah, who is this?” dread filled your stomach the second he spoke, you were hoping against hope that it wasn’t Steve. You could see him pacing his window from across the street.

“Hey it’s Steve from English?” Fucking hell. You wanted to slam the damn receiver onto its hook. But if you did that, Samantha would think that you were crazy and you didn’t want to seem like such a baby.

“Oh hey what’s up?” you asked cautiously. Samantha was pulling at your sleeve, mouthing ‘Who is it?’ at you. You pulled your arm away, pushing her chair away from you with your foot.

“Oh nothing much, I was just wondering how your paper’s going?” Steve didn’t really know why he called you, he wasn’t certain that you’d even help him if he asked. He hardly knew you, he couldn’t name two things about you. But you seemed smart, you could be of some help if he had the balls to ask for it.

“Oh um…it’s fine. How’s yours going?” your hand came to the back of your neck, rubbing it awkwardly. You wanted to run away, to utterly disappear into another dimension. You didn’t like strangers, especially the whole small talk part. You didn’t feel like you had anything interesting to say about yourself and you hated silence. Your mind just didn’t come up with questions to ask.

Steve’s face burned. He couldn’t admit that he was stupid now; he was hoping that he wasn’t the only idiot in the class. “Oh um it’s good! I’m almost done.” He said, mentally cursing himself for saying that he was anywhere near finished.

“Oh cool. Do-do you want to switch them off tomorrow?” Now you had no idea what this phone call was even about. In the back of your mind, you assumed that he just had a question about the essay, but now you had nothing to grab onto.

“Yeah sure, that works for me.” He said, looking to his empty paper. He was so totally screwed now. He couldn’t admit that he was an idiot to you, not when you already had everything so clearly understood. You spoke so confidently, it made him feel small and pointless.

“Okay…I’ll see you in class then.” You said. Steve bid an awkward goodbye and you both hung up unsure what the hell had just happened.

Samantha was on her feet, jumping on your mattress “Did Steve Harrington just call you?!?” she cried, following it was it a giddy scream. You hushed her, rolling your eyes.

“It’s nothing to freak out about, you weirdo!” you countered, turning to face her fully with a sullen expression. Your heart was still pounding hard in your chest, adrenalin pumping through your veins.

Samantha landed on her knees, looking up at you incredulously “What? He’s cool! That’s cool! Boys never call you!”

“Way to rub that one in.” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Talking to people wasn’t your strong suit, and while for the most part you were okay with not having many friends, you lack of experience with relationships made you very insecure. “You crushed one of your spikes on my ceiling.”

Samantha reached up and touched each individual black spike with the tips of her finger, finding the dented one at the top of her head. “It’s true! God, I’ve got more guys calling me and I’m a lesbian.” She lowered her voice at the mention of her sexuality. You both knew that your grandparents wouldn’t be kind to her if they knew, their homophobia a mark of their small mindedness.

“Yeah, well, the guys at this school are all idiots.” You looked back to your paper, pulling your red pen out from behind your ear and crossing out a word on your essay.

“You didn’t think Jonathan Byers was an idiot.” Samantha replied. You cheeks flashed cherry red. It wasn’t fair of her to even mention him. He was a dickhead and Samantha knew it.

“Yeah, well now I know that he’s just as big of an idiot as everyone else is.” You muttered, pulling your desk chair over and taking a seat once again. You didn’t have the time for stupid boys, anyways. You had work to do.

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mistflyer1102 · 3 years

Text

Silver Bells (9/25)

Read on AO3 here.

Summary: Bond and Q wear Christmas jumpers to work.

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

Q had no qualms about going to work in one of his favorite Christmas jumpers.

If Bond did have issues with wearing his own jumper, a gift from Q’s mother from the year before, at MI6, he kept them to himself. The Double-O agent was sitting in a swivel chair near Q’s desk in the Technical Services bullpen, fiddling with small paperweights and loose pens to take his attention off from needling or otherwise distracting Q’s already-frazzled staff (in-house accidents, especially in R&D, had a tendency to increase around this time of year). Q meanwhile was still neck-deep in a pile of debriefing reports and commission requests that he planned to have mostly done by Christmas so he could take the day off and not feel completely guilty about ignoring his inbox.

Actually, now that Q thought about it, Bond was more quiet about it than Q guessed he would, especially since he was known for his more refined tastes in clothes. And he was sitting in a tank of sharks that were likely to use the footage against Bond later. And Bond had to know that, so was he waiting for an opportunity to strike?

Damn.

Q had hoped to get some work done today.

He grabbed his now cold mug of tea and wandered out of his office, resisting the urge to burrow into his jumper. It was made of thick blue wool, and the front of the jumper had an image of the TARDIS decorated in tiny, colorful lights with the door partially open. The bullpen was colder than his office, which meant the heater was broken again--usually the problem was the other way around--and the chances of having to evacuate R&D for the fifth time in a month had increased by ten percent. Since there were no alarms.

“Do you want me to heat that for you?”

Q looked down at Bond, who was handing a pen back to Marcela. “Oh, thank you,” he said, letting the agent take his mug. “Looking to show off Artoo-Detoo?” he asked, smirking slightly as Bond placed a protective hand over the droid knitted on the front of his jumper.

“If I wanted to show off Artoo-Detoo, I would be hanging out with the field agents in the upstairs lounge, not down here in the bullpen and getting grilled on every little crumb of Star Wars trivia,” Bond shot back, arching a brow towards the back of the room. Q followed his line of sight in time to catch a few sheepish techs disappearing behind their computers. “Or I would be outside, parading around as a bright red target for any sniper who decided to take their chances this close to my home,” he added as he looked back down at Q.

“It’s not that bright of a red,” Q said, scanning over the red and white jumper that had Artoo-Detoo wearing a knit cap, the tail of which ended in a white pompom. “Okay, maybe it is that bright…”

“I’m still surprised that you even showed up here in that jumper,” Marcela cut in, glancing between the two of them. “I mean, since when does the great Double-oh Seven wear a Christmas jumper?”

“When he gets dragged out of bed before the sun is even up and is in such a rush out the door that he grabs a garment out of the hall closet that doesn’t belong to him. Of course, I forgot that this was the one that got doused in the washing machine by accident and was left to hang to dry,” Bond said before Q could answer, the lie slipping past Marcela with ease. He glanced at Q and said, “Mallory’s already seen it. I told him that if he didn’t like it, then maybe he shouldn’t have called you in so early.”

Q didn’t dare look at Marcela to see if she bought the lie. Q was the only other inhabitant in the flat, and he wore a smaller size than Bond. And they were both smart about taking proper care of clothes. Bond didn’t have to tell Q the real reason he had grabbed the jumper. They both knew that the jumper was warm and Bond loved it.

And that was the important thing.

#00q #james bond #christmas otp challenge #mistflyer fanfiction #tumblr please stop messing with the formatting #please and thank you

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romeulusroy · 4 years

Text

Live And Breathe (Michael Gray Oneshot)

Character/s: Michael

Word Count: 1,395

Requested: anon

Word Prompt/s: Hush, Bath

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt

A/N: So. . . . . someone got carried away. These mini-fics were meant to be short and fun, but of course sometimes I get an idea and get a little too lost in it :) I do really like how this turned out though and it's kind of the highlight of a not so great day. It's also being posted later than I wanted. I wanted to check spelling mistakes since it was written rather quickly, but the WiFi was finicky when I needed most lol. Anyways, thank you for requesting my love! I’m so sorry about the wait! I hope you’re staying safe, looking after yourself, I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

~ FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. ~

MINI-FIC REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

Dipped in the murky waters. Delicate, soft, his hands on you, not what you thought they'd feel like. Easy, scared to hurt you, break your paper bones, tear or nick your flesh. Careful. Your clothes piled by the bathroom door, wet, sopping, bleeding across the bathroom floor. Nude, but not really. Dressed in red. Your very best. A color that never looked so violent. Dry now, peeling off you, rejecting the touch of you. Not your own. Crying like a baby, sobbing, babbling, your gums aching. On the inside. Internal. Relax your jaw, your teeth, uncurl your fists, your knuckles pale, loosen your back, too rigid, so tired. Seep into the bath water. A little, then all at once. Sinking, until there's nothing. Drowning. Deeper, until you're nothing. Watch him through the water, his eyes heavy with apologies and bruises, his sleeves rolled, his arms purple, swollen, beaten, soap bubbled in his hand, until the scene grows pink, red, gruesome. A horror, really, a nightmare. Truly traumatizing.

Something that could never be scrubbed clean.

You were never supposed to get that close. He kept you from his work, his job, the dangers that followed so close behind. Doing everything in his power, at least he hoped. Speaking, but never seeing. That was the deal. Michael told you everything, every detail, with the promise that you would never set foot in that shop. Family meetings recited word for word across the dinner table, in the safety of your own home. The rest of it, though, kept at a distance. He'd seen too many innocent people hurt, killed, because of them. Friends, lovers, even strangers they'd crossed paths with. If someone wanted it to be known they had a problem with the Peaky Blinders, their screams would not fall on deaf ears. You knew exactly what he did, what that family was capable of. The respect, the power, the fear that crossed anyone's eyes at the mere mention of him, you had to be foolish to think they were anything less than dangerous.

And you were not a fool.

But, you had broken that promise. He hadn't come home. When you called, no one had picked up. No secrets. He always warned if he'd be home late,or not at all, drinking at the bar, asking you to join, or held up with more paperwork, tied to his desk. That was the deal. If there was one thing to trust, it was his word. You wouldn't have gone if you hadn't feared the worst.

Terrible images playing through your mind, making you want to run, get there quicker. A body across the wooden floorboards, limp, lifeless, wearing the suit he left in. Or, nothing at all, a deal going wrong, being disposed of somewhere else. Floating down a river, blue, bloated. Dropped in an unmarked grave, if he was lucky, in a wooden box. Down the cobblestone streets, through the nightlife. The people, the sounds of children being rushed inside for dinner, of cheery couples out for date night, dogs barking and alley cats whining, all of it fading the closer you got to the shop. Everything seemed to still, so tense.

Like you could hardly breathe.

You squeezed something in your hand, beneath your coat. Small, sturdy, the gun you'd been gifted a number of holidays ago. Polly, maybe Tommy, left it in a box, whispered something about protection, defense, told you to keep it from Michael. It had gone untouched so long a thick layer of dust slept across it stuffed deeply under the bed. If he was going to find out about it, now was as good a time as any. Protection, you thought, letting yourself live in ignorant bliss. Protection, that's all this was for. He'd be alright, high off the excitement of a good day, his mind racing, happy, distracted, forgetting to call. That's all this was. An honest mistake.

You'd seen it in passing, curiosity never getting the better of you, though. The way Michael spoke, sometimes you thought you knew more of what was going on than the men who worked there. The bell rung as you pushed through the door. Unlocked for such a late night? No secretary or receptionist, no one to greet you but an empty desk. You kept quiet, watching the sound of your footsteps. The shop dark, except for one light, beaming across the long, empty hall where smaller offices sat and waited. From the last door, the last room, bright, yellow, inviting, the same way a smile with rotten teeth would. It left you feeling sick. You raised the gun, your arm shaking. Slowly you made your way through, passing piles of paper scattered across the floor, ink from pens exploded, chairs flipped, drawers open, gaping like wounds.

You made sure to stay in the shadows, avoiding the light. No noise came from the scene before you, but there didn't have to. It was enough. The back of a man you'd never seen before, you couldn't recognize, stood above someone, their body turned away, curled in to protect itself. No cap, no razor, not one of your own. Below him, someone groaned, dirt imprints dusting their spine, their clothes, that suit. You knew it. Older, worn, the same one he wore when everything else was dirty. Michael. You held back a whimper, realizing whoever this was, they'd targeted him. He was alive. Broken, bloody, but alive, trying to move away, clawing to get away, but they pressed their boot to his back, preventing him from getting any farther. You wanted to yell, order him to stop, let him go, but you knew that's not what you could do. There was only one thing. You'd only ever watched someone use a gun, their victim glass bottles lined neatly across the grass, waiting to be shot.

The gun between your fingers, burning, sizzling, setting you on fire, the trigger pulled, aimed at the back of their head. It wasn't a pop. It wasn't that simple, quick, painless. This was screeching, begging, merciless. Blood splattering, sputtering, soaking you to the bone. In your hair, your clothes, in the pit of your stomach. A hole in a person, in memories, in love and doubt and all the terrible, beautiful, messy things that made a human human. It wasn't a thump, a body crashing all at once. This man crumbled, piece by piece, limb by limb, until he fell, colliding with the floor, his head catching on the corner of the desk, a gut wrenching crack coming from his skull. Spilling, like a glass knocked over. Dying. He never even saw it coming. None of you did, the gun next, clashing with the floor, making him jump. The realization making his blood run cold. It wasn't one of his cousins, nor another Blinder. It was you.

Your shaking hushed by the weight of his arms around you, holding you, cradling your body, blocking you from seeing anymore. You should have been the one comforting him, cupping his face, checking every bruise, bump, and scratch. Instead he was hissing you, ignoring the red staining his hands as he bruised your hair from your face, whispering little things to take your eyes away from the man. Gaps in time lost, or your own faulty memory, making it all a little easier to process. Digest. He left the body there, locking up, your gun in his coat pocket. He didn't try to explain himself, who that was, the person you'd killed. You weren't sure what he was saying at all, or even how you got home. You clutched him, unable to let go, his hand sore in your own, knuckles split open. Standing in the bathroom, water filling the tub. He lit a cigarette, breathing it in, saying something reassuring, probably, watching your big, glassy eyes. When you didn't move, he stepped closer, cautious, pulling your shirt over your head, your shoes off one by one until he got you in the water.

He never wanted to see someone else’s blood on your skin. He never wanted you to hold someones life in your hands. He never wanted you involved in these kinds of things, unsure where you got the gun in the first place. All he knew now was, this was never going to happen again, not as long as he lived and breathed.

#writing #requested #michael gray #michael gray drabble #michael gray oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders drabble #peaky blinders oneshot #michael gray x reader #michael x reader #x reader #drabble #oneshot #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

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bapyess1r · 4 years

Text

PuNK

WARNINGS: cursing

Pairings: Rafe Adler x OC

Tags: @desertvvitch, @tiecladartist, @courtenbae

Chapter 1

Lyric’s POV

He was doing it again. Much like every day lately, he’d been in a verbal argument with someone over the phone during a conference. And lucky me, I got a front row seat to every single word. His office was right in front of my desk. The whole office seemed to quiet as muffled screams could be heard throughout the room. My co-worker Winter looked over from her desk to show me her gums and suck air through her teeth.

“You’re gonna have so much fun tonight!” Her voice dripped with sarcasm and I rolled my eyes. This meant there was going to be so much paperwork to do before I left. I groaned, digging my fingers into my hair and scratching at it in annoyance. I wore wigs to work because my actual hair would’ve been considered “less than favorable” in my work environment. ‘Horseshit.’ I thought. I settled for dark curls in order to remotely retain a professional image. Suddenly, it had gotten eerily quiet. He stopped shouting in his office and the air was back to normal. Or so I thought.

“LYRIC LEWIS!” I heard him snap suddenly, making my jump out of my seat a bit. I took a deep breath, eyeballing Winter as I adjusted my grey pantsuit. My blush colored heels clicked on the tiles as I rounded my desk with my hefty clipboard in hand. I pushed open his opaque glass door cautiously. I took a moment to center myself as I put my hand on the door and turned the knob.

“Yes, Mr. Adler?” I asked him calmly. Not that it would do me any good. He rested his face in his hands in irritation. To Rafe Adler, I was his rather invisible assistant. He never looked me in the face. If he did he saw right through me and never paid much attention. But he knew my voice. I didn’t mind but there’s this thing called respect…

“Ms. Lewis, please tell me there are no more idiots I have to conference with this afternoon.” He grumbled, rubbing his fingers into his bluish green eyes. As tired as he was, they looked a little gray today. I flipped through his schedule that I had written down as he leaned back into his chair. For a moment, I glanced up to look at him. Rafe was a handsome man. Stuffy but handsome. His hair was cut short on the sides as the length on top was slicked back off of his almost model-like face and when he did smile, which was very rarely, it was like a million watts. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers repeatedly at me with a growl.

“C’mon, Lyric! I don’t have all day!” He rushed me. And I flipped to today’s date. I ran my finger down the time slots to see what else was on the agenda for the day.

“Um… I believe that was all for today, sir. No more conference calls-”

“Thank God!” He sighed, dramatically. My face contorted a bit as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. “What else is there to do today?”

“You have a meeting with Chovak, sir, at 2pm. Early dinner with Samuel and Nathan Drake at 5? And then you had me put down paperwork hours from 7:30 til midnight.” I read everything off exactly as it was written. He hummed as he rummaged through the files on his desk.

“Make it 9. Dinner may take a little longer than I expect.” He said with a sigh. “That’ll be all, Ms. Lewis. Thank you.” He said as he began scribbling things on sheets of paper and tapping on his laptop. Not once did he look at me through this whole interaction. That was most days though.

“Did you need me to sit in on the meeting, sir?” I asked, pulling a pen from behind my ear and editing a time slot. I was hoping he’d say no. I still hadn’t had breakfast yet and I was starving.

“Yes.” He said simply. My expression faltered and I pursed my lips to keep from making a face. Of course I had to stay.

“Absolutely, sir. I’ll be going now.” I said with slight irritation but he didn’t seem to notice. He was already caught up in more work. I turned on my heel and just as I put a hand on the door, he called to me again.

“Oh, one more thing!” He said. I rolled my eyes and turned my head to look at him.

“What is it, sir?” I asked.

“Would you be a doll and run down to Starbucks for me?” He said.

“Of course, sir. The usual?” I asked pulling out my phone to pre-order the drink. It would be done by the time I got there.

“Yes and add a croissant.” He mumbled.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.” I said with a fake smile. Not that he’d see it anyway.

I went back to my desk and sat down with a sigh of relief. “That wasn’t so bad…” I said to myself as I put in Rafe’s order. After a few seconds of mental rest, I stood again and grabbed my black trench coat off the back of my seat.

“Goin’ somewhere?” Winter asked as I slipped on my coat.

“The King wants his coffee.” I told her in an exaggerated attempt at a British accent. She chuckled and shook her head.

