#tattoo. whatever you wanna call it. it just adds a little a lot of somethin lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom · 3 years

Text

Roses of Melrose

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader

Warnings: Language, murder, death, mentions of gangs, gun violence, mercenaries, physical abuse, verbal abuse, parental neglect, drug use, underage drinking, mentions of knives, brief mentions of sex, blood, piercings.

Word Count: 8.4k

Songs: Ultralight beam-Kanye, I love Kanye- Kanye, Good Kid-Kendrick Lamar, Sing about me I’m dying of thirst- Kendrick Lamar, Violent Crimes- Kanye, Apparently- J.Cole, Black Wave- K.Flay, Pretty Little Birds- SZA, Wouldn’t it be Nice- The Beach Boys.

“ It was the way I fought back. It was my first ‘fuck you’ to everyone to everything. It was my best friend. It was my first love. So to you I’m just another girl with another basic rose tattoo but to me. To me? It’s the way I remember it’s the way I keep my friend with me. It’s the way I’d make sure I couldn’t forget the unforgettable”

A/N: Sorry it took so long to finish this school and home got in the way. Sorry If the grammar is off there was only one proof read. Hopefully you enjoy it. Sorry that there’s less Peter in this one. It’s more character building.

Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

I had my suspicions about Peter being Spiderman, I mean it was kinda obvious he’s always leaving decathlon meetings according to MJ. They both have the same annoying ass optimism. No one is just that sure of anything. Like ever. Thanks to Liz I’d finally know.

I entered the house having to maneuver past a couple of people standing in the hall past the front door. This party was tame compared to others I’d been to. Flash was DJ-ing he’s so annoying. Liz was cool though she was nice.

I found MJ standing in the kitchen opening a pack of bread holding a jar of peanut butter. When I walked over and said

“Only you would come to a party to just eat bread.”

She only replied with a short “Whatever loser,”

“Hey, Peter Parker. Where’s your friend Spiderman?” Flash announced on the mic.

“Lemme guess with your imaginary girlfriend?”

Peter just stood there stunned

“That’s not Spiderman that’s just Ned in a red shirt,” Okay that one would’ve been kinda funny if he didn’t add that annoying horn sound.

“Shut the fuck up!” I said before smiling at Peter and walking off. I didn't do it for him, necessarily Flash was just annoying. Like I’ve never understood how someone with the grandpa name Eugene could talk so much shit.

I was making small talk with some random senior boy when I heard a high pitched squeal and excused myself to the bathroom. The sound only got louder and louder and louder. It was so painful it felt like Athena should’ve split my forehead and climbed her way out. My vision blurring together made me not able to grab onto anything as I lost balance. I wasn't going to cry,

I wasn't. I couldn’t crying’s pathetic I wasn't going to cry. I could push through the pain. I’ve done it before, that's what I always do. Just when it got so intense I was sure I was gonna pass out it stopped. I did not pass out however I did throw up into the toilet. I looked in the mirror after washing my face off and for a second I could’ve sworn my eyes were glowing. Great now I’m going into a psychotic break why would my eyes be glowing.

I just need some fresh air. Yeah that’s all. I sat there for a while letting my mind wander until I heard MJ’s voice from behind me.

“So this is where you were? I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” She said as she sat down next to me. When I didn’t respond she turned facing me waving her hands my face

“You good?”

I looked up from picking at the grass.

“I’m just tired MJ,” I mean I have every right to be tired there’s a whole fucking gang war going down where I live. Which makes no fucking sense why are people fighting over streets that no one actually owns. The weapons Vulture is selling make me good money, but they’re getting way too close to where my friends lived. I was snapped out of diving into all my problems by a purple cloud in the distance. Hearing the distant squeal slash siren hybrid. I felt my eyes widen.

“What was that?” MJ asked.

Fucking Vulture

ARE YOU KIDDING ME. I told him to stay out of my neighborhood and he came to my friends.

“I don’t know,” I said “Let’s just go back inside,”

As we were walking back to the backdoors I took one glance behind me, and there he was Spiderman heading towards the cloud

“Hey,” I called out walking closer to Ned, “Ned!”

He turned around

“Who me?” He pointed to himself.

“I mean I don’t see any other Neds around were,” I joked

“Oh, it’s you just usually don’t talk to me,” He pointed out.

“Yeah sorry about that,” I said “Actually where’s Peter? I can’t seem to find him,”

“Oh he uh,” he scratched the back of his neck “He had to go,”

“Aw, how unfortunate,” I patted his shoulder “Well enjoy the party I have to go too,” So Ned knew Peter was Spiderman.

“Can I get a ride?” I asked MJ to which she just said

“You don’t have to ask,”

“Just drop me off at the corner store by my house,”

It never felt awkward around MJ. Normally I had to be on high alert around everyone, but it’s never like that with her. This isn't an “honor” many people have but she’s one of the few I feel comfortable falling asleep around. I knew being in the car would make me feel sick so I drifted off.

Shutting the door to the car we said our goodbyes and I headed into the gas station when Mr. William greeted me. I felt a warm feeling in my body. It was nice but short lived and replaced by an emptiness that humans like to call nostalgia. I missed feeling “home” I still lived here. I don’t know why It seems like I don't. I guess it was the fact I’d been giving more attention to Queens and Thorn lately. I know it’s not the projects anymore which I am immensely grateful for but it’s the same neighborhood. According to Briana, one of the like 3 friends I managed to keep I “never come around anymore” or “I’m too good for them”.

I made my way to the bathroom and located the tile I kept my burner phone in. I used to keep it in a shoe box at home until my sister started going through the phase where she feels the need to borrow all my clothes. Stomping on the edge of the tile it flipped up and I grabbed the phone and shoved it in the pocket of my hoodie.

Getting a soda and some gummy worms before I left. I started to walk back to my apartment complex. I went up to sit on the roof of the building just eating my gummies looking. That was something I did a lot just look. When I was younger I couldn’t stand being alone in my own head, but the older I got the more I began to understand why old people would just sit out on their porch doing nothing but looking.

When I checked my phone it was 12:47 and I decided it was time to go back in. First I sent out a message on the burner phone to what I hope to God was the right number.

I headed back down to my room and spent the whole night tossing and turning. When I put on a podcast I slept much easier. I found that the environment I grew up in bred me to not be able to sleep probably without some sort of noise even if it’s just arguing.

I woke up with my phone on my face and my bonnet halfway across the continent. I checked my phone fully expecting to be late but by some blessing I had at least two hours to get ready before I had to leave. The house was quiet like eerily quiet no TV on or anything. I went to wake up the drama queen, middle child, Aaliyah. When I say drama queen I mean both acting and just straight up being dramatic. And then there’s Sapphire who’s the physical embodiment of a Gemini. I flicked on the lights, revealing toys scattered all over Sapphire‘s side of the room. The only response I got was from Aaliyah who simply whined and pulled her blanket over her head. I picked up a pair of rolled up socks and tossed them at her to which she loudly exclaimed

“Ow!”

See what I mean by dramatic but thankfully for me, she woke up Sapphire meaning I didn’t have to step on sharp plastic trying to navigate her side. Not that I could judge her though I can’t remember the last time I had the motivation to clean my room.

I was fully expecting my dad to be passed out on the couch when I walked into the living room but he wasn’t. He wasn’t in his room either. This was nothing out of the ordinary though, he’d probably be back tonight or tomorrow.

One of the perks of my dad being gone was I could use the bathroom in his room to shower and take as long as I want. Another perk of dad not being here is I can take his car today instead of my skateboard. My sisters don't go to a local school but it’s still way closer to our home then Midtown so they don’t have to go so far away. I,on the other hand, have to skate to the bus stop, get on the metro then get on a subway and skate the rest of the way to school.

“Y’all wanna get something to eat?” I asked my sisters once we were in the car.

“Wendys!” Sapphire interjected from the backseat

“No one wants to eat Wendys,” Aaliyah turned around from the passenger to face her. “Get McDonald’s” she demanded, turning back to face me.

“Oh so you don’t want Wendys but you can eat the plastic from McDonald's,” Sapphire asked accusingly.

“Wendy's tastes like shit,”

“You taste like shit,”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

I just giggled at the fact this is what they decided to argue about.

“I’m just gonna get somethin’ from Mr. Washington, Since it’s the closest thing to us” was all I said before turning the radio up.

I pulled into the parking lot. Looking at the buildings that look like they should be dead. With their bulletproof windows with anti robbery bars. It’s honestly depressing if you think about it for too long. But these places are nothing but living and bustling no matter what. Like the roses in the cracks of the sidewalk. I left the keys in the ignition once my sister confirmed they weren’t coming inside.

“Hey Y/N,” Mr.Washington’s son said from the kitchen. I believe he’s 18 now?

“Hey,” I nodded my head at him walking towards his father to order.

“Hey, Y/N how are you doing?”

“I’m good how are you?”

“I’m good thanks for asking, you know you look more and more like your mom everyday,” he pointed out and I just smiled. “She was a great kid,”

“Yeah…” I trailed off.

“So the usual?” he asked and I nodded.

I don’t know how but he remembered everyone’s usual orders and knows everyone’s names.

Quick rule of thumb the best food comes in brown paper bags.

