#this shit takes time so i price it that way. u gotta talk to customers like People not Money Giving Machines

[fieldsofbats]

simon riley x waitstaff!reader

thank you to those who liked my first post <3 i am still v new to this and haven't quite figured out my preferred writing style so all feedback is welcome (be respectful tho).

part one

part two

right so at ur work it’s real common to have military folk there bc it is a military town, close to base, training facilities etc. 

first visit was just to the bar section of the place. price thought it would be good for moral to go out and have some chill team time, watch a football match and just hang out.

soap ordered some food and you brought it over to them. simon did not notice you bc he was watching the game, but then he got a whiff of soaps food and decided to grab something.

cue you coming back over with your sweet smile and handing him his food and cutlery before wandering back to the resturant bc its a quiet night.

mans is hooked.

second time ghost comes in it’s at night again but the restaurant is slammed bc it’s family week, everyone is getting dinner the night before they gotta head home. 

lbr, simon didnt think about you until soap wanted to go out again: "where are we goin'" "that place with the pretty server", knows exactly where they are going.

but still, your smile and warmth towards everyone is so kind and customer service is through the roof. yet he watches as you race around in and out of the kitchen with crazy ease and grace

like dude is impressed at you staying calm and steady despite how fuckin busy it is and people with their insane requests and demands for food (inpatient pricks)

he wants to stick around and watch u but it has become way to loud and busy for him so he bows out and goes back to his quiet room

simon strikes me as someone that likes to have as much regularity in his life as possible, why do you think 141 are literally the only people he has relationships with???

but mainly forms this routine bc he gets to see you, and he knows you will be there bc you’ve old him its your regular shift.

"you basically live here."

"haha no, i just make sure i get the shift with you."

the restaurant would make the booking for him in advance cause he never does but you know he is coming anyway so have it under ‘y/n's man’ (hasn’t told you his name) and ur coworkers think its super cute and funny

but he would make the effort to come in when it is quiet and has the chance to actually listen to you talk and see you interact with others on a more relaxed level BUT he wouldn’t be opposed to seeing you rushing around tables and weaving between guests who haven’t sat down

ngl he would find it hot watching you manage several orders and memorising different peoples requirements, all while keeping that sweet smile and polite manner

you can carry three plates?! this man is sweating under the mask

he doesn’t do a lot of the talking, only when you really prompt him or he is feeling a bit more extroverted that day. Doesn’t wanna talk about military shit with you but that’s all he does so he prefers to listen to you.

knows all the drama and gossip of the restaurant. glad to hear you are not dating the guy behind the bar and that you also don't like the receptionist because he perfume is to strong.

he will hang around and wait for it to die down to be able to talk to you. if it gets too loud for him he might just try and see you at the till as he leaves but has pushed through once or twice to talk to you.

something about you makes him feel more real, that he isn’t just some shell of a man, that he has a purpose. he likes that you treat him normally, the fresh slate you give him is like clean evening air.

ANYWAY it would take him ages to ask you out, like more than six/ seven months, and he would be so nervous (not to the point of stuttering or shaking bc this man is military he has been in worse situations, but his heart would be running a marathon and the self doubt would be just as loud)

but also protective ghost omgggg, he would be seething watching the old men be creepy and shit

knife and fork are down and he is up behind these men leering over them “excuse me, I just have a question about my meal.” just would say anything to get you out of that situation and back over to him. Or would just stand by the register staring down these men (this happens a lot more often than simon would like to admit)

always checks in when he is leaving to make sure he didn’t over step or make you uncomfortable by accident

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #x reader #ahhh my first proper fic #thank yall so so much #pls be kind.

[shoutogepi]

not a thirsty question sorry babe but how do u think best boi shouto would be in love?

fjsjxhsaahaaaaa no worries bb i don’t just take nsfw only thirsts~ sometimes more like all the time i think abt how sweet bf lovebug shouto would be and of course i can elaborate ;)

— - — - — - — - —

shouto in love ❤️ (mini hc’s)

love ?? let’s get this straight... shouto got no damn cLUE what that is. of course he feels love for his mother and his siblings and friends, but since he never rly got to experience a romantic love between his parents, poor baby boy is helpless when it comes to romancing.

honestly he probably has 0 interest in love, being in love, rly anything to do with the dreaded 4 letter word— he just does not want any part of it. so when he finallyyyy finds that special someone (~≖‿≖)~ he’ll go through a few emotions.

right off the bat is CONFUSION. how come his heartbeat quickens when he sees you? why does that nice thing catch his eye in the store window he passes on patrol, and why does he wonder if you would smile if he gave it to you? how come he finds himself thinking about you when he’s falling asleep at night, and why is it that when he wakes up the next morning with a spare pillow in his arms, he wishes it was you?

after consulting his friends cough cough midoriya, he comes to learn the horrifying news. he has feelings ?? romantic, non-platonic feelings ????? next emotion to the stage, please— DENIAL, THATS YOUR CUE.