“Best not keep him waiting then.” She said, pushing her cropped hair over her ear as I left.

Work that night was more or less the same. The office would be absolutely empty except for Rafe and myself. He would leave his door open to tell things to me or ask me to change/cancel appointments and meetings he didn’t have time for or just honestly couldn’t be bothered with. All the lights in the building had been turned off except the desk lamps to conserve energy (Good on him) so it was rather dim. I was playing music on my speaker. A hard rock station on my radio app. I had a gig tonight and I needed to amp myself up and rush through these emails and paperwork. I kept the volume low. Low enough for only myself to hear. My earphones had broken a week ago and I hadn’t had the chance to get new ones yet.

Green Day was playing softly as I worked. My eyes were getting heavy and started to burn a little. I needed to get out of the office soon. I bopped my head to the music until I heard movement and an annoyed sigh from Rafe’s office. I looked up a brief moment and he was looking right at me. Or more like right through me. His neatly trimmed brow raised as he rested his head in his hand. I gasped a little and pushed my hair off of my face nervously.

“If you’re going to play music, turn it up. All I can hear from here is static. Don’t be selfish.” He grumbled before looking back at his work. My eyes widened at his demand. And I was sure Green Day was not on his daily ten playlist. I turned the music up but I definitely got ready to change the station. But he stopped me without even looking at me. “And don’t you dare change this song.” He said. A look of amusement played on my face as I went back to work.

‘What do you know about Green Day, Rafe Adler?’ I thought with a faint chuckle. Another hour passed and I was almost finished with a final email. I looked up a second to check on my boss’s sanity as we’d been listening to punk and hard rock for a while now. The Pixies began playing and the sight in front of me was one I’m sure he would make me swear to secrecy. He was slouched into his chair with a leg crossed over the other; his ankle resting on his knee as he wiggled his foot to the music, tapping his pen on the table rhythmically to the drums. His curved lips just gently mumbled the words to the song. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms and his tie was loosened with a couple of buttons undone. And his hair. A few strands had fallen out of place but for the moment he didn’t seem to mind. It was very rare that I saw him like this. Whenever it happened it was always a nice surprise.

I felt the corner of my lips turn a little as I signed off the email and sat back in relief. Finally. I gathered everything together and stood from my desk to head into Rafe’s office. He seemed to notice my presence from his peripheral and pointed to a spot on his desk that wasn’t covered in paper.

“Leave it there.” He said and I did as I was told.

“I wrote responses to all of your emails and sent them back to you for you to review and send out. All of your appointments and meetings are up to date, dry cleaning should be here in the morning, and….” There was something else and I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

“And… you’ll be here first thing in the morning, cafe latte with extra espresso. I told you I had a meeting with the Drake Brothers.” He added.

“Of course. There’s a meeting in the morning. I completely forgot.” I mumbled.

“I know you did. You always do…” he hummed disapprovingly, rereading a sheet of paper. I hung my head a bit in embarrassment. Not that he saw that.

“Sorry, sir.” I said as my phone vibrated in my pocket. When I looked at the screen, it had been a text from my band mate, Clay. My eyes widened reading the text in all caps.

CLAY: WHERE R U?! WE GO ON AT 11!!

My heart dropped and I checked the black watch on my wrist and groaned. It was 10:15. I had stayed at work longer than intended and now I was late for the show. And I still had to change my clothes and do my makeup. I looked up at Rafe for a moment as he smoothed his hair back into place.

“Is there anything else you need from me tonight, sir?” I asked him. Once again without even looking at me, he waved me off with a grumble. “Alright then. I’ll see you in the morning!”

“At 7:30-”

“7:30?!” I exclaimed in surprise. I was going to be absolutely dog tired. Did he really need me for that? I knew he had a tendency to have me work ridiculously hours but come on! I have a life! I had music to write, songs to record, shows to book….

“Is there a problem?” He asked in a slightly unnerving tone. I chuckled and shook my head.

“No, sir! Not a problem at all.” I lied. “7:30 sharp. I’ll be here.”

“Then that will be all, Ms. Lewis. Goodnight.” He said monotonously.

“Goodnight, sir.” I said softly, scuttling out of the room to grab my things from my desk. I turned the speaker off and just as I turned to leave, I heard him sigh tiredly. Normally, I wasn’t one to care about how my boss was doing but Rafe looked really exhausted. He was swamped with paperwork and his lunch appointment took a little longer just as he suspected. He ended up cutting into his set hours. I kind of felt bad for him. Leaving him alone with all of that. Then I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and it quickly reminded me that I had somewhere to be. I briskly ran towards the elevators so I could leave.

I did everything I could to prepare and get ready for the show. I hopped in my car, a beat up black hatchback, and turned on the car light. Adjusting my rear view mirror on me, I grabbed my makeup and began to put on more and darken it. With that I drove to the venue, hoping and praying I wouldn’t hit any traffic. My phone rang as I drove and it was my band mate again. I answered in an overwhelmed voice.

“I’m coming, Clay!” I said as I weaved in and out of New York traffic like an idiot. He sounded irritated. But so was I. If I hadn’t needed to do so much tonight, I would’ve been there sooner. I hung up the phone as I pulled into the alleyway near the venue and hopped into the backseat to change into something a little more appropriate. A black knitted dress that was as see through as it could get with a high split. Beneath it, a yellow bodysuit and fishnet tights. I exchanged my pink pumps for black stiletto boots and I struggled very hard to get into this look inside the car. The easy part was changing my retainer for my septum hoop. But when I finally got dressed, I grabbed my keys, wallet, and jacket, rolling out of the trunk of the hatchback and beginning to close it like it was no big deal. I went to adjust my hair when I remembered I still was wearing my wig. Quickly I snatched it and the wig cap off, revealing blonde locks with a tinge of pink at the tips, dressed up with silver hair rings and silver beaded charms. The side of my hair was braided back and decorated with tiny silver hair clamps. I shook out my tousled hair and tossed it in the back seat, locking my car. When I felt like I was all set, I pulled my jacket on and walked into the side of the building.

A bouncer stood there, guarding the door. I placed my hands on my hip and looked at him with a thick raised brow as his eyes scanned my body up and down. “Yo, I’m with Floral and Fading.” I told him with a bit of bass in my voice.

“How do I know you’re not just some groupie?” He asked me. To think that I looked like a groupie of my own band was quite hilarious to me. We had a pretty big following but I didn’t think we were that big yet. Not having time nor energy to deal with convincing this guy that I needed to get by him, I scoffed and called Clay. I told him I was at the venue and he came, opening the door next to the bouncer.

“Shit, Lyric! You’re cuttin’ it kinda close, my friend!” My blonde spikey haired friend said with a smile. I looked at the bouncer and he gestured to let me in. I was already walking through the door though. “You look nice!” He shouted to me above the muffled bass, wiggling his brows. He was flirting with me again. It was never anything serious and he did it clearly for jokes. I was used to it after 4 years. He was the first friend I made in New York. We started the band after discovering that we were both musicians. We grabbed a pair of brothers that played guitar and bass, Clay played drums, and I mained vocals. A couple of months later we were playing our first show at this punk club. When word got around, it became every weekend. Underground famous. And still I worked this office job every day. Running myself ragged to keep myself happy and alive.

“How long til we go on?” I asked, shrugging my jacket off.

“5 minutes! Everyone is all tuned up and ready to go, your mic is set up just how you like, and the speakers work today surprisingly! Double checked them myself!” He smiled, parting his pierced lips to give a toothy grin, rubbing his eyes, probably forgetting that he was wearing eyeliner. It only smudged a bit, making his eyes look smokey.

“Well don’t jinx us just yet. There’s still a possibility they could go out mid scream.” I chuckled. He handed me a bottle of water and I began to chug it like no tomorrow as he led me to the band’s waiting room. They were all there. Singing, laughing, smoking, warming up, drinking a beer, just having a great time. Seeing them still be excited to play here after 4 years made me happy and excited for the night’s show. I did a few quick vocal exercises and did my jumping jacks to hype myself up and before I knew it, we were ready to go on.

The club owner went out on stage to introduce us and the crowd yelled rather loudly. I looked back at the band and grinned hard. There was nothing like hearing a happy crowd. I watched them turn the stage lights red. He hyped them up as we amped ourselves and shook the nerves. Sweat was beginning to form on my forehead already but it was fine. I didn’t care. The moment I heard him call Floral and Fading, the band and myself ran up the stairs and onto the rather small stage. I pulled the mic off the stand and addressed the crowd as if I would a familiar friend. I grinned as Clay began counting off beats with the crash cymbals and the band began to play aggressively and skillfully. I moved the rhythm, headbanging and revving the crowd up as they moshed and jumped around. Then I melodically began to deliver words I had sat countless hours writing carefully in order to get my stories and messages across. And the night went on...

#uncharted #rafe adler x oc #rafe adler #poc ocs #poc oc #poc #poc imagine #uncharted fanfic #uncharted fanfiction #uncharted 4

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itsgonnabe-brian-may · 5 years

Text

Thank God for New York

// Requested: no

Director!Joe Mazzello x Director!reader

wc: 3k

warnings: none

After the whirlwind of awards season, the amount of downtime Joe had significantly increased. He made a youtube channel for christ sake. Sure he still did auditions and table reads at least once a week, but he was itching for more. Being on such a big production as Bohemian Rhapsody with direction problems sparked his interest in directing another film even more. He had told his agent that a few months ago, but nothing really came up. Until now.

You had been directing a biographical type of film for a couple of months and needed some help. Honestly, you needed a lot of help. It wasn't because you weren't good at your job or lacked the skillset to do it. You were deemed one of the best up and coming directors in the industry. Especially for documentaries. However this film wasn't your original idea, it was a project you picked up because a friend had asked you to take over so that they could deal with personal things. You weren't one to say no, plus you loved a challenge. The only thing was you knew nothing about growing up in New York. You had moved to New York a few years ago in order to pursue filming, and LA wasn't quite your speed. So when there was talk of a native New Yorker wanting to help out you were ecstatic.

A few days later you connected with Joe's agent asking if he was still interested in directing. It wasn't full creative control but the second pair of eyes and hands would be greatly appreciated.

You chewed on your lip as you waited to hear back from his agent. To your luck, Joe was easy to reach and said yes immediately.

Your phone rang in the middle of a scene, letting it go to voicemail was customary but you were desperate and picked up anyways.

Hello?

Hi, is this Y/N L/N

This is her. Who is this?

Hi, I'm Joe Mazzello, you and my agent talked on the phone about the assistant director position on your documentary.

Oh! Hi! I'm so glad you called. The position is yours if you want it, I've gotta say I'm kinda desperate here. You laughed running a hand through your hair.

Well, I'd love to give you a hand! When do you want me?

Honestly now, but that probably isn't possible. Why don't we meet tomorrow on location? I'll text you the address and a time?

Sounds perfect, I'll make sure to bring my directors cap. He teased

Oh, even better. See you tomorrow!

Yup, Bye.

Bye.

One the line went dead you leaned back into your chair with a happy sigh.

"Alright, Cut!! That's a wrap for today. On location tomorrow at 8:00!" You called and the cast and crew dispersed for the night.

Picking up your phone again you created a new contact for Joe and opened a new message.

Hey. Here's the address: Cast and Crew call is at 8 and if you can show up a little earlier that would be perfect. Looking forward to meeting you! - Y/N

Within a few short minutes, your phone buzzed with a response.

Sounds good. I'll bring the coffee :) - Joe

You laughed and went to your trailer, getting ready for the next couple of nights to be spent in a hotel.

Joe arrived back at his apartment from an audition with a smile on his face. The same one that was plastered on his face when his agent called telling him that you, Y/N, wanted his help. He had seen your latest movie, on a date actually, and loved it immensely. The girl he was with didn't and it ended a few days later, but the fact that he was getting to work with you made up for his ended relationship. He packed a suitcase, making sure to pack the cheesy baseball cap with the words Director embroidered in white on the front, just to tease you.

Both of you slept terribly. Anxiety and excitement kept you both tossing and turning. Joe got up earlier than planned but got ready and threw his suitcase in his trunk and set off. Without traffic, the drive was around 2 hours, which wasn't bad at all. He arrived just before 7:30, giving him time to pick up coffee and muffins before meeting you.

You sat on a park table with a notebook on your lap with all of your notes. The pen in your hand tapping the page gently as you read through today's schedule.

"Y/N?" Joe asked hesitantly looking around, only seeing you.

You instantly looked up with a smile.

"Joe!" you said jumping off the table and walking over to him.

The handshake turned into a hug. You both exchanged the usual "I love your work" before sitting down and talking business.

The first few scenes Joe just watched and made small notes about your directing style. The more he watched the more he noticed it was a lot like his. You were very hands-on and instructive, but down to earth about it, you rarely yelled, unless something was going terribly wrong.

After you finished shooting the latest scene, you told Joe that its time to put that director's cap on because it was his turn.

Joe laughed and pulled the cap from his back pocket and donned it with a smirk. You couldn't help but throw your head back with laughter. As Joe directed the next scene you noticed the exact same things he did. You came to the conclusion that you were going to work well together.

And that's exactly what happened over the next couple of weeks. You had become quite close. Spending every spare second together, endless teasing, brainstorming, cracking jokes and just messing around.

Joe had certainly become quite the prankster on set, becoming close with the leading man. A lot of times they messed with you. Filling your trailer with balloons, switching the nameplates, pulling out your chair from under you, or replacing your black pens with sparkly pink ones. You made sure to write all notes and criticism's for them with the pink pen.

As the months dragged on, the weather got colder and wetter. Often times it was raining, which was helpful to get consistent scenes, but the looming thunderstorms created a threat that pushed time limits onto your shooting days. Finally, you had finished the scene perfectly.

"That's a wrap for today!" Joe yelled out in a megaphone he insisted on having even though the cast and crew numbers never exceeded 20 people.

"Is that really necessary Joe?" You laughed

"Of course it is" Joe proclaimed through the megaphone again, aiming it at your face.

Your laugh bubbled past your lips as you pushed the megaphone from your face. A mischevious smirk replaced the smile.

"Can I see that," You innocently asked.

"Why?" He laughed into the megaphone.

"Come on Joe," You pleaded.

"Fine, don't break it,"

"Mhm sure," You laughed pulling it from your co-directors grip.

As soon as it was in your possession you jumped off your chair and ran out into the street, not stopping because of the pouring rain.

"Hey!" He called after you, jumping up to follow, but not leaving the comfort of the dry tent.

"If you want it back you'll have to come and get it," you teased into the megaphone.

"Nah, you can have it," Joe shrugged nonchalantly.

"Okay, well I hope you don't mind that I spill your deepest darkest secrets over a megaphone," You teased quirking a brow at him, inviting him to play along.

"You wouldn't dare," he said matching your facial expression.

"Whatever you say Mr. I tell girls I'm 6ft when I'm actually 5ft 9" you smirked

"Hey! Stop it!" Joe laughed

"Should I tell the world that you have Red Sox boxers--"

"Nooo!" Joe said running out and trying to grab the megaphone from you.

You laughed swinging the megaphone out of reach.

"That's not even true!" Joe argued, trying to maintain a serious face, but failing.

"The world doesn't know it's true," You laughed back.

"This is no laughing matter, I could be hung for such crimes here," Joe quipped.

"I guess I'll have to prepare something nice to say at your hanging," you teased back.

Eventually, you both ended up laughing your asses off in the rain, tossing empty threats back and forth. A loud crack of thunder followed by a flash of lightning shut them both up. Looking up at the sky, the rain pounded on their faces.

"I guess that's our cue to get out of the rain," Y/N laughed.

"I guess so," Joe laughed as they started walking back to their trailers.

Their trailers were conveniently next to each other. Yet, they spent most of their time in Joes trailer together. Of course, Y/N always argued that it was because he had the best snacks. Which was definitely true, but not the only reason she hung out in his trailer, or sometimes even fell asleep on the couch. It was almost like a significant others apartment. She had her own cabinet instead of a drawer where she kept a change of clothes, makeup wipes, and a toothbrush. Though, neither of them thought about it like that. They just thought it was efficient and something friends did.

You were dragged out of your thoughts as the megaphone was ripped from your hands and Joe tried to quickly run up the steps inside his trailer.

"Joe!" You called out after him, barging into his trailer.

He put the megaphone on the top shelf in the kitchen where he could barely reach and you most certainly couldn't reach without moving a chair to stand on.

"I guess I'll just take a quick nap," You fake yawned wandering over to his unmade bed, threatening to lay down in your clothes still dripping wet from the rain.

"Ah, No you won't," Joe said grabbing onto your waist pulling you back and away from his bed.

Your breath hitched, you hoped Joe didn't notice, but if he did, he didn't say anything.

He pulled open a drawer and tossed a knit sweater at you and then grabbed the leggings you had left over and threw them at you too.

"Change, then maybe it can be nap time," He laughed and pulled off his wet long sleeve and put on another sweater. He couldn't help it but his eyes lingered over your shoulders as you faced away pulling on his sweater. The second it was over your head your nose filled with the familiar scent of him. It was oddly comforting.

After you finished changing out of your wet clothing you decided to put on a movie, one that you both hadn't seen yet and make some dinner before calling it a night.

"I can't believe we're almost done with filming," You yawned slumping down further into the couch.

"I know, it's gone by so fast," Joe added looking over at you with a small smile on his face.

"I'm glad you joined, it's been such a huge help, even if you're annoying sometimes," You teased.

Joe just laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulder pulling you close to his chest.

You inhaled his sent and sighed happily. You both stopped paying attention to the movie, your eyelids falling heavy.

The next morning you woke up wrapped in his arms. Groaning you shifted slightly so you could look at your watch. It was 7:45. Shooting started at 8 today, meaning it was, unfortunately, time to get up.

"Joe, come on, wake up. You don't want to be late for the last day of shooting do you?" You said gently trying to wake him.

He groaned pushing you away slightly.

"What time is it?" He asked, his voice still heavy with sleep.

"7:45," you responded pulling yourself off the couch.

You put a pot of coffee on, knowing the smell would wake him up. As the coffee brewed you did your hair, applied a few layers of mascara, ran some neutral lipstick over your lips and pulled on a pair of jeans. Keeping Joes sweater on.

"Okay, okay. I'm up," Joe groaned sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Mhmm, here, now you'll really be up," You hummed handing him a cup of coffee.