Once I was back in the car I had to make the conscious effort not to speed. MJ never goes anywhere when I drive because I “drive like I have nothing to live for” which personally I just think she’s dramatic.

Honestly my sisters are so lucky they go to a local school. I mean yeah the education at Midtown is better than the local highschool, but it’s not like I even belong there. So basically I commute almost 40 minutes everyday to a school I’m not smart enough to go to.

By the time lunch came around I had a terrible headache the smell of my food made me vomit. And no I’m not being dramatic I really had to stop by the bathroom and throw up.

Now I didn’t really feel like walking all the way over to sit at my usual table so I just sat with the school stoners. Yes cliques are real and if this were a movie I’d be one of those clique surfers. Pretty much everyone is a clique surfer if we’re being honest.

I don’t know why they get such a bad wrap stoners have got to be some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Like this one girl Jessica she gave me one of my first tattoos for free in freshman year when I met her. Since she noticed that I looked stressed, she offered to let me hit her cart. I didn’t even have to ask her

Oh my god I’ll marry you were my exact thoughts at that moment. That I’d apparently voiced out loud because she responded with.

“I’m down. When’s the wedding?”

Her and two guys who were sitting at the table with us made their way to the boys bathroom with me.

After about 3 hits I could feel the life returning to my body as if the rain finally stopped crashing down and the rainbow entered the sky. I could've sworn I heard God say “I’ll never flood the earth again”

“Do you think I’d look good with a nostril piercing?” I asked while examining my nose in the mirror.

“Are you kidding me? You’d look hot as fuck,” Jessica added in.

“You should pierce her nose, J” the guy who was standing closest to the door said. Zach I think.

“Yeah I could do that, do you want me to?” She asked.

I pondered it for a second before the boy who already looked off of cloud nine Tyler I believe his name was interjected with

“She’s really good at it, she did my girlfriends,”

You know what? Fuck it

“Why the hell not,” I said

“Alright,” she said after clapping her hands and walking over to her backpack on the floor. She pulled out a lighter and an earring. She lit the earring to disinfect and I hopped up on the sink and she moved towards the right side of my body. Just as she was asking me where exactly I wanted it we all jumped at the sound of the door creaking open.

Low and behold Peter Parker of all people walked in.

“Uh I was just gonna...yeah,” He stammered out still standing by the door. He was still just staring at me. Now I’m not sure if it was because I was a girl in the boys bathroom, if I looked high, or if it was the fact I was about to pierce my nose in a dirty school bathroom but he was starting to make me feel awkward.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Oh,” he said as a blush raised up his cheeks “I’m just gonna,” he pointed to one of the stalls before scurrying into it.

Jessica simply chuckled and called him cute.

By the time he came back out to wash his hands the earring was already pushed into my nostril with a slight pinch. Jessica told me that I’d have to clean the piercing everyday for a couple weeks, which is something I could manage. I hopped down the sink and asked

“Do I look okay?” Referring to my eyes

“Yeah and me?” Jessica asked

“Yeah you’re good,” I reassured her. That was the last thing she needed to hear before her and the other two guys left the bathroom.

As Peter was washing his hands I turned back around to look at my nose in the mirror. It was still a little red with irritation. It was also slightly sore to the touch. I was shaken out of my thoughts by Peter’s voice.

“Did that hurt?” He asked.

He was so adorable.

“This?” I pointed to my nose and he nodded.

“No not really,” I said grabbing my bag off the floor.

“Well this very short convo has been a blast but I gotta go,”

Okay so, I hadn’t been to the class in like forever because of the sheer fear of what would happen cause I skipped it so much. However, my fear of having to confront Olivia is stronger and she was coming towards me so, I ran in through the door. Ugh I’m such a pussy. I saw her walk out of my view. I was gonna turn back out and leave but ,unfortunately I had already locked eyes with the teacher. Looking around at all the students staring at me I just looked back at the teacher.

“Y/N! So nice of you to finally join us,” Ms Warren just had to announce. I simply choose to give a curt nod before she said

“We’re doing a partnered assignment, you can sit by Peter,” She said while pointing near the back of the classroom.

I made my way to the back of the class and slumped into the seat.

“Hey,” I said putting my legs on the empty desk in front of me.

“Hey, didn’t know you were in this class,” Peter pointed out.

“I mean I don’t think I’ve been here since the second week of school? Yeah I’m not sure. So from the beginning of sophomore year to now would be like maybe 1…2...3. No 2, yeah 2.” I went on before realizing I was rambling “Sorry I’m talking too much I’m like tiniest bit faded right now, and okay let me shut up,”

“No, no you’re fine. I like hearing you talk”

“I’ll be right back,” I whispered before raising my hand.

“Yes Y/N?” Ms Warren asked.

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

She sighed “Uh, Yes I guess that’s fine just don’t take to long,”

I grabbed the pass and started down the hallway. I was never planning to go to the bathroom. In all honesty I was going to the freshmans’ lunch cause I’d gotten hungry. I was in the line to get snacks when I felt a buzz in my pocket. I knew it was the burner phone so I got my chips and went outside to the area of the school with no cameras. Looking around to make sure no one was looking. I opened the text. Which read

this T?- B

yes, do you still have it?- T I responded

I do- B

ok meet at usual X and Place- T

ok- B

I’d confirmed my brother could pick up my sisters from daycare. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about them at home when I was doing what I needed to do.

I was trying to keep a low profile. I don't need anyone to claim they saw Thorn tonight. Since I’ve been on the radar of the police more often lately. No one would be looking in an abandoned train cart anyways. I‘d be fine. I just went with a black hoodie and a bandana to cover my face.

But of course Black Cat was in her suit because when was she ever not.

“You sure this is it?” I asked

“Yes I’m sure,” she said and placed the flash drive in my hand. I stuffed it in the pocket of my hoodie.

“Don’t forget what we talked about,” she said pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah I’ve got you,”

Great now I have to get into the government protected flash drive and clear her name. Just as I was about to turn to leave. The sound of someone sliding open the doors to one of the carts.

“Were you followed?” she whispered

“No of course not,” I rolled my eyes

I only had one weapon on me but I knew that Black Cat could handle whoever it was. Although just because she could do this on her own doesn’t mean I was gonna help. I had one expandable baton. Waiting for whoever was here to come in. I got my baton knocked out of my hand.

The fight that broke out wasn’t really a fight if you could even call it that, it was just like 3 guys trying to get the flash drive and us knocking them out. I did however get my fair share of bruises but that’s only because I was thrown into the wall once. I did have a pretty deep gash on my forehead but I should be able to cover it with a headband.

I almost gave myself a heart attack when I checked my sisters’ room because I forgot they were at our brothers house. My dad also still wasn’t home so I was just sitting home alone on the living room floor watching ‘Nick at Night’ with a caked up bloody forehead eating cold leftover spaghetti.

I knew my dad had come home because I heard the keys turning in the door but I was too tired to move.

I should’ve moved.

By the way the door was slammed shut I could tell he was in a bad mood. And what’d he do when he was in a bad mood? Take it out on me.

I don’t remember what happened. I just know he said I looked like a whore and I probably got heated and blacked out, but I do know I was in immense pain and my nose was bleeding and the police were on their way.

Only two things could come from my dad calling the police: I get sent back to the Psych ward or I get arrested. I wasn’t about to stick around to find out which one was going down.

I grabbed my skateboard and took off. Technically he did kick me out so he couldn’t say I ran away.

I can’t exactly recall how I remember where he lived seeing as I hadn’t been there since his girlfriend died.

I was going to knock but I knew he never actually opens the door. I went around to the back and started banging on the window and I’m sure looking at this from an outsider's view it must’ve looked like I was breaking in. Which I’m not sure that I wasn’t. I could see his shadow.

“Open the fucking door, Wade!” I yelled from the door I could see his light was on.

He sleepily strutted down to the door and slid it open.

“What do you- Oh my god you look terrible,” He stated.

“Oh really? Thanks, I didn’t notice,” I spat back pushing past him.

I popped down on the couch.

“I need somewhere to stay for a minute” I said once I was settled in.

He moved over to me and grabbed my face but I pushed his hands away.

“I’m fine,” I lied “Can I stay here though?”

“Did you really think I’d ever say no?”

He examined my face again

“Did your dad do this?” He asked.

He took my silence for the answer that it was.

“Do you want me to kill him?” He asked as what I thought was supposed to be a joke but I was scared to answer yes cause I knew there was a chance he actually would.

He was never very fond of my dad from the moment he’d met my mom. Wade was always trying to keep my mom away from him.

If only she’d listened.

“Yes, I was joking and go clean your face before you get infected”

Oh well I guess I voiced that thought out loud.

I promise I was just looking for the first-aid kit but who was I to say no to a 6 ounce bottle of Hennessy. It was almost as if it’s eyes bore into my soul calling after me because it knew I was too weak to resist.

The sweet burning sensation of it going down my throat was relieving and fun at first until I realized I was turning into my dad. Then it wasn’t so appealing anymore it was just depressing.

The last thing on earth that I’d want would be anything like him. It was pathetic.

It was pathetic how I had to throw up because apparently I couldn’t handle my alcohol.

It was pathetic how I couldn’t even bring myself to stand in the shower.

It was pathetic how I couldn’t even hide the fact I was drunk.

It was pathetic how I broke down crying in front of Wade.