baby boy tries to fight it. ohhhh he tries soooo hard. first of all, he’s freaking out internally bc he’s never felt this way before (i know can u say cheeeeeeese). and he doesn’t wanna chance freaking you out either, so for awhile, he’s content to keep those lovey dovey thoughts to himself and just enjoy your friendship. he tells himself he’s fine with just being friends, and he really almost convinces himself!!

but at some point, inevitably, he reaches his limit. ACCEPTANCE, and then realization. he’s gotta make his move, he has to know if you feel the same because goddamn it you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and he wouldn’t have it any other way. & yeah he might face heinous villains every day for his job but shit if this isn’t the scariest thing he’s ever done...

obviously you feel the same way. so you start dating!!! shouto is so over the moon. it’s a little strange to see this usually calm and collected man so outrightly chipper, but you’re not gonna complain. this baby boy is sO saccharine sweet to you. pls don’t take him for granted.

just a few months in and he knows he’s in love. love love, okay? not some kindergarten fantasy kinda love. and boy does he prove it to you. in general, he’s not naturally the best with words, so he tends to show his love through lots of little actions...

even tho he has a demanding career he makes time for you. you make time for the ones you care about, after all! you two have at least one date night a week, no matter what, when no work talk is allowed. you guys don’t even have to go somewhere super nice, or even somewhere at all. all he wants is to spend a few uninterrupted hours with his favorite person. take that how you wanna hkdkdhsbsaAAA

if he has to go to work before you, he leaves a fresh pot of coffee/tea brewed for you to start the day on the right note. then he’ll leave little sticky notes for you on the bathroom mirror or on your keys. even if it’s a reminder about a doctor appointment or replenishing your dish soap or something else mundane, he always signs it with “i love you” at the bottom. sometimes he’ll leave a little heart or a really shitty, tiny drawing of your fav animal or somethin too. he hopes it makes you smile.

baby is so observant. he will take mental notes like there’s a tiny little deku in his head, furiously scribbling down everything that he can about you so he can make you happy, or make your life just a tiny bit easier. example: if you say you have bad cramps the few mornings before your period he will make sure to adjust his schedule every month, opting to stay in bed tangled up with you, easing your pain away with the gentle caress from his palm on his hot side.

he’s also very in tune to your mood. you don’t even have to speak for him to know that something is wrong, and he won’t pressure you to talk if you don’t want to. sweetheart will offer to draw you a bath or give you a massage, and if you accept, you best bet he sets up the room with candles and quiet, soothing music. anything to help his baby relax. he’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want, but when you’re ready to talk about it, he’ll wrap his strong arms around you and hold you close. very great listener right here. rating 12/10. he wants you to know that you can tell him anything, and be fearless of judgement bc you’re not gonna get any from him.

lastly if you have a hobby that he can partake in, he’ll dive in head first (with your blessing of course). like if you love to paint, surprise!!! baby bought you a new set of paints and brushes and canvases, and two easels, and he wants to convert the spare room into a studio for you! oh what’s that— you like video games?? he does his research and finds a two player game right up your alley, so you can sit in his lap and play all night together! this man does not concern himself with price tags, he’ll buy you the whole console and extra controllers in you fav custom colors too. oh wait wait wait you like photography?? surprise baby here’s the latest camera and five new lenses! did you want these other ten as well, he wasn’t sure which you’d like best? he got himself a matching camera too, and wants to plan a little photo shoot with you for this weekend. he can buy a laptop and editing software if you need that, too. anything for you, he’s game.

bf shouto just wants to make his love happy, and feel supported and secure with him more than anything. because if he’s really in love with you, then you treat him right too... and he’s just trying his best to treat you with the affections you deserve as best he can with his demanding hero work. sho will move the fuckin moon and all the stars for you. please cherish this soft boi :’)

#hahah no i dont imagine this on the daily and lol of course i dont want this so bad it hurts #idk what u mean pfffft #thirst #yes its thirst can u not see how thirsty i am for shoutos LOVE ugH #thirst shouto

[myhockeyworld87]

Careless - Jamie Benn

Requested: No

Word Count: 3107

Warning: Cursing

Song Inspiration: Nickelback - Next Contestant

Notes: So confession, I sometimes just throw my playlist on shuffle to see what comes up. This song came up on the way home from work and I just couldn’t stop picturing Jamie Benn. I just feel like he’d be super protective with his woman. So here’s my take on it. Still working on Nervous Regrets but just had to write this first. Let me know what you think.

READER’S POV

 Slipping on the skimpy cocktail dress, that left nothing to the imagination; you checked the mirror one last time before gliding out onto the bar room floor. Picking up the tray, you mouthed a quick hello to Isaac and Carl, tonight’s bartenders; sashaying over to one of your tables, you got to work. It wasn’t a bad place to work, it was upscale, somewhat classy; though some nights you couldn’t tell by the clientele. That they allowed you to get up on stage every weekend and have your music heard, was a bonus. It was a win, win for the both of you. Traffic definitely picked up on those nights, when you were standing behind the microphone; and most times you didn’t mind helping out before or after your set. Tonight, was one of those nights. You’d just performed for the last hour, now it was time for the DJ to take over and keep the party going. As for you, you’d make sure that the customers were satisfied and the alcohol continued to constantly flow.