"God you're the best," He praised with a happy smile after taking a sip.

"I know, now get your ass in some jeans. Filming starts in 10," you laughed taking your own mug of coffee and walking out of his trailer.

5 minutes later, a much more awake Joe joined you.

"Nice sweater," he teased as he joined you behind the camera.

"Agreed," you smiled into the sweater.

Unfortunately, today there weren't many shenanigans on set. Everyone tried their hardest to get the last few scenes done, with as little retakes as possible. Sure filming was fun and all, but after 3 and a half months of filming, everyone was tired and ready to go home. Even you and Joe.

Once the final

"That's a wrap!"

was called by both you and Joe, the actors got out of makeup, the whole cast made their way down to a bar downtown in celebration. There were drinks, toasts, thanks, and even a cake with the movies name written in sparkly pink frosting. Tipsy Joe found that quite funny.

You and Joe stayed throughout the entire party, but by the end of it, you were both quite done.

With a warm embrace, you parted ways for the first time in a while.

However, you both made sure not to lose touch. Texting almost every day, coffee 'dates' at least once a month, movie marathons in person or over face time, and of course late night phone calls with full updates on each other's lives. You had even begun to meet each other's friends and families. Rumors of a relationship sent both of you into fits of laughter, even though secretly you both wished they were true. You guys were practically a couple, minus the fact that you didn't live together and weren't intimate. Though you were quite touchy when you saw each other.

The next time you saw everyone from the cast and crew all in one place again was at the premiere. Your guys' family and friends were there. Gwil, his fiance, Rami, Lucy, and Ben were there too. Yet, you and Joe spent most of the evening together. Especially the red carpet. You were wearing a gorgeous light gray lace dress that Joe coordinated his tie to. Joe couldn't keep his hands to himself, or his compliments. The phrase "You look so stunning" slipped through his lips at least 10 times that night.

Then it came time for the actual screening. You and Joe stood in the front corner holding a microphone after everyone had reached their seats.

"I'd like to thank everyone for coming, this film has been in the making since July of last year and has taken the combined effort of all of the amazing cast and crew to make it work as well as it did. I'm thankful to have had this opportunity to share this story with the world, so I'm letting you guys see it first, because if it sucks then I don't have to release it. Remember, I know each and every one of you by name so don't go talking shit to the press." You teased in your introduction speech.

"I'd also like to extend a thank you to the megaphone holder and resident new yorker for being such a wonderful co-director, even if you drove me crazy. Anyways, enjoy!" You proclaimed as the lights dimmed and the introduction music began rolling.

You and Joe found your way to your seats, his hand intertwined with yours. Both of you watched the movie intently as if you had never seen it before, even though you both have seen the full thing at least twice.

"God, we did so well," Joe murmured into your ear as the last few scenes came on screen.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Joe, seriously. Thank God for New York," You laughed quietly turning to face him.

"Amen," He breathed his gaze catching your lips, just before he leaned in and caught your lips with his.

At first, you were taken aback but after a second you melted into his grip, the end credit music joining in at the perfect time, it was almost as if you were in a movie of your own.

You pulled away as the crowd went wild, standing up and facing you with their applause. Joe bowed comedically and pointed to you. You took after and copied his bow giggling.

The after party was crazy, there was even more booze, celebrities, and deserts. Most importantly there was a dance floor. And of course, you found Joe and his friendy tipsily busting a move. Usually, you would've been too shy to join, but the champagne and adrenaline pushed you to jump in the group.

"Y/N!" Joe smiled grabbing your hands and dancing with you for a while. The music shifted from upbeat to chill a few times as the night progressed. Joe and you had stayed for most of it, currently, you were swaying to The Weeknd, Joe's hands on your hips, and yours on his shoulders.

"Move in with me," Joe stated abruptly.

"What?" You asked incredulously.

"I'm serious, move in with me," He said again.

"We're not even dating Joe,"

"Okay, be my girlfriend, and move in with me," He smiled widely.

"Seriously Joe?" you asked.

"Seriously Y/N,"

Instead of responding you leaned in, kissing him gently, smiling against his lips. This time it wasn't in a dark theater, but in public, your family and friends watching, hell probably the whole world too, but you didn't care. All you could think to say was Thank God for New York.

#joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe x reader #joe mazzello #bohemian rhapsody imagines #bohemian rapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody x reader #bohemian rhapsody cast x reader #queen x reader #queen imagines #borhap x reader #borhap imagine #joe mazzello x reader smut #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazello fanfiction #queen fanfiction #ben hardy x reader #director!reader #director!joe

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mysticsparklewings · 5 years

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Starfall Mountains

Alternate title: Reasons Not to Buy the Dirt-Cheapest Acrylic Paints You Can Find I normally do like to keep an inexpensive stash of acrylic paint around because even though acrylic paint is not a medium I dabble in often, it much like fabric/puffy paint can come in surprisingly handy. And every once in awhile I will use it for it's intended purpose just to stretch my artistic muscles. Well, one of my art students recently started asking questions about acrylic painting and through giving them what advice I could (knowing arguably too much about acrylic painting for someone that rarely if ever does so) I felt that familiar artistic itch settle into my brain. And then I remembered that between my own one-off projects and a couple that my mom borrowed my small paint stash for, the stash that I had is down quite a few tubes that are just completely gone/empty. And what colors are left (mostly browns and greens, maybe a yellow) are not terribly pretty or useful colors. Thus my wandering art supply eyes started watching for some cheap acrylic paints to add to and replenish the stash. And admittedly to a certain extent, I wanted to take the rare occasion to take a stab at making a proper painting, partly just to see if I could do it and partly so I wouldn't just be throwing my student to the wolves with my advice. I found such paints in the form of an 8-pack set of 9.5 ml. tubes from Dollar General. The set was $4. Now, I know and can accept that this set was not meant to be artist-quality by any stretch of the imagination whatsoever. What bothers me is that my pre-existing stash was a very cheap set that was probably at best meant to be student-quality paint (and there's a good chance that's being generous) and you can get craft paint from Walmart for less than $1 for much larger tubes, and both options are more pigmented than these paints were. Do not be fooled by the results before you; I am fortunate enough that I have a moderate amount of artistic skill, pretty good knowledge of the medium (at least for someone that doesn't use it often), and I've done enough experimenting and encountered enough problems before to be comfortable trying to power through and work with what I had. If I were a humble beginner with much more limited knowledge of art supplies and how to use them, I highly suspect this would be one of those supplies capable of turning someone away from that type of art supply, if not art as a whole, in its entirety. If you've ever used finger paints for kids--you know how in the container and one congealed drop of the paint it looks like a nice, solid color, but then when you start to spread the paint around it's way more transparent and you have to really commit to get the color pay-off you were expecting? That's an accurate description of these paints. The thing is that they aren't totally lacking in pigment. They're about as pigmented as cheap watercolors or gouache. The problem with that is that they are still acrylics at the end of the day--the paint binder is a plastic, which means they dry relatively quickly and typically will not reactivate after they've dried. So if you want the same experience but a medium that's easier to work with, watercolor or gouache would be a better option. But it gets weirder. I noticed that these acrylics dry a little on the slower side compared to what I'm used to, which is a mixed bag. It helped with blending a little, but it also made the lack of pigment more frustrating, as it meant I had to wait longer for the paint to dry between layers, which I needed in order to make sure I was A. covering the canvas and B. getting the color payoff I wanted. Additionally, it is probably a very good thing that I was using a small 4"x6" canvas board and not one of the 8"x10" canvases I have on hand, because the size of the paint tubes combined with the lack of pigmentation means I very likely would've run out of one or some of the colors. (Almost definitely I would have run out of white because white is always my most overused color). To a certain extent, I did expect to have to layer and do a lot of "put paint on, cover it up. put paint on, cover it up, put paint on--" you get the idea. Acrylics, even when they are better pigmented, can be a more challenging medium to work with because of the aforementioned quicker drying time. But even so I feel like the work I had to do to get good color pay off, decent coverage of the canvas, and smooth blending all at once was still a little more than I should've had to put in. The most egregious and obvious offenders of this would be the orange behind the mountains and the snow/ice caps on the mountains, the latter of which I'm still not totally happy with, but I kept going back and forth with it and eventually just said "y'know, that looks pretty okay, I'm tired of messing with it, and I'd love to not use up the entire tube of white on this one small painting, so I'm done with that." The orange I think turned out fine, though the transition between it and the rest of the sky is a little harsh for my liking. (I'd say it doesn't match the reference photo but that's not really fair as overall I took quite a few intentional and unintentional creative liberties between my reference photo and the final product.) Anyway. Once I had layered enough various shades of purple and bluish-white on this thing to make an eggplant and blueberry salad jealous and fed myself up with the mountains, it was 4 a.m. and I was tired and so I decided to let what I had dry overnight and then finish it the following day. I did wrap my tiny 6-well palette up in a plastic baggie to preserve the mixed paint that hadn't already dried just in case I looked at the painting with fresh eyes and couldn't help but touch it up some more. But fortunately, that didn't happen. Instead, I used some washi tape to make a mask over the mountains and then broke out a bottle of white ink to splatter some stars across the sky, because I knew the white acrylic paint was a serious risk that was likely to not work out the way I wanted it to. (In this case. I have used white acrylic paint before that would've probably worked just fine using the same splatter method, but I didn't want to take the risk with how not-pigmented this white was.) And then I went in with white gel pens to emphasize a few stars, add some white spots in that I wasn't able to do with the paint, and I did end up adding a little extra highlight to some of the mountains in the vain hope of making them look a little better. This is where the title comes in; I think I got a little carried away with the highlight on the mountains vs. the stars in the sky, and so instead of the traditional "snowfall/snowy" mountains, I thought calling them "starfall" mountains might make more sense based on the visuals. One that was done and I was confident that everything was dry, I went over the whole thing with some gloss-finish ModPodge (which smells horrible by the way; the matte-finish ModPodge has a way less offensive smell to me), in two coats, and then re-applied my gel-pen signature in the top corner because for some reason the ModPodge just kinda wiped it off. I don't like ripping on a supply so hard, and I'm sure if you look at some other supply tests of mine that it's pretty obvious I try very hard to give the benefit of the doubt when I can. These just disappointed me on so many levels. Don't get me wrong; the end product still turned out decent, but that's because I more or less know what I'm doing. As I said before, I'm not confident that a beginner wouldn't be totally frustrated by these paints. And yet I can't deny that they're probably fine for younger kids that don't really care about proper acrylic painting, and that's really who they're probably for anyway. If nothing else, I can say this experiment has pushed me towards getting a better quality, wider color-selection set of acrylics to keep in my stash, because I really don't see these working out as a good stash set for me. It's going to be a tricky decision though, because I want something that'll give me the option to do a proper acrylic painting like this if I want to, but has a price I can justify even if I don't use the paints terribly often. So we'll see how that turns out for me further down the road. I really don't think I'll ever be primarily an acrylic painter (not because of this particular experience--there's just something missing that doesn't draw me into the medium like other mediums have drawn me in before), but sometimes you get an artistic itch and you just have to scratch it, and I have to admit that I don't think I've fully satisfied this itch just yet, so there may be more acrylic paintings to come out of me yet. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble | Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

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spectorbarnes · 6 years

Text

Let Me Love You | Part 3

Summary: Working as a waitress in New York doesn’t really pay the bills. One of the regulars has grown fond of you and wants to help you monetarily. He’s not from that side of town, more of the upper east side, and more importantly, he wants to be your sugar daddy.

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Sebastian Stan x Reader

LMLY masterlist

You looked at her in shock. Your heart began to pound against your chest as she began to gather the papers and looked for a pen.

"Fired?" You whispered to yourself. "Why am I fired?" You slumped down on the chair beside you and tried to process the situation.

"There have to be some cuts in staff. You were the least productive. And I'm sorry, you have to go." She cleared her throat and handed you the papers.

"Least productive? There's barely any customers. Please, Amber. I need this job." How were you going to pay the bills or your father's medicines?

"If you're worried about the paycheck, you'll get it full. I'm giving you time to find another job." She shook the papers in front of you, you took them and began to read the pages. There were too many words in such tiny little font.

"It just says you won't sue the restaurant." Amber interrupted your reading. You took a deep breath and signed the small x at the bottom of every page.

You returned the batch of papers to her and stood up, ready to run out of this place and never return. "Is that it?" You asked. She nodded.

"Thanks for your time here." She said, not even bothering to make eye contact.

You walked out of the room to find the restaurant empty, just a few lights on. Jessica was locking the entrance door as usual and walking towards the employee entrance in the back. She picked up her pace halfway across the room. You began to follow her out the door. Wanting an explanation for her odd behavior. But by the time you reached the door and walked out of the alley, she was gone.

You took the phone out of your pocket and called Spencer.

Hey, it's Spencer, I can't pick up the phone right now, but leave a message.

You didn't want to go home after what happened at work. You walked up the small stairs of Spencer's house and knocked on the door. His roommate, Ryan opened the door.

"Hey," He said, sounding surprised more than happy to see you. "How are you? What are you doing here?"

"Is Spencer here? I need to talk to him." You asked. Ryan didn't bother moving from the doorway, in fact, he kept the door slightly open just enough to cover the entrance with his body.

"Uh," He looked over his shoulder, inside the house. "Let me just, double check he's here."

Something was definitely off.

"I can't come in?" You added in a more serious tone.

"No, of course, you can. I just don't know if he can see you, especially after, you know.." Ryan trailed off.

"After what?" You asked.

"The Break-up." He said. "Look, Spencer was really down for a while."

"Ryan, what are you talking about? Spencer and I never broke up." You exchanged looks with Ryan for a moment.

Suddenly, it all clicked in your brain. You push Ryan out of the way and storm in the house.

"Wait!" Ryan called out as you raced up the stairs.

You nearly kicked down Spencer's bedroom door, there were quick movements and a loud bang as the door hit the back wall. Spencer was half-naked on his bed, his head popped up as he saw you walk in. He sat up in a swift movement and your eyes finally landed on the blonde next to him on the bed.

"Oh my god." He stood up, startling the sleeping blonde next to him. Your eyes filled with tears, you couldn't believe it. Your fists met his bare chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You screamed, scratching and punching his chest.

"Get your stuff and leave." Spencer looked back at her. You wanted to take a few swings at her too. The blonde took the white bed sheets to cover her naked self, picked up her clothes and raced out of the room. "Babe, you have to listen to me," He added.

"Babe?!" You landed a good, hard slap on his cheek. "I loved you, I supported you all those times you had to cancel on me to be with your band. I trusted you." You broke down in tears in his arms.

"I'm sorry." He repeated over and over again in your ear.

"How long has it been going on?" You asked, slamming your fists against his chest again. "All those record label meetings were fake, were they?"

"Yes."

You brought your knee up to Spencer's groin, making him fall to the floor grabbing his manhood. "I never want to see you again." You walked out of the room and down the stairs, finding a worried Ryan sitting on the living room couch.

Ryan stood up as soon as he saw you, "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't know-"

"It's not your fault," You wiped the tears still streaming down your cheeks. You reached for the door and said, "I'll see you around."

You didn't keep track of time while you were walking. The sun began to set and the sky turned a darker blue before being covered with dark clouds. Your mind was filled with things you wanted to do to Spencer, things you needed to say, to get off your chest. Even thoughts about going back and throwing eggs at his house. Maybe giving his car a flat tire, or four...

You reached Central Park and took a seat on a bench. You lay down completely, facing up at the cloudy sky, debating on grabbing some newspapers from the shop a couple of feet away and covering yourself with them.

Jessica ignored you, good thing you got fired you don't need to see her at work tomorrow. Good thing you broke up with Spencer because you don't need that ride to work anymore. The strange thing that bothered you the most was that you were not going to see Sebastian again.

Could this day get any worse? you thought.

As if life was answering your question, a raindrop fell right near your eye. You sat up, quickly rubbing your eye.

You felt that knot that forms in your throat when you're about to cry, feeling the tears starting to form. Rain began to pour down and everyone rushed to the sidewalk to catch a cab, inconveniently the area they chose was where you were sitting on the bench. Ignoring their waving arms off the side of the road, you stood and walked towards the middle of the park as if it wasn't raining at all.

You needed a shower anyway.

Suddenly, you heard a male voice shout in the middle of all the car honking chaos New York is. But, you were too busy crying that you couldn't pay attention to what he was yelling about. The voice got louder and louder the more you walked, that's when he reached out to grab your arm and turn you around.

"Hey," He said. You looked at the man with the baseball cap. "What are you doing here?"

"Sebastian!" You recognized him.

"I was calling your name out as I saw you walking. Are you okay? You're completely drenched." He looked down at you.

Your clothes were baggy and wet, you pinched the front of your shirt and pulled it away from your body, shaking it.

"I'm fine," If it wasn't for the rain, your tears would clearly be visible. You wiped your face with your hands. "Just enjoying nature." You faked a laugh.

"Well, nature is going to get you sick. It's the worst storm of the summer, it caught everyone by surprise." Sebastian pulled out his phone to show you the weather app on his phone. "Do you have a ride home?" He asked. You shook your head.

"I can catch a cab."

"It's going to be hard to find one now. We can go in my car." He nodded his head towards the group of people crowded on the end of the street.

You raced to Sebastian's car, not far from where you were. He reached to pull the passenger's door open, but unlike most cars, this door was pushed up and over his head. Your mouth hung open. "This is your car?"

"Nice, right?" He grinned. You nodded, getting into the car.

He shut the door and made his way around the vehicle, getting into his seat. You were embarrassed about getting his seat wet. He turned the car engine on and threw the cap in the back seats. He looked in the rearview mirror and pulled on his brown hair.

"Is your hair okay? Fluffy enough?" You asked sarcastically.

"Darling, when you work hard to get amazing hair like this, you have to take care of it like if it was your newborn baby."

Your heart beat fast against your chest at the word “darling”. But you shook the thoughts out of your head and focused on what was in front of you. You were stuck on a red light, with windshield wipers as they worked at full force against the rain.

"Where are you going? You're supposed to go straight." You asked as he turned right at the intersection.

"I know which way your place is, you told me about nine times." He assured you. "We're stopping at my place to get you all dried up. Wouldn't want your father getting upset at you for not staying dry."

And with that small reminder of your father, your heart sank. You reached for your phone and dialed as fast as you could.