It was pathetic how he had to lull me to sleep by stroking my hair.

It was pathetic because I knew he wasn’t mad.

It was pathetic because it wasn’t anger it was pathetic because it was pity.

Pity. I hated pity with my entire chest. She always seemed to just hold you down underneath the water knowing you couldn’t breath but the feeling around you made you believe you were floating. It’s like the feeling of drowning in the open sea but it isn’t painful but still you know you’re gonna die but you can’t help but look at how beautiful everything around you is. All the fish, the seaweed, the sunlight shining through the water. But still you’re drowning and you know you’re gonna die so how beautiful can it really be?

Pity. That’s what I saw in the hallways so I knew I must’ve looked terrible because no one bothered to say anything negative about me. Everytime anyone looked at me it was like they knew. They knew. They knew that I had a shitty life and a fucked up family. Of course they didn’t but I couldn’t help the nagging feeling that everyone knew.

Everyone was looking at me with a glint of pity in their eyes because I knew I looked like I was going to pass out at any moment now, I had bruises everywhere, I had no makeup to cover them up, possibly had a broken rib, and the gash on my forehead was probably still visible under the sweatband.

Literally everyone looked like they felt bad for me. Except Flash. I never thought I’d say this but, thank God for Flash. The only sense of normalcy I’d experienced all day, was him calling me a witch then acting like it was the funniest thing ever and walking off after I told him to go fuck himself. One thing about Flash is he’s unoriginal. He'll find one “good” joke and use it for the rest of his life. The fact I could put out a lit match in my mouth spread around through a tiktok at some point, and he’s been calling me a witch ever since. I’m assuming the fact I had a pretty gothic style freshman year probably played a part in it too. Major small dick energy right there.

I was on the verge of passing out and all I really wanted was to go out and get high with my old friends but I can never get what I want. Can I? The universe must really fucking hate me.

I just went to the nurses office and slept all throughout lunch but when I woke it was like I was even more tired than before.

I wonder if this is what zombies feel like. I couldn’t tell if it was getting bad again or if I was just getting sick because the lines were blurred between a depressive episode and a cold or the flu. However my eyes were watery and my nose was stuffed so hopefully it was the latter.

The odds had finally aligned in my favor and the class I’d skipped like all year teacher was out. We had my favorite sub who was really just the ISS teacher. Normally I would’ve sat by him and caught him up on all the chisme I had but I felt terrible. So I just leaned on the closest person to me instinctively. Once my brain caught up to my body and I realized. I was laying on Peter's shoulder. I shot it and immediately apologized.

“Oh no, you’re fine I don’t mind,” he said.

Well okay then. I think I slept at least 10 minutes in every single class today. Which is good I’d need it cause I forgot I promised my brother I’d babysit today.

After I sent Wade a text that I probably wouldn’t be back in his house for a while. I went to my brother's house. Sometimes I’m jealous of him for getting to escape our dad and live in an actual nice area. He literally has a house. Like he has his own property, no landlords or anything. Pros of him having a different mom I guess. However he needs to stop having kids. Like yes I love my niece and my nephews however they can be the biggest pain in the ass.

“I get off at like 11, so make sure they don’t break anything or die thanks, and you know where everything’s at, so,” He said, giving me a hug before walking towards the door but right before he opened it he turned around with a smile on his face.

“Oh and don’t get my kids high,”

I rolled my eyes trying to keep the edges of my mouth from turning into a smile. I lost that battle.

“Yeah, yeah whatever asshole,” I flipped him off.

I went into the room where the youngest child was sleeping. Taylon, he was about 1 I believe. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about him for a while. I made it back to the front room where the two trouble makers Kaitlyn and Jason. Kaitlyns the oldest at 4 years old and Jason at 2. Although I don’t think Kaitlyn has ever gotten in trouble like ever because she’s a huge daddy’s girl.

I had like 36 missing assignments for Physics and about 4 things of homework one test to study for, a partnered project to work on, still had to go two decathlon practice 3 days a week, and a flashdrive to get past the firewall of. God could I use some adderall right now.

By distracting the kids in the room with me with the Cocomelon channel.

I’d put my headphones on and nodded along to my music and actually got two homework assignments done in a relatively short time before the screaming started. I went to get Taylon who’d woken up because he peed. I changed his diaper but he was still crying.

I truly did not have time for this. I fed him and everything. Thank God the Cocomelon was still distracting the other kids. Whoever made that channel needs a raise. I could not get him to stop crying for more than 5 minutes. I found if I held him he’d stop but I didn’t have the time to just sit around holding him.

I gave him my phone and let him play with that which shut him up.

Then Kaitlyn decided to come and pester me about food. I made peanut butter jelly sandwiches, but they decided they didn’t want them after I’d already made them. So here I was making spaghetti with a toddler on my hip and doing homework at the same time.

I’d actually gotten used to all this multi tasking that’s when I heard a knock at the door.

I put the spoon back in the pot and closed my textbook heading over to the door.

I open the door to Peter standing there.

“Uh Hello?” I asked more than said.

“Uh, yeah hi, we were supposed to work on the project?”

“Oh shi-” I almost said then remembered I was holding a kid. “Sorry I forgot,” If we're being completely honest I don’t remember anything from school that day nor do I remember telling him to come here but I wasn’t gonna send him away.

“Well you can come in” I announced stepping towards the side of the door.

“Sorry about the chaos” I gestured to everything. ”You can go sit on the couch, I’ll be right over”

He did just that and sat his backpack on his lap.

“Jason, Kaitlyn bebé ven a buscar tu comida”

( Jason Kaitlyn baby come get your food)

They made their way over still attached to the tablet.

“I thought your dad said no tablet at the table?” I said. I wasn’t really going to take it away, I was just teasing.

“I thought you were fun tía,” Jason shot back.

“I am fun!” I said fake hurt and they both giggled.

I slid the plates across the table towards them. “Here eat,”

“¿Es tu novio de ahí?” Kaitlyn asked looking over at Peter.

(Is that your boyfriend over there?)

“No he’s not, but can you watch your brother for me for a little bit?”

She nodded. I shifted Taylon off my hip and slipped him into his high chair and gave him a bag of chips.

Plopping down next to Peter I clapped my hands.

“Okay sorry about the wait, so what do we need to do?”

After explaining the project to me we’d gotten half of it done and Taylon was napping again and everyone else was quiet and watching TV. We probably could’ve finished the whole thing if we hadn’t gone on so many tangents. Peter was actually good at explaining things.

We talked about literally everything from favorite flavors of starburst to life goals and shit. I don't know what I want in life actually. It’d be cool to go to college but it’s expensive and no one else in my family has been.

When it got late Peter announced that he had to go.

“Alright let me walk you out,” I pushed up off the couch.

“You’re really smart, I know you don’t think that but you are,” he said almost out of nowhere once we were out the door. I could feel my face heat up. This is a moment I was thankful for my melanin allowing me not to blush.

“Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself, Parker,”

“So we're doing this same time tomorrow right?”

“Yes, that’s the plan,”

For the past week I’d convinced my brother to let my babysit everyday so I could still hang out with Peter. I never thought that we of all people could be friends. Before this he was so like “Peter” just way too much. Once you get to know him he’s not that bad. We’d finished the project and I still hadn’t done any of my other work but by the power of adderall I’d gotten into the flashdrive. I was too scared to check anything in it, but I did erase Black Cats name from the police station records.

It’d been at least three more days and I hadn’t done any work. I hadn’t talked to Peter or MJ or anyone else either. The one other human I’ve had contact with is Wade. Even with me living at his house it was still minimal. I hadn’t gotten much sleep because adderall keeps you up at all hours of the day but I don’t think I could survive without it.

I knew I had to be walking. I was walking because I had to. I mean I was walking and I had no intention of stopping. I was getting major deja vu. This exact place felt so familiar.

Oh- that’s why.

I was in the projects where I used to live. I was off in Bronxchester off of 156th St. Ann’s Avenue. I hate this place so much.

I hated it.

Having to live in a rat infested one bedroom apartment sleeping cramped up on top of my siblings was literally the worst time of my life. The shitty school University Heights where half the girls were pregnant. Not to mention my dad was on a fucking rage rampage all the time cause he couldnt get a job as a felon.

I was still walking though. I knew I was going somewhere. Not sure where until I’d gotten near the Hartz chicken on the end of the street. That’s where I was going. I knew I was meeting up with my friend. How could I forget that? I was about to cross the street until someone in a grey van rolled down their window sticking out a gun.

I knew she was gonna get shot. There was nothing I could do to stop it. Yet still I was screaming at least I was trying to. I couldn’t find my voice.

By the time I could it was too late.

I’d seen her. The bullets piercing her skin would be something seared into my brain forever. And as fast as the car came it was gone.

Then I was running. I was running to get to her because I could still help her. I had to.

She was bleeding and there was too much blood. It was everywhere. I remember my brother told me if someone is ever bleeding out you need to stop the blood.

I could barely see because my tears were clouding my vision. I was pushing down on her stomach screaming for someone to call 9-1-1. Just to help.

“You’re gonna be okay,” I remember saying it over and over again I don’t know if I was trying to convince myself or her..

The police got here right after I’d watched her eyes gloss over just because that’s how it works in Melrose. Yes she was gone but she was only the first of many. The police had never done anything for me before so why would they start now.

