#I need to go over the last six chapters again for editing but

[randomisedmongoose]

... it's done.

[lovelytsunoda]

purple haze // charles leclerc

summary: writing a novel is a long an arduous process. luckily for y/n, she has a very supportive partner in crime, and when it all works out, he's the only person she would want by her side.

pairing: charles leclerc x author reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, talk of deadlines, book referenced is a good girls guide to murder by holly jackson. gets a lil steamy towards the middle but nothing comes of it. still not sure how i feel about this one, but i havent written for charles in forever and i got an idea i really liked but i don't know if it worked out when i put it on paper.

by the time y/n closed her laptop, she felt like her fingers were going to fall off. she leaned back in her desk chair, gutted to find that the monaco cityscape outside her living room window was now pitch black, as might had fallen on the city.

her first book had been a red-wine and oasis fuelled fever dream, the last three chapters being written to ‘don’t look back in anger’. and now, the final edits were done.

“I’m so proud of you, mon tresor.” charles gushed, bringing her another glass of wine.

“the last three years are finally paying off. a good girls guide to murder is done, and the world is ready to meet pippa and ravi.” she grinned, clinking her glass against her boyfriends.

she had poured three years of her life into that book, and Charles had been by her side for all of it. through numerous rejections, edits and late night idea-vomit, nobody was prouder than charles was so see it work out for her.

and now he knew she needed a break.

taking her hand in his, he gently dragged her out of the desk chair and towards the couch, placing their wineglasses on the coffee table as he urged y/n to sit on the ground between his legs.

his hands were warm as he began to massage her shoulders, attempting to release the tension caused by the last round of edits, which she had worked on almost from sunup to sundown.

“there’s still so much to do.” she whined, tilting her head back to look up at her lover. “now there’s arcs and extra promotions and finding advance reviewers and-“

charles cut her off with a kiss. “none of that right now. right now, you and me are going to finish this bottle of wine and watch something pointless on tv.”

smiling to herself, y/n got up from the floor and moved to the leather couch, slipping seamlessly into charles' lap and nestling against his chest. his body was warm, and his sweater soft. even if his cologne was a little bit too strong, he made her feel safe. treasured.

"that sounds perfect." she hummed, gently turning his face so she could kiss him. "thank you for supporting me."

"always, my love." charles smiled before kissing her again.

SIX MONTHS LATER

it was half past five in the morning when the phone rang. charles could sleep through just about anything, but it was the vibrations of the phone against her side table that woke y/n.

she looked over at her sleeping lover, pressing a gentle kiss to the smooth skin on his shoulder blades before slipping out of bed and creeping into the hallway to answer a call from her agent, cecelia.

"cece, its five in the morning. couldn't this have waited?"

ceclia cleared her throat. "i've just heard from the american office. the preliminary numbers for the new york times list are in."

"fuck. how did we do?" she closed her eyes, holding up her crossed fingers and praying to every god she wasn't sure she believed in.

and when cecelia spoke again, she almost dropped her phone.

"okay. thank you for letting me know, cece."

she slipped back into the bedroom, bare, dry feet sinking into the plush carpet at the end of the bed before she sat down at the end of the bed, gripping the phone so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

"mon amour." charles rasped, exhaustion in his voice as he rolled over onto his back. "what's wrong?"

"i just got a call from cecelia." she started, trying not to let her emotions show through. "she's just been on the phone with our american agent with the new york times numbers."

charles sat up, one of his warm hands going to rest on her thigh. "and?' he asked hesitantly, his piercing eyes meeting her uncertain ones in the dark.

"i made the top ten." she shouted, grin spreading all across her features.

making the new york times list had made everything worth it. all the sleepless nights when she had woken up with an idea she was scared to lose, all the rewrites, the weeks of writers block. the rejections, the aggravation, the insecurity.

this was it.

she had done it.

"i'm so proud of you." charles beamed, folding her into a hug. "i knew you could do it, my brilliant girl."

she dropped her phone on the bed, red-faced and giggly as she kissed him, allowing her hands to wander across his toned chest. "wanna show me just how much?"

THREE YEARS LATER

the theater was almost silent when the lights came up, the end credits of the final episode fading out on the screen. she held her breath, fingers gripping charles' hand so tightly that she thought she might break the fragile bones in her husband's fingers.

oh, yeah. they had gotten married about a year after her book had come out, while she was in the middle of writing as good as dead, the conclusion to the series.

since a good girls guide to murder had come out, her life had changed for the better. she felt more secure in herself and her talent, and the words had never come easier when she started writing the sequel, eager ton continue the story. she had since written two more books to complete the trilogy, as well as two standalone novels: five survive and the reappearance of rachel price. around the time that rachel price was announced, she had gotten another call from cecelia, asking if she and charles could come to london and meet with representatives from the bbc.

they wanted to turn her first book into a tv series.

she had been hands on from the beginning, throwing herself into her work and doing her best to make sure that the version of the story the readers saw on screen was the version that she had visualized when she'd first explained the storyboard to charles, the driver helping her connect everything on their living room wall with red yarn.

and now was the time. the time to see if it had all paid off. the theater was filled with minor celebrities, influencers, and the tiktokers who had made her book blow up in popularity.

it all came down this night.

"it's okay. whatever happens, you know you did your best." charles whispered in her ear, running one hand up and down her bare back. underneath the flimsy straps of her red dress.

she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath when the roar off applause began to drown her.

she rode the rush of emotions, allowing the tears of gratification and relief to ruin her mascara as she let her body go slack, resting against charles as she watched the room rise in a standing ovation for pippa and ravi.

"we did it. we made it, charles." she laughed, tilting her head up to kiss him.

"no, cherie. you did this. they're all here for you."

she watched as the event's host, a former spice girl that charles knew through his paddock connections, stepped out into the middle of the small stage set up at the front of the theater.

"and now, the moment i'm sure you've all been waiting for, a few words from y/n /y/l/n-leclerc!"

she wiped her eyes and fixed her hair, taking a deep breath before she walked across the stage, taking the microphone from geri halliwell, and turning to face the crowd.

in the front row, there was charles. her one true love. her biggest supporter.

and in that moment, she truly allowed herself to believe that she had made it.

[therealflickerman]

Split Lips (tasm!peter parker x reader)

Part two

series summary: Its simple hating peter parker, the cocky asshole who has made it his mission to one up you every chance he gets. In the same vein, its simple loving spiderman, the sweet masked vigilante who has made it his mission to ensure your safety. How simple will it be when the two worlds meet.

______________________________________________________________

chapter summary: You never want Peter Parker around, but you find he tents to show up whenever you need him most.

word count: 4.9k

chapter contents: reader is intended to be fem! , language, a little banter and a little fluff, reader is anxious and a mess,  idk anything about american diner culture, these two r awkward idiots that don’t know how to be soft 

note: poor pete just wants to be your friend, and poor reader is a disaster girl. I had so much fun writing this chapter I hope yall enjoy it!, thank u charlie for editing

masterlist

series masterlist

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four (ongoing!)

Your earphones carry music to your eardrums, blaring at the highest volume possible, it's a feeble attempt to drown out your thoughts and you’re not quite sure it’s working. It crosses your mind that you should probably lower the volume sparing others in the library from the distraction, however, as you find yourself re-reading the same sentence for the third time, you can’t quite find it in yourself to care. 

A groan slips past your lips, the heels of your palms find the sockets of your eyes and you sit like this for a moment before dragging your hands down your face in irritation. Your biology textbook sits on the desk in front of you, the annotated page, a testament to last night's productivity, mocks you with its perfection. 

You’ve been at this since Eleven a.m. and you can quite literally feel your brain melting out of your head, it’s rare you have trouble studying, actually, you would go so far as to call it a forte of yours. You blame your recent bout of sleeplessness and curse how busy your brain has been the last few nights. 

Sliding your sleeve just above your watch, you check the time, it reads ‘one twenty-six p.m.’. “Shit,” you exhale, scolding yourself for letting the time slip through our hands.

You look at the testbook with disdain, promising yourself at least fifteen minutes of study before your shift at the diner begins. You flip to a new section and pray a change of scenery will kickstart your brain into surrendering a bit more work, though you feel deep down that it’s a lost cause. 

A defeated sigh escapes you, your eyes lock on the start of the page and you begin to read. The chapter talks of the immune system's response to pathogens and you recall touching on the topic in class. You specifically remember that day because Peter had ‘accidently’ spilt his milk all over your notes during one of his usual attempts to irritate you, despite the way his grin curled into that of a worried frown, and the way he had jumped into action, letting out frantic apologies, you’re not so sure it truly was an accident, though maybe that's what you’d like to think. 

Your brows furrow as you realise you’ve in fact lost your train of thought once again, your brain had wandered off about a thousand times already that morning, but it particularly bugs you this time as it dawns on you that you are unable to escape Peter Parker, even as you sit alone with your thoughts. For a second your throat feels tight and you think you could cry from pure frustration, though you look to the library that surrounds you, there are a mix of silently working students and businessmen, and you decide you don’t want to be the deranged woman crying into her biology textbook at one-thirty p.m. the afternoon before her test. 

You opt to take a deep breath rather than the later and you reread the line, taking a note on the sentence before completing the paragraph. You turn the page and you finally feel concentration begin to build. 

A yelp slips from your lips as a book drops and lands before you with a soft thud, it breaks the still silence of the library, shattering the first string of focus you had managed since last night's study session. Your gaze shoots upwards and you’re met with the same big brown eyes you’ve become accustomed to.  

“Enjoying your last-minute study session?” he plops into the chair across from you carelessly. 

You struggle to hear him through your loud music though you quite like it that way.

Your eyes narrow and you rip your headphones out with a swift tug. Music plays from them softly as they’re discarded on the desk. “Peter-”, you start, and wish you had the chance to finish. 

“I finished studying last night but,” he slides your textbook across the table, spinning it in his direction so he can read your annotations, “it’s good to see you putting in the work,”

“Peter, I am going to kill you” In a fit of irritation, you aggressively shove the textbook back to your side of the desk, you genuinely cannot believe your luck or lack thereof. 

“That's not very nice,” 

“You…” you spit loudly, wincing at the volume of your voice before lowering your tone, “are not very nice.” Your hand motions to all of him and your eyes narrow further in aggravation. 

He mouths a humoured ‘wow’, and leans back in the chair with an arrogant grin and a cross of his arms.

“How did you even,” you find the words, “there are like twenty libraries in Queens and you’re

sitting across from me…” your arms crossed, “uninvited” you emphasise. 

He shrugs with a grin and leans over, digging through his beat-up backpack.

He silently places his things on the desk, ‘just make yourself at home’ you huff ironically with an eye roll. He laughs softly at your comment as he pulls out a small pencil case, it's dark blue and covered in Sharpie doodles, then grabs the rest of his books, piling them on top of the one he had used to startle you. 

“I thought you were done with studying” you deadpan. 

He hums a laugh, “you can never be done with studying" he quips sarcastically. 

You let out a breath of frustration as he continued digging through his bag. 

“Look Parker I really need to focus-”

“Oh I wanted to give you this,” he mumbles, cutting you off and pulling a sheet of paper from the backpack, sliding it across the desk to you. 

You look down at the page, it's a photocopied version of his messy, yet readable notes. 

“Your bio notes…?” you look up at him and meet his eyes, “why?” your brows furrow further though this time fueled by confusion. 

He hums, opening his book, “felt like being nice” he adds and you let out a humoured scoff. 

“And you just somehow knew…” you correct yourself with a clearing of your throat, “Well, thought I needed these” You watch him, a brow raised in confusion, 

“I can take them back,” he grins, meeting your eyes and reaching across to snatch them from your hands. You pull away, further furrowing your brow and begin reading the notes. 

“What did you do to them,” you ask, sceptically as you skim the page. His work seems genuine, in fact, the notes are far more well-versed than the half-assed sheet of scribbles you’ve been working on and you swallow the insecure feeling you’ve grown used to. 

He laughs, his smile growing as his hands pull back and raise defensively with a soft ‘nothing’. 

You spare him a cautious eye with a shake of your head, continuing to look through the notes. 

“Hey… look at this way,” his face turns earnest as he leans in to speak, you humour him, placing the paper down and giving him your attention. 

“Now you won’t fail” he nods, the mask of seriousness slipping away as he breaks into a stupid grin.

‘Asshole’ you mumble to yourself softly, a gentle smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and you shake your head. 

He watches you carefully, satisfied with the faint smile that curls on your lips. 

“Seriously though, how’d you know I’d be here?” your focus turns back to the notes with the raise of an eyebrow and the linger of a smile. 

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair, “remember that one time in English,” he says in an attempt to jog your memory, his hand finds the textbook in front of him and he fidgets with the pages, “we were fighting about the best libraries,” you’re sure he’s right because the two of you fight about everything, “you said this one was your favourite, specifically this area because you like to look into the garden” 

He’s right, you like to look out of the giant glass windows and watch people sitting in the library's garden, studying with their friends.

“And what, you wrote all that down in your journal?” you joke, watching as he laughs.

He hums nodding his head with a, ‘Yeah, wrote it all down in my personal diary’.

“No um,” he breathes a laugh, “I just have a good memory,” his eyes flick to meet yours, you exhale a sceptical hum, nodding your head in response. 