"Dad, I know you're worried but I am fine, I am sorry I called so late-" Of course your father would interrupt your explanation to give you a long sarcastic lecture of how he was going to die of a heart attack because of your fault. You think him being at risk of a heart attack makes him stop using health as a joke but no, it's like it gives him full throttle to poke fun at his own health problems in his lectures.

"I could be on the floor right now because I don't know where you are. You won't answer your phone.There's a big storm and I don't know if you're safe or not."

"I'm alright, I'm on my way-"

"No, I don't want you out in the street. Do whatever you have to do to get off the street, I don't want you getting run over, not a driver in New York can see through their windshields. Get somewhere safe, a coffee shop or something, and as soon as the storm clears, come home."

I was doing that already, Dad. You thought "Alright, I'll call once I'm on my way home. Love you."

"Love you too." You hung up.

"Your dad. I like him." Sebastian smiled.

"That's because you haven't seen him when he gets really mad, I caught him by surprise with the call, he was too relieved to hear my voice. I can assure you he thought my body was lying somewhere in a ditch."

"Are you telling me, you've made your father's blood boil?" He looked at you amazed.

"I've made him angry too many times, it would take forever to tell." You laughed.

"I've got time." He insisted.

You started off by telling him a couple of stories of your childhood where you threatened to run away from the house at the age of 5 if you didn't get your play-dough set back. He occasionally looked at you instead of the road to give you a surprised look. You laughed at his expressions, they were too funny. It was amazing at how cute a handsome man would look even if he attempted to make the ugliest face expression. You went on with the stories as Sebastian pulled into a parking lot. He drove a couple of parking lot levels up before parking on the top floor.

"Hold that thought, we're going to have to run inside from here." He leaned over you and opened the passenger door from the inside. "Ready? Go!"

You both jumped out of the car and raced to the apartment building, he opened the lobby door for you and let you in. He pressed the elevator button and joined you on stomping your feet on the rug. You looked up and found the doorman at the front desk.

"Forgot your umbrella, Mr. Stan?" He chuckled.

"Something like that," Sebastian replied. The elevator chimed and opened its doors.

"Stan," You repeated as the doors closed in front of you and you were left alone with Sebastian in the small space. "So, that's your last name."

"Weird huh?" He mumbled. Looking down at the small puddle of water under his shoes.

"No, I like it. It flows nice." You said. "Sebastian Stan."

MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL! Next chapter should be up tomorrow! I would appreciate some feedback or reblogs (or both) I’m trying to get back into the hang of writing because it has been f o r e v e r. let me know if you want to be added to a tag list.

Taglist: @youleftmeinwonderland @jeanneblanche

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #let me love you #marvel #bucky barnes #tj hammond #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #sebastian stan smut

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mama-m1na · 5 years

Text

Three Rings: Chapter 1

~~~I~~~

It was a surprisingly nice morning in Temecula, California.

The sun was hidden by light grey clouds and there was a nice breeze going by compared to the usual bright and dry weather in June.

A teenage female let out a yawn as she made her way down the street towards the park just down the street from her home.

She wore a dark plum, knee-length dress with black wedges and had a brown, leather purse across her body. Around her neck was a pentagram necklace with purple gems and on a shorter chain was an amethyst pendulum with a small charm with a ‘T’ displayed on it. On her left pointer finger was a gold ring with three small diamonds on it; which, was a gift from a friend. Hanging from her ears were a pair of silver, hoop earrings.

Her black hair was left down for the day to just reach her thighs and the length of the dress allowed a decent amount of her golden-brown skin to be left visible as her brown irises speckled with golden flecks were turned down to the screen of her phone.

‘I’m going to meet with the council right now,’ she sent into her discord server before placing her phone back into her purse.

Quickly looking around to make sure no one saw her, the ravenette went behind a fence and headed under the bridge which went over a ditch in the middle of her park.

Going to the second column, past all of the random graffiti, she found a symbol etched into the concrete of three crescent moons tangled amongst each other surrounded by a larger circle.

Taking one last look at her surroundings she held her right hand over the symbol and said, “Lacus.”

It felt as if the floor disappeared from underneath her feet as the surroundings disappeared from around her before changing to the scenery of the entrance of a train station.

Putting her hand back to her side she was about to enter the building when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window.

“Ugh,” she scoffed looking at how one of her eyes was open slightly wider than the other, “I look so dead inside.”

Taking a small booklet from her bag that read ‘Magical Registration: Identification Card’, she opened it and swiped it over the scanner at the turn gates before walking through and entering her train which had arrived on time for once.

Upon taking her seat the female sighed as the train began to move before taking out a tube of concealer from her purse and a compact.

Using the mirror to see, she put concealer on her eyelids before blending it out with and air puff.

She then put away the tube of concealer before opening the second part of the compact to reveal a small eyeshadow palette and got an eyeshadow brush from her purse before using a light plum shade all over her eye.

After making sure it was even she pulled out a liquid eyeliner and applied it extremely carefully due to the fact she was in a moving vehicle.

It took about forty minutes for the train to get to the ravenette’s stop and she just spent the time responding to people on her discord server.

Resurfacing from the subway, the ravenette found herself standing in front of a building with Roman styled columns and a large sign that read ‘Magic Registry’.

Once again taking the green-covered identification card the female entered before showing it to the secretary who sat at the front desk before being led to a conference room at the top floor of the building.

Upon opening the door the female earned the attention of six elderly looking creatures already sitting at the circular table in the center of the room.

“Hello Ms. Ibadora,” a woman covered in scales greeted, “It’s nice to see your actual face for once.”

“Yeah well I decided to actually try on my appearance today and thought it would be a waste to cover it with a mask,” the ravenette chuckled before taking a seat closer to the door, “So why am I being called in today?”

“We have another job for your circus,” a man with pointed ears said handing the girl a file from across the table, “This one is much more important than the previous jobs you’ve handled.”

The teen’s eyes widened as she read over the contents of the file before she looked up and asked, “Are you sure you want the Three Ring Circus to handle this one?”

“Do you believe you are incapable of completing it?” a human woman asked causing the ravenette to shake her head.

“That’s not it,” she explained, “We’re a group of reject, teenage witches and wizards… Are you sure a job this important should be given to us?”

“I’m sure you’ve handled it much worse,” a human man chuckled, “We let you stay together as an official guild for a reason.”

It was silent as the seventeen-year-old thought about her options.

“Alright,” she finally said slipping the folder into her purse which didn’t show any sign of holding anything in it, “We’ll get it done as efficiently as we can.”

Saying her goodbyes the female exited the conference room and was about to leave the building until the secretary called for her.

“You should probably take this as well,” the woman said handing the ravenette a long envelope.

“A wand permit application?” she read with a raised brow.

“Your old one is about to expire isn’t it?”

“Oh, you’re right well thank you.”

“No problem, see you next time, Ms. Ibadora,” the secretary said earning the attention of a young male walking down the hall.

‘Ibadora?’ he thought with wide eyes walking after the ravenette who had just walked out the doors of the building.

“Kitsami, wait!” he called just as the female was about to descend into the subway again.

“Hm?” she asked looking up to see a familiar looking elf in a Royal Guard’s uniform which consisted of a red, blue, and gold outfit paired with white gloves and boots with a blue cap.

“So it is actually you,” the blonde male stated looking down at the slightly shorter female.

“I’m sorry do I know you?” she asked as the wind picked up a it causing her raven locks to flutter slightly.

“I’m Fidel Einnor, I was in the same year as you in the Trinity Institute,” he explained as the light of recognition flashed through the female’s eyes.

“That’s why I thought you looked familiar, it’s so good to see you again!” she chirped embracing the male for a moment, “You’re part of the Royal Guard now? Congratulations! It must have been a hard thing to do after just graduating.”

“Thank you, and it really was,” he chuckled, “So how have you been, I haven’t seen you since you graduated early after 9th grade.”

“Well, since then I’ve been a Peacekeeper for the past three years and I’m also the Ringmaster of the Three Ring Circus,” she said brushing her hair behind her ear.

“A Peacekeeper?” he asked with a small frown, “since you were only fourteen? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Says the one who’s in the Royal Guard at seventeen? You’re seventeen now right?” the ravenette retorted, “plus it isn’t that bad once you know what you’re doing.”

“The Royal Guard doesn’t have to go out into the other world and try to keep both worlds safe,” the blonde sighed, “We only stay here.”

“That’s probably why they let me become a Peacekeeper then,” she shrugged, “Considering I didn’t even know this world existed for half of my life. I just knew plain old everyday human life and that I had to hide magic otherwise my parents would call me a freak. Hell, even now I’m being called a freak here because I’m the first witch in my clan within the past ten generations and now I’m the clan head so… Fuck…”

She took a deep breath before taking out a sticky note from her bag and writing something down before handing it back to the male.

“Text me so we can talk again later, I need to pick up a book and I want to get there before it gets flooded with teenagers,” she smiled before descending back down into the subway to wait for her train.

When she emerged from under the bridge the ravenette crossed the street to get to the bus stop and wait for her bus.

When the vehicle arrived she pulled out her student I.D. that read ‘Rhamina Miyu; Grade: 11’ and showed the bus driver before paying her reduced fee.

As she found her seat, the ravenette sent a text in her discord server.

'So we all got another job,' she typed while looking out the window of the air conditioned bus, 'And we're being transferred to Japan.'

Within moments of sending the message she was getting bombarded with questions about their new job and how they were even going to get there.

The ravenette merely shook her head at all the questions and told them that she would give them details at their next practice which was in two days.

Once at her stop Rhamina got off and walked across the street to her local Barnes and Noble.

She spent quite a bit of time browsing through manga but also looked over some of the stationary they offered.

‘Forty-five dollars for a traveler’s journal?’ she thought looking through the nicely made, leather journal, ‘I could make this for cheaper and better suited to my needs.’

After purchasing the latest volume of ‘Children of the Whales’ and a brush pen, the teen walked over to the craft store behind the chain bookstore to get the supplies she was looking for which were leather fabric and elastic cord.

Once the female got home she immediately got set on making the journal by first making the journal inserts from paper and cardstock she already had then made the cover using the leather and elastic cord.

After the two pieces were finished she just slipped the inserts into the elastic bands in the spine of the leather cover and also slipped her Magical I.D. in it for safekeeping before taking out her wand permit application and filling it out with green ink.

The next day for the female was just spent looking up schools in the area of where they would be stationed as to not draw attention to themselves as a group of sixty teenagers randomly showing up in Japan.

As she did this she mentally thanked her parents for not living in the same house as her.

Her father lived with his new wife in Washington state after he divorced from her mother but also had a house he kept in Japan from his time being stationed there in the U.S. Navy.

Her mother was also in the Navy and was currently on a ship in Hawaii.

Both of her parents were quite appalled upon finding out that she was a true witch, even going as far as keeping her true name from her until she found out from her outside family, but eventually her father began to grow accustomed to the idea and slowly began to support it.

Rhamina’s mother on the other hand… Well, she hasn’t actually spoken to her mother in almost three years. They’ve only contacted each other over email and even then there was almost no emotion behind those words.

Calling her father, Rhamina asked to use the house in Japan for the time they would be working there and he agreed.

The rest of the day the female just read over the files and took notes in the new journal she had made the day prior.

At around four o’clock she received a call from one of the members of her troupe.

“Hello?” she asked as she finished up a sentence she was writing before cracking her back over the chair at her desk.

“Mina, G-lo wants to know if you want to come over to the park cause his phone is like dead,” the voice of her friend, Jamie, requested.

“Sure,” the ravenette replied as she began to put the papers away, “I’ll be there in a bit, I just need to change.”

After ending the brief phone call, the ravenette made her way to her closet to change out of her house clothes into a plum colored shirt and a pair of bleached, denim shorts.

She then put the journal into her purse as well as her phone before heading out of her house, making sure the doors were locked.

It took less than ten minutes to reach and find the pair of fourteen and fifteen-year-olds sitting at a table under the sun.

“Mina!” called the taller blonde as she ran up to hug the upperclassmen.

“Hi, Jamie,” Rhamina greeted before turning to her fellow Filipino neighbor, “and hello to you G-Lo.”

“Hi, Mina,” the taller male greeted before the trio began to walk around the almost empty park.

“So, are we really being transferred to Japan?” Jamie asked once they reached a more secluded part of the park.

“Yep,” the ravenette replied popping the ‘P’ at the end, “According to the case report there are a lot more magical anomalies in Japan than there should be, even for an Asian country. Our job is to actually find out what’s causing it, report it back to the Council, and put a stop to it rather than just apprehending someone.”

“So we’re getting an actual job is what you’re saying?” G-Lo asked as the wind blew past them.

“Aw, and I was just getting used to Temecula!” Jamie pouted slightly before asking, “What about school?”

“Well, I’ve already contacted the Trinity Institute about that and they’re sending some professors to a local high school for you guys so you’ll be fine,” Rhamina explained, “Oh, that reminds me, make sure your wand permits and Magic IDs are up to date. As soon as we get there we won’t have much free time.”

“Mina, you’re so lucky graduated early and don’t have to deal with school anymore,” G-Lo said earning a chuckle from the said female.

“I don’t have to deal with school anymore but I have to deal with being a clan head while being completely disliked by almost everyone in the magical community for existing,” she retorted, “I would honestly take that over school though, it’s funny making adults get so frustrated over me but not being able to do anything about it because the council favors me.”

“Yeah, that is funny,” G-Lo chuckled remembering the stories of the times Rhamina had been in meetings with said adults.

When their walk was over Jamie was picked up from the park by her mother and the other two walked back to their kuldesac together since they lived in houses right across from each other.

As soon as the female had changed back into her house clothes she looked at the case reports and just knew she would need to make copies of them for the others in the troupe.

Instead of using her printer and wasting ink the ravenette decided to use a spell to have one of her pens copy down all of the files word for word, and image for image.

Normally she wouldn’t resort to using magic for something so mundane but she didn’t have time nor the heart to do it any other way.

The next day the teenager begrudgingly woke up early and changed into an anime t-shirt as well as a pair of normal denim shorts with her normal wedges.

Checking the time to see it was around eight in the morning she sighed before getting her chia pudding that she made the day before as well as her purse which had her traveller’s journal in it.

Immediately she left the house locked the door and called G-Lo; while, walking over to his house.

“Hello?” he asked groggily, making it obvious to the female that he had just woken up.

“Jello, it’s already eight o’clock, the meeting starts at nine and the bus will be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Wait, shit! That’s today!”

The ravenette chuckled when the line went dead and five minutes later the teen appeared at the front door of his home.

“You forgot didn’t you,” Rhamina accused as they began their walk to the bus stop which was on the opposite side of the park.

“I set alarms but they didn’t go off,” he replied brushing his unstraightened hair out of his face while they waited in the shaded area.

When the bus came around the two presented their student IDs before paying and taking a seat.

Rhamina uncapped her Chia Pudding before pulling out a spoon from her purse and beginning her meal.

She tried to offer some to the fifteen-year-old but he denied it saying he was just going to buy something from the stores across the street from the high school.

At eight forty a multitude of students had gathered at the still locked gate of the performing arts wing of the school and were complaining about how the school never let’s them in on time.

“Fuck this,” Rhamina hissed as she made her way to the gate with her pendant glowing a light purple.

Along with that her eyes were glowing a soft gold color and her hair began to float as her raised her left hand.

Snap!

With the snap of her fingers the ravenette then pulled the gate opened without the silent alarms going off as her hair fell back down and neither her pendant or irises glowed.

“Mina!” a female called with a surprised/scolding tone.

“What?” she replied as she pulled over a nearby garbage can to keep it open, “We have an important meeting today and need to get started as soon as possible.”

“But we’re Peacekeepers!” the same female voice said worriedly.

“We only get in trouble if we get caught now get in the fucking gate,” Rhamina said pointing at the other kids already walking in.

“Good, someone already opened up the way to the tent,” she said as she walked through the open door of a classroom only to end up in the inside of a circus tent.

After waiting about ten more minutes Rhamina stood up from her spot on the ground and called, “Hey, Band!”

“Hey, what?!” was the simultaneous reply she got before everyone stopped talking and the tent became silent.

“Can someone shut the tent?” she asked glancing at the open archway before a short male closed the door causing it to phase out leaving a closed tent flap in its place, “Thank you, Zack.”

“Now!” she said snapping her fingers once again causing rows of desks to appear in front of the seats where the audience would usually sit, “As you guys are taking your seats what are the status on the recent missions we were given?”

“Trumpets finished their mission with no problems!” a Mexican female called giving a thumbs up.

“Alright, thank you Vivian,” Rhamina said before turning to another section of seats, “Everyone else finish?”

She earned a series of positive responses and nods before opening her purse to take out her traveller’s journal; however, she kept it open near and on her as she cleared her throat.

“Okay, now that basic stuff is out of the way, onto why most of you were actually excited about a meeting for once,” Rhamina said as multiple folders began flying out of her purse and landing in front of each occupied seat, “If you checked the discord server then you’ll already know that we’re going to be transferred to Japan for awhile and those are copies of the case reports for this job of ours.”

“As you know when thinking of places where magic runs rampant, Asia is at the top with the amount of creatures they have,” she explained earning agreements from the Asian teens in the troupe, “But recently there are an alarmingly higher rate of magical anomalies in Japan and the Council believes there was an interference to the peace.”

“So we’re all going to Japan to apprehend someone?” a smaller girl with curly, purple hair and glasses asked.

“Not exactly. With the extent of what has been happening recently the Council believes it is a group of at least ten people who did it and not only are we tasked with apprehending each of them but we have to fix all the anomalies and make sure they don’t happen again,” the ravenette said looking down at her notes momentarily.

“That’s all?” a male sitting towards the back asked with a shrug.

“Don’t get cocky, Justin,” Rhamina said with her eyes narrowed slightly at the male, “It sounds easy but we have some obstacles.”

“Now, you probably don’t know who they are since I’m sure none of you are as much of a weeb as me-” “Bet!” a Filipino female called from the front row next to a Mexican female with short brown hair.

“But I’m talking about the Sailor Senshi and Phantom Thieves of Hearts,” Rhamina continued, mostly ignoring the interjection of her sibling, “The Sailor Senshi are basically guardians and personifications of various celestial beings in space. They are seen as local heroes and normally we would have to do something about them being so flashy about their powers but it’s too late for that since they have basically become quite normal in Japan so we’re leaving them alone. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts are seen by the public as criminals but they’re only doing vigilante work which is what we used to do before becoming Peacekeepers so we’re just going to leave them alone as well.”

“How exactly are they obstacles, hoot?” another Filipino with short-ish brown hair asked from the third row.

“With both groups acting as the guardians of Japan they might see our presence as a threat and normally we would want to avoid them but with what we’re trying to do it’s inevitable we’ll cross paths with both groups,” the ravenette sighed before cracking her neck, “So we’ll basically try to convince them that we mean no harm and not get in their way and hopefully they won’t get in ours.”

“What happens if they do?” another male, this time Filipino, named Justin asked.

“What happens to anyone that gets in the way of the Three Ring Circus?” Rhamina asked instantly causing laughter to erupt throughout the tent.

“Hey!” the female barked, causing the ground to shake.

It was silent as she continued, “I’m being serious. I don’t want any conflict with them but we have a job to do so if they get in our way we know what to do.”

“Are there any questions?”

A few hands were raised and Rhamina picked her sibling first.

“Yes, Kerstin?”

“So we’re being transferred to Tokyo, Japan right?” the darkette asked earning a nod from the seventeen-year-old, “Where exactly will we be living?”

“I found some decent apartments in Tokyo that will be paid for by the Council and I have a house that you, Sam, Chloe, and Tijarah will be staying in with me,” Rhamina replied before choosing another person for questions.

“Alright!” Rhamina said at around 2:50 in the afternoon, “So we’ll be leaving for Japan in about three weeks so make sure you keep training and make sure all of your documents are up to date with the registry! That’s all for today so you’re dismissed.”

As soon as she said that the kids began to exit the tent and ended up back in the school hallway next to the gate they entered from.

Once it was only G-Lo and Rhamina in the tent she swiped her right hand from left to right with her palm held out causing the desks to disappear.

“Well, since we’re here do you want to go to Round 1?” Rhamina asked as they approached the gate which she now had to lock.

“We have three hours till the bus to take us home so might as well,” the male replied.

With that the two teenagers went on the twenty minute walk from the high school to the mall in which the arcade was.

They spent the first two hours playing arcade games and eating some food before they both decided to go up for karaoke.

“Why did I agree to do this?” Rhamina asked on the stage nervously holding a mic.

“No one else was doing it,” G-Lo reasoned looking through the song book, “Plus no one will pay attention.”

“Oh! I think you know this song!” he stated entering the song number as a familiar drum beat began to play over the speakers.

“G-Lo, you edgy bastard,” Rhamina chuckled as the lights began to flash different colors.

“Ever on and on I continue circling with nothing but my hate in a carousel of agony,” the male started while reading the lyrics from the small screen in front of them as the ravenette had begun the dance in the background, “Till slowly I forget and my heart starts vanishing. And suddenly I see that I can’t break free. I’m-”

“Slipping through the cracks of a dark eternity with nothing but my pain and the paralyzing agony,” the ravenette continued not paying attention to the audience they were gaining, “To tell me who I am who I was uncertainty enveloping my mind till I can’t break free and-”

“Maybe it’s a dream maybe nothing else is real but it wouldn’t mean a thing if I told you how I feel,” G-lo sung again as Rhamina dropped to background vocals, “So I’m tired of all the pain all the misery inside and I wish that I could live feeling nothing but the night.”

“You can tell me what to say, you can tell me where to go but I doubt that I would care and my heart would never know,” the ravenette sang glancing down at the lyrics every so often, “If I make another move there’ll be no more turning back because everything would change and it all will fade to black.”

“Will tomorrow ever come? Will I make it through the night? Will there ever be a place for the broken in the light?” G-Lo sung now doing the dance with Rhamina, “Am I hurting? Am I sad? Should I stay or should I go? I’ve forgotten how to tell. Did I ever even know?”

“Can I take another step? I’ve done everything I can. All the people that I see I will never understand,” both teens began singing as they now noticed the large crowd at the base of the stage, “If I find a way to change if I step into the light then I’ll never be the same and it all will fade to white.”

As both teens danced during the guitar solo Rhamina glared at the boy mentally saying, ‘Liar!’

“Ever on and on I continue circling with nothing but my hate in a carousel of agony,” G-Lo sang with a shrug in response to the ravenette, “Till slowly I forget and my heart starts vanishing and suddenly I can’t break free, I’m-”

“Slipping through the cracks of a dark eternity with nothing but my pain and the paralyzing agony,” Rhamina took over once again now plotting ways to get back at the younger male, “To tell me who I am, who I was. Uncertainty enveloping my mind till I can’t break free and-”

“Maybe it’s a dream, maybe nothing else is real but it wouldn’t mean a thing if I told you how I feel,” G-Lo continued starting to get a bit tired from the performance, “So I’m tired of all the pain all the misery inside and I wish that I could live feeling nothing but the night.”

“You can tell me what to say, you can tell me where to go, but I doubt that I would care and my heart would never know,” Rhamina sung feeling the same fatigue, “If I make another move there’ll be no turning back because everything would change and it all would fade to black.”

“If I make another move, if I take another step then it all would fall apart there’d be nothing of me left,” Rhamina sang as the song changed key, “If I’m crying in the wind, if I’m crying in the night will there ever be a way will my heart return to white?”

“Can you tell me who you are? Can you tell me where I am? I’ve forgotten how to see, I’ve forgotten if I can,” both teens sung pushing because they knew the song was almost over, “If I opened up my eyes there’s be no more going back ‘cause I’d throw it all away and it all would fade to black.”

As the two stood in their final pose, panting, the audience cheered loudly and the ravenette sat down on the stage.

“Never will this happen again!” she hissed at the male while trying to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think they would pay attention,” G-Lo responded as both of them walked off the stage and sat down to get drinks and take a break.

While the two were sitting many people came up to say what a great job they did performing and one of the workers even came by to give them a free ice cream each.

“So, I saw that you finally did a face reveal on your Youtube channel,” G-Lo said as they were finishing up their dessert.

“Yeppers, it was on the ‘Senbonzakura’ video I did,” Rhamina replied throwing away the paper around the cone, “It was so much more editing than I would usually do though so I might just stick to the simple drawings in the background I use.”

That night the ravenette sat at her Wiccan styled altar and picked up her tarot cards after saging them.

She shuffled them with her eyes closed, focused on their job on Japan before drawing the three top cards.

The first was the Knight of Cups, upright. A creative, dreamy individual, the Knight heralds new relationships, and friends. As a situation, he brings that holiday feeling- a sociable, languorous time spent musing on the infinite possibilities of life in a sunshine glow. If one falls for the Knight romantically, he may offer affection but one may feel uncertain about his potential as a long-term partner.

The second was the Six of Cups, upright. Past and present mingle, bringing happiness and stimulation. One benefits from skills acquired and contacts from the past, and appreciate what one’s life experience has brought them. An old friend or other acquaintance resurfaces, and one may enjoy time spent reminiscing. The company and ideas offer a spark of inspiration for future schemes and adventures.

The third was the Ace of Wands, upright. As a symbol of creative masculine energy, this card expresses inspiration and good communication, and favors all new plans and projects. Whether one is setting up a business or hoping to start a family, embarking on a trip away or an artistic pursuit, the Ace predicts great success. It’s the perfect time to take an important step forward.

‘Well, this seems like our mission will go smoothly then,’ the ravenette thought as she put away the cards.

If only it ever went as smoothly as she wanted.