They had to pry me off her. They couldn't, I had to help, I had to… I had to help. She didn’t like to be alone. Yeah sure she’d done bad things but she didn't deserve this. She was just a kid. I was just a kid. They took her phone while I was screaming not to touch her.

They asked for my parents' information. I didn’t want to tell them, I didn’t want my dad. I don’t wanna see him. I just wanted my friend back. They loaded her into the back of the ambulance. I

knew they were driving away. I was running and screaming. I could feel people staring. I knew they were looking at me. I knew they knew. I didn’t care, I had to run. I had to get her. A pair of hands grabbed me from behind and I started thrashing.

I couldn’t, I can’t, I had to help, I had to help her. I was still screaming and my throat was sore. Her blood was everywhere, it was all over me and I couldn’t I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t help myself. I was scared.

“Hey,” I felt myself being shook from behind. “Hey!”

I turned around to Wade’s familiar face.

“I’m sorry for waking you, I know it’s dangerous or something like that but you were just screaming and I got worried,”

Wasn’t supposed to wake me?

“I was,” my voice was small I sounded 5 I felt 5 “I was sleeping walking?”

“Yeah you were” he confirmed, leading me to one of the stools by his kitchen island.

He sat me down, walked off and got me a glass of water. I didn’t realize how bad I was shaking until I tried to bring the cup to my lips.

He brought a towel to the side of my arm dabbing at it. The blood dripped from the side of my wrist all the way down to my elbow.

“What’d you cut yourself on?” He asked and I shrugged my shoulders.

“You know they never even said her name?” I said after we sat in silence for a moment.

“What?”

“Rose you know my friend,”

“Oh…” he said as the realization of who I was talking about settled in.

“Yeah her, they never said her name no one said it around me because they felt I was gonna break, they all just looked at me like I was made out of glass, I don’t even know how people knew I was there. But I was- I was just so angry, ”

I waited to see if he was going to say anything but he didn’t. He was just going to listen, no jokes to lighten the mood just listening.

“Even on the news. To everyone outside of St Ann’s she was just a ‘14 year old girl caught up in gang violence fatally shot’ they used a terrible picture of her too. It made my blood boil that, that was all she got, Then I realized that’s just how it was for us and the only way I was making it out the hood was if it was 6 feet under,”

My mom used to say that’s what they did for black people, used a picture of them looking ‘hood’ some people call it a thugshot. They use a picture that makes them look mean and aggressive. She was neither of those things she was the nicest person I ever knew. She just got caught up in the gang mess because it was the only family she had.

“I’ve never talked about this before, but I feel like everyone just forgot about her like it’s only been 2 years and I’ve never heard anyone say her name. At least not around me” I ran my finger on the tattoo of a rose. “This was the first tattoo I’d ever gotten I did it myself so it’s kinda shitty but I feel like it keeps her memory alive, because if no one else was gonna do it and If wasn’t gonna then who would you know?” I trailed off for a second. Then noticed he was in the Deadpool suit just without the mask.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Now I think you know me well enough to know I’m not telling you that,” He smiled and I smiled back weakly.

“You’ll be okay though?” He asked.

“Now I think you know me well enough to know I’ll be okay,” I turned his own words against him.

I glanced back down at the tattoo and I remember looking over the tattoo on my finger for you it means merely nothing. Just another girl getting another basic tattoo. For me it means everything. It was the way I fought back. It was my first ‘fuck you’ to everyone to everything. It was my best friend. It was my first love. So to you I’m just another girl with another basic rose tattoo but to me. To me? It’s the way I remember it’s the way I keep my friend with me. It’s the way I’d make sure I couldn’t forget the unforgettable. Roses are delicate and fragile but they’ll hurt you when you try to pick them. So even the most beautiful of flowers would defend itself if it came to it. To you my rose tattoo is just a flower. However, to me Rose was the most beautiful human this world had ever seen.

Art had to be my favorite subject. Solely for the reason I’ve never had a non chill art teacher, but today it was Physics which is usually my least favorite class.

Only because the class made me feel like my day was turning around.

MJ was standing next to me when I opened by locker and loudly exclaimed

“Yes!”

“What?” She turned to me “What is it?”

“Sorry for scaring you, it's nothing. I just found some candy” I held up the Push Pop “See?”

“Oh if you don’t show up to practice today they’re kicking you off the decathlon team, and make sure you get to class on time though,”

“Of course when have I ever been late,”

She gave me a look that had “really?” written all over it.

“Okay don’t answer that question but I’m going, now you need to get to class you have a test to take,”

I’d taken the test already because I had Harrison’s class on A day, but MJ wasn’t the type to cheat. She was smart enough and didn’t need my help.

She was very smart but she wasn’t smart enough to know the Push Pop wasn’t really a push pop at all.

It was a cart that I thought I’d lost. It was just hidden in an empty Push Pop. Nightmares made me stressed and I know the perfect way to relieve stress. I know many actually such as (good) sex, running, fighting, throwing knives at shit, and weed. Luckily for me this is the last one.

So here I was sitting in the back of the class by the farthest window away from Peter with a “Push Pop” in my mouth and my head down on the desk. I never really paid attention in class but today we were just watching some documentary so I didn’t have to.

One of the students office workers came in and gave a note to the teacher and I figured it was about the new student I heard some of the students talking about here and there. I didn’t think anything of it until.

Briana walked in behind Principal Morita. Briana was my best friend from elementary through middle school and the first half of freshman year before I switched schools. She acted... I didn’t wanna say ghetto but you could definitely tell she was from Melrose if you were from there. I can’t blame her with her dad being a leader to the local set and all.

The teacher told her to introduce herself to the class and she kept it short and sweet. Then she was told to find a seat. I waved her over and she sat next to me.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me,” She said.

I laughed

“As if, you’re the most extra person I know,” I said, taking another hit.

“First of all fuck you second of all give me a hit,” I smiled handing the “Push Pop” over to her.

”Don’t you dare get caught.”

She stuck her head under the table lightly blowing out her mouth then inhaling before the vapours could go too far out.

“So where you been at? Haven’t heard from you in a minute,”

“Been busy with school shit, but I’ve been around,” I responded taking the “Push Pop” from her again.

“How’s your dad?” She asked. I just gave her an incredulous look and went.

“How’s your dad,”

“Same old same old,”

We spent the rest of the class with her catching me up on the people from our crew and reminiscing. Also might be good to mention we finished half the cart. So I was bugging. We both were. I would not have remembered to go to the decathlon meeting if it weren’t for MJ reminding me again. I didn’t really care for the team. I was just an alternative and I was only doing it so I could pass Mr. Harrington’s class because of the extra credit.

Thank God Peter wasn't at the meeting. I hadn’t talken to him since we turned in our project last week. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him per se. I could just feel myself getting closer to him and I didn't have time for more friends. Because everyone I end up loving leaves me. The more people you let into your life the more people you give the chance to leave. Seeing as I was ‘Thorn’ I probably shouldn’t get close to Spiderman anyway.

Flash was talking about Briana. He didn't say her name directly but I knew he was talking about her. Since he was talking about the new girl. He talked shit about everyone, so I don’t know why this made me as angry as it did. It just rubbed me the wrong way but it did. Seeing as I naturally gave zero fucks and had no impulse control. I definitely had way less control over myself when high. So before I knew it I’d punched him in the nose.

“Y/N!” Liz and MJ yelled simultaneously.

“What the fuck?” Flash screamed, holding his face.

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fucking daddy’s money ass bitch,” I pointed in my face.

“Y/N enough, go to the office,” Mr. Harrington said.

I could hear Flash calling me crazy as I walked out the room. Which put a smile on my face. The weird thing about principals is that the more you get in trouble the more they like you and the less harsh your punishments. I only got a week of detention which wasn’t too bad but that stupid “so you got dentention” video of Captain America was gonna get extremely annoying.

I was right it’d only been two days and every time I heard it I wanted to rip my head off. By the third day Peter and MJ had both joined me.

MJ didn’t even actually have detention she never did; she just liked to “draw people in despair” or whatever it was that she said. Today she was drawing Peter. It was surprising to see him here. I was scrolling through tiktok. I was going to say something to him but what would I even say?

I grew some balls and I’d said hi. It was just small talk but we still spoke nonetheless. The week was going by so fucking fast. Tomorrow’s the day we’re going to Washington. I did have to spend a lot of my saved money though. I’d spoken to my sisters and they said dad was sober now and he wanted me to come home. Which I’m not sure if I believe. I mean I know he’s sober. I talked to him too but how long would that last. How many times has this happened before? I don’t have time to worry about him.

It seemed like I had only blinked and now I was on the bus to D.C. Now for the next couple of days I gotta stay in a hotel room. Nothing out of the ordinary for me, except now I get to stay with MJ and Bri. I don’t know how I managed to convince Mr. Harrington to let her come.

Peter had almost missed the bus but showed up last minute. Liz was drilling people and MJ was sitting near her participating so I had the seat to myself. Bri was behind me on facetime with her boyfriend who just happened to be my ex. None of it was awkward though since we only dated for like a week and decided we were better off as friends. If we were being honest I was so tired. I felt like shit. Listening to sad music when sad is a set routine of mine so I was listening to Violent Crimes and staring out the window before I knew it I had drifted off to sleep.