“How else do you think I beat you in all those exams,” he smirks watching the grin tug at your lips,

“What, like the one on friday?” you mock.

“No like the one tomorrow” he retorts. 

This pulls a laugh from your lips, you roll your eyes with a shake of your head. 

You hum as the laughter dies down, “you might’ve got me there” you say softly, letting up the teasing and your eyes leave his, suddenly very interested in your textbook. Unconsciously your lip slips between your teeth and Peter notices. 

“Do you… want help studying?” he offers awkwardly, it’s unusual for him and your eyes flick up, sending a sceptical look.  

You’re met with a genuine smile. 

You beckon him towards you with furrowed brows, he leans forward, accepting your hand against his forehead, with a roll of his eyes and a sweet laugh.

“No fever,” you hum, “but you’re just not acting like yourself,” you mumble in sarcastic dismay and your hand pulls from his forehead, sitting back in your chair, you turn your focus back to your textbook. 

"You're a regular comedian," he remarks dryly, a humoured smile never leaves his lips.

Your eyes keep on the page in front of you, “so I’ve been told” your voice drips with irony, pulling a laugh from Peter. 

“So…” his words fade though you know what he’s asking, he bites the inside of his cheek watching you. 

Your eyes drift to your watch before meeting his, they’re already staring at you. 

“I truly, truly would love to you” you deadpan with a nod, “I would, but luckily for me, I have work in about ten minutes and my boss will wring my neck if I’m late” You give a wry smile, collecting your things. 

A stupid grin stays curled on his lips, ‘yeah yeah’ he shoos you off with a roll of his eyes.

You’re satisfied with his reaction and push your chair into the desk. 

“Thanks for the notes!” you tease, waving them in his direction as you head for the door. 

______________________________________________________________

As dusk settles outside, the diner is left lit by the dingy light bulbs that hang overhead. Your eyes hurt from their flickering and you blink tightly with a shake of the head in an attempt at dulling the pain. 

Balancing a coffee cup in each hand and a slice of hot apple pie on your left wrist, you tread cautiously, one foot after another, approaching an older couple on the far right of the diner. The heat from the porcelain kisses the tips of your fingers, both cups filled to the brim with boiling hot coffee, your eyes trace the black liquid, watching as it sways with each step you take.

“Here you are,” you give a sweet smile to the older couple, placing their coffees down and hiding a wince as your raw fingers place the hot plate of apple pie between the two of them. The wife thanks you sweetly with a smile and you ask if there's anything else you can help them with, to which they politely decline. 

You offer a smile before turning on your heels and heading back to the kitchen, pushing open the swinging doors softly and slipping inside. You quite narrowly dodge a kitchen hand who’s balancing a towering stack of porcelain dinner plates, frantically apologising, you offer to help out but she swiftly brushes you off, rushing in another direction before you can finish your sentence. 

You slip to a quiet corner of the kitchen, avoiding the preparation benches and bury your face in your hands for just a moment, an exhale of frustration slips from your lips.   

“Hello!” Your manager's voice is grating as he calls your name, your hands drop from your face and you quickly turn to meet him, instead you’re met with clicking fingers inches away from you eyes, you recoil at his obnoxiousness with a flinch. “You’ve still got twenty minutes on the clock kid, get out there” his voice is raised over the sounds of the kitchen, he points to the kitchen doors and you send him a sheepish smile, ‘sorry’ rolls off your tongue but you’re not sure he hears, let alone cares for your apologies. Your expression drops to that of disgust as he passes by, heading to grab something from the freezers, and you throw the finger in his direction. 

You push through heavy kitchen doors, and you notice the back of a man's head sitting in your section of the diner. Rushing to the booth, your eyes flick to your watch quickly and you make a mental note that you have around fifteen minutes left. 

Your hand feels around your apron for your small notebook and pen and your eyes flick down to assist, “Hello welcome to Uncle Bills,” you find it and flip it open giving the man your name, “I’ll be your server today,” you plaster the usual cheesy smile on your face and look up to meet the eyes of the man you’re serving. 

“What a surprise seeing you here” 

“Parker…” your eyes narrow and you try to find the words, “Do you not have a job or like, anyone else to bug?” you genuinely wonder how it’s possible to see someone that you actively avoid twice in a day. 

“That's not a very nice way to talk to customers” he quips, tilting his head to the side.

“Seriously are you stalking me or something,” 

“What you didn’t know about that journal of mine?” he grins up at you, “the one with all that info about your favourite libraries” he laughs with a shrug, and mumbles a ‘thought you knew’.

You roll your eyes with a cross of your arms and turn to clean the table of an old trucker who had finished his burger.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” he laughs out, “I promise. I didn’t know you worked here,” his face is sincere though that stupid grin remains.

You raise your brows at him and a beat passes. 

“I just want a coffee,” he smiles sweetly. 

“Okay” you exhale a sigh, “how do you like it” 

“Just black,” he answers, “so um… when do you get off?”. 

“In like ten minutes thank god, why?” you question writing in your notepad.

“Sugar?” you ask before he can answer and he shakes his head with a, ‘no thanks’

“Well, I just thought, maybe I could walk you home”, he offers with a hint of uncertainty

“What, is my address missing from your journal?” you joke, putting your notepad back into your apron. 

“You’re just on fire today aren’t you” he teases. 

“Aren’t I always,” you give him a sarcastic grin. 

Before turning to get his coffee you pause a moment, meeting his eyes with a genuine smile, “Look Parker… thank you, for the offer but I’m… I’m just exhausted, maybe another time”, you nod and your teeth catch your lip picking at the skin as he responds. 

He nods softly, “Yeah, for sure”. 

You offer a pressed smile before turning to brew his coffee

You return just a moment later, lowering the near overflowing cup ever so slowly ensuring none of it spills. 

“There you go,” you lean in slightly, “I found you our biggest mug, absolutely free of charge” you whisper with a wink, sending a sweet smile.

“My hero” he murmurs sarcastically, matching your low tone with a grin. 

You let out a hum and stand up straight brushing your hands down your apron, “well I’m just about off” You smile and there's an awkward beat of silence.

“Hey you keep those notes I gave you safe, I heard they’re worth a lot” he teases, looking up at you. 

“Hmm, I don't recall any important notes, I did throw away a sheet of paper with unreadable chicken scratch on it though” 

He offers an eye-roll laced with amusement, wishing you a good night. 

You return the sentiment with a sweet grin. 

______________________________________________________________

Awkwardly, your hands fumble behind your back, untying your firmly tied apron. You grab your tips from the pocket and stuff them in your jean pocket. With care, you fold the apron neatly and slide it into the pigeon-hole designated with your name, swapping it with your jacket which you slip on. 

The image of Peter's big brown eyes flash in your mind and you feel the all-too-familiar pang of guilt rising in your throat. Your teeth snag your lips as you frown slightly and for a moment you think you should have accepted his offer to walk you home. 

You swing your backpack over your shoulder, taking a second to think, and release it’s likely you’ll catch him on your way out, you swallow your nerves and decide you’ll take him up on his offer. 

You let your manager know you’re leaving and push through the kitchen swinging doors, expecting to see Peter still sitting at the booth. 

Instead, you’re met with a half-drunken cup of coffee and a five-dollar tip. Your lips curl into a smile and you roll your eyes, ‘always the gentlemen’ you think to yourself as you pocket the money. 

______________________________________________________________

The soles of your shoes tap against the floor of the subway, and you hum along to your music, resting the back of your head against the cool of the glass. The subway is quiet at this time of night having just missed rush hour and you’re more than grateful for the peace. The voice of the announcement system warns you that your step is the next, you hear it quietly through your music, opening your resting eyes. 

You step onto the quiet platform, thankful for the more peaceful trip this time around. You walk slowly through quiet backstreets taking your time and mindlessly listening to your music, the volume is gentle, wary of the softly throbbing headache that you’ve acquired from the day. You hum along softly, and your teeth sink into your lip, occupying themselves. 

“I thought we weren’t doing that anymore” a familiar voice calls out and a flash of red drops down next to you. 

You jump slightly, turning to look at the man. “And I thought we weren’t scaring young women at night” You let out a breath attempting to control your heart rate, he laughs with an apology and follows your footsteps, walking by your side. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you again?” you utter, though it comes out as a question. 

He hums a laugh, “I just couldn’t stay away” he teases sarcastically. 

“Seems to be the way a lot of people feel” you mumble with a grin. 

“Elaborate”

“I’m fairly sure I have a highly dedicated stalker” you nod playfully. 

He chuckles, “And what makes you think that”. 

“You know that kid I was talking about, Peter?” you ask and Spiderman nods along, “well, he first found me at my favourite library and then walked into my job four hours later to order a coffee”. 

“Sounds like we have a high-profile case on our hands,” he jokes and it pulls a small laugh from your lips with an eye roll. 

“You know you sound a lot like him” you say matter-of-factly. 

“You don’t know what I sound like” he retorts rather quickly. 

“No I mean,” you think for a moment, “you’re both annoyingly witty”. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment” he jokes with a satisfied nod. 

“How does the um,” you raise your hand to your lips, “the voice thing, how does it work” you question with a small tilt of your head. 

“It’s just a vocal converter” he nods. 

“Like Ghostface in Scream,” you add and he nods. 

“And the um,” your hand hovers over your wrist, and you contort your hand into his signature pose. 

“Oh, here look” he stops the both of you and flips his wrist, a white web shoots onto the brick wall behind you. 

“Try it,” he mumbles, your hand hovers over his wrist and he gives you a soft nod, encouraging you to press down on the sensor. You press the heel of his hand and a web shoots past you, sticking to the wall in one swift motion. Your mouth forms an ‘O’ as you mumble a soft, ‘woah’,

Spiderman watches you, a soft smile sits behind his mask. “So do you, like, have any actual powers?” you ask with a furrowed brow, “besides being a genius” you add and the irony draws a small laugh from the boy. 

He hums a soft ‘hmh’, he shakes the web from the shooter and walks past you. You stand with crossed arms and watch as he climbs the walls, his hands and feet sticking to the vertical bricks. “So you can do that without the suit?” you call up at him and he gives a soft nod, releasing the wall and gracefully falling from the height. 

“What else can you do?” you ask in awe, you had never particularly been a fan of Spiderman, you’d watched the news clips, and defended him when your mum questioned if his presence was ethical, though you’d never questioned, nor ever thought of, the logistics of his ‘powers’. 

He lets out a laugh, “I have um, enhanced strength, agility, stamina, all that” he nods, “Oh and um, a tingle?” it comes out as a question and he tilts his head slightly.

“I do not want to hear about your tingle dude” you laugh with a disgusted face, he elbows you gently, with a, ‘Not like that you weirdo’. “No it’s like, I can tell when there’s danger,” he attempts to explain, “like, I know to duck before something hits my head”. 

You shove your hand in your pocket, pulling out a scrunched-up receipt and throw it towards his head. His hand raises swiftly, catching the ball of paper, “really?” he questions before unravelling it, with a serious face and a hum he reads, “Hemorrhoid cream?”. 

Your brows furrow and you quickly grab the receipt to see a grocery list of, ‘gum, Coke Zero and a KitKat’, you roll your eyes with a ‘ha ha, very funny’. 

“So,” he looks down at you and the two of you make eye contact, “tell me about your day,” he mumbles as the two of you continue your stroll, you accept his offer once again. 

“It was pretty boring… I studied for like god knows how long and got nowhere,” you grumble and Spiderman listens attentively. “Then, just as I was on a roll Parker interrupted me… but he gave me his notes so,” you give a pressed smile, “never will I ever tell him how much it helped me out but he is a lifesaver.” you nod. 

Spiderman's lips curl into a wide grin behind the mask and he lets out a hum in response, ” Anyway my boss is an asshole,” you add with a, ‘but what's new’.

“What’d he do today?” he questions and watches as your eyes roll at the thought of your manager. He’s so intensely focused on you and for the first time since knowing you he’s able to take in the small imperfections on your face, he observes the slope of your nose and the way your mouth moves as you speak, and suddenly he’s all the more grateful for the guise of his mask then he’s ever been before. 

“He’s just an asshole you know?” you ramble, eyes locked on the floor in front of you as your brain trails back to your manager's fingers in your face. “I mean he clicked in my face as if I’m like some dog,” you let out an angry huff, “seriously, get your dirty ass fingernails out of my face dude, and then he yelled in my face!” you take in a deep breath before releasing it with the rest of your frustration. 

Spiderman frowns slightly behind the mask with a shake of his head, “you want me to web him up?” he attempts and grins as your lips curl into a smile. “That would be great actually,” you giggle. 

There's a beat of silence before you start up again, “and, I don't know, I feel guilty, I think Peter keeps trying to hangout with me, I mean I refused him like twice today and I don't know…” you trail off for a moment, “It’s not like I hate him, I mean he’s annoying, but so am I, and… well I actually really like talking to him, I just,” you look up at Spiderman, “I’m not blabbing on too much?”. 

His masked face shakes slightly with a soft laugh and a, ‘You’re good.’

“I just don’t think I’m that great at being friends with people,” you exhale a sigh. 

“Well we’re friends” he adds and the Peter behind the mask feels a pang of guilt.

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumble. 

“What you don’t think we’re friends” he quips, nudging you softly and you hum a laugh. 