~~~Fin. Chapter 1~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Song Used:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPLxGctIQJE

Dance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgeQPTq2xqk

Image: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/436497388884225850/

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

#Three Rings #Chapter 1 #Rhamina Miyu #G-Lo #Kerstin Vera #Samantha Fatimah #Tijarah Charlize #Chloe Rayer #Sailor Moon x Persona 5 #Fanfic #Ringmaster

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not-close-to-straight · 7 years

Text

Show Me (Part Three)

This is looks like a long update, but it's less than 3000 words, but with them “texting” it takes up a lot of room lol. Mind the cut! If you missed Part One and Two, catch up on the MASTERLIST Bucky is the cutest flirting, and Steve is already in love with him! Tiny bit NSFW at the end!

Enjoy this update! *********************

~~Monday~~~

<From:Steve> -- back to school man

<To: Steve> -- how many weeks left?

<From: Steve> -- about six till Christmas break, but I'm not taking the whole month off. Really hitting it hard so I can finish up before the holidays.

<To:Steve> --what classes?

<From: Steve> -- stupid ones I missed while playing ball. Political science. An extra math class. Accounting. And like a beginner business course that fell through the cracks somehow. Math is fine but political science is just stupid. Why do I need to know this? I barely passed high school civics

<To: Steve> -- barely passed? I got your all American ass a solid b

<From: Steve> --my bad.

~~Tuesday~~

<From:Steve> -- girl in my class just asked if women could be successful politicians or if that is a glass ceiling that has yet to be broken

<To: Steve> -- Condoleeza Rice? Senator Clinton? Barbara Mikulski? And if we are reaching… that girl from Alaska. Palin. She really asked that?

<From: Steve> -- the teacher didn't even have an answer. Just kind of looked at her and kept right on lecturing. -- I forgot how smart you are. Why did you go after art again?

<To: Steve> -- because I'm a free spirit, didn't want the man to keep me down --that wasn't a gay joke. I'm a total bottom. Definitely want the man to keep me down.

<From: Steve> --I'm dying man, don't send me that when I'm in class!

<From: Steve> --bottom huh?

~~Thursday~~~

<From:Steve> -- sorry about that man. Yesterday was killer. So busy. I hate these classes. I'm so close to being done but it still seems like far away

<To: Steve> -- why are you sorry? It's not like we have to talk every day.

Bucky hit send and chewed his thumbnail nervously. Less than a week of Steve texting him and he was already all butterflies and nervous every time his phone rang. He hadn't heard from the blonde all day yesterday and had been too stubborn to text him first. And had hated every second of it.

<From: Steve> --.... does it bug you? We used to text all the time I guess old habits die hard. It's nice to talk again right?

<To: Steve> --literally couldn't bug me less. Text all you want

Steve grinned when he read the message, and refused to think too hard about why it made him so happy.

******************* ******************* “James, darling.” Natasha called from the front of the shop, and Bucky stood quickly, wiping his hands on his pants and tucking his phone into his back pocket. He had been texting Steve all day in between clients, trying to help him with a paper that was due that weekend.

“What's up?” Bucky stepped next to Natasha at the counter, resting a hand easily on her lower back. She moved closer to him, curvy hips resting against his, and he sent the man in front of him a glare, until the guy backed away a few steps.

“No harm.” The guy said, putting his hands up and Bucky snorted. Most of their customers knew Natasha was a badass who didn't take crap from anyone. A select few however, mostly first time customers, just saw a pretty redhead showing too much skin and assumed the girl could be intimidated. That was never the case, but Natasha made a point of calling Bucky, who sat at six foot, or Clint, who looked like he was fresh out of prison, anytime she was uncomfortable.

“Thank you.” Natasha turned and rubbed his chest gently once the man had left. “He was an asshole.”

“S’no problem.” Bucky smiled down at her.

“So tell me about your golden boy.” She bent back over the counter, trying to make a list for their next shipment of gear and ink.

“Not much to tell.” Bucky settled his lean frame on the counter next to her, propping his back against the wall.

“Well…” the redhead drew the word out, the cap of her pen tracing her lips suggestively. “You've been texting him non stop for almost two weeks now. Has it progressed past political science questions and the occasional joke?”

“Not really. But what else would we talk about? And stop that, that's distracting.” Bucky knocked the cap out of her fingers and she gave him a wicked smile.

“Oh I feel like there's so much you and the Captain could talk about.”

“It weirds me out when you call him that.” But Bucky smiled. “He's pretty straight, Natasha. Trying to hit on him would make things weird. I mean we've joked and maybe flirted a little I guess, but really it's just nice to be talking again. He was a pretty big part of my life for a while.”

“Right. Until the infamous blowjob.” Natasha over enunciated the word, her pouty lips catching on the ‘b’s.

“Thanks for the reminder.” Bucky rolled his eyes, and then nearly jumped out of his skin when Natasha put her hand very high on his thigh. “Easy Tasha. I know we are touchy feely but come on.”

“James, darling.” She nearly purred, moving in close. “Just because he claims he is straight doesn't mean he doesn't want you. You're gorgeous. Long black hair,” she brushed it off his shoulders with one hand, squeezing his thigh with the other. “Pale blue eyes. The way your accent comes through whenever you're anything but perfectly calm.”

“Hey.” He interjected, then blushed, since he had just proved her point.

“See?” She actually giggled, and Bucky blushed harder. “Even the way you blush. So delicious. I am perfectly wonderfully happy with Clint. And I know you are perfectly wonderfully attracted to only boys, but darling even I want to take you for a drive. I can't imagine your Captain America feels any differently, whether he thinks he's straight or not. Those kind of labels don't really apply when it comes to being attracted to someone like you.”

She tapped her nails, which were damn near on his crotch, lightly on his thigh and turned and walked away.

Bucky slumped against the wall in relief, raking his hand through his hair. He might not be into women but dammit she wound him up.

“Hey man.” Clint’s voice made him jump and he shook his head quickly, started to panic. “Nope. Don't do that.” Clint shook his head. “She's just like that. Fucking man-eater. Doesn't matter if you're into the d or not. You've lived with us long enough to know how she is.” Bucky choked out a laugh and Clint smirked at him.

“Come on. Let's go get some pizza.” He let his hand rest on Bucky's waist as they walked out, and Bucky just smiled.

***************

~~Thursday~~~

<From: Bucky> -- ugh man nearly tore my arm out of it's socket trying to lift a box. Some days it's like I will never get my whole strength back

<To: Bucky> -- lift with your knees, not your back. Or jacked up shoulder in your case.

<From: Bucky> -- thanks for that. My god you're helpful.

Steve laughed out loud reading the texts. The girl next to him in class sent him a dark look and he shrugged in apology.

<To: Bucky> -- show me

<From: Bucky> -- show you what? My fucked up shoulder?

<To: Bucky> -- yeah. I'm sitting in math class, so humor me. And watch your language

Steve waited a few minutes.

<To: Bucky> -- or not. Just do something to entertain me man I'm dying here.

His phone buzzed before he even finished sending the second text and he flipped over the message quickly.

It was a picture message, a side shot of Bucky’s arm and shoulder. Completely covered by a sweater.

Steve hid a grin behind his hand when the next text came through.

<From: Bucky> -- nice boys don't send skin pics Steve. What are you trying to pull here? Asking me to show you like you think this is a peep show.

<To: Bucky> -- sorry. Polite boys like me don't actually know how to ask nicely for skin pics or whatever you degenerates call them

<From: Bucky> -- say please you all American twat, and maybe I'll send you something good.

< To: Bucky> -- twat? Seriously? --please. Show me

Almost instantly a second picture message appeared, one of Bucky shirtless, still twisted to the side to show his bruised and swollen shoulder, but not far enough that it hid his muscled torso. Steve’s mouth went dry, and before he even realized what he was going, he was tapping his phone screen, zooming in.

<From: Bucky> -- I got the tattoos to cover the puncture wounds and scars. Natasha did most of them for me

Steve zoomed out, to look again at Bucky's shoulder instead of trying to drool over all that skin.

Bucky had a red star on his left shoulder, that was several inches across, and then several smaller, darker red and black stars made to look like they were falling from the big one. It was interesting work, and covered most of the messed up skin but Steve could still see a few scars branching out, looking red and angry from the strain of whatever he had been lifting.

<To: Bucky> -- I like them. The tattoos. The muscles. Whatever. It all looks good.

<From: Bucky> -- yeah they hide the ugly at least. --Hows class? --Are you hitting on me?

<To: Bucky> -- does it count on “hitting on you” if it's over text? --class is the worst.

<From: Bucky> -- show me

Steve raised an eyebrow, then angled his phone and took a selfie with finger guns raised to his temple and eyes rolled wide.

<From: Bucky> -- don't get brains on that shirt I like it

<To:Bucky> --k I'll take it off first

**************** ****************

~~ Sunday~~

<From: Steve> --college was a terrible idea. The idea of a weekend is a totally foreign concept these days. Can't tell you the last time I just chilled out on a Saturday

<To: Steve> -- yeah should have stuck with the modeling. Pays better. More days off

<From: Steve> -- I never modeled Bucky

<To: Steve> -- maybe you should have. You would have made a killing

<From: Steve> -- modeling huh what like GQ?

<To: Steve> -- nah. Cowboy Quarterly maybe. You're big and brawny. Slap a cowboy hat on and no one would know you're terrified of horses

<From: Steve> -- they are giant, Bucky. And I can't believe you remember that, it was like one time I screamed. Horses are giants, you would have been scared on top of it too.

<To: Steve> -- big ol corn fed mother fucker like you scared of riding a pony? Come on steve.

<From: Steve> -- language man

<To: Steve> -- tell you what. You go wrangle yourself a mustang and I'll stop swearing for a month. Go on. Hop on something and ride it big boy.

<From: Steve> --i feel like that was sexual

<To: Steve> --it was absolutely sexual. Look at you, getting my gay jokes. You’re coming along nicely captain. --what are you doing today? I'm working on a new back piece for Natasha

<From: Steve> -- show me

Bucky took a shot of Natasha, who was laid out topless on his table, face down because Bucky had been working on just the outline of a Gothic Cross on her ribs. He angled the camera to show off her red hair, the dips and curves of her back, and just barely the rise of her ass. Steve would appreciate that. He sent it, and sat back down to finish her outline.

“Did you just snap a picture of my ass and send it to your lover?” Natasha asked, sighing when Bucky rubbed her lower back comfortingly.

“No. He wanted to see your tattoo.”

“I bet he'd rather see yours.” Clint commented from where he was eating a sandwich near be door.

“Mmm that's a good idea.” Natasha agreed and Bucky rolled his eyes. ”Send him a picture, James, I bet he would love it.”

<From: Steve> -- looks good man. They both must trust you to do all their work.

<To:Steve> -- yeah we all work on each other. Natasha did mine, i'm working on hers and Clint’s, and Clint is doing one of hers on her front.

<From: Steve> --show me?