After grabbing a few drinks for a couple tables; Kelsey, your friend and co-worker came up to you. “Great set tonight (Y/N). You know, Careless is my favorite song you do.”

 “Aww, thanks Kels. I love that one too.”

 “Hey before I forget, table 18 is asking for you. I think a few of them have a thing for you.” Batting her eyelashes at you. “Switch me tables, I’ll take 23. I’m a sucker for the nerdy type.”

 Chuckling, “Mmm Hmm…I know you. Look out Sheldon Cooper, here comes Kelsey Brown.”

 “Ooo a man with a brain is so hot. Stop turning me on. We’ve still got hours here.” With that she swayed over to the table to work her charm on the semi-attractive guy in glasses.

 Glancing over to the table Kelsey had mentioned moments ago, you were half tempted to go trade her back; for you weren’t sure you could handle all the male testosterone coming from there. What looked to be about eight overly good-looking athletes all sat, laughing, joking and drinking way over priced liquor. Tray in hand you made your way over, but not before some guy at one of your other tables grabbed your ass; which unfortunately was not an uncommon event. Smiling prettily, you removed his hand and put on that southern charm, “I’ll be right with you sugar. Just gotta grab that table right there.” You’d just filled all their drinks and knew they’d be good for at least the next twenty minutes.

 “Hurry back.” He called after you; what he didn’t see was the eye roll you gave him or the mental fuck off finger you had popping up in your brain.

  JAMIE’S POV

 Tonight’s win had you all ready to celebrate, and so when someone suggested heading to the bar; you were all in. This wasn’t your usual hangout; normally someone would suggest some up and coming trendy nightclub, and that’s where you’d all end up. Rads, however had mentioned he’d been here before; and enjoyed the atmosphere. You could see why, when the beauty up on stage belted out some song, that could easily be playing on the top one hundred charts; you couldn’t take your eyes off her. While her looks initially drew you in, it was her voice that kept you mesmerized; soft, silky smooth notes floating out of a mouth you just wanted to kiss for days. It seemed like she no sooner started then she was off the stage; replaced by some obnoxious DJ, who played a little too loud for his surroundings.

 “That girl is amazing, in every way.” It was a statement that didn’t come from your mouth but one that you could totally agree with from Tyler.

 “Yeah, she sing here almost every weekend,” this from Rads. “She’s waited on me couple time.”

 Needing to know more you asked, “Wait she’s a waitress too? I thought she was just a singer.”  

 “Yeah, you know she like does both.”

 Just then your waitress came up asking if you needed more drinks. “Hey, is the girl who was just singing, working tonight?” leave it to Seggy to just cut to the chase.

 “Yeah, she is, want me to send her over?”

 “Absolutely” the man was not subtle at times.

 “Not that you aren’t great and everything.” You added, hoping not to hurt her feelings.

 “It’s no problem.” She said with a wicked wink.

 Watching the waitress move towards the songstress, you saw them speak briefly; then watched as she made her way to your table, but not before some asshole pawed at her ass. Anger seethed inside you. Being out of earshot you couldn’t hear her response to the mongrel; what you did see was the slight eye roll she gave as she turned. Briefly you wondered how many encounters like these she had a night; you didn’t have a chance to contemplate it before she was standing beside.

 “Gentlemen, nice to see you all. I’m (Y/N), what can I get you tonight?”

 That’s when Seggy decided to make a bigger ass of himself than most times. “I don’t know, what’s on the menu? Me -N -U?” Wincing, you knew the pickup line had to be one of the worst that ever came out of someone’s mouth; while most of the guys laughed, inwardly you groaned.

 “I’m pretty sure Me-N-U didn’t make it past your ego, but if you’d like to order something else, I’d be happy to help you.” Ouch, she could hold her own; it was more of turn on then you wanted to admit.

 Hoping to make up for the rest of the jerks at your table, you politely asked; “We’ll just have a round of beers and some shots of Don Julio Real, please.”

 “I’ll be right back with those.”

 “Segs, you gotta do another one of those when she comes back.” For a big man, Olesksiak couldn’t hold his liquor well or his tongue for that matter; lord knows Tyler didn’t need any encouragement.

 “Leave her alone man, she probably gets tired of the bullshit all the time.”

 “Aww Chubbs, we’re just having a little fun. No harm. Besides she seems to give as good as she gets.”

 “Just try and act like a decent human for once in your life, will you Segs.” The odds of that happening were slim to none.

 She came back to the table then, handing drinks out one by one. Each time she leaned forward, her dress gave you a nice glimpse of her full round breasts; that they were on display for everyone here to see had you fighting the urge to cover her with your suit jacket. Tyler, glided a finger up her arm, causing her to turn and look at him with questioning eyes. “Screw me if I’m wrong, but don’t I know you?”