Taglist:

@tomdiddlyumptious

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x black!reader #Peter Parker x Vigilante!Reader #peter parker x villian!reader #peter parker x bi!reader #peter parker x bisexual!reader #reader x peter parker #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x villian #mcu series #peter parker fanfiction #poc reader x peter parker #peter parker x thorn

35 notes · View notes

itwillbeall-dwight · 4 years

Text

downtime at dead dawg

zarina kassir/caleb quinn | the deathslinger; just some feel-good friend shit w/ maybe flirting; alc tw; 1825 words

a/n: i’ve had this one sitting in the drafts for about a week, after i impulse bought zarina and having been playing her nonstop. they... are cute. i’ve also been doing really bad mentally so this fic was honestly mostly for me because i just want some... happy, feel-good content where people are friends for once. also, fun game to play; try and guess all the characters i vaguely mentioned. i wanna see how obvious i was.

i might add another few chapters to this?? i have ideas at the very least. i’d love it if u guys let me know if you wanna see that. hope you’re all doing well, and stay safe y’all.

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: “You want a drink, cowboy?” The voice beside him almost startled him, making him jump to look down at the woman in the brown woollen scarf, holding two glasses of whiskey. She held one out to him, and he took it with a quiet thank you, more than expecting to resume people-watching alone and in silence, watching on as killer and survivor alike had raided his realm for a good time - a break from the killing and the madness, if only for a moment or two. But she didn’t. Instead, she moved around him and took his side, resting her elbows on the balcony and joining him. She took a small sip from her glass. “You know, it’s crazy. Soon you’re just going to go back to slaughtering us for fun.” “You assume it’s fun.” He gruffly replied, glancing down at her to meet her eyes. “Are you implying it’s not?” Caleb paused for a moment, almost thinking it over, before he chuckled. “...Yeah, no, it’s real fun.” “Yeah, I thought so.”

It was louder in here than it had been in a long time. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

The piano wasn’t being played by ghosts this time. Among the white noise of idle chatter from the saloon floor down below him was the tickling of ivories at a fast pace, courtesy of that Macmillan guy, mask pulled up now as he ran his hand up and down the stained keys with precision, though a bit rusty at times - a well-trained pianist, in whatever past he had. That athletic survivor with the ginger braids stuck close by, clapping along to the rhythm with a smile on her face. There was another survivor on the other side of the killer, the bear on the back of her jersey clearly in view from the balcony as she tried to touch the bottom keys of the piano without getting her wrists slapped. They seemed happy enough.

Others were scattered among the odd tables that littered the saloon floor, creating the blanket of white noise that overlaid the music. From one, he saw the snapping movements of the spectral ghostly girl as she sat beside two survivors, a kind man in a trenchcoat and the hardy looking girl with goggles, the two of them talking and occasionally giving the spectre a chance to input - she was laughing, a wide smile distorting her face, occasionally giving the man a soft and thankful glance when she was sure he was paying her no mind. From another, many people surrounded the tough-looking survivor with the undercut and the strong killer with the rabbit mask as they partook in a battle of brute strength - an arm-wrestling match, with support from both sides of the playing field, cheering them on and clapping in glee. At the bar sat a quiet group of four - older men, supposedly wiser, he would have thought, if not for the idiot wearing sunglasses indoors and the man with the metal hand, both clearly drinking more than they could handle. Even from the balcony, the apologetic glances exchanged between the older soldier and the detective were plain as day to see, their companions too delirious from alcohol to pay that much mind.

“You want a drink, cowboy?”

The voice beside him almost startled him, making him jump to look down at the woman in the brown woollen scarf, holding two glasses of whiskey. She held one out to him, and he took it with a quiet thank you, more than expecting to resume people-watching alone and in silence, watching on as killer and survivor alike had raided his realm for a good time - a break from the killing and the madness, if only for a moment or two.

But she didn’t. Instead, she moved around him and took his side, resting her elbows on the balcony and joining him. She took a small sip from her glass. “You know, it’s crazy. Soon you’re just going to go back to slaughtering us for fun.”

“You assume it’s fun.” He gruffly replied, glancing down at her to meet her eyes.

“Are you implying it’s not?”

Caleb paused for a moment, almost thinking it over, before he chuckled. “...Yeah, no, it’s real fun.”“Yeah, I thought so.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” She returned the laugh in kind, though hers was a lot gentler than his - less rough, less biting. The killer turned his head to look down on her, at the expression on her face as she looked down to her friends and enemies below, a smile on her face. He followed her gaze down to the arm wrestling match, where the undercut survivor was shaking his hand and cursing to himself, his opponent stretching her strong arms above her head and placing a hand on her shoulder, where the infected priestess had placed her own hand in congratulations, whispering blessings in foreign tongues that Caleb didn’t care to understand.

The two remained silent and just watched the occurrences on the floor below. The idiot in sunglasses had climbed into the bar counter now, in the process of removing the tan suit jacket he wore with the encouragement of his fellow drunkard before being dragged off of the bar and outside by his sober, bearded compatriot. From underneath the balcony, the quiet boy almost always armed with a toolbox walked out, carrying a large pot of bubbling liquid and placing it on one of the empty tables, the leather-masked fellow and the hunched over swamp witch following behind him excitedly, ready to show off their cooking skills to the rest of the gathering.

The company at the piano had grown now, Macmillan having moved to let someone else take a seat - one of the survivors, the bigger woman in the pinstripe suit, whose piano playing was delicate, light and slow, accompanied now by the sound of a guitar, as the tattooed blonde survivor sat on its lid and played along and gently plucked the instrument's strings, the third member of their little musical entourage being the sound of a haunting, tolling bell from the tree-like man in the torn cloak, his addition giving the piece a melancholy vibe. Sat on the other side of the piano lid was the floating nurse, and though no expression was visible on her face due to the bag covering her face, the way she relaxed told him she was enthralled with the performance.

Caleb looked back down at the woman still by his side, her expression still soft as she looked among the crowd. As if knowing she was being watched, she looked up again, not fearing to stare directly into his eyes as she did.

“You know… we don’t even know your names. You don’t know ours. Isn’t that crazy?”

He paused, raising an eyebrow. “Why would it? Attachment ‘n that. Makes shit harder.”

“Like you would have sympathy.”

“Some of us have a heart, ma’am.”

She paused. “...Deep down, somewhere. I suppose you’re right. Though, it’s not entirely true. I know who you are. By chance. Maybe that’s why…”

He watched as her hand fell to the flashing device on her belt, a subtle red light blinking on and off. “...Huh. Nosey, aint’cha?”

“It gets me ahead in my line of work, Mr. Quinn.” She looked up as he flinched with a smirk, clearly not bluffing now, before her eyes fell back onto the crowd.

Following her gaze again, which was once again placed on the arm-wrestling pair, Caleb heard her chuckle, moving her arms again to hang over the balcony in a delicate criss-cross. “Oh, David’s at it again.”

David. Must be the idiot with too little hair. Caleb looked down at him as he pressed his elbow against the table, and flexed his fingers with a pained grin, ready for another round. “...Hardy one, ain’t he?”

“I’d call it stupid. Only Nea would encourage his behaviour, and there she is.”

Sure enough, by the man’s side was the girl in the beanie, almost shouting in his ear as both beratement and encouragement - he swore he could almost see the sweat on David’s brow as she continued on. He hummed, his loose jaw cracking slightly before he snapped it back into place.

“And isn’t Jane’s music lovely?” She continued, a free and open hand signalling back to the piano. “I never expected her to be a pianist, and yet, the way she makes music with Kate is stunning.”

“...Sounds nice.”

“Kate normally plays for us all, for a morale boost, it’s lovely. ...Ah, and look at that. The Spirit is a little less terrifying-looking like that. I never considered Adam to be the comedian type, he’s much too serious for that, and yet...” A pointed finger lead to the table of three again, where the spectral girl still giggled, her nose shrivelling up and as she tapped out her hand in defeat, the girl in goggles laughing along with her nose pinched between her fingers, a free hand nursing a glass.

Caleb hummed again in acknowledgement, looking down at the scarved woman again, and her soft features, before nudging her softly with an elbow. “You’re not slick, ya know, missy. Tryna teach me somethin’ new an’ all. Think that’s gonna save ya?”

“Ha, guess not. Just thought I’d give it a shot.” She shrugged, twirling some hair between her fingers as, again, she stared him in the face, with no fear, and even a soft smile on her face. “And my name is Zarina. In case you wanted to know.”

He looked away, back down below - there was a commotion with the dinner plans, it seemed. He didn’t care to get involved. “Well, I didn’t.”

“Well, too bad.” Zarina almost mocked him with her tone, before she took a drink, finishing off the last of her glass as she tipped her head back, and wiping her mouth with the back of her arm in some mock-macho movement.

There was a beat of silence. “...S’a pretty name, regardless.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” Dark eyes looked down at her again, and with another gentle snap of his jaw, Caleb gave her a lopsided grin, to which she gave him a half-hearted shove.

“Now who’s trying to get some sympathy points, huh?”

“Hey, just tellin’ the lady what she already knows.”

The odd pair shared a laugh, before the cowboy too finished off his drink in a movement similar to hers before, then holding out his free hand to take her empty glass. “One more, for the road?”