“Well this is our second time talking…” you trail off and look up at him, sending a stupid grin. 

“That's okay… we just… move fast,” he mumbles and you hum in agreement with a nod, ‘really fast,’ you add and he laughs with an, ‘Exactly’.

“No… you’re right,” and you send him a genuine smile, “Thanks Spidey, for listening”. 

“Spidey huh?” he asks teasingly. “Well I’m not going to say Spiderman every time we talk” you ask with a grin, “I bet you’re not even a man,” you add teasingly. 

“What makes you say that,” he asks defensively. 

“Well first of all that was a little defensive,” you giggle, “and I don’t know,” you shrug, “I’m a teenager, I go to school with teenagers, I know how they act,” you mumble matter-of-factly with a grin. 

“Also I would be a little worried if a forty-year-old man actively sought out walking me home at night,” you add 

“Proud of your detective work are you?” he teases and you give a cocky nod. 

“Well I can’t actually tell you my age-”, he begins,

“Oh come on,” you grin, cutting him off. 

“Okay, you wanna know?” he asks, his tone is earnest and you respond with an eager nod. He pauses and leans in slightly, and you follow his action,

“I’m actually eighty,” he says and a giggle slips from his lips. You grin with an eye roll and hit his arm playfully, he lets out a joking, ‘ow’.

“I think you should have a little more respect for senior citizens,” he laughs following as you continue your route home,

“I have plenty of respect for real senior citizens,” you mumble. 

As the two of you reach your apartment block you let out a huff of pain. “I’m going to rip my feet off,” you groan, wiggling your toes in your shoe. 

“Not so sure that will do any good,” he quips and you grin. 

“What kind of apartment building doesn’t hand an elevator,” you moan, 

“Why don’t I swing you to your fire escape,” he offers sweetly, and you send him a smile, “really?” you ask. 

He hums a, ‘mhm’, and your smile curls wider, before dropping ever so slightly, “my mum… she’ll wonder why I didn't come through the front door,” and Spidey gives a shrug. 

“Maybe she just didn’t notice,” he offers, winking behind the mask before he remembers that you can’t see his face. “Yeah… why not,” you shrug dismissively with a smile. 

He wraps a tight arm around your waist, ‘which is yours?’ he asks and you point to the one lit up with a string of fairy lights with a sheepish smile, he lets out a small laugh finding your attempt at decoration sweet. 

“You’re going to need to hold onto me okay,” he mumbles and you swallow a pang of nerves with a nod of your head before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. 

He shoots a web, swinging you both upwards and you let out a small yelp at the feeling of the floor disappearing beneath your shoes. Your arms tighten around him and your eyes slam shut at the strange feeling of freefalling for short bursts of moments. 

You feel his chuckle rise with a chuckle as you cling to him tightly. Wind rushes past your ears and through your hair before you feel your feet land on the slightly shaky fire escape, it's over before it begins and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Holy shit that is terrifying,” you mumble with big eyes, a laugh escapes your lips and you meet his gaze. 

“Next time you should try opening your eyes,” he teases and you mumble a ‘next time?’ with the raise of a brow. He nods with a laugh, “I’ll take you,” he says and his voice is sweet. 

You breathe out an, ‘okay’ with a sure nod of your head. “You should see how beautiful the city is at night,” he mumbles softly and you feel a grin of admiration grow on your face. 

“I’ll look forward to it,” you smile and you wish each other a goodnight before he swings off.

TAGLIST

@chaoticcoffeequeen

[diedraechin]

[Sneak Peek] What Chapter are we on now????

Chapter 52? Really? Damn.

Anyway, I have like one half of a scene to write before giving this to Io to edit, but I didn't want you all to think I've forgotten you since we're in the midst of the Grand Prix series. Besides the spills in the Skate Canada Men's Short (I'm still in the process of watching) reminded me of the even splattier place I left you hanging... So I thought I'd give you some fan chatter from the stands as a treat!

I did cut a bit out for length because I needed the set up but wanted to end on a specific punchline. So just know that there is more back and forth as a certain pole dance instructor gets a Katsuki lesson... 😉

“Ok. I found it.” Tabitha squinted at her phone. “He’s skating in the second to last group according to Skate Trails.” She looked away from her phone and over at her wife. “I don’t really keep up with Men’s though, so I can’t tell you anything about Katsuki.”

Jade just shook her head and leaned back into her seat. “That’s fine. I just wanted to see if we’d missed his skate because it’d be nice to see how he does.”

“I didn’t realize that you were a Katsuki fan!” One of the women behind them leaned forward. Jade and Tabby had chatted with her during the Pairs event earlier before going off on their antiquing adventure with the friends they were staying with during the break between the Pairs event and the Men’s. Though they’d ended up missing most of the first two groups all together since dinner had gone long. Still, it was kind of nice to see a familiar face. While Jade had known this was going to be an all day thing, it was really an all day thing.

<snip snip for excerpt length>

“I heard that a Grand Prix thing is coming to Detroit.” Jade was just happy to have something to add to the conversation.

“Really?!” Tabitha looked at her. “To Detroit? I haven’t looked to see where Skate America was going to be next season yet.”

Katsuki fan nodded. “Oh yeah. And I really hope that Yuuri gets assigned since he trains in Detroit because I will definitely drive down from Guelph if he does. I’d love to see him live again. And when the events are smaller like Grand Prixs, it can be easier to meet the skaters if they have the time and inclination.”

"Time and inclination? Katsuki?" No one could miss the snark from Newcomer, but given that she knew Yuuri wasn't the most...forward person, Jade didn't exactly disagree.

Katsuki fan smacked her hands on her thighs. "Let me dream!" Then she broke out into a wide smile and laughed.

“Looks like they’re going to let them onto the ice.” Katsuki fan’s friend said as she shook her friend's arm.

Jade and Tabitha turned around in their seats and sure enough, almost as soon as they settled, the announcer was declaring the start of the group and the skaters all took off onto the ice, some handing things off to the people standing on the other side of the boards as the six skaters scattered across the ice.

“I can’t tell who is who.” Jade said.

“Fluffy hair in the Japan jacket is Murata, he’s the other Japanese skater. Slicked back hair is Yuuri.” Katsuki fan said.

Over the speakers, the announcer started calling out the names of the skaters and the country they represented and each skater was greeted with cheers and applause even though none of the skaters broke from their warmup to acknowledge it. Behind them, Katsuki’s fan cheered for each skater but was especially loud when Yuuri’s name was called, shouting “Yuuri, Ganbaaaaa!”

On the ice, Yuuri unzipped his jacket as he headed to the boards and he handed it over to someone there.

“Oh my god! Is that Kai Tamm?! Kai showed up?! Hallelujah!” Katsuki fan certainly sounded overjoyed. “Should have been checking the forums, I bet her showing up was already mentioned.”

So did her friend. “My prayers have been answered! Do you think if I pray hard enough, he’ll come to his senses and go back to Alexei?”

Jade glanced over her shoulder at them.

“Kai is the assistant coach at the Detroit Skate Club that Yuuri works with. She’s the tiny Hawaiian woman next to the idiot Italian with the big hair who is supposed to be Yuuri’s coach. Sorry, I’m just from the side of Yuuri’s fandom who isn’t really pleased with how Cialdini is coaching our boy.”

And when Jade looked back, it was the woman who was talking to Yuuri as he nodded. Another skater came up and stopped in a way that sprayed Yuuri with ice, but Yuuri just leaned over and brushed the crystals off his black pants without looking away from the woman.

“Rude.” Tabitha muttered. “Shouldn’t he get in trouble?”

“It’s Michele Crispino. It wouldn’t be a competition where they competed together without Yuuri getting sprayed by a Michele hockey stop.” And as Newcomer finished their commentary, Michele left the boards, but not without patting Yuuri once on the shoulder. Without looking Yuuri held out a thumbs up to the other skater which Yuuri’s coach seemed to approve of since he looked like he was laughing.

“Michele is going to regret that because KAI IS HERE!” Katsuki’s fan cheered. A few people around them chuckled.

“Using the Goncharov (1973) soundtrack for his Free is reason enough for Mickey to come ahead of Katsuki!” someone commented.

“Are you a Mickey fan or a Goncharov fan?” Newcomer asked.

“Does it matter?” came the reply.

[bitchyycapricorn]

Almost There

Peter Parker x Ghost!Reader

Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.6K

Synopsis: Peter enters his apartment that night expecting to find an empty bed. But instead, he comes face to face with your transparent glowing figure.

Warnings: ANGST!, Mentions of children dying, jealousy, Ned and Reader lowkey being besties

AN: I swear I actually like MJ’s character in MCU but it’s for the fic. Not edited.

You hadn’t bothered to go back to Peter’s apartment that day. Instead you found yourself in search of Ned, the person who was soon to be your new roommate. Hopefully. He was your only other friend besides Peter. Since you and Peter were no longer on speaking terms as of last night, you desperately need him to agree to let you bunk with him for the time being. And so, you found yourself poking your head into every room to the left of Peter’s apartment in hopes of finding Ned’s, since the only real information you had to go off of was that it was on the same floor and well, to the left.

You had managed to make it to the very last door with no sign of Ned. Sucking in a breath, you poked your head through the wooden door and took a look around. Thankfully, Ned stood in his kitchen warming up a cup of Mac and cheese. You let out a sigh and made your way through the door and over to where he was standing. “Hey Ned,” you say casually, turning solid so he could see you.

Ned let out a shriek, his hand flying to his heart as he backs into the counter behind him. His eyes lock with yours looking absolutely terrified as he attempts to get his breathing back under control. “That was so very uncalled for.” He heaves, looking up at the now beeping microwave.

Offering him an embarrassed smile, you open the microwave and quickly retrieve his food in an attempt to make up for scarring the living daylights out of him. “Sorry Ned, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I uh, me and Peter aren’t exactly good anymore and I really need somewhere to chill. I know you mentioned living alone and I just, it would be so cool if-“ a frustrated sigh escapes your lips as your mind wanders back to yesterday. It seems so ridiculous that you’re the one who has to leave because Peter happened to get some living girlfriend.

“Hey, you’re good. Peter mentioned that you two got in a fight. I just don’t think he expected you to actually leave.” He replied as he took a bite of his food. Oh how you missed real food.

Another sigh left your lips as you shifted slightly on your feet, “So am I good to stay?” You tried again, cutting straight to the point this time.

“Yeah of course, having a ghost roommate is going to be sick dude.” He laughs, this time offering you a smile.

“Oh good, I was honestly worried I was going to have to stay here behind your back.”

Wait what?”

You brush off his confusion and turn on your heels instead, making your way over to his gaming console. “Peter and I normally play and let me tell you, I kick ass at Mario Cart if you dare to play me.” You tease offering the other controller to Ned. “You down?”

Ned’s smile widens as he takes the controller from you. “Oh it’s on.”

+++

The sun had already began to set by the time you and Ned had decided to make the responsible decision to put the game down. You had in fact kicked his ass at every single round of Mario Cart, but of course he had you beat at Super Smash Bros. “I don’t even think Peter is that fun,” Ned laughs as he puts away your guy’s controllers and turns off the game.

“That’s because I’m just so much cooler than Parker.” You giggle, getting up to stretch.

Ned turns to face you once again, giving you a kind smile. “Also, it’s totally freaky when you like disappear and only your hands are like there.”

You pause a moment, remembering Ned isn’t able to see you when you’re a ghost. “Oh shit, I totally forgot only Peter can see me because of his spider thingy.”

“So like, can you make any of your body visible while the rest is invisible? Or just your hands?” He asks, suddenly intrigued by this new information.

You give a small shrug before turning everything but your feet invisible, then your left leg, and then only your right eyebrow. Turning back fully visible you give Ned a smile, “I can do the Cheshire Cat thing,”

His eyes go wide as your body slowly fades and all that’s left is your smile. “That is the coolest thing I think I’ve ever seen. And I’m Spider-Man’s guy in the chair.”

“Guy in the chair? So like Peter’s sidekick?” You hum, turning fully visible again. Ned nods, eyes shifting over to the time.

“Yeah but guy in the chair sounds way better, also it’s getting really late.” He says, nodding at the clock on the oven. You look over your shoulder and realize he’s right, it was late.

“You’re right, we should probably get to bed.” You yawn, feeling yourself begin to shut down as if the sight of the time was an automatic trigger.

“I can take the couch if you want my bed?” Ned offers causing you to frown.

“Can’t we just share the bed?” You ask confused.

A blush spreads across Neds face as he looks to the side feeling suddenly awkward. “Share…A bed?”

“Me and Peter shared a bed.” You say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Ned hesitates again, “Yeah but like, isn’t it a bit weird for us to share a bed?”

Your frown deepens as your teeth tug on your bottom lip. “We can sleep separately if you’d like, I just…I don’t like being alone. I was alone for so long. And I like the body heat. It was so cold, so damp, so dark, and I was so alone.”

Ned’s here shatters at your words, realizing you were talking about your death. “Y/N, I’m so so sorry, of course you can slee- wait damp?” He blurts out, completely thrown off.

Your eyes meet his and your pause as well. Your mind is suddenly shifting through your blurry memories. “Yes, it was damp. Like the air was damp, the walls had water on them…” you suddenly felt less confident in what you were saying. “And I was alone after the others stopped,” you pause again, realizing that you had blocked out most of these memories.