 (Y/N) paused for a second, as if truly wondering had they met before. “Hmmm. Does your ass get jealous of the all the shit that comes out of your mouth?” The table erupted in laughter, Seggy included. “Thank you, gentlemen, I’m here all night. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got other customers. I’ll be back to see if your pick up lines get any better.”

 Your teammates chatted endlessly about her; each of them trying to come up with a better pickup line for when she came back. Concentrating on the woman, instead of some hyped game of whose line is better; you watched her take some orders, then head over to the bar. Long strides had you at her side in no time. “(Y/N) isn’t it?” when she nodded, you continued; “Look I just want to apologize for the other assholes at my table. We’ve probably had one too many. It’s just they were a little excited with the win and everything…” you were rambling. “Not that, that’s an excuse or anything. Ummm…anyhow I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the way they’ve been acting.”

 She smiled sweetly at you, and it melted your heart. “Don’t sweat it. It happens all the time.” She touched your arm then, an unconscious gesture but one that went straight to your groin all the same. “I’m used to it, but thank you for the apology.”

 Turning back to the bar, she dismissed the conversation as over; but you weren’t ready for that yet. “I also wanted to say…your voice…I mean….” God you were terrible with women; it was like you turned into a babbling idiot. “It was beautiful. Did you write those songs?”

 “Awww thank you, yes I did. Which one did you like best?” she seemed genuinely interested; that you had her full attention, had you elaborating more.

 “I’m not sure of the name, but something about….don’t be careless with my heart, for although we’re worlds apart, I still need you here with me…I’m not exactly sure of the right words. It has a great melody; you should be on the radio.”

 Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “Wow I’m impressed you were listening. The songs called Careless; it’s one of my favorites too. And thanks for the compliments, the band and I have been working on cutting an album, but that takes money. Speaking of which, I gotta get these drinks out. It was nice to talk to you….”

 “Jamie,” you supplied.

 “Nice to meet you Jamie. I’ll be back over at the table a little later.”

  READER’S POV

 Jamie, it suited him, with his large frame you expected it to be Jim or James; but no Jamie fit him perfectly. It spoke to the softer side of him, one that you could see in that first encounter. He wasn’t like the rest of them at his table; it was a nice change of pace. The rest of the night went pretty much as expected, a hand placed here or a comment there; the lewd looks from different men as they ogled your breasts. Jamie was different though, no raunchy remark or crude stare; though he did look, it was just more with appreciation then lust.

 All night you waited for him to make a move, ask you out or maybe even try and hold your hand, for it seemed more in his wheelhouse; but he didn’t. So, when he showed up the next night, it took you by surprise. He was by himself this time, but still grabbed a table none the less; though he seemed to have a knack for not picking your section.

 “Your boyfriend from last night’s here.” Kelsey tormented. “He’s asking for you again.”

 “Kels he’s not my boyfriend. He barely said a few words to me.”

 “Doesn’t change the fact he’s back again tonight and asking for you.”

 Shaking your head, you strolled over to his table. “Miss me already?” you said teasingly.

 “What…uh…ummm.” He was cute when he was flustered.

 “Relax I’m just kidding with you. So, what can I get you tonight Jamie?”

 “Oh, you remembered my name.”

 Playfully you answered. “I try to remember all my cute customers.”

 Blushing at your words, his cheeks turned a becoming shade of red. “I’ll just have a beer.”

 “One beer coming right up.” It literally took all of ten seconds to get the beer, so you were back at his table in no time. “Here ya go, anything else I can get ya?”

 “No, I’m good.” He seemed to hesitate, as if there was something more he wanted to say. Finally, he spit it out. “So are you going to be singing tonight.”

 Maybe he just liked your music and not you, it was somewhat refreshing; that was if you didn’t think that he was totally sexy as fuck. “Sadly no, I usually only sing here on Friday or Saturday night. The rest of the time you just get me as your server.”

 He smiled, and heat pooled in your nether regions. “I’m ok with that.” Looks like you were wrong and he was interested; well you’d just have to see how the rest of the night went.

 “(Y/N) drinks for table 7 are ready.”

 “Duty calls. I’ll be back in a bit.”

 Sunday night usually wasn’t that busy, so it afforded you the chance to get to know Jamie more. You found out that he was a professional hockey player for the Dallas Stars, that he enjoyed cooking and had a great appreciation for music. If you both had been on the same dating website, you would’ve been matched in an instant; though for some reason Jamie seemed reluctant to ask you out. Staying until closing time, he walked to you to your car; where you were sure he’d at least kiss you. Disappointment coursed through you when he didn’t.

 The next several weeks were pretty much the same, Jamie showing up on nights that you worked and he was free; always the gentleman, but never asking you out. You started to wonder if you were reading him wrong; maybe he was just lonely and seeking friendship. That was until one particular night.

 It was crowded, you’d finished your set, put your uniform on, if you could call a skin tight dress a uniform; and headed out to wait tables. The men were handsy that night, one particular table being down right obnoxious. Pickup lines were the least of your worries with them. It was a grab of your ass here, someone pulling you by the waist there; but the icing on the cake was the hand that traveled up your inner thigh. It was cringe worthy and had you gathering your wits each time you headed back to the bar.