Zarina looked down at his hand, palm dried and scarred from years of working with his gun, before she placed the bottom of her glass into it. “If you enjoy my company, you can just say so, cowboy.”

“Ha. Keep dreamin’, Princess.” Heavy boots creaked against the wood of the balcony, as he descended down the stairs to the bar.

The night carried on, many survivors and killer alike finding it hard to stand after indulging in the rare pleasure that was alcohol in this realm. The darkness grew darker before everyone returned to their own dwellings until the trial resumed.

Boots on the counter of the bar, Caleb poured himself one final drink, listening to the last of the footsteps behind him. “‘Night, Zarina.”

She looked behind her, finding his eyes on her as she hauled the arm of a barely conscious Dwight over her shoulder, hoping to help their leader back to the campfire in one piece. A small smile fell on her features. “...Goodnight, Caleb.”

He suppressed the small inhale and choke of his drink as she said his name again, for the second time that night, listening to the sound of her footsteps and mumbles back and forth with the messy spectacled boy grew quieter and quieter, leaving him alone again, with the creaking of floorboards and the ghosts on the piano, until the next time he was called to service here again, gun in hand.

#dead by daylight #the deathslinger #zarina kassir #i dont know the shipname but boy i wish i did #prove thyself #off the record

9 notes · View notes

cnc-hoebayb · 5 years

Text

It’s the way you walk, way you talk, babe

Key songs if y’all wanna listen as you read 🤙🏽

The Way-Kehlani ft. Chance the Rapper

Nice & Slow-Usher

(Also sorry it’s a little bit long but it’s totally worth it 😉)

Summer brought a lot of unexpected changes. Being in a brand new city meant mostly work, and plus no new friends yet was agonizing for the amount of nothing you had to do.

But in an area this beautiful and full of culture and energy, there was no excuse to be miserable and lonely. So you buckled up and explored around the neighborhood. You were surprised how much there actually was to do, but where you found yourself the most was a local rec center at the end of town.

It was the part of the neighborhood that was a little run down and under populated. But it had the most amazing crowd of people you’d ever met. Everyone was so close and loved to have fun.

The building was small but had something for everyone. The basketball court was for the kids who lived around the block and went to the school by your house. There was a small, not so pleasant looking pool that a bunch of older people would lounge in after work.

The abandoned cafeteria in the back was filled with moms and abuelitas on occasion, frantically preparing meals to feed the countless kids that flooded the place. “Ven,” they’d tell you, “vas a comer ahorita.”

And you’d sit and talk, hear the latest chisme of the week. And after you would go visit the the little ones that hung around the park and would ask you to braid their hair.

It took a lot to learn names, likes, and little perks each person had, but after time these were your gente and you were theirs.

Your favorite place was the old dance studio. You’d decided it was time to take up a hobby and dancing had always caught your interest. If you could grow up and baila cumbia y salsa then how hard could anything else be.

R&B has been your scene since you were a kid and that’s what you decided to roll with. Every night once the building died down and people went home, you’d make your place in the mirror filled room, blast your music and just dance.

Most of the time you had choreography that you liked to practice and learn, but sometimes it was fun to freestyle and see where it could take you. At this particular time you were really into an old song you used to listen to a couple years back. The choreography in the video was amazing and you wanted the satisfaction of nailing it yourself.

The lights were dim in there so you learned to always bring your speakers with the lights built in. It would fill the room with reds and blues and would shift according to the beat, made it easier to follow.

You slipped off your shoes because you always found it easier to dance in socks or barefoot. You rolled up the sleeves to your sweater and adjusted your hair into a messy ponytail. You did a few impromptu stretches and started the music.

Sitting on your knees, you’re in the center of the mirror and get prepared.

The lyrics starts and you lift an arm up slowly gliding through your hair. Half of the time you liked to add in your own bits and pretend you’re the singer so you point and make gestures with your hands, performing to yourself.

“You so damn important..”

You turn from the mirror, and spin around on the floor. You end in a pose that has your hands and feet on the floor holding you up, and your body lifted toward the ceiling. You crank your hip around and kick one foot as a little embellishment.

You turn smoothly so your hands are on the floor and you roll your body slooowly down along until your thighs hit the tile. Once there you quickly spin around to your back, lift your hips off the floor with a little shimmy and set them down again. You hit the floor on the side of you and move your hands slowly up your chest, placing them in a form of a finger gun running up to your lips.

You wink to yourself in the mirror and laugh a little. The song continues and makes it halfway through before you decide to start over. After a couple restarts you wipe the sweat off your brow and throw your sweater to the side, your hair escaping out of the grips of a hair tie.

You decide it’s the body roll that’s throwing it off. You haven’t perfected it so it’s setting you back in the choreo. You practice parts that need help and let your playlist continue so the song doesn’t start to get annoying.

You’re standing with your hands yanking the hair tie loose and trying to catch your breath before going in again. You shake your hair around to air it out and dive to the floor. Your strength got better and you were able to execute it perfectly. You went slow, letting your body touch the floor piece by piece, putting some emphasis on the hips.

When you hit the floor completely you scream in excitement and exhaustion as you lay on your back. You rub your eyes and hold back another scream as a figure stands above you.

“SHIT” you kick your feet so you slide back and sit up quickly.

“Whoa whoa sorry mamas, didn’t mean to scare you..” the stranger reaches out a hand to help you up off the floor.

You take it and once you get to your feet you see him clearly. He was wearing loose sweat pants, barely hanging on to his hip bone. The “V” shape on his lower half led up to a white sheer shirt that clung to his torso. Not much for the imagination as you could see every imprint of every ab on his body.

You blushed and your eyes darted to the tattoos that covered his sleeveless arms. His muscles flexed slightly and you nearly swooned.

It wasn’t long until he cleared his throat to get your attention that you hadn’t realized you were basically drooling over him. He chuckled through a side smile and looked at you with an eyebrow up.

“Aye baby, eyes up here” he joked and you were lost for words. “You hear what i said or too busy lookin at the goods?..” god you hated when men were too cheeky with their appearance.

You roll your eyes slightly and he finishes. “I said you weren’t lookin too bad on those moves right there,” he looks you up and down and you realize how exposed your body was. After you lost the sweater, you were left in a blue sports bra that was probably a little toooo small for the moment, and some black leggings.

You cross your arms and answer him. “Thanks, I’ve been practicing all night, needs work still.”

“You mind if i join you in here?” You try not to get distracted as he tosses gym bag to the side and the openings of his sleeves show more to his chiseled body. “I’m tryin to get some cardio in before the nights over.”

“Your version of cardio is dancing??” You ask surprisinged. “You must really go over the top,” He gives you a smirk and points to your speaker.

“Baby, ya tú sabes, now play somethin good and show me what you workin on.” He stretches out his arms and you change the song back to your routine.

You get over the fact that this God of a man is watching over you and instead decide to get in the zone. Plus he might be able to give you some tips. The music starts up again and you give it your all. Everything from the twisting and rolling, to the bounces and sensual touches, you got it.

“All i do..

Is drive myself crazy, thinkin bout my baby,”

You end there on the floor, knees planted on the ground with your back arched and arms reaching towards the floor behind you. The song reaches the chorus and you sit up and turn to the boy. “That’s all I’ve worked on i jus-“

You’re cut off by his hands lifting you up off the ground, planting you on your feet. The way he could kinda throw you around so easily left you disoriented. You look at him through the mirror and he’s pressed right against you from behind.

He sounds enthusiastic and prepared. “Don’t stop now, this is the best part of the song,” he places a hand on your waist soft and assuringly. “Just follow my lead.”

The Chance the Rapper verse starts up and he pulls you closer to him. You feel all of his body pressed on to your back and it’s electric. He guides your hips in a rotation from side to side, his own waist following the same pattern. He gives you a look through the mirror that asks if you were comfortable with this move.

You choose to respond the bold way and press your self closer to him, giving a little strength and taking over for yourself. He takes your action as encouragement and the both of you are finding each other’s rhythm.

You spin around so you’re facing him and finally place your hands on his hard chest. He’s swaying to himself and rapping along. You mimic the music video and play along like his hype girl. You slide up and down his body, the whole time exploring every inch of him, making your way from the front to his back.

And his lovin’ it. He smirks and plays along with it, the whole time dancing like some r&b rap star alter ego. He owns the stage like people are watching and it’s his own show. You feed from his energy and do the same.

He grabs you one last time and like your thoughts are in sync, he has you in front of him, your hand on top of his, guiding it from your thigh, and up your side slowly. You’re breathing heavily from all the moving and it feels achingly slow.

Your interlocked hands slide up your chest with ease and run by your neck until your hand finally reaches up to softly cup his jaw behind you. Your fingers rub through the stubble on his chin and he’s looking down at you with heavy eyes.

You unwind yourself from his grasp, embarrassment settling in from how close and intimate you just were with a stranger. You avoid the tension with a question.

“Did you even tell me who the hell you are??” He lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead and you finally see the full figure of him. You swallow hard and look away to not seem like you’re staring.

“I’m Richard,” he flashes a smile with teeth almost as gorgeous as himself. “But you can call me whatever you’d like, mami.” His cockiness sets you back a little and you brush it off with a sarcastic laugh.

“Where’d you learn moves like that, you part of some secret boyband?” You mock and he runs his hand through bleached curls. “Oh so you the funny type, huh?”