“Others?” Ned asked, just as confused as you were.

“Yes…the others, the other children were crying. And then it stopped. I could not see them, it was dark and my eyes were..I don’t know. I want to go to bed now, I don’t- I don’t like this.” Your voice cracked as tears began flowing down your puffy cheeks. Suddenly the thought of Peter’s warm embrace ran through your mind, making you wish you had never fought.

Ned nodded, grabbing your hand softly and leading you into his room. “Let’s get some rest okay?” He whispered as you both snuggled into bed. “You won’t be alone, I’ll stay right here.” He promised, letting you slip into a deep slumber.

+++

Ned rushed into the dinning hall to find Peter sitting with MJ. “We need to talk,” Ned wheezes, “it’s about Y/N/N,” he finishes once he catches his breath. Your name catches Peter’s attention quite quickly, the thought of you had been on his mind all last night. His bed had never felt so empty without you.

“Is she okay?” Peter asks quickly, feeling suddenly protective and a bit possessive over you.

“Debatable honestly, but none of that matters until we can talk alone,” Ned’s gaze shifts over to MJ, who looks a bit irritated that another girl was being talked about. “It’s uh, private.” He nods, signaling for Peter to follow him.

Peter hesitates, looking over to MJ, “I promise this will be quick, I uh- I just have to hear this.”

“Mhm, so who’s ‘Y/N/N?” MJ cuts in, still looking annoyed.

“Our neighbor,” Ned says quickly, “we all became friends when me and Peter moved in.”

“Uh huh, and why is it the first time I’m hearing about this girl?” She asks, still skeptical.

“Because Ned really likes her and we didn’t want to invite her into the friend group unless she said yes.” Peter replies quickly, sending Ned a pleading look.

Ned nods, “Mhm, huuugggeeee crush. Now let’s go this is life or death important.”

Peter sends one last apologetic smile MJ’s way before following Ned out to the courtyard.

“This better be good dude, my girlfriend can already tell something is up and the guilt of me kissing Y/N is eating me up.” Peter grumbles.

“Can elevators be damp?” Ned asks, turning to face Peter.

Peter pauses, his face falling. “What?”

Ned groans, “Dude I’m serious. Can an elevator be damp?”

“I mean, that seems a bit odd for an elevator to be damp.” Peter says slowly, “why?”

Ned nods, looking around to make sure no one was near them. “That’s what I thought too. But yesterday, Y/N mentioned that when she died it was damp. That wasn’t even the weirdest part though. She mentioned there being others.”

“Others?”

“Yeah, others. Which would have made sense except for the fact she also mentioned that she felt alone once the crying stopped. Peter, if the crying stopped that means the others died before her.” Ned said slowly.

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, “That can’t be possible, she would’ve had to have died from the impact, she fell from too high up…”

“Exactly. Meaning she didn’t die from an elevator malfunction.”

“But the elevator story is true, it really did crash eight years ago, it’s still out of order because of how bad it was. That’s why they had to build the new one on the opposite end of the building, near your room. “ Peter explains.

“So then how did an elevator get completely obliterated to the point it can’t be fixed, not kill everyone on impact?”

Peter presses his lips together, “Then what the hell actually happened to Y/N?”

+++

Taglist

[sweetprfct]

Is It Over Now?

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fake dating your flatmate, Joe, should be a simple thing. It meant you get to help get his ex back, and it meant you get to stop your parents' nagging about bringing someone home for once. But what happens when fake dating turns into something unexpected? Now, what?

Author's Note: Part 2! :) Enjoy ! I actually am editing these chapters as I re-upload them so it's better but not much will change.

Disclaimer: Mention of violence, 18+

Wordcount: 4.4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

Joe’s head pounded the second he woke up the next morning. He slowly fluttered his eyes open, adjusting his vision from the bright light that was coming through the window. He couldn’t tell where he was at the moment until his eyes caught the sight of the coffee table and the television in front of him. He was still in the living room just like the blur memory he remembered from last night. He groaned softly, rubbing his temples and pinching the bridge of his nose to try and get rid of the throbbing headache, but it was no use. He drank too much last night, and he still remembered every detail of it. Every pain and every word that Ivy had told him. 

Shifting his eyes back on the coffee table, he found a glass of water, a paracetamol, and a yellow sticky note. Slowly, he pushed himself up from the sofa and let out another groan. God, he was starting to feel old. His body felt sore from sleeping on the sofa all night. He picked up the yellow sticky note and read:

Thought you might need it.

He knew that handwriting from anywhere and that was from you. He looked around the flat and found that it was quiet and empty. You were nowhere to be found. Taking the medicine and immediately washing it down with the water, he let out a sigh and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He could still hear Ivy’s voice echoing in his mind from last night. He couldn’t help but wonder where he went wrong in showing her how much he wanted to be with her. Pulling out his phone from his back pocket, he stared at the screen for a moment before pulling up his messages from Ivy. He hasn't seen her for two months, and he was really excited to spend some time with her last night. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked. 

His mind flashed back to the memory from last night. He had taken her to a nice restaurant for once and not a pub, and he wanted the night to be a special night, but Ivy hasn’t said much ever since he picked her up from her flat. To make matters worse, she also has just been sitting there across from him barely eating her dinner. He had been telling her about what happened on set for his new film, and she barely listened. She was zoning out the whole time just staring into the empty space in front of her. 

“I don’t know if I can take anymore of this, Joe.” Ivy blurted the words out, cutting off the story that he was telling her.

Joe knitted his brows, confused as to what she was referring to. He reached for her hand on the table, but she was quick to slide it away. 

“What are you talking about, babe?” His voice was full of concern.

“I mean I can’t take anymore of barely seeing you. Whenever you come back, you’re only in town for a few days, and you leave again.”

Joe knew that his job was complicated, and it even got more complicated when his career had started going up. Flying to the States, other countries and different cities for conventions and events was what was taking up his life lately. Booking a role after another and attending fashion events and shooting commercials for them was the definition of his life for the last however many months. 

“Ivy, I know it can get so hard and complicated, but I’m trying my best to balance it all. It’s hard for me too, not seeing you everyday.”

Ivy didn’t buy what he said though. Instead, she scoffed and shook her head as she took a sip of her drink. 

“Don’t even get me started with that flatmate of yours.” She added. 

Joe furrowed his brows, confused. How did the subject of you suddenly enter this conversation? What was Ivy talking about? He hasn’t even shown any interest towards you nor had he seen you in months because he was barely home. Whenever he was in town, he would stay at Ivy’s most of the time. So, what was the problem when it came to you?

“She’s just my flatmate.” Joe reassured her. “There’s nothing going on between me and her. I barely see her.”

“And how do I know that? How can I be so sure?” Ivy’s eyes were full of jealousy. “She’s pretty, and I’m sure she’s better than me right? Because she’s smart and works at a lab. A fucking chemist, and I’m just a model.”

Joe shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t put together how Ivy was comparing herself to you. Hasn’t he shown her all this time that he only wanted her and no one else? What more could he say or do?

“Babe, we’re just flatmates. You’re the one I want to be with.” Joe said sternly.

Watching Ivy throw her napkin on the table, she got up from her chair as Joe followed her. He wanted to stop her from leaving, but he couldn’t. 

“No, Joe.” Ivy stated. “This isn’t working out anymore.”

She had made up her mind, and Joe knew when Ivy made up her mind, there was no going back. But how could she just leave like that? How could she choose to believe the insecurities that were screaming in her mind than the actions he had shown to her several times? Not once had Joe broken his promises to her nor tried to disappoint her. Even when he was away, he always tried his best to make sure they talked every single day, so she didn’t feel like she was far from him. Now, he watched her walk out that door as if what they had the last several months was nothing. 

It was over. 

She was gone. 

Joe sighed at the memory as he made his way towards the bathroom. He smelled like alcohol and cigarettes, and his head was pounding even harder the more he thought about her. What else could he do? What could he do to get her back?

The sound of the coffee mug hitting the glass table echoed softly through the room. The place was crowded with people having a Sunday brunch with their friends or families. The gloomy January weather didn’t help with the mood of the conversation you were having with your friends.

Sara’s eyes widened in disbelief as she said, “Really?”

You nodded your head, looking at her through your lashes as you took a sip of your hot coffee. The hot liquid warmed up your throat and made your body relax. It was cold and gloomy, but you never wanted to miss your weekly Sunday brunch with Sara and Abby. It was a little tradition the three of you started ever since Sara had moved out. It was something you found comfort in every week. The day of the week that you would feel more at ease because Sara tends to balance you, and Abby was the most calm person you ever met. 

When Sara had met Abby at the art gallery three years ago, you immediately knew that she was the right person for Sara. Her wavy brown hair, green eyes and soft smile definitely caught Sara’s eyes at the beginning, but it was Abby’s calmness, patience and warm persona that made Sara fall in love with her. You weren’t going to lie that you also felt comfortable and at ease when you first met Abby too. You could understand why Sara had fallen for her. Now, every Sunday, the three of you would catch up and hang out, especially because life would get busy and chaotic from time to time. 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I feel sorry for him.”

You just finished telling Sara and Abby about what you dealt with last night when Joe came home. Both women had met Joe before, and they knew he was a decent guy, but he was never the main subject of most of your conversations until now. You didn’t really know what to do or to think, so you wanted to seek out some advice or opinion from your best friends. 

“Honestly, Ivy sounds sort of insecure.” Abby commented. 

Abby was right. Even if you have dealt with your own insecurities, you could tell that Ivy also had a fair share of hers because really? Jealous of you? You were literally nothing but just a normal person trying to get through life, while her modeling career was quickly rising. She had nothing to worry about when it came to you. 

“Maybe Joe isn’t showing her enough reassurance?” Abby added, shrugging her shoulders.

You watched as Sara turned to you and tilted her head, brows all furrowed. “Are you sure that having Joe as your flatmate is a good idea?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes with how many times you have heard that line. 

“You sound like my mother.” You retorted back.

Sara chuckled softly at your comment and said, “No, but seriously… because do you really want to get caught up in their drama?”

Drama? That was the last thing you wanted in your life, especially in a drama that involved someone else’s relationship. You knew what Joe was going through, but you weren’t about to cross boundaries. What was going on between him and Ivy was their business, not yours. 

“I’m not really caught up in their drama. That’s their own problem, you know? My name just happened to get dragged into it.” You casually said as you shrugged your shoulders.

It was the truth. You weren’t. 

“Yeah, but what if she drags you even more in her little insecurity?” Abby addressed.

You knew what was going on between them. Even if your name was dragged to their conversation last night, you weren’t the big issue here. Joe had told you that, and you knew there were other issues they were dealing with. Ivy just happened to include you into it. Maybe to cause more excuses not to be with Joe. You really didn’t know.

“I don’t care what she feels about me because I’m not doing anything to her.” You took a bite off your waffle and decided to change the subject. You were sort of over this conversation about Joe. 

Whatever was going on with him, that was his business. All you did was comfort him and listen to him, hoping you’d make someone feel better. That was all. 

“Anyway, enough about me. How are you? How is married life treating you both?” You asked, a small smile creeping up on your face. 

You watched as the two women exchanged looks before both of their lips tugged into a smile. 

“Great!” Sara replied. “We’re settling in the new place, and Abby is back to work. Though, we sort of started talking about something the other night.”

Your eyes watched as Sara and Abby held hands, giving each other a warm smile. It made you more curious as to what Sara was talking about. 

“Tell her.” Abby murmured, squeezing Sara’s hand softly. 

Your eyes widened in curiosity as you waited for one of them to tell you whatever they were planning, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit impatient as Sara tried to find the right words to say to you. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

“I don’t know.” Sara suddenly felt shy as she gave Abby a hesitant look, which in return, Abby kept giving her an approval look. “We were sort of talking a lot of things about our future last night, and we know it sounds a bit crazy…” 

You raised your brows, wanting Sara to just spat out the words. 

“Yea?”

“We sort of want to adopt.” Sara finally said. 

You couldn’t help but almost jump out of your seat from excitement as soon as Sara said those words. 

“Ohmygod.” You covered your mouth with your hand. “Are you serious?”

Abby and Sara glanced at each other with excitement. They really were serious, and you could tell how thrilled they were by just how they were talking about it. They both turned back to you and nodded their heads. 

“I’m so happy for you both.” You took both of their hands in yours. “Please let me know if I could help with anything.”

“Thank you.” Abby smiled. “We both knew we wanted this even before getting married and the fact that it’s happening, we are very excited about it.”

“Then, you both should go for it!” You encouraged them even more as you all laughed softly in unison. 

“And you should go look for a new flat!” Sara teased you, squeezing your hand softly.

“Stop it! I’m fine.” You rolled your eyes, sliding your hands away from theirs. “I’m perfectly happy with my situation, and it’s not like Joe is bothering me. They’re broken up. I have nothing to worry about.”

Abby took a sip of her coffee and a playful smile tugged on her lips. “Who knows… Maybe you’ll end up with Joe.”

Oh, here we go again. 

Why did everyone keep pushing this idea of you and Joe? He literally was nothing but just your flatmate. Just because he was a man didn’t mean that you two would end up together. A woman and a man could be flatmates together. Just like a man and a woman could be friends. 

Right?

“We’re just flatmates. That’s all.” You argued.