 Making your way to Jamie’s table you stopped to check and see if he needed another drink. “Are they bothering you?” His arms were folded across his chest, and you could tell he saw the whole thing play out.

 “It’s fine Jamie, I can handle it.” You weren’t sure how true that statement was, but you’d see how the night played out before you went calling for help.

  JAMIE’S POV

 Anger boiled inside you; the only thing tamping it down was the fact that you didn’t want to make a scene in front of (Y/N). What you really wanted to do was rip the assholes into shreds. They mauled at her, made lewd remarks; yet she took it all in stride. You hated that she had this job, even the damn dress that was supposed to be her uniform had you seething. She was a goddess and deserved to be treated that way; why you hadn’t made a move on her, you weren’t sure. Only fear of rejection had kept you silent. The woman could have any person, man or woman if she wanted; all she had to do was say the word. Yet in the few weeks that you’d known her you hadn’t seen her with either sex.

 Over the last few weeks you’d watch men buy her drinks, trying to garner her favor; she declined them all. Pickup lines were non-stop, and God bless her, she had a witty comeback for each one. Tonight, just seemed like a culmination of everything all rolled into one; they all wanted in her pants, metaphorically and literally speaking. You weren’t about to let that happen.

 Hours passed and with each minute, the temperature of your blood rose. The rowdy bunch of twenty somethings continued their torment, even as the crowd thinned down leaving just a few stragglers behind. Eyes trained on her; she made her way over to the table for last call. One of them grabbed her and pulled her hard onto his lap; causing her to drop the empty tray. You couldn’t hear his words, but you saw his hand snake up her side and cup her breast. She twisted in his arms in an attempt to break free; you were out of your seat before you even knew what was happening.

 Before he could make another move, you placed your hand firmly on his shoulder and squeezed the bastard as hard as you could. “Is that your hand on my girlfriend?” His eyes bulged out of his head as you loomed over him. When he neither released her or said anything, you repeated it. “Is that your hand?” He let her go then, and she scrambled off his lap.

 “Look man we were just having fun.”

 “Mmmm…want to try it again and see how much fun it will be with me outside? Because I’d love to just bash your head in right now?” You tighten your grip on the little asshole; and he winced in pain.

 (Y/N) tugged on your arm. “It’s not worth it Jamie.”

 “I think they’re ready to close their tab, aren’t you boys?” They all nodded. “Good, I expect you’ll be generous in your tips for all the hassle you’ve given my girl tonight.” With that you released the pipsqueak, and took (Y/N)’s hand leading her away.

 She dumped the tray on the bar, and pulled you into the back. “Jamie, you didn’t have to do that, but thank you. The girlfriend part was a nice touch, though.”

 “I didn’t say it for affect. I said it because I want it to be true.” You hadn’t asked her out, didn’t even know how she felt about you. All you knew is that you wanted this woman to belong to you and you alone.

 Her lips turned up in a what you could only describe as the sexiest smile you’d ever seen. “I think that can be arranged.” She slid her hands up your chest; instinctively you wrapped yours around her waist and drew her closer to press up against your body. Leaning down you molded your lips to her, in a sweet and devasting kiss. She opened easily for you and your tongue swept in to taste the essence that was her. She was sweet and sass all rolled into one, and you took your time to explore her mouth. Demanding more as the kiss went on; she met you every step of the way. She moaned helplessly into your mouth and it was your undoing. If you didn’t stop now, you weren’t sure you ever would. Gently you pulled back from the kiss, thumb softly caressing her cheek as your harsh breathes mingled. “Let’s get out of here.” She whispered to you and you thought you’d died and gone to heaven. Only you were wrong, that would come later when she was under you writhing in pleasure, as she cried out your name.

#jamie benn #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

[originaldetectivesheep]

The Thirty and One Nights' Momentary Diversion - Like A Thief In The Night

The bar at the Galway Arms has seen more than a few strange tales, but few stranger than tonight's story, which sees one of the gang on the track of a phantom anticapitalist poet.

Like A Thief In The Night

The English games were over, and the crowds were gone; Barcelona was playing, but they were getting tanked, and so the usual crowd of casuals, bandwagoners, and fair-weather fans who'd probably followed Neymar to PSG now were cleared out as well, so it was only Greg and Lou and Sarad posted up around the end of the bar at the Galway.  Greg was there live-tweeting the action and keeping an eye on trolls for the site he moonlighted for; Lou was there because Lou didn't really do 'going home' except as a consequence of 'going broke'; and Sarad was there because he was an actual Barcelona fan, forever faithful, win lose or draw – even when 'lose' meant 'get tanked 0-2 by goddamn Girona at home, with none of the team's overpaid mercenaries showing an ounce of fight'.  You had days like this as a soccer fan – following Barça just meant that there were fewer of them.

Sue noticed Sarad shaking his head, the empty glass in front of him, and came down the bar to lift it away.  "Another Stella, Sarad?"

