CAPTURED BEAUTY (Peter Steele x Reader)

FOURTEEN: Your Story

A dream not followed is just another nightmare.

It's a strange, nonsensical quote that gnaws in the back of your head while you ready yourself for the day. There's a pooling sense of dread as you know today you'll have to face Vivian and her emotional jabs at work. Not much sleep has been gifted due to the fact your creative journey is dwindling and not many safe havens are near you.

Nettie, of all people, has helped you tremendously to the point where you begin to think if she was sent from the heavens. Her gracious presence, wrapped in the usual sharp tongue of New Yorkers had caused you a sense of relief. With seeing her more, much to your enjoyment there's more stories of Peter and his loving family that follow suit. It's a tightly knit family and there's no doubt that it makes you miss your own.

Nightingale Photography bustles to life as it always does at the peak of 8 am. Usually, you don't trickle in until around 9 am but your nerves had you so shot that going back to sleep was out of the question. So you duck under many greetings that were thrown your way, trying your absolute best to not gain as much attention this evening.

Today was another shot at presenting one of your projects.

The portfolio is hanging over your shoulder and heavy with much of your work. Exhaustion is prevalent in your eyes and if Peter saw you like this, surely something would be said. Though, this wasn't his fight.

This was yours.

You sit at your desk with a huff, eternally grateful that your ability to slither through crowds without much traction didn't get you detected by Vivian's lingering posse. It's a hope that the day continues to grow its incline of good fortune and luck but knowing that big hand didn't even reach the nine still made you cautious.

Cautious, anxious and nervous.

The phone in your desk snaps you straight back into present times and you answer it as your heart pounded by the startle.

"Yes?"

"You are needed in Bowen's office," the receptionist drawls on, nasally and boorish,"...immediately."

Your lips part to speak but the phone clicks, ending the call. Quickly and not so gracefully, you grab your things and start to make your way over to the dreaded large glass doors that sat perched just beyond a set of stairs. It's a stupid thought, thinking you are scaling the steps to Valhalla since you fought such a glorious battle.

Yet nothing could ever really top the condescending bitch that peered at you behind her desk, roving over your features like some mean girl in high school. The battle was just beginning.

"Hello, Y/n. I see you have something for me to look over?" She says with the fakest smile of all fake smiles. You play the part and return one as well but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"I do." You respond and slip off the portfolio bag off your shoulder and take out its contents. You're understandably nervous but deep down there's that spark of hatred you have for your pompous boss.

It's a very vulnerable thing to be a creative. It's standing on stage naked, terrified and passionate all in one as the world watches you and decides a fate you have no control over. Except, you do but not in any way that is clearly expected.

Your eyes flitter over to Vivian who you start to think about in these silent moments as she flips through haphazardly. Do the gears in her head ever turn? What was she thinking and how the hell did you out of all these people in this business become her victim of borderline emotional tirades?

Clearly, it pisses you off to the point where her gaze flicks up and you have to look off to the side. You pretend the painting on the wall of her next to a bundle of violets and lavender is interesting.