You just wished everyone was going to drop this subject already because you and Joe weren’t going to happen. Ever.

Coming home later that day, you found the flat quiet and empty. The sofa was back to the way it looked. Pillows fluffed, throw blanket folded and hung at the back of it. The kitchen was clean, and the dishes that Joe promised he would wash were all clean and put away. Joe was nowhere to be found, and you figured maybe he had gone out. Maybe he went to go talk to Ivy or pick up his things from her place. Who knows.

As you walked down the hall towards your bedroom, floorboards creaked, and you heard a quiet rustling that came from Joe’s room. 

Oh, he was home. 

You passed by his bedroom and paused in your tracks as soon as you saw him organizing his room. He looked better. Not his usual normal face, but he looked better than last night. 

“Hey.” You gave him a soft smile, leaning against the doorframe.

Joe never set boundaries like you did with him, but you tend to respect his own private space. He didn’t have to set rules with you because he didn’t really care that much about his own boundaries, but you respected him as your flat mate. It was his bedroom. You never tried to step into it. 

“How are you?” You asked.

Joe shut his closet doors closed and took a deep breath, turning his attention to you with a smile. 

“Good. I have been thinking a lot all morning.” 

He looked… enthusiastic?

“Oh, yeah?” You raised your brows. “How’d that go?”

Joe started walking towards you as he said, “I really like Ivy.”

You nodded your head in understanding, trying to figure out where this conversation was going.

“And you know that, right?” Joe asked as if you were out of the loop about this whole thing.

Of course, you knew. He was probably mad over her.

“Right, but Joe if she doesn’t want this anymore–”

Joe cut you off as he stopped in front of you. It looked like a light bulb switched above his head as his lips tugged into a devious smile. 

“So, I was thinking that Ivy was just being Ivy, and she just wants attention. I know she wants me to chase her.”

What the fuck was he on? 

You furrowed your brows, wondering what that mind of his started thinking all morning that all of a sudden he was saying all of these things. If he wanted her back, then so be it. It was his life, and you couldn’t stop whatever he wanted to do with his life. You weren’t his mother. Though, from the look of his expression, you didn’t think his own mother could also stop him from doing whatever he wanted anyway. 

“So, I’m going to try and get her back.” Joe continued.

Well, good for you, mate but good luck. 

“Can I ask a favor though? No, not favor… But I need your help.”

Now, you were scared–no–terrified.

You stood there without saying a word as you blinked your eyes and stared at Joe for a moment. You didn’t want to say anything or ask what he wanted because you had a feeling in your stomach that it was going to be something you weren’t going to agree on. You could just feel it. 

“What is it?” You steady your voice, trying not to stumble on your words. 

“I need you to be my fake girlfriend.” Joe said sternly, his chocolate button eyes staring right into your eyes.

Oh, fuck no.

Absolutely fucking not. 

Your eyes widened in disbelief, trying to repeat Joe’s words in your head. Did he really just said that? Did he really just asked you that? When he said he had been thinking all day, you didn’t realize that he hadn’t been thinking at all! Where the fuck did he even got this idea from? Did he put that paracetamol somewhere other than his mouth, or did that medicine went up to his brain? 

You understood that he was going through a difficult and rough time due to the fact that he liked Ivy that much, but did he completely lose his mind? Was this the situation that Abby and Sara were afraid of when they said that you really needed to look for a new flat? Because it was starting to look like your flatmate had gone mad. 

“E…Excuse me, what?!” You finally found your words as you looked at Joe in disbelief. 

“I know that I probably sound mad but–”

“Uh… yeah, you got that right!” You scoffed, shaking your head as you took a step back from him. 

Maybe your mother was right. What else was he going to do next? Stab you just like what that boyfriend of your mother’s friend’s daughter did?! 

Joe saw the horrific look in your eyes as he tried to calm you down and showed you that he wasn’t actually going mad but all you wanted to do was run away from where you were. 

Joe sighed and looked down at his feet and said, “If she saw you and me are dating, then she’d get jealous and she’d ask me to get her back.”

You really need to go find another flat. 

You shook your head and started making your way towards your bedroom. “Absolutely not! You’ve gone mad!”

Joe followed behind you, and you gave him a “don’t you dare” look as soon as he was about to step inside your room. Joe, however, caught himself and stood by your doorway with pleading eyes. 

“Please? I know that this is crazy, and you probably think I’m crazy, but I really like her. I just…” Joe’s voice was soft as he let out a sigh and said, “I really thought she was the one.”

You weren’t going to lie. You have known Joe for a year, so you knew this was just him going through a breakup. Maybe losing his mind a little but everyone loses their minds when it comes to someone they love, right? Did Joe even love Ivy? You understood why he was doing this, but you were already on Ivy's hit list, and Joe thought this was going to be a good idea?

There was no way you were going to bring yourself in this drama. You already told yourself that. You even told your friends that earlier. 

God, Sara and Abby were right. 

“If she’s the one, then she’ll come back to you without you doing all this crazy shit.” 

Joe pursed his lips and nodded his head in understanding. He wasn’t going to press you with this subject because he knew it was mental in the first place. He was just hoping that maybe you would say yes, but he also understood that you weren’t going to put yourself in a situation like this. How could he drag you into his own problem?

“I understand.” Joe murmured. “I’m sorry for making up this idea in the first place, and I’m sorry for trying to drag you into it.”

You watched as Joe gave you an apologetic look and walked away. You sighed and flopped yourself on your bed face down, letting out a small groan. Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your back pocket. You flipped yourself over, so you were laying on your back, sliding your phone out and saw that your mum was trying to facetime you.

Oh, fucking great. 

Whatever she wanted to say wasn’t really something you wanted to hear tonight. You didn’t need her to add into the craziness. You stared at your phone for a moment, hesitating on what to do, but you knew she wasn’t going to leave you alone, so you decided to answer the call. 

“Hey mum.” Your voice sounded tired. 

The second your mum appeared on your screen, you saw how she looked excited and there was a big smile plastered on her face. 

“It’s not really a good time, mum–”

Your eyes widened when a man about your age appeared next to your mum. He waved hello to you as your mum started introducing you to him. 

What the hell was she doing? Was she really trying to set you up with a stranger right now? Joe wasn’t the only one going mad tonight. Though, you retracted that thought because your mum was already mad. 

“This is Alex. He’s our new neighbor’s son. I thought maybe you two could get to know each other.”

God, this was so embarrassing. 

How could she fucking do this to you? You were 28 years old, and she was setting you up with some man you never met. Not only was it embarrassing, but you didn’t need your own mother to set you up with someone. If you wanted to date or be in a relationship, you could find a man for yourself. 

“Mum, this isn’t such a good time.” You looked at Alex through the screen and said, “It’s nice to meet you, but I have to go. I’m sorry.”

Just like that, you immediately hit the end call button and grabbed your pillow to muffle a scream. Everything was just making you so frustrated, and you were even more frustrated with your mum. Her actions were starting to get into your last nerve. You didn’t know if you could take anymore of this from her. Even if you were far away, she still managed to piss you off. 

Staring at the ceiling, your dad’s voice echoed in your mind about when you were going to bring a man home. Were you really that much of a disappointment to your family? Did you really need to marry or be with someone for them to feel proud of you? Because that was just wrong. You were a chemist for fuck’s sake. You were literally out there dealing and mixing chemicals and synthesizing DNA just so this world could find cures for illnesses and diseases and all your parents could care about was you getting in a relationship? 

You were so sick of it! 

Then, your eyes darted towards the empty hall just right outside your door. Joe’s offer echoed in your mind, and you were starting to ask yourself if you also had gone mental too. Maybe you have. 

Letting your feet lead you, you got up from your bed and slowly walked down the hall towards Joe’s bedroom. His door was open, and you quietly peeked and saw that he was just sitting there at the edge of his bed, thinking deeply with a melancholy look on his face. His hands were playing with the empty beer bottle, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes because all of this was so stupid. 

“So…” You stood by his doorway, getting his attention. “How long is this fake dating thing?”

Joe froze where he was and stared at you in disbelief. Were you really offering an approval to his crazy idea? Honestly, you were asking yourself the same thing. 

“Just until I finally catch her attention and would want me back.” Joe answered.

You bit your lower lip, playing with your fingers nervously for a moment before taking a deep breath and said, “So, here are the rules...”

Joe’s full attention was now to you as he waited for you to continue. 

“If you get to use me as your fake girlfriend then I get to use you as my fake boyfriend at any upcoming family gathering.”

Joe set the empty bottle on his bedside table before getting up from his bed and walked over to where you were. He was trying to comprehend the offer that you just made. 

“You mean… introducing me to your parents as your boyfriend?” Joe asked, brows all knitted together. 

“Yes, that’s right.” 

“Then, you have to go to party events with me, especially if Ivy is there.”

You tilted your head, giving Joe a look. “Joe, I have a job. I can’t just ditch that for stupid party events.”

“Then, how are people going to believe we’re dating if we’re not seen together?” Joe argued. 

The man had a point but there was no way you were going to agree with this without getting anything in return. 

“Fine, but you get to pay for the dresses and shoes that I have to wear to these stupid events, and I get to keep them all.”

“Okay, deal.” Joe gave you a smile. 

You weren’t done yet. 

“And one more thing, you could only kiss me and hold me but there’s no sex.”

The small chuckle that escaped from Joe sort of insulted you, but you ignored it because this was all fake anyway. Besides, you both were using each other for both of your benefits, so you didn’t have time to feel insulted that Joe was quick to agree that he didn’t want to have sex with you. 

“No problem.” Joe agreed, reaching his hand towards you. 

You stared into his eyes as you shook his hand firmly in agreement. 

You were so going to regret this, weren’t you? 

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna

[lavender-long-stories]

Writing Advice: Getting Words on a Page

With the 75k word count in November and 90k in August, I have been asked questions like how do I keep focus and what do I do when I get stuck. I am going to compile all the advice I have.

Over the last few years, I have posted 700k+ words of fan fiction and have been posting 3 to 6 chapters every week for the last ten months. This is not how to make your writing better. This is how to get words on a page. 

This is not all my original ideas. This is just a collection of things that have worked for me.

I am not sure I am the person to tell you how to make your writing better, but if people want my thoughts on that. I can make that post too.

When inspiration strikes, write like wild. 

If you have the time and you are bitten by the writing bug, keep writing anything while you are in peak form. You will thank yourself later when you feel like you can’t write everything. I have done the extreme version of this where I have a month (four chapters) written ahead of almost everything on my post schedule (you don’t need this), but this was really nice after I brunt out after finishing out the 90k challenge I destroyed myself with in August.

Write in little pockets of time.

You don’t need to sit down and write for two hours. Write 100 words here and 500 there. It will all add up. When I was struggling at the end of the 75k, I would just open a doc every few hours and write half a page until I got distracted and tried again later.

Change your font.

If you are struggling to edit or even just find yourself drifting while writing, change your font. It helps trick your brain into paying attention. (I like doing a mono font like Courier when I need writing vibes. It looks typewriter-y)

Take a shower. 

Not just for shower thoughts, being clean and fresh helps with focus

Get dressed.

I love being comfy, but something about getting dressed makes me feel like I am working and should finish my task. Extra points for it being fun. (Maybe cosplay a pirate or something.)

Move Locations.

Desk, kitchen table, bed, outside: changing location helps move you out of a brain rut.

Handwrite notes.

I take most of my notes on notion, but when I am struggling with my plot, I write out notes by hand, starting with what happened last and continuing from there, writing even things I know will happen. Then I transfer this to my digital notes so they are easier to move around in order, AND a lot of time, I add details when revising them to digital. Double power.

Always, always write down your thoughts and keep them.

Some of my most popular stories came from me rediscovering a 2 am thought that I wrote down six years ago. Keep a notepad next to the bed if you have to.

Change POV

If something is not working in a scene, maybe it is who you have reacting to it. Try switching POV. It helps you think of the scene from another perspective.

Watch a show in your genre.

I watch a lot of the silliest KDrama’s and get lots of romance ideas. Maybe I didn’t think of sending my character to a park or trapping them in a sky lift. Maybe I should add a stalker that sounds fun.

Take your bathroom breaks.

You should always drink lots of fluids and remember to take your bathroom breaks because the brief moment of walking away always gives me an idea.

Skim through the story and make notes on what HAS happened, not just what will happen.

This helps more with my style of having next to no plot outline. Need your next plot point and don’t know where to go? Remember that time they did x? Let’s build off that. This helps intertwine the plot without losing things.

Just read the story back.

You don’t always need to make notes, but sometimes just reading from the beginning can make you pick up on a detail that was unimportant at the time, and you may not even have meant to put in that could have a lot more meaning now. Then, you can call it clever foreshadowing.  

Explain your problem or the scene you are struggling with out loud.

It doesn’t have to be to someone. It could be a glass of water. This is called ‘rubber ducking. It’s a programmer term (hello, that is my day job). Restructuring your problem in a way you have to articulate it most of the time makes the solution come to you.

Try focusing on the scenery.

If you can’t get a scene to work open with the weather or how the floor is creaking under step, give the world a new feeling. How does the person feel about the weather or the temperature of the room? 

Can’t figure out what is wrong? Rewrite the chapter from scratch. 