He looked at the glass, then up at the game, the time ticking away in the upper left corner.  "Sure; but that's it, just cash me out after this one.  I've got to go up to work after the game, but one more should be okay, I'll dry out before then."  Sue was off down the bar to the taps, but Sarad's face snapped suddenly, pensive, like he'd just remembered something really important.  "Actually, no, can I change that?  Can I change it out for a coke?"

Sue nodded, half the beer poured, and tipped it over towards the drain. "Wait, hold on – no need to waste it.  Put it on my tab, I'll take it off your hands."  Lou had a hand up; the next time someone wasted alcohol in front of him would probably be the first. Sue scowled, but set the glass down on the grille and dropped the tap open, finishing off the beer as she buzzed up Sarad's coke from the gun.

"Fine, Lou, but it's the last one – you're shut off now too."  She plonked the drinks down in front of her customers, and Lou dug for his wallet.  "So what happened?  Do you have to leave sooner? Do you have something you have to do before work?"

Sarad shook his head.  "No, nothing like that.  I'm still gonna stick to the end of the game, but I really gotta be on my A-game tonight. There's a difference between showing up sober enough not to get fired, and being where you got to be to catch a prowler at three in the morning."

"Prowlers?" Sue was concerned.  "What's going on?  Don't you just call the cops?"

Sarad shook his head.  "We're supposed to – if I could get a sight of someone, prove that there was someone there, that's what I'd do: get on the radio, get dispatch, get them to put the U cops or the city police up on the doors around where I saw them.  But you gotta see something to get that far – and it's been the last two shifts, same shit, and I ain't been seen hide nor hair of nothing.  It's like this guy can walk through walls."

"Yeah, it's a good thing I was here to soak this one for you, Sarad," Lou said, glugging away at the reallocated Stella.  "And I'll tell Sai'id to come down, shadow you and smoke your extra cheeb for you – no more cats walking through the walls at work after that. Don't worry – we've got your back."

Sarad rolled his eyes.  "Man, I wish that was all it was.  Man, do I ever wish."

You know I can't talk too much about where I work, where I pick up shifts; company policy, that people don't know which guard is on which place when, but you probably got the basics: most of the time, I'm overnights on one of those big biomedical labs up the river back towards Watertown.  But I'm saving up, get some extra money so Kezia and I can get away down to Miami or Puerto Rico this winter, and there was this thing where all of a sudden they were looking for people to pick up shifts at… well, let's call it "a" university b-school, up north, not across the street.  They had their own night guy, supposed to be a student job, but all of a sudden they up and quit, and they called my company, my bosses, looking for a temp security guy to plug in.  The pay was normal, actually a little less since they were paying the company the hourly they used to have their own guy for and of course the company has to take a cut, but it was extra shifts, it was an extra two paychecks a week, so of course I took it.  And it's just a business school – nobody staying late doing, like, actual work, no expensive equipment or like substances that you'd jack to make drugs; the most trouble you'd get would be like some boat-shoes bro trying to break in and get test answers, like, right?  This was nice and simple and free money I could pick up around my normal shifts. Easy.

On the first shift, I had the facilities manager running me through it; older guy, beard, long ponytail, mad at having to pay extra to get his job done, wants to go home.  It was like any other overnight: go through and make sure the doors are all locked, do a round all through the floors, wait a bit, do another round, maybe check the doors, go eat your overnight meal in the kitchen back of the cafeteria or whatever, wait some more, do another rounds, and then coming around morning check all through everywhere again and unlock the doors that people got to use in the morning.  What's the route through the building.  Who do you call for like a medical deal or something; what's the number for the cops and what's their response time.  It was normal, nothing big, my post up in some like junior faculty area, up over a bunch of lecture halls – all just like normal, even if dude was stopping, squinting, at every hallway bulletin board we passed.

Nine to midnight, it was just fine; this was a big net of empty buildings I had to walk through and check over, but it was all empty, you get it done in thirty minutes, and then I was back on my phone, feet up on the desk.  I was thinking, like, kids, you know; what was the student guy who had this job before me doing flaking on this sweet gig?  After, though; after, that was when it started to get strange.

I was done with the cold chicken and asparagus and potatoes they had up for me, and I was coming back up through the halls to get back to the office, checking every second door out of pure habit, when I didn't see it, around the corner as I was turning back from turning on a door handle.  Like I said, I didn't see it – a shape, a blur, right at the corner where the corridor turned, and I couldn't prove that I'd seen anything or I didn't.  I didn't hear anything – and as soft as I rolled my feet I could always hear myself walking those halls.  No noise, no motion – nothing definite that I'd seen what I didn't seen.  I walked up careful, real quiet, back on the far side of the wall to see around the corner first, but when I cleared up to it, up along the lockers to the corner, there was nothing there, nothing all the way down the hall to the next turn around.  I came up along, looking at the lockers, looking at the doors, and maybe because the manager'd done it, or maybe because it was sticking out, I looked over the bulletin board.