He walks over and disconnects your phone from the speakers. “Ya and you must be the ‘does whatever he wants’ type, whatchu doin man?” The speaker dings and he starts to play his own music.

“Stop trynna fight me, we can talk about ourselves later. Just get over here and dance with me instead,” a song plays over that you’ve vaguely heard once before. “It’s just Usher, it’s a classic.” He reaches a hand out to you.

“What are you tryin to do, seduce me or something?..” you sass and take his hand.

“Don’t know yet, pero hay algo de ti que me gusta.” You couldn’t deny you were intrigued as well. By his confidence that made you frustrated and the swagger that made you feel somethin...well, not so appropriate.

He makes circles around you and you get familiar to the beat of the song. “You really know how to pick a song,” you smile. He walks up slowly, pulling you into his chest, his hand rested on the little dip of your lower back. “Thought it fit the occasion,”

He rocks with you, your legs in between each other’s, keeping close and low as he sings the lyrics to himself.

“I got a real pretty pretty little thing that’s waiting for me,”

You start feelin it and let the words lead you. He spins you around and you roll your hips out of his grip. You find yourself getting in your own zone, doing all kinds of moves you’d normally see in a cheesy music video. You toss your hair around and bend over to one side to stick your butt out with a little wiggle, looking over your shoulder to make eye contact.

You wind up and down in circular motions, arching your back every time you bend, and run your hands over your curves whenever the opportunity comes. You make your way to the ground, showing off the little flexibility you had, kicking up a leg and rolling slowly back up to your knees.

You watch as Richard takes it all in and you decided to mess around with him. After all he’s the one who’s been calling you little pet names since you’ve met him, so you deserve it.

You crawl up to him, reaching his legs and start rubbing them all around. You go higher and slip a hand slightly under his shirt. You bump and grind around him until his eyes meet yours. He swipes his hand over his chin, flustered. Job done, you think.

“Whats wrong, baby,” you say jokingly. “Dont like games??” And start to walk in the other direction. “Don’t start somethin you can’t finish.” You hear over your shoulder and suddenly you’re being pulled back.

There’s no time to resist and he has you lifted off the ground in an instant. He sets his hands underneath your butt and you have no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck for support. He let’s one of your legs go and dips you down low, a strong hand on the side of your ribs, touching the open skin your bra doesn’t cover.

He pulls you up and presses you against the mirror. He let’s you out of his grip and starts to work up a slow grind. He lifts his shirt slightly, teasing before simply lifting it off completely and tossing the whole thing aside. Your knees get weak and he drops to the floor by your feet.

He slides back a couple feet and army crawls to you on his elbows. He grabs you by the waist another time and pulls you down. He was smooth with his moves and gently lays you on the floor. Confused and heat rising through your body, you become frozen beneath him.

His chin brushes over your stomach and stops beneath your bra line. He lifts himself up and your breathing stops all together when he rolls his hips right over yours. And does it again. And again.

He uses one of his legs as leverage and the other is higher up around you as he continues fake thrusting against your body. You give in with a little whimper and reach a hand up to touch him. It’s blocked immediately and pinned to the side of you, all while your leg wraps around his waist tightly so you can get closer to him in some way.

He stops and his face hovers above yours, less than millimeters away. He’s warm and sweaty but in the best possible way. His strong arms are on either side of you, one leg placed firmly between your thighs and your body is on fire.

His bare chest is heaving on top of yours and your skin on his feels like bliss. He bites his lip a little and drops lower into you, his weight almost fully settled. He inches closer and your heart pounds in your head. You tilt your head up to align with his. He runs his hand slowly up your neck, past your cheek and....

Grabs his shirt above your head.

He jumps up off of you swiftly, leaving you all hot and bothered on the cold tile. You lay in surprise and disappointment and watch him gather his stuff. You prop yourself up on your elbows and glare at him with rosy cheeks.

“You know I’m likin this game we’re playin here,” he throws his shirt back on followed by a large hoodie. “Makes things spicy.” He shimmies his shoulders and you laugh in disbelief.

“Well i ain’t playin anymore,” you reply back annoyed. He walks over and hovers above you once more and you swallow up the tension again.

“No you ain’t,” he flashes those teeth and gives you a wink before he makes his way out the door. “You’ll probably be here same time tomorrow night right,” he bites the side of his lip then sticks out his tongue.

And all you can do is lay back down and think that, hey, maybe this summer won’t be so bad after all..

#richard got me fucked 👏🏽 up 👏🏽#can i get a heelll yyeA #cnco #cncomusic #cncowners #cnco imagine #cnco fanfic #richard camacho imagine #richard camacho #christopher velez #joel pimentel #zabdiel de jesus #erick brian colon

39 notes · View notes

bluepenguinstories · 5 years

Text

Intention Headaches Chapter Four

Croaking, creaky, doors to heaven or a flash of bright lights reminiscent of a distant city for gambling purposes. Seed or glitter tossed to the audience of bird; dove and pigeon swooped down from above in the guise of hundreds of humans, all ready for a night of party. Sign changed to that of a welcoming invitation, an embrace fulfilled.

Swooners and swingers, uppers and downers. Sitters and stands found their places, some on stages, some in the dimmer recesses. In the middle of it all, a mild-mannered strict enforcer of peace among chaos cleaned glasses.

Some folks, card and dice in hand, bet high stakes; those playing Russian Roulette with a full clip. Some were on their last leg. There was one, solitaire player, alone at a table, with two legs, and mouth full of stake.

She had become without arm nor ornament, having to chew the fat and whatever else was left through the means as one would have at a pie-eating contest; mouth against the table, table against the grain. Although a steak, recent losses also reduced the quality to that of a super rare rather plus ultra.

“How goes your loss of arms?” One privateer sans privacy peeked at two stumps beside a line added.

“Shit's easy 'cept can't afford prosthetic 'til our gang gets a win. Love usin' my mouth, however.”

Sage nod, wisdom as a slow up and down motion.

“Experience any phantom limb?” Phantom crook hovered over, pale and ghastly gourd in hand.

“Don't believe in ghosts.”

Damned nod dawned on hovering attention hoarders.

Toward center:

“I had a wife once,” said old friend to tender of bars.

“I know,” gave a master of tender bars.

Old friend man strolled toward former owner of arms. He relaxed a pat on a shoulder, lest a back be pat.

“One day my story will be told,” he assured more lines added.

“Yeah, and who's gonna tell it, asshole?” She shot back, less with a gun and rather chunks of meat flying from a gaping hole in a face where food at times enters. “'Cause if it's from you, it's not worth hearing about!”

His stature was far from a statue, yet his manner was monumental. Rather chipped shoulder came crashing down, upside on a frown.

“It becomes more clear.”

However, smudged was what entered from behind a hue.

“What do you have against autobiographies? My dear, a automatic biological response toward the self is a circular motion. Jerking, ever forward, sliding sleight of hand marks for a rotary notary.”

Add a shiver to a line. Creep tingled spine.

Behind, vociferous virginal cackle crackled. Stooped stature. One and only entrance, where all else was least expected.

“It has come to my attention that my family of misfits have suffered some losses!” Such an announcement. “No more! I say! We shall overcome this laboratory love, seek shelter from ourselves! Turn inward and a new leaf forward! All who join my gang today gain free drinks on me!”

Thunderous lightning in bottles.

Adeline kept head down, as head above water came skin deep.

“There are two I fear: Sylvie and Virginia.”

To the other Woolfs, howls were deafening. Fangs were spiked in drinks. Yet, when in the presence of a Virginia, her commands were akin to carrying rocks in one's pockets and heading out to sea.

Right on cue, a tunic beat sprung from leaps and bounds of snapping fingers, rickety floorboards, and pickled shoelaces. Such a hall dedicated to tango. Dancers took a new center stage. Pinstripe, tuxedo, tutu, and tunic.

“May I have this dance?” One said to the other.

“No,” other said to one.

The two proceeded to tango. Separately. Creating their own moves. Spun and hiss from the potter's wheel.

“Sing us a song, piano man!” One in the crowd cheered and jeered, a jaunty musk enchanted a nostril torpedo humanoid.

Tune in minor D, flat. Singing in major G, sharp.

“I was born in an institution, so take me to the institution. Hollow out my skull for me, baby.”

Everyone snapped their fingers, sans those without or those with taste buds. Budding tastes abased. Upper right square, centerfold, holy ritualistic loneliness devoured a devout silent speaker.

Muttered, a sufferer. Alone, red wine.

“The church claims to hand out prayers to those in need. The church claims to heal all those with wounds. But how can such wounds be shaved when they come from the hands of one above? How can prayers reach, how can one pray, when one is prey to a praying mantis?”

Her words were a sermon, to and from her alone. All those to see, herself. Though there were two, seeing her.

“Annie, the sharpshooter. Tricky, thick needle. Not one made claim to touch her.”

One of two. Pointer. Point and jeer.

“Sharpshooter or fragile flower?”

Other, drinker. Just as most. Mostly morose.

“Church. We've been over this. Bullets. She knows this.”

“Her mother keeps a keen eye.”

“Of the Sextons?”

“Not one made claim to touch her, but one.”

Turtle and porcupine pawned a torch through a blazing trail, overheard outcrop of silent words.

“Yo, Buddy?”