Open a new doc and rewrite the chapter from memory. I do this a lot in the beginning of a story that didn’t quite hit the way I wanted it to. I will start the chapter from memory and skim the old one to ensure I didn’t miss anything important. Can’t do it from memory? Read a paragraph and write that from memory. 

Take a left turn.

Sometimes, if you can’t go any further, go back a sentence, a paragraph, a scene, a chapter, and just make a different decision. Turn left instead of right. Change how someone reacts to an argument. It opens a whole new lane to go down.

Excited for a scene that is in the future?

Write it! You don’t have to use it word for word in the future. Sometimes, you can copy and paste it in, and sometimes, you can just rewrite it, and you lose none of those thoughts you originally had.  Writing it might remind you of something that needs to happen first to help you get there.

Have more than one story you are working on.

I don’t think you need to be working on four+ stories like I do, but having something to switch to when your brain really isn’t feeling your main is a great way to keep you writing. Call it productive procrastination. This is the REAL reason I have so many stories uploading.  (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Other Somewhat Related Advice

Context Switching

I work on multiple projects at a time, and I tend not to mix them up because they have a different vibe to me. It feels like stepping into each world.  If you are struggling with context switching between stories, I suggest finding a song or making a playlist that gives you that story’s ‘vibe’ and keeping a link to it in your writing folder or snagging a section of your story that captures the vibe you are going for and keeping it off to the side to reread when you need to switch.

Don’t edit the same day you write.

You’re not going to catch errors. Your brain is too familiar with what you wrote. Also, I recommend Grammarly or another grammar checker for all your missing comma and period needs. (Word, Docs, and any other text editor simply won't bully you enough.)

If you hate editing, don’t leave yourself with a painful amount of editing.

When people ask me how I edit my work, how many passes I take, etc, I tend to disappoint them. The short answer is one read-through (after using a grammar checker).  I learned a LONG time ago that as much as it would be nice to write a bunch of dialog and then tell yourself you will go back to add all the actions or write without quotes because it takes time, you will save yourself a lot of time and pain if you learn to write it correctly the first time and then editing won’t be as much of a chore. I have been writing for years, and I am used to how I write and edit. If you are newer to writing, give it another pass or two, but try to shift some of that work to the writing process, not the editing process.

Make yourself an editing cheat sheet.

Make yourself a doc or a notion of words you notice you use too much or common words you misspell when writing.  I usually make one when I get back and do a post edit (when the story has been up for a while and I get back with fresh eyes and edit it). Reading through your old work and find things that you don’t like or don’t want to do anymore is a great way to build this list and improve your writing.

Now go write.

Got any advice for me? Reblog and tell me.

[roomwithanopenfire]

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday everyone!! Thanks for the tags @blackberrysummerblog and @artsyunderstudy!!

This week I’ve done the big three: writing, editing, and ignoring my wips, with perhaps a bit more of the last one than I’d like. Most of my writing this week has been for an exchange fic for a different fandom, which I finally finished the rough draft of. Cue the celebration. However, even if I wanted to share anything from that, I can’t, it must remain hush-hush, but I am getting pretty excited to share it (and way more excited about receiving my own exchange fic back, this whole thing is very fun).

I’ve written less than 300 words on my COBB this week, and none of them are good, but I have gotten some editing done of Proof of Life. I can’t share any more snippets of the next chapter though because I’ve shared too much already. So instead, I figured I’d do a bit of a process post this time around, because I always love reading those. Check that out under the cut! (and i'm sorry this is long, i still have not learned brevity)

So my editing process isn’t too crazy, and is brought to you almost entirely by google docs comments. I also use the word ‘editing’ very loosely to encompass rewriting, revising, and proofreading. Sometimes editing means completely rewriting a scene/section, sometimes it just means switching around a couple of words or cleaning up a sentence. 

Mostly, I try not to take everything so seriously, because I know that I could edit something forever and ever and never post it if I let myself get too carried away. So I try to keep everything pretty chill. So here’s my steps I go through for each chapter that I edit. 

Step One: Reread the whole chapter. While I do this, I’ll leave comments on big picture things. “Maybe move this scene into the next chapter” or “The dialogue in this scene feels stilted” but I don’t add a lot of comments at this point. Once I’m done with this I’ll copy over any comments I had on the first draft or the beta reader copy over into the ‘draft two’ document. 

Step Two: COMMENTS. Again, my fics are brought to you by google doc comments. I like to go through from the bottom up, reading scene by scene and leaving comments on pretty much every single sentence. 

A lot of the time (read: most of the time) these are really vague like:

And sometimes these are more detailed like:

And occasionally these are compliments

Step Three: Once the whole chapter is filled with comments, I go through scene by scene (in whatever order speaks to me), and rewrite, edit, or fix sections. This part I find really fun, because I’m taking parts that aren’t good yet and I’m making them better. I love fixing things and getting rid of all the comments. It typically ends up being a lot of  rewriting, but I always finish a scene feeling better about it then when I started.

For example, here’s the draft one vs. draft two version of a snippet from the first chapter of Proof of Life. This is one of the scenes I pretty much rewrote. Others look a lot more similar to their original versions.

Original:

Edited:

Step Four: Then before I post a chapter, I’ll read through the whole thing and sometimes find smaller bits to fix. Then I’ll run it through a grammar checker and ignore half of their suggestions in the name of ✨style ✨.

Overall, I feel like I have a pretty basic editing strategy and I’m really pleased with it. Even though sometimes I feel like more robust edits would make everything way better, it’s a good mix of fixing things but not spending too much time on it. I remember I spent like a month on editing the very first fic I posted at that was only 6k words. If I kept doing that for everything, I'd never post anything at all. With fanfiction, I know that y'all will be nice to me even though it's never perfect <333

Tags and Hellos!! (I'm unsure if we still need the spaces, but i've been burned too many times lol)

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @m1ndwinder @facewithoutheart @run-for-chamo-miles @raenestee

@onepintobean @prettygoododds @noblecorgi @hushed-chorus @angelsfalling16

@thewholelemon @monbons @shrekgogurt @brendughh @hertragedyconnoisseur

@beastmonstertitan @valeffelees @horsesarenotdeer @drowninginships @supercutedinosaurs

@fiend-for-culture @rimeswithpurple @cutestkilla @alexalexinii @ileadacharmedlife

@arthurkko @rbkzz @skeedelvee @bookish-bogwitch @brilla-brilla-estrellita

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Chapter 7

Mad love to my alpha @whositmcwhatsit seriously your editing and feedback make this so much better. Also love and special thanks to my lovely elvis coven, @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @peskybedtime @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @powerofelvis @be-my-ally @shakerattlescroll @lookingforrainbows and to @ab4eva for her sweetness, you were the only person to ask me about Bess on tumblr between now and the last chapter and I was like oh, I guess someone is still reading this. Which is good. Because I am still writing it. ;)

Thanks to everyone who reads this, shares, reblogs, leaves a comment or whatever. I write for myself, but I publish for community, and I don't think I could write with out your support and friendship.

Summary: Bess resigns to get over Elvis and move on, but he has other plans.

Warnings: Not much, depictions of mental illness/delusion.

WC: 6.5 K

If you need to catch up Chapter Six: Guided Missiles or the masterlist here Basic Training

Click here if you prefer to read on A03

Chapter 7: The Minefield

12:15 p.m., Friday,  April 24th, 1958

Commissioned Officer’s Mess

Army Intelligence Training Unit, Fort Hood, TX

“I thought you were applying to law school?”

Bess let her straw drop out of her mouth to meet James’ concerned stare across the mahogany table.

“Um, I changed my mind.” Her eyes dropped back to her chocolate egg cream and she paused for a moment. The sound of glasses clinking and hushed conversations reverberated through the Army Intelligence officer’s club. “I kinda dropped the ball on writing my sample essay. And,ugh, I haven't been able to focus at all on studying for the entrance exam.” Bess trailed her shoe anxiously across the burgundy carpet, she hated admitting that she had given up on lawyer school. “It’s just temporary, a temporary pause.  No, for now, I think a year or two working for the state department is the best next step. I’ve always wanted to spend time in Europe..”

“But Helsinki, Bess?” James reached over to comfort her with a hand squeeze, but she pulled loose and went back to eating her pot roast lunch.

“Finland is a stepping stone.I could be working in Berlin next summer. And Helsinki has a lot of international action. It’s right next to St. Petersburg.”

“This sudden need to go to the coldest burg in Europe wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain tall, dark soldier who’s been doing extra laps around the barracks every day, would it?”

Bess lifted her thick, white cotton napkin to obscure the blush spreading up her cheeks. “I saw that he’s had extra PT, I’ve been wondering what happened.”

“Oh? I thought for sure that was all you and your front office connections, getting back at Presley — “

“Jameson, I would never abuse my position in the Front Office for revenge. You know how basic training is. Drill sergeants use any excuse to tear you apart just so they can build you back up again. He probably was late to inspection, or maybe he tried to protest extra push ups, and now it’s marathon time everyday til he’s learned his lesson.”

“Hmmm, must be. Though I don’t feel even the teensiest twinge of sympathy for him after that stunt he pulled on you? Think it would look suspicious if he got run over by a jeep? In his barracks?” James winked at Bess/

“Ha, just say you made a wrong turn.” Bess chuckled, but her smile quickly faded into a sigh.

She speared a potato with her fork, looking at it as if it had the answer to life’s secrets like a magic eight ball. Maybe all she needed to do was turn potato over and around until it revealed her fate. Sadly, no messages turned up, and she laid it back on her plate. 

“Thing is, I knew he had other girlfriends. I just wished he’d called and canceled our plans instead of leaving me hanging to find out another way. The most humiliating way.”

“Maybe he couldn’t get away to call? Or forgot your number? Have you seen him at all?”

Bess shook her head, sipping her drink again. “Uh uh. But I’ve been avoiding him. What am I supposed to say? It hurt my feelings that you put the kibosh on our night together for a pajama party with one of your steady girlfriends?“ Her eyes met James. “But, uh, he knows my number, though. He called that Monday, after she left town. And several other times.”

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know, I have Kay on switchboard duty. She has strict instructions to inform male callers that I’m not home.”

“You oughta talk to him, honey, let him have it.”

“I’d rather not, I  - I, it was, uh. The whole thing felt so icky, I never want to feel that way again. It took me back to last summer and Be. Except, this time, I’m the other woman and I know all about his girlfriend back in Memphis.” Bess put down her fork, unable to eat anymore.  “I think my picker is broken, James. I’m destined to be alone.”

“But are you supposed to be alone in Helsinki?”

“I’m actually excited to be single in Helsinki.” James raised his eyebrows. “What? The city is is pretty hip!They just hosted the Olympics. Lots of people live there from all over the world. After Berlin, it is one of the top hubs for working with the Ruskies.”

“Ok, ok, I get it, you hussy, you’ll probably be able to play patty cake with an assortment of good looking European men. I just can’t believe you are abandoning me, it’s so selfish. I’m almost ready to swear I’ll never buy another Presley record.”

“I’m not leaving because of him!” Bess huffed at the way James arched his eyebrow higher and straightened her napkin over her skirt. Aggressively. “I swear, how many times do I have to tell you, he’s just helped me get the perspective I needed. The straw that broke the camel’s back. I gotta get out of this place before I wind up like Mabel.”

 James sniffed as he motioned to the waiter. “Mabel seems happy, could be worse.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not. But you might be out of here before me. I only just sent in my application materials, you know how these civilian posts can be. If I make the first cut, I still have to do a round of phone interviews,an in-person one, a thorough background check. Why, I probably won’t head out until the summer. If I get it.”

James quirked his mouth and whistled when they stood to leave and shook his head.

“Seems like such a waste to store all your resources behind a desk. Should be out, serving our country at USO shows.”

Bess slapped James shoulder, then straightened his jacket, smoothing her hand over his medals.

“Jameson, stop. Do you talk to the debutantes back in Rhode Island like this? You know, half the officers in here are probably my father’s spies. Keep whistling at me like that, they’ll convince him we’re an item.” She grabbed her purse and put her gloves back on. “Besides, I am not exactly the type who likes performing or attention.:

He looked her over once again, making an exaggerated show of appreciation for the way that Bess’ smart tweed pencil skirt hugged her hips.

“Oh, but that’s what makes you such a knockout, Bessie Girl. Why don’t we get married, huh? We could travel the world together, life would never be boring. We’d have great looking, smart kids.”

Bess put her finger to James’ lips, looking into the hazel eyes that glimmered below his perfectly coiffed honey blonde hair.

“I wish I could. I can’t marry someone I don’t love, not in the way I love you anyway.It’s no good, we’d end up ruining our friendship.”

James slid his arm through Bess’ as he led them out of the officer’s club. “I suppose you’re right, Schwartz, but if you ever get desperate and want to be married to a dashing officer who’d never leave you for another woman, the offer stands.”

“This is no time to be getting married, Jameson. I’m sure you’ll want to enjoy the local flavor in Heidelberg.”

“Hmm, yeah, no matter the gene pool, it’s gotta be better than this dump.”

Bess smoothed her hair once they were outside and turned to James. He looked so handsome in his dashing officer’s uniform, cap under his arm. He was probably the best looking, wealthiest man to ever propose to her, even in jest. She really would miss him once they left Fort Hood. Bess gripped James arm tighter before they parted, and smiled.