Most of it was just normal shit: events, guest speakers, an evacuation plan.  But there was something tagged up there that didn't look like it was supposed to be: a little bit of notebook paper out of a moleskine or something, writing in pen.  I came over, squatted down to get a closer look.  It was a poem – and anytime you get a poem in a b-school, that's suspicious, but this was a hell of a lot more than even that:

the stars are for everyone the moonlight the purple misty cloud on the floorboards of heaven and when the night is poured up with neon and halogen and bright white teasing spotlights to yell Paxotracin Citgo Best Prices On Certified Pre-Owned then the hand that swings the hammer to shatter the lights into a new galaxy of impact-glassy stars is a hero for the liberation of humanity

This was bad.  I ripped the paper down.  There was anarchists or communists or something creepy-crawling in my building, and no matter how much I agreed with the ideas in, like, principle, if it was still up in the morning they'd blame me. I stiffed the poem in my pants pocket and quickened up my rounds, watching out for the corners, looking over the bulletin boards like a hawk.

After that, I was a lot more thorough; I was on my feet almost all the way through my shift, checking carefully through all of the classrooms and halls that I had keys to, opening and checking out and re-locking every outside door and landing that I could unlock the bar on without setting off an alarm.  There was no more poems, no physical sign of someone who went through putting them up that, like had to be, but there were a lot of signs and pieces, half-clues, that could be.  Piles of papers on desks that looked like they hadn't been in that order the last time I went through.  A candy bowl locked up in an AV stack where all the Tootsie Rolls had been picked all to one side.  And a couple more times, around corners or way ahead of me, flashing into a shallow doorway that no person could've passed, that idea of a moving shadow.  It was really getting to me by the time I went back down to the facilities office to turn the keys in, but I was determined not to let it show.

The day manager was back in, looking me over kind of weird as he signed the keys and the radio back over.  "How was it?  No problems?" like he was expecting something from me.

I shrugged. "Nothing.  It's an overnight.  Isn't a thing." He sighed, his shoulders flexing like he'd shed the weight of the world off them – so he was afraid that I'd've said something about the shadow, or the poems, or whoever the hell this invisible visitor was.

"Yeah; that's right, you're a professional.  Nothing to worry about." He checked the radio and clipped it onto his own belt.  I was heading out the door, since I was out and this wasn't really any of my business any more, but I realized that I could maybe find out what the hell had happened to get me onto this job, and have him not notice that I knew something weird was up.

"Yeah, this was an easy shift; you got students on this normally, right?  I gotta wonder at someone who'd just like ghost on easy money like this.  What happened, they drop out and move back somewhere?"

The facilities manager was standing board-stiff, eyes wide, like I'd said something wrong and hit the wrong switch.  "Yeah – yeah – something like that.  The last one couldn't handle the overnights with day classes, insisted he was seeing things, and quit.  We shouldn't bother with kids; I've been wanting this contracted out for a while."  His jaw was set, because he was lying: you start contracting your security, and the next thing you're contracting your janitorial and your facilities, and then this dude would be out of a job.  I nodded like I didn't understand, and went out the door to get going back home.

The next shift, a couple days after, I was ready.  I had my backpack with my James Randi-style ghost hunting kit, and I had a plan, a solid plan, to be sure that I knew when something had actually gotten moved or changed so I knew I wasn't jumping at shadows.  As soon as I finished locking up the outside doors, it was back for my backpack, and a thorough, thorough, work-through of the entire place.

Everything that might be something that would get disturbed, I took a picture of it with my phone.  Every door, I taped it shut after I'd checked out and documented everything inside: two chunks of heavy clear packing tape, one on the frame and one on the door, and between them I taped one of Kezia's hairs across the crack; of course I keep mine too short to do this, so I cleaned out her brush before I went down.  If someone went through one of these doors, the hair would break – either that or they'd have to spend time scrabbling the tape off, and I'd see that too; they wouldn't be able to if they were going fast. Every door; every single door.  It would take time to clean up in the morning, but it would be worth it to know that nobody was going to mess around on me tonight.

I took another rounds after it was all done, making sure that all the tape and the hair locks were in place still, and then went down to the caf to get dinner.  I came back up by a different way after dropping the dishes at the potsink, and on top of a stack of the school paper in an old pay-phone alcove by the stairwell, I saw it, out of place.  I checked my phone: I had a picture of the stack of papers, and I could prove that it hadn't had a poem on it the first time I came through here.  I picked it up, reading it over:

the doors are all closed and the windows are barred but love gets in the stores are all closed and the shelves are all empty but love gets in love gets in the borders are closed and the fence is electrified but love gets in the seals on the scrolls are closed and the bowls of wrath are pouring but love gets in love gets in love gets in love gets in in every nation in every language across every obstacle where it should not love gets in love gets in love gets in

There was something ominous in it – you could publish chunks of this on your aunt's Facebook and nobody would blink, but other parts about it would make anyone who read it call the cops.  Was this a threat? From whoever or whatever was hovering around at the edge of my vision, not following me around, not walking through walls?  I stuffed the poem into my pocket.  I could prove that it hadn't been here, but if I couldn't find how whoever got in to put it where I found it, the only thing that was gonna prove would be that I got bored and liked crying wolf.  I made a careful mental map of the building, and set off to check all the doors, all the locks, all my tape, all over again.