<To: Steve> -- I feel like as open minded as Natasha is she would frown on me taking pics of her chest and sending it to a high school friend.

<From: Steve> -- no. Yours. -- not interested in seeing hers. --show me yours.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. That was definitely new. Steve not interested in a woman.

Steve thought for a minute after sending the text. It was true. He didn't really have any interest in seeing Natasha's chest tattoo, even if the shape he had seen in the first pic would have made him drool six months ago. No, he would much rather see Bucky’s tattoo.

And he was starting not to care that he preferred it like that.

It took a few hours to hear from Bucky again, but it was worth it.

An unknown number sent most of a body shot of Bucky first, and Steve raised his eyes. He was up against a wall, shirtless, arms braced above his head, and every lean muscle in his back and shoulders was in display. Even from that position he knew without a doubt it was Bucky. All long limbs and dark hair and perfect shape. Steve couldn't tear his eyes away, staring at the small screen. This was…good. Too good. So good.

A second picture showed up, this one actually from Bucky, a close up of the tattoo on his lower back. In script that looked like it had been done in a thin paintbrush was a string of Russian letters and Steve tipped his head in thought. He had forgotten Bucky spoke Russian.

<From: Unknown> -- hey man this is Clint. I work with Bucky. You're welcome for the first picture. He doesn't know I took it! He was like, take a picture of my tattoo and i was like, stick your ass out a little more it looks better that way. --he’s pretty, but gullible so he believed me. -- enjoy the hell out of that pic --you’re welcome

Steve laughed out loud. Bucky had talked a lot about his roommates, and this seemed right in line with what he'd heard about Clint.

<To: Bucky> -- I forgot you spoke Russian. What does it mean?

<From: Bucky> -- loosely translated it means ‘hindsight is 20/20.’

Steve went back to the picture, admiring the unique strokes, and trying not to feel guilty for admiring the strong lines of Bucky's lower back, the dimples visible just above his pant line.

<To: Bucky> -- hindsight? is that another one of your gay jokes? Haha

<From: Bucky> -- what just because it's right over my ass it can't be some deep thought provoking phrase?

<To: Bucky> --is it?

<From: Bucky> --I guess you’ll have to wait and see, huh? -- especially since to even see the tat my shirts gotta be off and you've gotta be pretty up close and personal in my space.

Steve knew that Bucky was joking. He knew he was. But that didn't stop a soft groan, as he pictured it. Up close and personal with Bucky. *********** Steve woke up at nine pm when his neighbor's shitty car started up with a rumble and bang, as he headed off to his night shift. He groaned and hauled himself off the sofe. Class came way too early to be sleeping on such an uncomfortable couch.

Of course he couldn't sleep right away, because that's just how life was, so he tossed and turned for almost half an hour before giving up and reaching for his phone. Scrolling through his messages, he started typing a text to Bucky. He'd always been a night owl in high school, maybe the habit had carried over.

Before he hit send though, Steve hesitated, then swiped to the picture of Bucky from earlier, from his roommate.

He tapped the picture, pulling it to full screen, and let himself stare.

“You're so beautiful.” A memory flashed through his head and he groaned a little, hips moving restlessly on the bed. “I want you. Let me make you feel good.”

“Bucky.” Steve slid a hand slowly into his jeans, pushing them farther down his thighs, ghosting over his hardening erection.

“You taste so good.” Blue eyes. Red lips. Dark hair. “Steve you taste so good.”

“Shit.” Steve squeezed the base of his cock, stroking up and over the tip, hissing at the pressure and he kicked his jeans off all the way, spreading his legs.

“Come on, baby, you're going to make me feel like I'm not doing a good job.”

He could almost hear Bucky's soft voice, hear that adorable accent that had been so strong that night.

Holding himself firmly, Steve reached down with his other hand to cradle his balls, just the right amount of pressure to make his eyes roll back. Quickly stroking now, from base to tip, dragging his calloused thumb over his slit, and tugging gently on his sac, Steve pictured Bucky up against the wall. Arms raised above his head, hips cocked out. Steve could feel it. Those wiry muscles twisting against him, how Bucky's hair would feel slipping through his fingers. “God.” Heat built at the base of his spine, and Steve took a deep breath. Scrambling for the bottle of lotion on his nightstand, he poured it over his hand and cock, and leaned further back, sighing in relief at the slickness. Warm. Wet. Bucky. Steven jerked his cock frantically, his orgasm approaching too quickly, but he was too worked up to slow down. How would Bucky feel under him. Around him. Crying out for him. Hearing his name roll off Bucky's tongue, pushing that soft voice to screaming. “Bucky!” Steve came with a howl, his cock spurting white and hot across his fist and stomach. “God. Goddamnit.”

He came down from it slowly, panting, wanting to curse, wanting to scream.

Fuck. Bucky I want you.

*******************

@catpuppy1 @sharkcougarhawksnakescorpion @dare-me-to-give-up @sepiawren @hausoffro @my-gift-isyou @chrys-1029 @junostarkromanoff @saint-vincent-victory @kaitlynnjbell @kalexalove @mikaklik @cookiesandpinot @lunasage96 @romanianmalfoy @foreverforgotten101 @buckys-soldier @ilovethings-somuch @whathappensat3amstaysat3am @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @that-random-psycho @no1subject @cristaliscris

#Steve rogers/Bucky Barnes #stucky #steve rogers #james bucky barnes #clint barton #Natasha #college au #flirting #texting

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lowat-golden-tower · 7 years

Text

And Eye Must Scream

AO3 Mirror

@caustic-synishade

Jack woke to the horrid odor of too much bleach and antiseptic, with a steady beeping ringing in his ears. He could hear the sound of old pipes creaking above his head and the intermittent drip of water from somewhere else in the room. Shifting slightly where he sat, he emitted a soft groan. His mouth felt dry as cotton and his head a bit stuffed with the fluff as well; making thinking straight a little difficult. “Augh… fook… what the fook….”

Swaying slightly from left to right, Jack grunted when he found himself unable to move his arms. Or his legs, for that matter. Something rough- rope?- was binding his limbs. His legs were strapped along those of the chair, and his wrists were crossed tightly at his back. A rope around his middle stopped him from twisting his hands around to either side and when he tried to lean forward, more rope wrapped about his chest and the chair’s back kept him in place. He was rendered very much immobile and that was when panic began to bubble inside of him.

Terror licking at the edges of his consciousness, Jack forced his eyes open. Thankfully, the room was dim, so he wasn’t immediately blinded. His eyes required little time to adjust but his vision remained fuzzy a few moments after his prolonged knock out. His head was one of the few parts of his body he could still move, so he blinked rapidly and swiveled it around in some effort to find out just where he was.

Deep greens colored the small room. The walls were tiled, but the floor was sheer cement with a drain centered almost perfectly between Jack’s feet. The ceiling above was chipping paint and only played host to a single, uncovered light bulb. It’s flickering glow cast large, unsettling shadows throughout the room and Jack could feel goosebumps rising on his skin as he took in the furnishings.

Beside his chair, which was in the center of the room, sat a wheeled table. Several medical instruments, beakers and unlabeled jars were scattered across its surface; which was stained with faded blood. On Jack’s other side stood an IV stand and as he followed the trailing tube with his eyes, he belatedly registered the light ache on the back of his hand. Wiggling his fingers, Jack confirmed the IV drip was attached and felt his heart rate skyrocket. There was an acidic green substance in the IV bag that didn’t in any way look remotely healthy. Breaths quickening, he twisted his wrists and stretched his fingers until he managed to dislodge the tube from where the needle had been embedded into his skin. He didn’t dare to rip that part out just yet; bleeding out would get him nowhere.

Swallowing thickly, Jack continued scoping out the room. “What the fook….” He had to twist in his chair and crane his neck to see it, but there was definitely a heart rate monitor behind him. He could see the wires trailing over to where he sat, and when he wiggled against his bonds he felt the light pull of the adhesive pads on his skin beneath his shirt. The steady beeping that had been infiltrating his thoughts since waking up was the measure of his own racing heartbeat.

“O-okay. Okay, Jackaboy, easy does it now. There’s gotta be a door here somewhere. Maybe it’s just a prank! Y’know, like the Scare Pewdiepie thing. Arsehole’s probably gettin’ back ye for bein’ such a badass villain on his show. That’s it, that’s it. Okay. Door. Door, door, door…” Jack looked around again and finally spied the thing; a tall sheet of intimidating metal set into one of the walls. He had to squint just to make it out in the dimness and wasn’t entirely sure if it had a handle or not. Great.

Jack sighed heavily and attempted to jerk his chair forwards; possibly towards the door and near freedom. Yet the chair didn’t budge an inch and it was then he realized it had been bolted down to the floor. “Well. Fook me in the arse, then.” Whoever had put him there, they did not want him to move before they got back.

“Welp. When in doubt, shout it out! Like fook if I’m just gonna sit here and wait fer someone to show up.” Licking at his lips and assured this was still just some kind of elaborate joke, Jack drew a deep breath. “HEY!! HEEEEEY!!! HELLOOOO?!?! ANYBODY OUT THERE?! I’M AWAKE! YE CAN COME AN’ ‘TORTURE’ ME NOW OR WHATEVER!! C’MON, AREN’T YE ARSEHOLES SUPPOSED TO ALREADY BE IN THE ROOM WHEN I WAKE UP, ALL MENACIN’ AN’ SHITE?! LAAAAAME! FELIX, IF THIS IS YOUR DOIN’ I’M GONNA KNOCK YER TEETH INTA NEXT WEEK!! I MEAN, YE STABBED ME WITH A NEEDLE! YER LUCKY I AIN’T SCARED OF NEEDLES!!”

Jack paused to catch his breath and wet his lips again. Lord, he could do with some water. He had no idea how long he was out, or how he’d even gotten to this weird location, so someone had serious explaining to do. For now, he was prepared to scream and shout until something happened. Not like he could do much else.

As soon as he opened his mouth to start screaming again, the heavy metal door abruptly opened. Jack was startled into a slight choke, and then silence as he blinked at the figure stepping calmly into the room. He wasn’t that tall, but he easily towered over Jack in his current sitting position. He bore the white coat of a physician, but it was coupled with jeans. At the moment, his face was hidden almost entirely behind a clipboard as he jotted something down on it; only a surgical cap and the barest tuft of green visible over its top edge. Behind him, the door slid shut with a decisive thud.

“Ah, Mister McLoughlin, zo you are awake. It iz good to hear your pipes are in working order. My, you certainly are a loud little zing aren’t you?” The man had an outrageously bad German accent tinged with something else, and Jack might have laughed were it not for the fact it sounded so familiar. Scarily familiar. Jack recalled personally throwing his own voice into that accent on several occasions.

“What th… Dr. Schneeplestein??” he exclaimed, gawking.

The pen’s scribbling came to a halt, followed up by a soft click. “Zo. It vould seem zat my reputation precedes me.” The doctor drawled while he lowered the clipboard down to waist level. Jack was shocked when he was met with his own blue eyes; the corners crinkled by a grin hidden beneath a large surgical mask. Brilliant green hair, the same shade as his own, poured forth out of the surgical cap atop the doctor’s head. The lookalike was so spot-on Jack had to do a double take. “You look surprised, Sean. Not who you were expecting?” His tone rose in pitch, tinkling with barely subdued laughter; identical to the actual Dr. Schneeplestein Jack liked to portray in his videos.

“Holy shite. Where the heck did they find you, eh? I mean, I hope they didn’t make ye dye yer hair er anythin’. That’d suck. But damn, some of me own brothers don’t look that much like me! This is incredible!” It reminded Jack of the doppelganger myth. Granted, legend went that a person would die if they ever met their doppelganger, so he really hoped it was just an extreme coincidence. Maybe the lower half of the guy’s face looked nothing like Jack.

Dr. Schneeplestein hummed, clearly not enthused with Jack’s ramblings as he turned his attentions back to the clipboard in his hands. “Quite. Now. Let’s zee here…. Sean McLoughlin. It vould zeem you’re having a bit of trouble viz your eye. No problem! I can fix zat right up for you, my dear patient. After all, I am a real doctor.” He reached out to condescendingly pat at Jack’s cheek.

Jack’s nose scrunched up at the gesture and he pulled away from the gloved hand; glowering at the doctor with confusion. “An eye problem? I don’t have any problems! I mean, unless ye count the fact I need glasses, but that’s hardly somethin’ I was lookin’ ta fix. An’ why am I tied down to this chair?? This can’t be up to code, when it comes to the proper treatment of patients! Shouldn’t I be in a hospital bed or somethin’?” Jack was, admittedly, a little unsettled by the suddenness of it all. He would have at least liked a heads up that he was going to be the victim in some gag video, if not some script to go off of. Hopefully his improv would be good enough.

Dr. Schneeplestein clicked his tongue as he walked calmly around to stand at Jack’s back. “Now, now. Who iz ze doctor here? Do you have a bona fide medical degree? I do not zink zo, no. As your doctor, I am ze one who knows vhat iz best for you. And I say chair iz being just fine vor operation… vhat iz zis? Why iz your IV out, you naughty boy?” He tsk’d and bent to grab up the fallen tube. “You need your fluids if zis iz to be a zuccessful zurgery!”

“Fluids my arse! The fook is that green stuff?? It looks like gelatin! Or radioactive goo! I don’t want that in me!!” Jack snapped back, though he could feel Dr. Schneeplestein popping the tube back into place. He immediately attempted to rip it out again, partially out of pettiness, but a sharp pinch near the entry point of the needle made him gasp and jolt in his chair.

“Ah ah ah, naughty naughty, Jackyboy. No touching ze equipment or your IV! Doctor’s orders. Do it again, and I vill be forced to take ze drastic measures.” Patting at the little IV needle, Dr. Schneeplestein moved to the table beside Jack and set down his clipboard. “Now, let me zee…”

Even if the substance in the IV bag looked like a normal solution used in hospitals, Jack still would have wiggled his fingers and popped the IV tube out again. Just to mess with the asshole muttering to himself in heavily accented gibberish over the table. The soft clatter of plastic hitting cement was loud in the otherwise quiet room and Dr. Schneeplestein paused; turning to look at the source. He shifted his gaze to Jack, brows furrowing in obvious consternation, and Jack childishly stuck out his tongue. “Bite me.”

The doctor gave a long suffering sigh and rubbed briefly at his temples. “Oh, no, zere vill be no biting here, Mister McLoughlin.” He moved to pick up the tube once again, popping it back into place. “However, zere vill be pain.” Without any warning, Dr. Schneeplestein grabbed the index finger on Jack’s unaffected hand and bent it sharply backwards. He didn’t stop when it became painful; he pushed straight through until knuckle was popping out and the bone cracked under the pressure.

Jack screamed. He screamed louder than he ever had, back arching up away from the chair much as the ropes would allow as tears welled up in his eyes to stream down his face. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t a joke. That was his real, attached finger that had just been horribly broken and the pain washing up into his arm was almost enough to make him gag. He choked on his own sobs, coughing and wheezing as his body shook with fresh trembles.

“Oopzie! Oh how clumsy of me, it zeems I have accidentally made ze boo-boo vhile adjusting your IV! How unfortunate. Not to worry, zhough! I vill be zure to fix it, once ve have concluded ze zurgery you are actually here for, hm? Yes. Zere zere now, just try to relax.” Dr. Schneeplestein, satisfied with his results, released Jack’s hand in favor of patting at Jack’s quivering head. He returned to the table and began grouping some items together; including a scalpel, forceps, tweezers and a beaker.

Jack was in too much pain to try and analyze the collection of instruments. His finger was still throbbing wildly behind him as he sniffled and sobbed. In a heartbeat, what appeared to be just a shitty gag video was suddenly, painfully real and Jack had absolutely no idea what to do. He’d apparently been kidnapped by some kind of madman that took his joking doctor role way too seriously and had zero qualms with causing Jack undue harm. Not quite willing to move his hands or arms yet, Jack twisting his legs against the ropes and again attempted to move his chair in some fashion. His panic had returned, and he didn’t want to be there anymore.

“Ze more you struggle, ze vorse it iz going to be~” Dr. Schneeplestein sing-songed from where he was pouring a clear solution into the beaker. He hummed a little tune as he set about preparing, utterly unphased by the sobbing young man beside him or the wild beeping of the heart rate monitor.

“Y-ye sick fook! You crazy person! If ye think I’m j-jus’ gonna sit here after you broke me finger and let ye do who-knows-what the hell ta me, then ye really are insane! Let me go!! I don’t know what the hell is really goin’ on here or who ye think ye are, but let me go!! LET ME GO!!!” Jack outright screamed through his sobs as his struggles redoubled. Fear and panic sent adrenaline rushing through his veins, but Dr. Schneeplestein wasn’t having any of it.

A gloved hand curled into Jack’s hair and jerked his head roughly back. Jack feared the crazed doctor might break his neck next, but this time he stopped before any serious damage could be done. Jack still screamed, terrified and uncomfortable, as his shoulders shook and his mouth gaped with heavy pants. His throat had been bared, and Dr. Schneeplestein stared him down with icy blue eyes as he place a scalpel to the pale skin. “I really do not have time for multiple zurgeries today, Mister McLoughlin. Please do not continue tempting me to mutilate your lovely body in horribly entertaining vaya~ Besides, he vouldn’t be very pleased viz me if I encroached upon his territory….” As if having second thoughts, the doctor pulled away from Jack and released his hair.

Jack’s head rolled forward with a shaky huff and he turned to scowl at the doctor over his shoulder. The man was digging around for something in the pockets of his coat. “Wh-who’s territory?? What’s goin’ on? Answer me! Is someone makin’ ye do this?! Are they the ones that called fer this fookin’ surgery an’ brought me here?! Tell me!! Tell me, you pile of arse, ye ragin’ sack of dimnpffgh!! Mnghhff!!”

“Zat voice of yours really iz zomezing, I’ll give you zat, Mister McLoughlin. But as your doctor, I require concentration for zis very delicate zurgery. I am zertain you understand.” Dr. Schneeplestein knotted off the strip of cloth he’d tugged forcefully between Jack’s teeth at the back of his head, then gave it another pat. Jack, furious and scared out of his wits, screamed against his new gag and thrashed much as the ropes would allow. “Zo fiesty. Do mind your IV, now. I’d hate to accidentally break any more of your fragile leetle bones if I have to plug it back in again.”