“No kidding, I can’t wait to put Fort Hood and Elvis and everything in my rear view mirror. Get a fresh start in gorgeous, romantic Helsinki-town, city of dreams.”

“I thought that was Paris?”

“Nope, pretty sure it’s Helsinki.  Though I understand why you’re confused, Helsinki is the Paris of the Baltic Sea.”

“No one calls it that.”

“Sure they do, I’m starting it now.”

James smiled, fixing his uniform cap back on his head. “Ha, ok. Well, as they say in Helsinki, au revoir.”

*********************************************

Bess’ fresh start suddenly seemed a million miles away when she glimpsed Elvis Presley running round the base. It had only taken a few minutes after she got into her father’s Oldsmobile before she recognized Elvis’ tall, perspiring figure jogging around the circular track behind the PX. There he was, in his sweat-soaked tee-shirt, dog tags jingling over his chest, running towards them in the dusk of sunset. 

It struck her for a moment how odd it was for the drill sergeants to have him do laps out here on the road near the gate instead of closer to the 37th tank division. They must be making a public example of him, she thought, having him do laps out here as people drive past on a main road out of the base. 

It was working, he looked absolutely miserable and exhausted. The cold grimace he had fixed on his face pulled on Bess’ heartstrings, and she felt a compulsory urge to go comfort him. But then she remembered why she’d cut him loose, and nodded to herself, reaffirming how wise she was protecting herself from further heartache. It wasn’t easy. 

She got so captivated watching him take off his cap and wipe his forehead as they got closer, that she suddenly realized he was about to run by her car and had to quickly duck down flat against the bench seat to avoid being seen.

“Ilsa, whatever are you doing?”

Bess popped up with a squeak, looking over her shoulder at Elvis’ figure running away behind them, then stuttered to her father. “I, um, I dropped my lipstick on the floor is all, Papa.” 

Dinner was pleasant enough. Mama served tuna noodle casserole and followed it with a cherry cream cheese jello mold. It was comforting to Bess to think these were recipes any other family on the block might be eating tonight. Though she doubted whether the other mothers were wearing a matching red dress and explaining the deep meaning behind the color red, and how powerful color it is, one that can provide all the strength and nourishment they needed. Bess did concede that cherry Jell-O tasted like what she thought the color red might taste like. 

And if a lecture on the spiritual nature of red Jell-o was the most occult Mama got tonight, then tonight was a good night. 

After eating, Bess changed into a more comfortable, simple light blue house dress, and was trying to calculate how long it had been since Mama had one of her episodes as she walked downstairs, when she heard Kay on the phone.

“Well, no Rex, I guess I’m not doing anything. Well, sure, gee whiz, yeah, I know a few friends who’d flip their lids at the chance. You bet, meet you there at 8!”

Bess turned the corner at the bottom of the landing, and gripped the polished circular handrail as Kay spun around with a wide, beaming grin. Her sister halted suddenly and tripped forward with a gasp when she caught Bess’s stare.

“Was that Elvis’ bunk mate, Rex?”

Kay gulped. “Mhmmm, I did like you told me, and said you - you weren’t home.”

Bess crossed her arms. “So what, now you’re going out with them?”

“Well, I - he - I heard Elvis tell him to invite me and any other friends to meet them at the movie theatre on post. It’s, it’s, not a date, it’s a group-like thing.”

Bess took a deep sigh. Miles Davis wafted out from behind the closed door of their father’s office at the back of the house, and she could hear her mother doing the dishes. Bess had come down to help clean up, and had planned to spend her Friday evening at home. She thought she might read or watch TV, play a game of gin rummy with Mama. Anything to take her mind off of Elvis. And now here her sister was, running out to go meet him!

“I cannot believe he invited you out.”

“And why is that? You’re not the only charming, good looking girl around here, Bess.”

“That’s not what I was saying, Kay. What kind of guy invites out the sister of a girl - a girl - a girl he’d been riding around with? You aren’t seriously thinking of going? What about Dickie?”

“It’s not like that. Cuz,  - it’s - it’s not a date. Why, they’re getting a gang together. Rex said I should bring some other girls. I’m about to call Carol and Tracy. If you think I’m gonna deprive them of the chance to meet Elvis Presley, you got another thing coming. Why, you always keep him all to yourself.” Kay huffed, and put her hands on her hips. “It’s not a date. You could come if you wanted, you know.”

Bess squeezed her hands into tight fists, squelching her sudden intense desire to slap her sister.

“You know exactly why I won’t be doing that, I told you how things went with him and you are smart enough to know he is probably doing this to upset me. And you’re helping him! My own sister. Kay Brutus Schwartz.”

Kay’s face fell, and she met Bess in the middle of the hallway. “It’s not like that at all. Please don’t be mad, Bess, but me and my friends, we have all his albums. You can’t hold it against me for wanting to go. It’s not like I asked, he - ” 

Bess brushed Kay’s hand from her shoulder and stomped off in a huff, her anger powered her through an incredibly fast cleaning session in the kitchen.

Mama dried the last plate Bess handed her, then put her arms around Bess at the sink. “See, Bessie baby, all that red Jell-o gave you the energy and focus you needed. I’ll get you some red silk underwear for your new job, I saw some in the Montgomery Ward catalog. Or were they red flannel long johns? Well, you’ll need both in Helsinki.” 

*********************************************

Bess had frowned as Kay traipsed out the door to meet her friends when Carol pulled up in her mother’s yellow DeSoto. At first she took her book upstairs and sat at the window, watching for Kay’s return around 10 p.m. 

By 10:30, she had moved to the porch, where she sat up on the bench hugging her knees and trying to read while she waited to catch her sister and pump her for information outside where their parents wouldn’t hear them. 

Yawning, she was just straightening the bows on her white house slippers when she turned to see a car pulling up in front of the house. But this was not Carol’s mother’s yellow DeSoto. It was a white Cadillac. And she made the mistake of looking up long enough to note the row of guys in the back seat and make eye contact with Elvis as he parked.

Fuck, Bess muttered to herself staring back into her book, unable to focus her eyes on any of the words. In her periphery, she watched Elvis jump out and race around the front of his car, loosely putting his arm around a giddy, smiling Kay as he walked her up the path to the front porch. 

Bess took a deep breath, accepting that there was nothing she could do, that she was stuck out here with her hair in a messy bun wearing a house dress and slippers. So, she braced herself and stood to confront the most famous man in the world. 

The cool night air was no comfort to the heated temper rising in her chest as Elvis walked up the stairs in front of her, his fingers now spread over Kay’s shoulder. His eyes narrowed, and a smirk played over his face.

“Hellooooo there Bess, ain’t you sweet, coming out here to greet me.”

“Hmmmm.” Bess nodded, curtly, exhaling at Kay’s sheepish grin.

“Well, I enjoyed our date tonight, Kitty Kat, didju?” He gave Kay’s shoulder a rub and Kay laughed nervously at his nickname, glancing back at Bess as she untangled herself from Elvis’ grip.

“Oh, well, it was a gas to meet you and the whole gang,” Kay made a show of waving at the car, “Tell Rex thanks for the Coke and candy.”

Elvis ran his hand through his hair.“Uh, well, I wudda bought you all the Cokes you wanted, I just -”

Bess interrupted him. “Let me guess, you forgot your wallet?”

 “Yeah, guess that’s happened before.” Elvis chuckled. 

“Ahem, Kitty Kat is it?” Bess raised her eyes at her sister. “Probably time you were in bed, little girl. I have a few words I need to have with your date, here.”

Kay coughed and avoided Bess’ intense look of death as she thanked Elvis for a fun night. He grabbed her hand, making eye contact with Bess over Kay’s shoulder and he hugged her sister and gave her a soft peck on the cheek. Kay hung in his embrace for several beats, then scuttled away to leave Elvis with Bess’s cool stare

“You have some nerve.”

Elvis took a step toward her, “Aw, Bess, now see, when you act like this it makes me think you still like me.”

“Is that ri-ight?” Her voice wavered as he took a step toward her with his shoulders back, head forward, rubbing the back of his neck. She stumbled back a few steps, distracted by the way his eyes pierced her from under his eyebrows.

“See, you actin’ like ya jealous, honey. But you ain’t playin’ fair.“

“Really. I don’t play fair?”

“Uh uh.” Now he was hovering over her, backing her into the front of the house, his lower lip hanging open as he leaned over her. “You play hot one day, then cool the next. Won’t take my calls, but now ya jealous. Playin’ games s’what it is, and I can’t stand chicks who play games.”

“Ha!” Bess had meant her declaration to be a lot more forceful than how it came out as a muffled breath into the dark, red fisherman’s sweater Elvis was wearing. Of course! Of course his sweater was red. It sucked all Bess’ strength right out of her. And her resolve. She tried for dear life to hang on to the painful embarrassment that had punched her in the gut when she met Anita.

“You’re - you’re - you had - you’re the one who -”

Elvis’ hand was at her waist, and his thumb pressed over her belly button.

“Sshhh. I know, I missed our date.”

Bess mumbled toward her shoes. “Well, I wouldn’t call a party in a cheap motel room a date by any me-“

Elvis’ pursed his lips in a grin as he brought his other hand to Bess’ cheek, his eyes gleaming as she shivered in him. He tilted her chin to meet his eyes. Bess tried to shake him off, but couldn’t, she was spellbound by the pair of dark blue eyes above her. 

She reminded herself that there was an audience of grown men watching them from his back seat. Then she thought she saw the curtain at the front window ripple and realized Kay was probably leaning against the wall inside, spying on them. She thought about how Elvis had invited her sister out, at the very least to get her attention, or at worst, to make her jealous. She thought about how she had sworn to her best friend hours ago that she never wanted to see Elvis Presley again. She tried to grasp at all these things and more as Elvis stepped closer to her, and shifted his arm over her against the wall. But suddenly thinking was very difficult. Elvis’ thumb circled the button at the waist of her cotton house dress.

“OK, ok,well, when you say it like that, sounds awful. Definitely weren’t no date. Still, Kitty Kat told me how upset you’ve been. And I know I shudda called you.” Elvis took a deep breath, and coughed. “ And, well, that gal came down and surprised the hell outta me, is what happened. I didn’t invite her, now that’s the god’s honest truth. But, well, put me in an awful bind and I couldn’t get away to call you. Wudda much rather spent the weekend with you, Moo Moo.”

His breath was warm on her neck, and the way he murmured her nickname was like a sultry saxophone solo. Bess closed her eyes as it rolled over her body, giving her goosebumps. His whisper was full of vulnerable need and Bess couldn’t believe that she actually felt bad for him, as if she were to blame for everything.

“I - I - I’m sorry.”

“Nah, honey, I reckon, if I’m honest with ma self,  you have every right to be sore at me. But you havta give a man the chance to defend hisself. Tell me now, don’t a man deserve a chance to splain?”

There was his thumb, gliding over the front of her stomach, rubbing back and forth.

“Really, I wasn’t trying to play games.”

“I know, Moo Moo. I know’d you weren’t really like that, else I wouldn’t be here.” He leaned in, pressing his open lips to the corner of her jaw, soft and delicate as he continued his whispers. “Though I don’t know if I could stay away even if you were the devil, baby. Ain’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His mouth was warm on her neck. “You, and only you.”

His touch sent a wave of feverish heat through her body, and Bess didn’t care if he was lying, all she knew was that she would willingly go back to his motel room with him right now in her flimsy white house slippers and all. However, before she could make that suggestion, she heard the front door open and she jumped up instantly, pushing Elvis away at the sight of her father’s silhouette in the dim porch light.

“Elizabeth, it’s cold out tonight. Why don’t you invite your guest inside?”

Bess swallowed hard, glancing up at Elvis, whose cool demeanor and friendly smile belied the fingers she could see tapping against his thigh through his pocket. She looked out at the car, then up at the dark sky, shaking her head to herself.

“ Hi Papa, this is, uh - ”

Elvis stood up straight and jerked his hand out as he strode to shake her father’s hand.

“Uh, good evening, Sir, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley.”

“Yes, I’ve been expecting to meet you for some time now.” Bess’ mouth dropped open. Before she could find the words to protest, her father was putting his arm around Elvis and guiding him inside. “I understand you and Ilsa have been spending a lot of time together, jah?”

*********************************************

“Can I pour you a whiskey?” The table lamp flickered as Bess’ father walked by, his calm words trailed behind him on his way to the bar. 

Elvis sat at the edge of the couch patting his hand to a silent rhythm and then bouncing up again to pace over to the hi-fi set.

“Naw, jus a Pepsi - or a Big Red, honey.” Bess glared at him as he looked up at her from where he perched in front of the record player. “Bessie. I mean, Eliz-a-bess.”

Bess frowned as Elvis popped open the concealed door in the sound system’s speakers and proceeded to rifle through her father’s LP collection. Her father arched his eyebrow, muttering in German that the boy seemed to know his way around and feel quite at home, jah? Bess was asking Rex and Lamar what they wanted when Mama floated into the living room, swaying the skirt of her red dress back and forth, a dreamy look in her face. Bess froze, looking around the room, then scuttling over to her mother and latching her arm around Mama’s waist, whispering in her ear.

“Mama - Hi Mama, I thought you went upstairs to relax?”

The boys all stood up as Mama patted Bess on the shoulder. “Bess, you’re making the lamps all buzzy, stop buzzing around and introduce me to your friends.”