Turtle had a back, no shell.

“Was that my name?”

“Such a dilemma, that Annie case.”

“Which one?”

Porcupine did a sit, then pointed to a sit, then took a stand. Syd was still on the fence. Respect on a mend.

“I respect women, but what about women who disrespect women?”

Turtle dove, diving down a crown.

“Respect a little less?”

Adeline, minding less of a mind and a little more risky business, less stake for steak, took to munching carpet. Similar texture, less cost.

Decimation, ten of them. Torturous conditions. Smaller and smaller, then lesser and greater than the sum of their tears for fears. Out on the other end, next kareoke session.

“My cue!” Glee, jitter bug and shut-in cough tourist.

As all else, empty, Syd, short for a name forbidden, spoke aloud.

“MOOD CHANGE TONIGHT!” Brought impassioned introduction, then a sing along to a line of lyric. “GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUUUUN!”

Abridged, bridged gaps, two ladies took hands. Unmarried, unbridled, in bridal regalia as regal as larked tongue.

“Why do you date him?” Lustrous loss owner inquired.

“He's harmless. Undangerous man, a safe, sure bet.” She curled over her hair, flexing her neck, sticking it outward in case ladies were to observe. Star tattooed, shoreline above the mantle.

Annie, less drink, more sorrow. Sylvie, more observant, sharp gaze.

“I prefer not to comment.”

“Leader of Sextons, her mother. Weren't the three of us in the same hospital?” Less Victoria, more Virginia mouthed audible.

“I share not her views. We begin and end with being acquainted.”

“Oh, come on, dear,” Sizzled, swizzled nails. Swerved, curly hair. White, silver, grey, painted. Glasses that zoom in and out of frame. “Do we not share our fascinations with death? Look around us, we have all suffered losses. We are dead among the dead. Is that not cause for celebration?”

Silent. Serene. Hostile.

“There are a million reasons to die. There are a million reasons to live. Regardless, we all experience one and the other at one point or another.”

“Hmph. Well, darling. We could talk for days about it.”

“Between nature and nurture, I do not force hands.”

She strode her stroll toward a grassy knoll within inner chambers of a table toward the back, varnished and vanished driftwood matte. Drink, had hand tilted with glass. Knotty bramble ale, crisp to the core of an apple and cider.

“I think I don't want society, but then I think I want society because society wants me to want society,” silver, slivered Syl.

“Societal pressures?” Verge in a woman inquiry.

“More that I don't know what I want if I don't have it. But do I only not want it because it wants me to not want it? And when I want it do I want it because it wants me to want it or is it my own desire? Do I desire to live in a society, or live outside? Do I desire to live, or without?”

Another fucking sip, babes took their places, hips and waist belly dances. Boomed a bounce off another end of another corner, crowd gathered to sharks and gatherers.

“I once knew a man named Dave,” dealer dealt shame.

“Say, pal, y'bought any penises recently?”

“Couldn't afford it. Couldn't win enough missions. Tried going in, trying on different dicks. Saw a penis I liked and asked the register. Clerk clocked me. Caught me and coughed up foul interplay of lessons in lack of funds and lack of missions won. Said come back when gang's more renowned. Screwed up, balls of screws.”

“What about a vagina?”

“Those are in even rarer supplies, mate. Try buyin' pussy and folks say 'our selection is for higher ranks. Come back with a little more, no a lot. Lot and lot of renown. Everyone wants one, those who can fit into one can't afford to have one. Now, them Hemingways, too good, little respect. Ain't know what to do. Men who love men, ain't go for dick, ain't try on pussy. Tell ya what's what?”

“My life's a litter box,” interjected strands of hair attached to a face, earl and mache.

“What, Dave?”

“We talking about cats? Because I own a house full. Over 20.”

“Yes, we know, Dave.”

“Y'know,” sized up undulate leader sliced up with a ruler lines of coke. “People think I do drugs, but I DO NOT DO DRUGS. What especially gets me is when they think I do heroin. No. None in this household. I am a vegan. I AM KOSHER. There are those who would call me a post-modernist, but lemme tell you guys somethin': if you measure out the diameter of a filthy swimming pool, describe the height, length, width, dimension, how clean the pool is and what made up the filth in the pool, in details, y'know what that is? REALISM. The real post-modernism is modernism, if you ask me. If you're too afraid to do a little research, then maybe DON'T GO OUT IN THE FIELD.”

Spread out were the cocaine powder locomotive rollercoaster. Salt or sugar, bitter pickle, all snow white.

“Now, anyone want some? I can't have any, I'm allergic.”

Grime, grit, salami-based muscle, pungent four fingers and a thumb attached to a potato called a palm reached for the flour, only for Dave to slap it away.

“Just so you know, a footnote is an endnote if it's at the end.”

Syl emerged from her drink, still in.

“Problem with Hemingway, when us women are ill, we are seen as the illness. When those men are ill, they are martyrs, brave soldiers. We are sent away to a hospital. To get better. Do we get better? Do we get worse? I think we change, in and out, there is a change, no doubt.” Slow sips.

“I'M JUST A GIRL, THAT'S ALL THAT YOU'LL LET ME BEEEEEE--”

Syd's singing. Unprompted.

Syl laugh. She does on alcohol.

“Do you love him?” Virginal census.

“I think I love love,” first responders. “I think I love loving love. But do I love? I think I would love to.”

“Are you in love?”

“Is love something to you as it is to me? I love love as a being, in or out. Am I being in love? I am loving being.”

Hunched, secrets whispered, lungs scattered. Liquids spilled. Glass intact. Bile of much knotty bramble.

“With me,” virgin of the wolfs. “We have much to discuss in the toilets.”

Two ladies followed the vortex of a single file line toward a horizontal stadium of stalls for all to enter. Few leave 'til close. Moss turns, moss directional, director of dissection, wash basins full of mossy oak. Ultimate of bidets on display, only few take. Most wash, some sign off on air.

Some folk wondered what the house special of the night would be, others wondered who belonged to which gang, or which gang belonged to who. There were those who wondered what constituted ale and bourbon and who owned the bonbons.

“You're probably wondering why I decided to show my face tonight,” leader of a ton of sex, hands spread, pose in a alphabetical T.

Nobody wondered that.

“Have mercy...” Mumbling Annie chit-chattered, tiptoed through tapped toes. No one took notice.

“Our gang has received a mission. Simple one at that. Simple, poetic. Seek out a member of the church,”

Others mumbled. Muttered, even.

“I know some of my children are in the audience tonight. Sippin' on some whine, wine, whinge, chardonnay. I ask: who would be willing to make me proud? My dear husband, perhaps? Or maybe I'll return to the hospital and seek if one of the doctors would be willing to join my family,” toot, tort, ruptured spinal speech, with a hoot and a howl to boot mixed in with something afoul afoot.

Splash spot, stood up was fraught fair-minded resolute, daughter with resolve.

“I'll go.”

Crone critter crept forward, slithered toward child (adult as she were).

“Ah, yes. Annie, my dear daughter,” hands upon Annie's shoulder, only her shoulder. Only her shoulder. Still, a flinch. Nerves before determination. Flushed, relieved, two faces attached to complete figures emerged and heard.

“Knowing how she operates. Disgusting.” Silver leadership spoke up.

“No flame, no phoenix. Speak of passion, yet dejection,” verge in a wolf shared opinion.

“True leaders fight alongside their people, or better yet, be the first to die.”

“At the least, inspire passion.”

“Instead, modifications.”

More shivers, between Sylver (if ever her name), Annie (a face green of gables expressed), or the great wolf.

Outside of it all, smokers smoked in the smokers' lounge.

“Wanna go back inside?” One asked.

“Nah. Hear some of the gang leaders are in there.”

Shackled awe, tight spot for jaw.

“What would they be doing here?”

“As private as they are, leadership have every bit of access to ales and spirits as any of us.”

“Now that I think of it, Ernie's always there.”

“Ah yes, 'blood of a unicorn' kid.”

“Blood of a unicorn?”

“Very same one.”

“Damn. Blood of a unicorn. I've been to the woods once or twice. No unicorns spotted. Rabbit, yes.”

“Rabbit? In the woods?”

“Very live rabbit!”

“Rabbit?”

“Hopped along.”

“Deadass? Rabbit?”

“No, alive rabbit.”

“No way. Those haven't existed for a while.”

“Anyway, we should head back inside. Bar's about to close.”

“Still, a rabbit.”

Some shady men, couple in fact, hand in hand, looking inward. Last drinks ordered: Brisk Bristol bourbon and Tempura Tequila.

Soon after, or not long, rather seconds after counting down the hours, safety in numbers huddled from day-to-day monotony began to rain away as seconds ran dry, as did the barrels.

“My doors will close,” bartender took to announcing, image appearing within every visible area of the distracted establishment. “Get your asses out and have a lovely hunt.”

Hemingway leader set down a sturdy book.

“War is ongoing,” Ernie walked, stuck to a miniscule cycle.

“Yes, my friend,” tip of the bartending hat toward world weary pint.

Other nights, others less dry. For a street of blood, oft wanted is a lick of water.

#writing #stories #crime #cyberpunk #bar #anne sexton #hemingway #virginia woolf #sylvia plath #urban fantasy #surreal #fiction #sexism #social commentary #intention headaches

1 note · View note