Jack didn’t listen, just continued to tug and twist and struggle as the doctor came back around to his front. He pulled a stethoscope from his breast pocket and popped it into his ears. “Now, before we begin, ze heartbeat! We must find ze heartbeat. Do try to hold ztill.” Jack did anything but, knocking the disc of the stethoscope off himself several times and eventually trying the doctor’s patience yet again. Abruptly, he was backhanded.

“I zaid hold ztill!!! I knew more ropes zhould have been applied, zat idiotic nurse! No matter. I vill have a talk viz her once ve are finished here.” A gloved hand gripped violently at Jack’s jaw; squeezing until he thought the joints might pop loose and he whimpered at the newfound pain. “Now, are you going to hold ztill or am I going to have to make you? I am a very buzy man, Mister McLoughlin, and am prepared to take vhatever actions may be necessary to perform zis zurgery. I vill hurt you very badly. Do I make myself clear?”

Cold blue eyes stared into Jack’s teary, frightened ones and he swore it felt like those piercing irises could stab into his brain; down into his very soul. He’d stopped struggling initially due to the pain, but now it felt as if ice had trickled down into his limbs, rendering them immobile. He scarcely breathed as they had their little staredown but then Dr. Schneeplestein’s eyes were narrowing dangerously. “Mister McLoughlin, I asked you a question.” More pressure was applied to Jack’s already aching jaw and he cried out; fresh tears welling up at the corners of his eyes.

“Ynnf! Ynnf! Ey nndrfnd!” Jack choked desperately around his gag. Finally satisfied, Dr. Schneeplestein’s eyes crinkled again with that invisible smile and he released Jack’s jaw.

“Very good! Now hold ztill.”

Jack’s head fell forward now that there was nothing propping it up and his breath hitched with another sob. His jaw was still aching and it throbbed dully in time with the sharp pangs of his finger now, which had no doubt swelled up like a balloon. Tears dripped steadily from his face as Dr. Schneeplestein felt about various places on his body with the stethoscope. It was like some sick mockery of his power hour video, where he’d played up not knowing where the heartbeat was for laughs. Except unlike Peter, he wasn’t just a piece of plastic.

“Hmm… where iz zat heartbeat…? Let me zee… hmm….”

Jack wanted to snap at the man; ask why he even needed to find Jack’s heartbeat when he was hooked up to a monitor, but the “doctor” was clearly insane. He didn’t need reasons or rationality to fuel his actions. Jack was gagged, anyway, so it all would have come out a garbled mess. Eventually, Dr. Schneeplestein shrugged and tossed the stethoscope carelessly over his shoulder.

“Oh well!! I’m zure it isn’t really all zat important, anyvay. After all, if you’re actually dead, zen zis shouldn’t hurt one bit! Wouldn’t zat be vantastic for you!” Dr. Schneeplestein clapped his hands together and grabbed up the scalpel off the nearby table again. “Now, finally, ve can perform ze zurgery!”

Jack’s fear returned in a white hot spike stabbing down into his gut and he jerked back in his chair, away from the mad doctor. Blue eyes wide with terror, Jack wildly shook his head; muffling nonsense against his gag. What had the guy said? He had “issues with his eye”? Jack didn’t like where that was headed- not if it included the use of a scalpel.

However, Dr. Schneeplestein merely sent him another one of those invisible smiles. “Now, now. Calm down. It’ll all be over zoon if you behave like a good leetle patient for ze nice doctor!” A gloved hand dropped onto Jack’s head, forcing it steady, and the doctor leaned in close with scalpel raised. Jack was shaking terribly from head to toe as he found his right eye staring down a razor sharp blade. He whimpered. “Oh, it’s okay, Zean. Just take deep breaths now and don’t move a muscle, or I might zlip~! And my contractor really vanted to keep zis eyeball of yours intact….”

Jack didn’t dare to move as the scalpel was pressed to the skin just beneath his eye. It wouldn’t get him anywhere now but worse injuries. However, he did shout and plead and beg through the gag in his mouth, praying that something, anything would get through to the doctor and stop this madness. There were still tears streaming down his face as he sniffled pathetically.

His efforts fell on deaf ears. With one hand smoothed over Jack’s temple, pushing his fringe out of the way, Dr. Schneeplestein dragged up Jack’s eyelid with his thumb. His other hand shifted the scalpel upwards, pressing the tip smoothly into the inside corner of Jack’s beautiful blue eye and then sliding it forward. As the blade cut between Jack’s sclera and the muscle he screamed; louder and more ragged than ever before. The pain in his finger was nothing compared to this. He screamed and shook and sobbed hoarsely as Dr. Schneeplestein carved around his eye; blood trickling from the wounds to join his tears. He could hear his heart monitor going absolutely crazy in the background but the doctor ignored it all.

Once an incision had been made around the circumference of Jack’s eye, Dr. Schneeplestein traded his bloody scalpel for one of many pairs of forceps lined up at the edge of the table. Jack swore he was grinning as he raised the little tool to Jack’s still bloody eye; half his vision blurred with tears and severed muscles. “Now zis iz ze fun part!”

The doctor clamped the forceps around the incisions he’d made; locking two rows of tiny, fine-tipped teeth into the muscle of Jack’s eyeball. He gave a blood curdling screech that proceeded to jump and hiccup in pitch as Dr. Schneeplestein went about tugging out his eye. The mad doctor laughed with glee as he gently twisted the forceps and pulled; dragging the eyeball out one centimeter at a time. “Hahaha! It iz like playing tug-of-war viz your brain! Except I am vinning~ Stubborn leetle eyeball, come vith me now, Mister McLoughlin von’t be needing you anymore!” The doctor ripped and twisted and pulled until the eyeball itself was free of Jack’s socket, and only the coil of ocular muscles remained to keep it tethered to his body.

He screamed again, though his voice was beginning to fail him, because he could still partially see out of the dangling eyeball. His vision was skewed between a giddy Dr. Schneeplestein and his own bloodied lap. The doctor hummed contently as he grasped Jack’s eyeball with his own gloved fingers; squishing it gently. “Ah yes, very good, very good. A healthy eyeball! He vill be quite pleased viz ze results, I am zure. Now, we just need to finish removing it….”

Rather than make another quick, clean slice with the scalpel, Dr. Schneeplestein grabbed another set of forceps that resembled a pair of very small scissors. The hinge was extremely close to the point, meaning he could only make tiny snips through the fibers behind Jack’s eye. He shouted and cried with every disconnection until he couldn’t scream anymore, and then he just wheezed out quiet sobs as his bloody eye was dropped into the clear solution Dr. Schneeplestein had poured out earlier. Humming again with satisfaction, the man stood and peeled off his bloodied gloves. He tossed them carelessly onto the table and picked up his clipboard as he rounded behind Jack again.

“Vell, Zean, it zeems ze insurance you have doesn’t cover anesthetic.... My, how unfortunate for you. Zat really does look quite painful.” The doctor chuckled to himself as he scribbled on his clipboard.

Jack hiccuped softly, breath hitching as his now empty eye socket took precedence over his other injuries. Blood was still dripping down one side of his face, while tears continued to leak from the other and his body trembled. The beeping from the monitor had settled some, but was still quite erratic. He sat slumped in his chair, peering up perilously at the doctor as he rounded back to stand in front of him again. The man clicked his pen.

“You zeem to be zuffering from ze shock, Mister McLoughlin. Not to vorry; I am zertain it vill vear off in just a bit. Now be a good boy and keep zat IV in vhile I am avay. It iz essential to your health. Try to get zome rest.” Dr. Schneeplestein placed the pen in his breast pocket and leaned down to pat at Jack’s head one more time. However, instead of immediately pulling away, his blue eyes glinted dangerously and he hooked two fingers over his surgical mask. “Oh, and by ze vay…”

Jack would have screamed again in absolute horror if he could manage to get his voice to work. Instead, he could only jerk back and stare with wide eyes as the doctor tugged his mask down to reveal rows of sharp teeth and an acid green tongue. Red slashes curled a few inches up his cheeks from the corners of his mouth, and split completely when he spoke; making his mouth stretch an inhuman amount to show off even more pointed teeth. The beeping in the background skyrocketed.

“Do tell Anti hello vor me.”

#jacksepticye #dr schneeplestein #antisepticeye #tw eye horror #tw eye trauma #tw blood #tw medical horror #tw medical trauma #tw body horror #look i finally wrote the thing #im actually quite pleased with this one #and eye must scream

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ricandhaiz · 5 years

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Blindsided, Chapter 1

Nic hurried into Joe’s Diner, a no frills burger and fries joint on the corner of Cyprus and Laverne Street, for some shelter from the rain and a bite to eat. He’d been told by a friend and fellow burn unit patient, Matt Royce, that this was the place to go in the small college town of Hilton City, California, for a cheap and hearty meal. He’d just come from an orientation for Wagner University’s incoming Master of Business Administration (MBA) students and was feeling irritable and shaky from lack of food.

He looked around. The place was packed and the line to the host stand was nearly out the door. He thought about leaving. He glanced through the window and saw that it was pouring outside. He sighed inwardly and decided to stay. He zipped his jacket all the way up to his throat and kept his eyes down as he pulled his baseball cap down further. He then raised his hands to his head to make sure the black mask that he wore to cover up the burned portions of his face was securely in place.

After waiting patiently behind a group of college students, an elderly couple, and a mother with a crying baby, he walked up to the counter and asked the red-haired and freckled-faced teenage hostess for a single seat.

The girl replied, “It’s going to be at least a 30-minute wait. The counter’s full and so are the booths.”

Just then, one of the waitresses, Ellie, a stocky woman with gray hair and a twinkle in her eyes, walked by. She glanced at Nic, then said, “You alone?” He nodded. She replied, “Give me a sec. I’ll be right back.”

As Ellie walked away, Nic turned to the girl, who shrugged her shoulders and motioned for the man standing behind him to come forward. Nic moved aside and looked to his left. He saw a little girl at a nearby table staring at him with a curious expression. His mouth suddenly went dry. He wondered how many other people in the room had also taken notice of him. His body stiffened as he pictured her screaming in terror at the sight of his unmasked face. He eyed the front door and was sorely tempted to bolt despite the rain when Ellie reappeared and said, “I’ve got just the spot for you in one of our corner booths. That is, if you don’t mind sharing it with one of our regulars.”

Ellie motioned for him to follow her lead. He stopped in his tracks the moment his eyes fell upon the pretty girl with wavy brown hair sitting in a red upholstered corner booth and the large yellow Labrador at her feet on the black and white tile floor. He thought about what the people around them might think and whisper among themselves when they saw him sitting across from her. What’s that freak doing with her? Who does he think he is? These were only some of the many negative things that came to mind. He flinched and was about to back away when Ellie turned to him and said, “That’s Allie Jacobs. She comes here every Wednesday, and that handsome brute at her feet is Charlie, her guide dog.”

Guide dog? Nic thought as he gazed at Allie, who was wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt with the university’s mascot and name emblazoned across her chest in large bold letters. “That’s okay,” he stammered in a thick Spanish accent. “I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Don’t be silly,” Ellie said cheerfully. “Allie’s a sweetheart. Come on, don’t be shy.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he relented and then watched with nervous anticipation as Ellie tapped Allie on the shoulder and said, “Hey girly, girl. I’ve got this nice young man standing behind me who needs a place to sit. Would you mind if he joined you and Charlie for lunch?”

Allie cocked her head to the side and said, “Sure. Why not? The more the merrier.”

Ellie pointed to the booth seat opposite Allie’s. As soon as he was seated, Ellie handed him a menu and said that she’d be back in a few minutes to take his order.

Nic promptly introduced himself to Allie and glanced down at Charlie, who was staring up at him with large, soulful eyes. The dog looked old and slightly overweight, with lots of gray and white hairs around his snout.

“May I pet him?”

“Go ahead,” Allie replied. “Charlie especially loves belly rubs but I’d wouldn’t recommend that you do that now. This place is packed, and I wouldn’t want anyone to trip or step on him on accident.”

He started to nod but checked himself and said yes instead before reaching down and patting Charlie’s head. The dog yawned, looking decidedly unimpressed. He chuckled as he looked at Allie and asked, “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Eight years next month,” Allie said with obvious pride. “I got him when I was fourteen years old. An elderly woman had him for about a year before he was assigned to me. A representative from the nonprofit organization that put us together, Guide Dogs of America, has been hinting lately that it might be time for me to retire him and get another one but it’s hard, you know. We’re a team.”

“I can see that,” he replied, then immediately regretted his choice of words. “I’m sorry…I meant to say—”

Allie smiled as she cut in and said, “No worries. So, tell me, where are you from? You don’t sound like you’re from here. Are you an exchange student?”

Just then, Ellie arrived with a pen and pad in hand. “What would you like to order?”

“I…umm…actually haven’t gotten the chance to look at the menu yet.”

Ellie arched her brow and snorted with amusement as she glanced from Nic to Allie and back again. “Take your time honey and be sure to ask Allie for suggestions. She knows the menu backwards and forwards. Isn’t that right?”

“She knows me too well.”

Ellie put the pad of paper in an apron pocket. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just water, thank you.”

She nodded, then asked Allie, “Do you want a refill?”

Allie shook her head. “I’m good. I’ll spoil my appetite if I drink too much soda before I’ve even gotten halfway through eating my burger and fries.”

“Got ya.” She then turned to Nic and said, “Feel free to flag me down as soon as you’re ready to order.”

“I will,” Nic replied as he picked up the menu and began to peruse its contents.

“Are you planning to answer my question or are you going to keep me guessing?” Allie asked in a teasing tone.

He paused a moment as he tried to recall her question, then said, “Oh yeah, sure. I come from Spain. I’m enrolled in the MBA program.”

“Aren’t you a long way from home? What made you decide to come here to get an MBA?”

“A good friend of mine, Matt, said that Wagner University has one of the best MBA programs in the United States. I also needed a change of…scenery. What’s your story?”

“I’m a senior in the social work program. I just finished a summer internship with the local Regional Center. It’s an organization that helps disabled kids. I was lucky. I had a family who loved and cared for me. There are lots of kids who are mentally and/or physically disabled out there that don’t. I want to do what I can to help them.”

“That’s very selfless of you,” Nic replied as Ellie walked up and placed a glass of water in front of him.

“Ready yet?”

Nic felt abashed as he looked over at Allie and asked, “What do you think I should get?”

Tapping her finger on her chin, Allie replied, “Hmm…You really can’t go wrong with Joe’s double cheeseburger and fries. That’s what I always order. You should also try the double chocolate shake here. It’s to die for.”

Nic licked his lips and then looked up at Ellie as he said, “Sounds good. I guess that’s what I’ll have.”

“Great choice,” Ellie said and took his menu. “Told ya Allie wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

As soon as he thought that Ellie was out of earshot, Nic leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Allie replied. “What else can you tell me about yourself? I’d like to know more.”

What should I tell her? The more he thought about it, the more anxious he became. He drummed his fingers on the table while considering his options, and then slowly replied, “Like what?”

Allie shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno. Do you play sports, an instrument or are you one of those artsy fartsy kind of people?”

Nic sat back in his seat and thought about what his padre, ex-Spanish football star Sergio Martínez, would say. Growing up, he had always been taught to be honest and forthright. And so he felt compelled to reply, “I used to play professional football. I think you call it soccer in this country. I was pretty good at it too until…” He stopped midsentence as memories of the car crash suddenly flashed through his mind. He shuddered and closed his eyes.

“What happened?” Allie asked and reached out her hand to him from across the table. He met her halfway and placed his hand in hers. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Her hands felt warm and reassuring. He immediately thought about what it would be like to sleep with her. A rueful smile spread across his lips as he pictured what his old self would have said and done to lower her defenses and reel her in. Back then, he always managed to get whatever girl he wanted. It had all been so easy. But that was before the accident, when he was whole. Still, he felt himself becoming more and more aroused as he let his imagination run wild. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair and kiss her lips. If only…He bit his lip to rouse himself from his errant thoughts and let the reality of his current situation sink in. Not going to happen.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “My former therapist would have heartily disagreed with you. He thinks that holding things in is unhealthy and only makes matters worse.”

She paused to eat a French fry or two, then said, “I don’t think there’s a person out there who hasn’t been scarred in some way by someone or something that’s happened to them. I just think that some people are better at moving on with their lives than others.”

Allie was right. As he looked over at her, he got the sneaking suspicion that she probably was in the former category while he, on the other hand, fell in the latter. “How did you get so wise?”

She smiled. “Tell you what, you show me your wounds, and I’ll show you mine. Whaddya say?”

Nic took a deep breath, then said, “I was in a car accident. My friend ran a red light. A van slammed into the sports car we’d rented for the night while we were in the intersection. It rolled over and was hit a second time by another car coming from the opposite direction. It burst into flames. My right knee got crushed and half my body got burned. I was in the hospital for weeks. That’s where I met Matt, the guy who recommended that I come here.”

An audible gasp escaped her lips as Allie covered her mouth with her hand. “When did it happen?”

“Almost two years ago,” he replied. “The doctors did what they could to repair the damage to my body. I underwent more skin grafts than I can count and underwent months of physical therapy. That was hard, but I think the psychological trauma of going home and coming to terms with the fact that I’d suffered life-altering and career-ending injuries was worse. I became depressed and shut everybody out. Nobody knew what to say to me. One by one, my friends stopped coming by and even my girlfriend left me.” The ease with which he’d just confessed his innermost feelings to this complete strange surprised him.

As he pondered this turn of events, Ellie arrived with his food. They paused their conversation while she placed his plate and a few extra napkins on the table. She asked him if he needed anything else. He said no.

The moment Ellie moved on the booth next to theirs, Allie leaned toward him and said in a low voice, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Eager to change the subject, Nic replied, “I kept in touch with Matt while I was back home. We talked about what I was going through and kicked around ideas about what I might do going forward. He suggested that I come here to get a graduate degree in business administration after I told him that my padre wants me to work with him and then take over the family business once he decides that it’s time for him to retire.”

“How do you like it here so far?”

“It’s fine, and the other students in the program have been friendly enough. I especially liked the fact that no one stared at me or asked me why I was wearing a mask at this morning’s orientation meeting.”

Allie was quiet for a moment, then said, “You shouldn’t feel like you have to hide behind a mask.”