By the time I finished that, the sun was starting to come up, so I had to grab a CVS bag and my knife and clean up all the tape while I unlocked the doors.  Since I'd taped the doors shut, I knew that when I found the tape and the hair in place, everything inside would be fine – but when I actually got to the first of the lecture halls I'd taped up like this, I felt it really gnawing at me as I took the tape off and got ready to go.  I had to go in and check; I had to make sure, double sure against the impossible, and I had my pride of work as a night watchman.  Wasn't nobody going to say that I didn't do exactly everything exactly right, totally complete.

The room was a nightmare. Nothing wrong, nothing that a normal person would see or even know, but I knew it – I had proof on my phone. The order of the markers on the sill under the whiteboard had gotten swapped around.  The old-ass overhead projector in the corner was turned ninety degrees.  And the candy bowl locked in the desk, again, had gotten its Tootsie Rolls sorted out to the edges, separated by color.  I knew no one had been in here – no, all I knew was that no one opened the door – and unless I was going to admit some kind of maniac crawling around in the ductwork – which, in here, involved a minimum fifteen-foot drop from the HVAC grills down to the terraced floor – I had no idea how to explain all this shit getting screwed around. All I could do was hope this was the only place – that there had been like a midget hiding in the drop ceiling, come out to mess with me, and that they were back up there – and that something I'd done to try and solve this crazy mystery or lay down this ghost had actually worked.

No luck.  Every room – every room, every single room, and not a one of them had their hairs broken. Little things – all kinds of little things that nobody normal would ever notice, but I was looking for them, and I knew that they were wrong, and had proof, and they were driving me goddamn bananas.  It was worse than last time – it was like the poltergeist or shit was gunning for me, was doing this on purpose. I was freaking out – freaking out so bad that I didn't bother maybe-noticing the little swirls of shadows ahead of me, those hints that this was all getting set up as I was going along, some kind of crazy reverse dominoes running out ahead of me.

I was sweating and beat by the time I got back up to my seat, tied up the trash bag and tossed it in the can, and mechanically picked up my backpack to head out, get the hell out and get the hell home.  The backpack moved it – the moving air as I yanked my bag up caught a corner under the bit of paper lying face-down on the desk, and I noticed it. I turned it over, even though I was scared out of my mind about what it was going to be.

It was.

this is a commendation for SARAD K DARTMOUTH (insert recipient name here) for service far above and beyond the call of a cog in the capitalist machine for doing what was expected for accepting a paycheck for carrying out the enumerated job functions and for doing uncompensated work at his own expense to further feather the nests of the ones who already have too much. let it be known that the bearer of this certificate shall never be refused entrance anywhere let it be known that all doors will always be opened to him because, from the furthest end of the earth they will always see him coming

I crumpled up the paper and threw it at the garbage.  They were screwing with me.  They were screwing with me by name, taunting me for caring about my job, having to work for a living, that I hadn't caught them yet because I didn't have X-ray vision and I wasn't an actual ghost.  Screw this.  I slung up my pack and stomped down the stairs to turn the keys in, resolved that I was going to call Bernard as soon as I got home and cancel the other shifts here I'd already put my name in for.  I'd had enough of this.

"Of course," Sarad said, turning his straw through the ice cubes left at the bottom of his coke, "I calmed down by the time I got home, and I realized that I still needed the money.  So I'm still in for those shifts – that's the one I've got to go up for tonight."

Greg was stunned.  "After something like that?  Calling you out by name?  You're braver than me, man; if something like that happened to me, I'd've taken that last threat straight over to the cops instead of throwing it in the trash.  Just the one, and you might get laughed at, or pulled up for like missing a door, but what if there's other people been getting these?  You said it – the facilities manager was looking out for stuff on the bulletin boards, and the guy before you flaked because he was seeing things."

Sarad shook his head.  "No, nothing doing: I'm a night watchman; I'm security my own self.  We get shit on enough by the regular cops that there's no way that I'm gonna go run something in to them if I don't got it all together with a neat ribbon on top."  He slurped at his straw, the last dregs of his drink.  "This time, I'm not gonna go crazy on watching out.  I'm gonna do my job, and clean up these poems – maybe I'll make a book out of them and publish them in that English-lit journal Oliver has editorial on.  I'm gonna do exactly what they're paying me to, and ignore this black-bloc ghost or whatever – and if it wants to step, well, I carry a flashlight around same as the radio, and it can come step to that."  He finished off his drink and pushed his stool back, standing up.  "Good seeing you guys, even if the game didn't work out so good.  See you around."

Lou was fishing through his pockets.  "Later, Sarad; good luck.  I'm about tapped out, but I'll see if I got a buck fifty to light you a candle at St. Francis.  Just in case."

Greg shut his netbook with a snap.  "Don't worry, Lou, I'll spot you if you're short.  Let's go; I'm in on that too.  It's probably not gonna do anything, but something like this, you gotta check everything – you can't be too careful."

#fiction #30and1nights