“Too many people would stare. Others have actually cringed in my presence or shied away from me because of the way I look now.”

She shook her head. “It’s because they’re small-minded and ignorant people whose opinion shouldn’t matter to you anyway. You are who you are. Don’t let other people make you feel like you have to cover yourself up in order to make them feel more comfortable.”

“Maybe I will,” he said as he straightened up and rolled his shoulders back. “What’s your story?”

Allie slurped down what was left of her soda, then said, “I wore glasses for as long as I can remember but it wasn’t until I was 10 that I started noticing that I was having trouble seeing things at night. My ophthalmologist ran some tests and then told me that I had retinitis pigmentosa. My vision stabilized for a few years and then deteriorated again when I was 14. All the colors faded to black and white. I had to learn how to read braille and was taught how to get around with a cane. It took some adjusting but I my aunt and uncle did all they could to help me.” She bent down and patted the top of Charlie’s head, adding, “But it wasn’t until I got this big guy that things really started to pick up for me. Life’s been pretty good ever since. No complaints.”

Nic admired Allie’s positive outlook and fearless nature. He also liked the fact that she hadn’t let her disability get in the way of living her life to the fullest. Maybe someday, he thought, I’ll be able to do that too.

For a little while, they sat in companionable silence and focused on their meals.

“You know what, this burger is pretty good,” Nic exclaimed and dabbed his face with a napkin.

“Told ya so,” Allie replied, laughing. “You’ll never want to go to another burger joint in your life.”

Just then, Nic caught sight of a blond-haired college-aged guy in jeans and a gray polo shirt coming toward them. He walked up and patted Charlie’s head as he looked over at Allie and asked, “Who’s your friend?”

Allie frowned. “Oh hi, Conner. This is Nic.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Conner said with a nod. Nic, for his part, hated him on sight. He’d seen his like before. Sanctimonious and judgmental, he’d made a point of keeping his distance from such men. Was he Allie’s boyfriend? He hoped not, for her sake. Not that it was any of his business. “How’d the two of you meet?”

“The diner was full, so Ellie asked me if Nic could sit with me.”

“Always the good Samaritan,” Conner replied with a smile and placed his hand on Allie’s shoulder in a possessive way.

To Nic’s surprise and delight, Allie shirked away and said, “What are you doing here?”

Conner looked flustered as he quickly withdrew his hand and stuttered, “I ran into your aunt at the grocery store. She told me that she was going to pick you and Charlie up to go to the vet. She looked tired, so I volunteered to take you instead.”

Allie shook her head. “That really wasn’t necessary. Charlie and I could have taken the bus instead.”

“When you can hitch a ride with me? Why would you do that?”

Sensing Allie’s growing exasperation with Conner, Nic chimed in, “Maybe you should have asked her first.”

For a moment or two, Conner looked utterly aghast, but then replied, “Allie knows that I always have her best intentions at heart. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Allie replied in a deadpan voice. Nic had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud. The guy was making a fool of himself and alienating Allie at every turn. He briefly considered telling him to just cut his losses and leave but concluded that it was probably best to just leave things well enough alone.

“We should probably get going now. Isn’t Charlie’s appointment at 2 p.m.?”

“Seriously, you don’t have to take us. The vet is just a couple of blocks away on foot and less than five minutes away by bus.”

“Come on, Allie,” Conner pled. “I promised your aunt that I’d get you there safely and take you home.”

Allie sighed in defeat and stood up. Conner immediately offered her his arm. She pushed it away as she turned to Nic and said, “It was nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

Unable to resist the urge to pour more salt into the wound, Nic replied, “I’d like that a lot. Do you come here often?”

“Every Wednesday around this time for sure,” Allie quickly replied.

Nic smiled. “Then maybe I’ll see you again next week.”

“Really,” Allie said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Cool beans.” She then urged her guide dog, Charlie, to get up. He yawned and sluggishly rose to his feet. Just as Conner was about to offer her his arm, she bent over and patted Charlie on the back and said, “You lead the way buddy.”

As Allie, Charlie and Conner walked away, Ellie came up to him and said, “Seriously, that boy needs to get a clue. Poor Allie.”

Nic chuckled as he watched them go. “I guess that means he’s not her boyfriend then.”

Ellie looked horrified. “Goodness, no. She’s free as a bird as far as I know but—”

“But what?” he cut in.

“I could be wrong. But if I’m right and you play your cards right, she might not be for much longer,” Ellie said with a wink. “You seem like a nice enough guy. I sensed that right off when I saw you walk in. And Allie’s a great girl.”

Nic sat back and eyed her curiously as he wiped his grease-stained hands with a napkin. “Do you do this often?”

Ellie arched her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Matchmake your customers,” Nic teased.

A knowing grin spread across her face. “All I did was make the introduction. The rest is up to you.” Nic nodded. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, not right now.” But as Ellie turned to go, he added, “Thanks for finding me a seat. You won’t regret it. I promise.”

#hailee steinfeld #ricardo gomez #romance #love story #contemporary fiction #fan fiction #soulmates #blind #guide dog #burn victim #bffs

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olusegundare · 6 years

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Brother Samson And Sister Debbie’s Story continues

Sista Debbie writes, "And I slept in his room for the first time". (June 16, 2013)

On the day some graduates who are jobless wrote an employment exams @ a nearby town did I went 2 my love's shop. I prepared his delicious meal, which is pounded yam with melon soup...He did not like engine grinded pounded yam, he says dat d so called engine pounded yam is not usually soft n well articulated 2geda like d 1 pounded in a morter by pestle...such engine grinded boiled yams do have lattices n inter-callaces, spaces, d atoms and ions are scattered, dey do not form a good compound, its cohesive forces are not strong...it does not form a good ball, good morsel,, when rolled 2geda by d fingers b4 dipping into d soup b4 going into d mouth 4 onward swallowing...it is essentially not a good representation of pounded yam, although it is fair, manageable, but nay good, if some1 has ever tasted such b4...so my love said...

Having felt his pulse on this, and having understand my one and only one...I decide 2 pound d yam...it was smooth, soft, succulent like a baby's ear-lobe...Before I did dis, I have grinded pepper, tomatoes, onions, locust bean, I added cray-fish and melon, all these were grinded on d ancient mortar...People, expert women in cooking, say dat pepper grinded using ancient stone mortar is usually sweeter than d ones grinded by engines, d new technological inventions...Afta I was thru with dis, I have gotten other additives like vegetables, dry fishes, lungs and liver of animals which I have cut 2 small sizes,...all these r going into d grinded melon n others...On d 2nd kerosine stove, I boiled d meat, cow meat, whose nearly dried boiled water shall also serve as other additives to d melon 2 be cooked...Afta dis I fried d meats and a little pepper which i shall add on d melon-vegetable soup afta it is done...At d expiration of d soup did I peeled d Yams and put it on fire...Washed d mortar

And psetle...getting set for the pounding...Afta all said n done, I was thru with all...Afta I took my bathe, arranged d foods in order...off 2 my love's office cum shop...As usual, he was busy in his office, preparing some notes, I guess he shall be ministering 2moro @ d church or perhaps he had an impromptu message 2 deliver @ a place, because he looked subsumed in his thoughts and writings, but I am yet 2 be fully briefed of what he is busy doing in his office...I entered, genuflected few millimeters off d door frame as I stepped into his office...dropped my bag on a settee...and said, "ẹ ku isẹ oni o", I did not wait 4 his response as I walked to his side hugged him and pecked him on d right cheek...took about 3 steps back and dropped d container containing his cooked food @ a corner behind where he sits...""O se o" , but u are a bit late", he replied. "Ẹ má mà dami lohun", I said, as I was dropping d bag. "What is it that has kept u back all dis while?" He asked, as he continue

Writing. "Se ẹ nisẹ fun mi ni?" I asked. "Oh yes. Oh no..." He paused 4m what he was writing, I guess he has muddled up some points...he then speaks loud, ostentatiously not to me, that, ""...As he journied on, he stopped...He will also stop to answer you today and now in Jesus name..." I said "amen". He was quickly writing this down 4m dis I discern dat I am disturbing d flow of "stuffs" which I guess is spiritual, then, I excused myself 4m his office as I said, "My love, am so, so sorry to disturb you, let me go and join the sales staff @ sales department, and when u are thru u can call 4 me". "Oh, thank you dearie...I am sorry 4 the inability 2 attend 2 u now,...I shall soon be through with this section and I will come over and meet you there", he said, dropping the ball-pen, resting his back on the chair and looking directly @ me..."It is no problem "mai" lord, take good care of yourself and do the right justices to the outlined points, as we also continue with the other aspects,

Division of labour "sé", (he nodded his head in affirmative) selling the stocked goods", I said... ""Ẹ se o", I should be thru soon..." he said, half of this last statement I didnt hear because I have already opened d office door, so d noise of the office door as it moves on the hinge dat fastened it to d oda part of d structure shielded his words 4m my hearing...I also gave d sales department staffs their foods, I wrapped their pounded yams in a leaf, "ewe iran" as it is called in our Island and I put their soup in "take-aways", a combustible bowl like structure. The sales staffs are doing justices 2 d food one afta anoda...They did not eat d food @ once dis is done so dat there shall be free staffs to attend 2 customers...Afta a while, every1 has eaten his/her portion...we continued selling things @ d sales department/outlet, but when there is no customer, we resort 2 gisting...we are also taking note of the goods that are out-of-stock, those that are few copies left...so dat "mai"

Lord be intimated of what is left in stock and he wil place orders for more copies as soon as soon can be...I got to d shop @ 14:30 hours the Island's time, but as @ 15:30 hours "mai" love is yet 2 come out...he though sends messages 2 update me through facebook...@ 16:15 hours, he finally came out of his office... ""Se ko si "problems" pẹlu awọn "customers" o"", he said as he walked 2 where I am, placed his 2 palms on my shoulders, becuase I was facing outside while I back d office, as I felt his palms on my shoulders, so I felt his lips touching my head, because my hair was plaited and I had no scarf or cap on...he kissed my head like the Europeans..."I think i love this", I said 2 mysef...""Ko si" problems sire", a staff replied.... ""Agbara Ọlọrun ka awọn to wa "sire", another staff added...""To ò, ẹ ku isẹ o", he said...After he has answered them, he spoke 2 me in a hushed tone, ""Ẹ ku ijoko, se o binu pupọ?" he asked....I shook my head for negativity, ""rara o". Why would I be

Angry? With whom shal I be annoyed? How shall I be miffed?" I asked....He has now put his hands by d arms of d chair, his right hand on d right arm of d chair while his left rests on d left arm of d chair, as he rested his chin on my right shoulder...Just then, one of d staffs looked back and said, ""ỌGA",I like this posture "o"" the other sales staffs looked back and they started commenting, as if we have posted a comment on d facebook, "me too sire", anoda staff said, ""Eleyi ko" bad "o"", anoda staff yet added...."Let us take the picture sire" a staff said and they all chorused thus, "Yes. Yes. Yes. The picture, it shal be good for your profile..." They did not even wait 4 a reply 4m any of us as someone out of them took my fone 4m d table and took the picture...afterwards he said, ""Ọga, look at it, isnt it lovely?" Turning 2 me, he said "abi anti? Isnt it innovative and enthralling?" My love took it 4m him looking @ it he said, ""Ẹyin lẹ mọ̀, se bi ẹ ti yà á tan"".

"No sire. Not a matter of "sebi a ti yà á tan", to be frank and sincere sire, pass comment", a staff said. "Hum... Well...I think so", my love said.... ""Mo mọ tọga bẹ́ẹ̀", I think "nã ni" always", anoda staff enthused. "Ok. What do u want me 2 say, "ẹyin ọmọ yi"", my love said. Anoda staff replied, "With all sense of humility and respect sire", bowing his head, "we expect a nay or yea answer 4m you sire. Isnt this picture respledent, lovely, gorgeous, inspiring, enthralling, tantalizing,..." My love interjected, "I think you have made millions today...or what really happened? Because all of you are joyous", he asked. "We bless God 4 today's sales "ná ọga", as you all know no dull moment with us here, because the joy of the Lord is our strong room (someone among them said "Yes o") but that apart sire, isnt this pics inviting?" the staff concludes. Another staff said, "This pics shall hit the enemies @ a dangerous place sire, when they see it on air". ""O dara nã", it is fine. "Kilẹ fẹ

Gbà nidi ọrọ yi?" My love said.... They all clapped their hands, as if they have re-hearsed it before they chorused, ""Oluwa seun". That is what we wanna hear", a staff added "1st time in history "ọga" conceeds d discussion 2 us". My love pulled me up 4m where I am sitting down as if glued by something 2 d seat watching the master-servant season movie part 8..."Please let us go into d office, because "awọn ọmọ yi ko ni jẹ ka gbadun ọrọ wa nibiyi o"" he said as he helped me 2 my feet with his right hands around my scapular. As I was standing up, someone said, "Please "ọga" on behalf of all", we are both standing now, with his hand yet around me, listening to d staff, "I want u 2 help us thank anti 4 d delicious meal she gave us today o, "mo wi ire tabi ngo wi ire"?" He enthused as he faced his colleagues waiting 4 an answer. They all chorused the answer, "O wi ire". "Ọga", my love said, ""oun na ti ngbọ bayẹn", pls let us go jare"", he added. ""A kì í dupẹ ara ẹni", I said as he allows

As he allows me 2 walk ahead, placing his palms on my shoulders like Island's children while playing games in d moonlight... In his office he told me how pastor phoned him dat he shd prepare 4 message 2moro bc God laid d burden on his heart...He said he has texted me 2 Intimate me dat blessed devpt, but I have not received d text till i got 2 him, all these network problems... Afta he ate his food...He gave me money 2 go n buy oda fudstuffs n prepare soup 4 him...dis also shal afford him d opportunity 2 complete d msg he was preparing... Afta I was tru @ d market, I got 2 his room in a "face me I slap you" house in d Island around 18:45 hours...prepared d foods n soups...He got home around 20:50 hours...2 minutes afta rain began...A heavy rain...it rained 4 an hour...d streets are deserted...I wasnt too sure of how intact d adjoining bridge dat was constructed by communal efforts dat linked my street with d main street shall be, bc well b4 dis heavy rain, erosion has been washing away d edges...so we, my one and only and I, concluded dat I shd sleep in his house dat nyt...

Afta eating, bathing, changing and prayers, I lay on bed...so furtunate 4 us dat d electricity providers of d Island didnt switch off d electricity 2 d island dat day...it was a rare occasion in d island, having electricity during rain...we bless God 4 dat... As I laid on d bed, he returned 2 his writing desk, "wont u rest a while?" I asked. "I shall do but not now", he said. "This man must be a "work-a-holic", what some psychologists called type-A personality", I thousght... As a solemn christian worship song was coming out of his DVD player...I was following d wordings and the rhythm, I did not know when I slept off... @ d midnight, 00:15 hours, I opened my eyes only 2 find him sleeping on a mat on d floor..., "this man "shá", wont he have body ache 2moro? Sleeping on mat? I cannot remember when last I slept on mat...as I think of dis, I fell asleep again...by 04:00 hours, I come out of sleep again...he was awake praying..."Huh, my one and only, broda Samson! Is dis his life-cycle?" I questioned myself. I also attempted praying some silent prayers as he was doing...but I couldnt sustain it bc my eyes were heavy with sleep thus I fell asleep again...around 05:30 hours, I felt his hand gently tapping me..."wake up and let us pray", he said....

DIFFICULT WORDS MEANINGS

*Sista Debbie writes, "And I slept in his room for the first time". (June 16, 2013)

1 (MEANS one

"ẹ ku isẹ oni o", (translation how is work oh)

O se o" , (translation thank you oh)

"Ẹ má mà dami lohun", (translation don’t mind me)

"Se ẹ nisẹ fun mi ni?" (translation do you have work for me? Or do you want to send me an errand?)

"sé", (translation is it) (he nodded his head in affirmative)

""Ẹ se o", (translation Thank you oh)

"ewe iran" (translation is a characteristic big leaf in our land that is being used to wrap things. Hawkers in the olden days and presently in the rural areas use it to wrap things for their buyers

""Se ko si "problems" pẹlu awọn "customers" o"", (translation I hope there is no problems with the customers oh)

...""Ko si" problems sire", (translation there is no problems sir)

""Agbara Ọlọrun ka awọn to wa "sire", (translation The power of God is able for all who come (it is a way of saying with the help of God we have been able to attend to all the customers that come here today, that is the way the Yorubas speak)

To ò, ẹ ku isẹ o", (translation Alright. Weldone)

""Ẹ ku ijoko, se o binu pupọ?" (translation.i hope you are not annoyed for keeping you sitting all this while?)

""rara o". (translation no, not at all)

""ỌGA", (translation Master)

""Eleyi ko" bad "o"", (translation This is not bad or this is good)

""Ẹyin lẹ mọ̀, se bi ẹ ti yà á tan"". (translation That is left to you. Have you finished taken the picture?)

"sebi a ti yà á tan", (translation have we finished taken the picture)

""Mo mọ tọga bẹ́ẹ̀", (translation I have known our master for this)

"nã ni" (translation I think is what he would only say)

"ẹyin ọmọ yi"", (translation You these children)

"ná ọga", (translation in a way master)

""O dara nã", it is fine. "Kilẹ fẹ Gbà nidi ọrọ yi?" (translation okay now, it is fine. What do you want to be given for all these?)

""Oluwa seun". (translation Bless the Lord or Lord be blessed)

"ọga" (translation master)

"awọn ọmọ yi ko ni jẹ ka gbadun ọrọ wa nibiyi o"" (translation These children (or my members of staff) would be disturbing or interrupting our discussions here oh)

"ọga" (translation Master)

"mo wi ire tabi ngo wi ire"?" (translation Have I spoken well or not?)

"O wi ire". (translation You have spoken well)

"Ọga", (translation Master)

""oun na ti ngbọ bayẹn", pls let us go jare"", (translation she is hearing what you are saying, don’t mind them, please let us go)

""A kì í dupẹ ara ẹni", (translation You are welcome)

"face me I slap you" (translation this is a room by room apartment in the nation where a room will face another room, it is not a self-contain room, but rooms in a row without partition but separated by passage where those inhabiting the rooms will have access to the same toilet, bathrooms and toilets. Just like an office that face another office, that is some buildings are in the country

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