Bess sighed and then froze when Elvis walked over and took her mother’s hand, kissing the top.

“Evening, ma’am, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley, s’a pleasure to meet you, I can see where your daughters get their good looks from, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Mama giggled and blushed. “Ha, well, you are charming. The faeries told me Bessie had a new beau, but they didn’t say he was handsome.” Bess’ face went white as she tried to guide her mother to the big orange leather chair in the corner, but Mama swatted her hands away. “Bess, I said to quit fussin’. Go get our guests something to drink.”

Every cell in Bess’ body was on high alert, and she rubbed at her throat trying quell the nauseous, tight feeling that now plagued her stomach. Bess had not brought Ben, her former fiancee, home to meet her family until he had asked her to marry him. At that point, they had already been going steady for two months, she had trusted Ben completely and had given him a thorough debriefing on Mama and the family dynamics. She had known Elvis a month. ANd spent the last two weeks hating him.

Elvis returned her mother’s hand and flashed Bess a warm, crooked reassuring smile. Rex and Lamar gathered next to him making their awkward introductions, before Papa walked over and offered Mama his hand, tilting his head at Kay. 

“Come sit with me, Emily, let the boys relax. Katherine, you get the drinks.”

Bess followed Kay into the hall. “I’ll get it, Kay, I -uh - I was gonna make Mama a special cup of tea - “

“I got it, I know how to do it. You go back in there.” Kay winked, and left Bess to sigh as she took a deep breath and resigned herself to face whatever was waiting for her in the living room.

Elvis sat on the edge of the couch trying to stop his knee from bopping up and down with the palm of his hand, already in conversation with Bess’ father.

“Jah, I started off in the German division, but now I oversee all intelligence training.”

Elvis’ eyes widened and he seemed grateful to see Bess walk back into the room and hit Lamar to clear the seat next to him on the couch. Bess shook her head and sat at the piano bench, trying to think of how to change the subject.

“Papa, I imagine the boys are tired after a long week and - “

“Oh Bessie, don’t send them away!” Mama waved her off as she got up and happily plopped into the clear spot next to Lamar, shooting Bess a playful frown. “You never bring friends over any more, it’s a breath of fresh air having young people over. Want any leftover tuna noodle casserole?”

A momentary grimace passed over Elvis’ face as he declined, and Bess' father coughed.

“Too bad we don’t have any meatloaf, perhaps zat would have suited you better.”

“Actually, mister, I’m bout plumb fed up with meatloaf, EP’s been ordering - “ Lamar stopped talking at the sight of Elvis’ eyebrow, arched in warning. 

“Well, Bess makes a great meatloaf, you boys will have to come back for dinner sometime. I’ll get her to cook it up for you.” Mama bowed her head with certainty as she spoke, turning Elvis’ hand over in her lap as if to read his fortune. “Elvis, such an unusual name. What does it mean?”

“Ugh, well, ma’am.” Elvis scooted back against the arm rest, turning in to face Bess’ mother more directly. “I have been told it means someone who is uh, very wise.” He winked over at Bess as she rolled her eyes. Kay returned, and she bounced up to assist in handing out the drinks. 

“I’ve never heard the name Elvis before tonight, is it common where you’re from?”

Lamar gasped. “You never heard ‘a Elvis?”

“No, why, should I? Do you all work with Henry in Intel?” 

Elvis shook his head. “No, no ma’am, Rexadus here and I, well, we’re new recruits, and Lamar right here is jus’ a ole friend of mine, visiting.”

Mama smiled big. “Oh, well, if you think I would have heard of you from Bess, you have another thing coming. She’s a sphinx, that one, never tells me anything about anything.I have to get all my gossip from the wind.”

“Elvis is a famous performer, mama. They’re surprised you’ve never heard of him because he is on the radio. And the movies.”

“Oh, is that true? Would I know any of your music?”

Just then, the phone in Papa’s office began to ring and he stood up to excuse himself, muttering in German that he would hardly call it music. Bess exhaled a chuckle at the curious look on Elvis’ face. 

“I’m guessing that weren’t a rousin’ endorsement from ya daddy,huh ?”

She shook her head, and Mama clucked.

“Oh, Henry didn’t get enough red food tonight, don’t mind him. You know, you’re not the first song and dance man I’ve met. When I was a girl - “

“-I met Eddie Cantor when he sang at Zeyde’s theatre on Coney Island.” Bess and Kay exclaimed in unison with a grin.

Bess relaxed as the room filled with warm laughter and she almost felt like they were a normal family, teasing and chiding each other as they entertained guests.

“Oy, well, it’s true, you boys have heard of Eddie Cantor, haven’t you?” Mama grinned at their nods, and took it as her cue to keep talking between sips of tea. “Well, I was just a kid when he was first making it big in New York. And my father had this vaudeville theater, and we met all sorts of acts working their way up the circuit. Baby Rose Marie, Bert WIlliams, Jimmy Durante, and, of course, a lot of nobodies trying to be somebodies. Eddie was probably the most successful guy to come through our place. Boy, was he handsome! Tall, dark hair, those big gorgeous eyes, like two rounds of chocolate.”

“Mama, zey ton nisht veln tsu hern vegn deyn shule meydl krashiz.”

“Oh, Bess thinks I shouldn’t share these things. She thinks I’m an old lady, that I don’t have blood pulsing in my veins. But I’ve always appreciated a good looking man.” Mama patted Elvis' knee. “Still do.” Then all of a sudden she swayed into Elvis' shoulder, her eyelids fluttering before she slumped on his shoulder.

“Ma’am? Ya ok? I’ve had girls swoon before, though they usually heard a me.”

Bess jumped up and looked over at her sister. “How much did you put in her tea, Kay?”

“Just a tablespoon.”

“It’s supposed to be a teaspoon!” Bess growled through clenched teeth as she felt her mother’s pulse, and tried to unfurl her mother’s arm from around Elvis’ shoulder.

“I’ll take her up - “

“Aw, honey - s’ok, want me to - “

“ - Well, it was an easy mistake.” Kay hovered behind Bess, and stomped her foot.

Mama’s eyelids fluttered back open for a moment and she looked up into Elvis' face. “You know, you have a beautiful aura, Alvis, I can tell you are a good person - Bess, if you don’t marry him, I will.” 

Bess gulped, and looked at Kay. “Help me get her up the stairs?”

Before they could do anything, Elvis lifted Mama and nodded at Bess. “Jus lead the way, ‘k Bess honey? Boys, y’all go on out to the car, and we’ll get outta ya hair ‘fore you say lickety splickety.” 

Lamar sighed with relief and could not get through the hallway fast enough, almost knocking the telephone off the little desk as he passed. Rex, however, hung back, gathering up the bottles of pop and taking them to the kitchen behind Kay, looking back to nod at Elvis in a silent offer to help. Elvis shook his head and followed Bess up the stairs.

“Alright, now, Mrs. Schwartz, ma’am, ya gonna be snug as a bug in a rug, jus you wait.”

Elvis set Mama down in her bed carefully, gently taking her hands and placing them at her sides. Mama opened her eyes and trailed her fingers over the sharp edge of Elvis' crew cut, smiling dreamily as she asked “Almond” if he would marry her.

“Ya so sweet and beautiful, I would, I would  if I could, ma’am.”

Tears welled up behind Bess’ eyes as she watched the tender way Elvis kissed her mother’s cheek and squeezed her hand before she passed out. They exchanged a long look, and Bess blushed.

“I’m sorry you had to see all this, I’m so embarrassed. You didn’t have to stay and help me - “

Elvis rubbed her shoulder. “Honey, I wanted to help, I like helping folks. Ain’t nuthin to be shamed of. Really Moo Moo, wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to. An getting to spend my night with the prettiest lil gal in town, why, that’s just the icing on the cake.” His face scrunched into a big grin as he held her, and bess nodded into the comfy wook of his red sweater.

Elvis stood in the doorway, watching curiously as Bess took off her mother’s shoes and tucked her under the large, homemade victory quilt that they had sewn from old clothes during the war. It was the only blanket Mama would sleep with, and for Bess, it evoked that time in her childhood when Papa was overseas doing things he couldn’t talk about and Mama was the strongest woman she could imagine. 

Now, as she looked down at her mother and smoothed hair out of her face, it was Mama who resembled a little girl, finally relaxed and at ease as she started to snore. Her sleeping face free from the cares and mysteries of the world. Bess kissed her mother on the forehead, and turned to find Elvis waiting for her in the doorway. His blue eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, as his thumb rubbed the side of her shoulder.

“Holdin’ it all together, ain’t ya Moo Moo. I see you. I really do.” 

Bess shuddered at his touch, wiping the side of her eyes.

“I, um, I. Well, you caught us on a bad night, Almond.”

He chuckled, drawing her into his arms and kissing the top of her forehead.

“Nah, ain’t nothing bad about anything.” The sides of his crinkled as he smirked. “Almond, huh. maybe ya mama there is on to sumpin. Might sell more records and movie tickets if I changed my name to Almond instead. Tell you what, wudda made it harder for the Army to find me.”

“Yes.” She took his hand and led him back down the stairs.”Though you would have missed out on your freel vacation here at beautiful Fort Hood.” 

They were back on her porch, and Elvis was clasping her hand tight. He looked out at the darkness, and at his car on the street, then over the garden, before turning back to hover over Bess, hands resting at her waist.

“Wudda missed out on meeting you, honey. Ya my silver lining. Tonight, being here with you, I know it now for certain that fate brought us together.”

Bess turned her head to listen to the crickets, wondering if they had any advice on how to defy fate. Especially when fate distracted you from all common sense by nuzzling your forehead. 

“Elvis - I - “

His lips were at her ear as he drew her closer. “Aw, Moo Moo, I cain’t bear to think I made you cry. I mean it.” His thumbs rolled up and down Bess’ sides. ”I promise, ain’t ever let that happen again. I swear. Cuz I need ya, honey, been thinking ‘bout you all the time.”

Bess couldn’t resist the way his eyes lit up with hopeful vulnerability, it made her feel like she was the one who had wronged him by withdrawing her company from him. 

“I  - I think about you too.” She cupped his cheek. “I’ve seen you doing laps every evening, are you doing okay?”

Elvis huffed and pinched her side. “Oh, yeah, you know me. Every morning, those drill sergeants find a reason to be cross at me, makin’ me do extra PT. But ain’t nothin I can’t handle.”

Bess nodded. Then Elvis’ hands tightened all the way around her, constricting her so tight she almost couldn’t breath, before parting with a soft, chaste farewell kiss and a vague promise to call her the next day.

Bess was humming to herself as she turned off the porch light and locked the door behind her, stopping short when she saw her father come out of his office.

“Everything ok, Papa?’

“Jah, jah. That was just the secure line, a call from D.C.” He straightened his sweater, coughing as he took in the dim quiet of their house. “Ze hound dog has run off, I take it?”

“He’s not so bad, you know.” Bess shifted and looked at her feet, unable to stop the smile at the corner of her mouth. “The drill sergeants have really had it out for him this last week. He’s been running extra PT and they put him on latrine duty. Must have pissed off the wrong person.”

Bess stopped talking, noticing that her father’s face had soured into a tight grimace. She had probably been right not to tell her parents that she had been seeing Elvis. This would be tough, now there was nothing she could do now.

“Jah, that boy did piss off the wrong person. Me. You would be wise to cut your ties with him, Elizabeth, he does not respect women. And you have a bright future ahead of you. I might expect Katherine to be dazzled by this flash of Memphis. But you are too smart for all that. I would hate to see you lose focus on your goals to run around with a boy who brings his hoochie coochie girlfriends to town and flaunts them in your face.” 

Bess was silent as her father pursed his lips, nodding, then said good night. She listened to the sound of his footsteps as he walked up stairs, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how he had found out about Elvis. About the debacle with Anita. About all of it. 

The disappointment she had seen in her father’s eyes crushed her, and Bess tossed and turned in her bed all night trying to figure out how she could make him understand that she could have fun and still go after her goals. It was the thought of Elvis’ long thumbs caressing her body that finally calmed her down. The memory of his touch was like her own personal dose of benzodiazepine, it made her forget all her problems and give herself over to the sandman.

********************************************************************

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[darklydeliciousdesires]

New story announcement!

Because you beautiful besties did nothing but encourage me, I wrote the thing. I am four chapters into the thing, but I need to edit before I post it!

So yes, meet the new couple of the moment, Adrien Brody and his beautiful wife, Jade Burton-Brody. I wrote Jade as an OFC for a previous fandom, but she stayed with me, so I want to use her again as it dawned on me just how cute she and Adrien would be together, so yeah. Here they are! She's a musician in the metal world, who moves into acting, too. Especially with all the support she finds from her adoring husband.

A particularly long excerpt from the story, too, from a magazine interview they did together which serves as the opening of the story...

“Tell us something about your wife that people would find surprising.” 

He mulls it over for a few seconds, looking to his side at her, laughing as he takes in her raised eyebrows. “She’s actually quite introverted, unless she knows the people she’s with well. Then her volume and mischief amp up considerably,” he begins, which I must say is perhaps the last thing I expected him to reply with. “No, no. It’s completely true, she is. She’s often quiet, an extreme juxtapose for how she appears up on stage with a microphone in her hand, but yeah. The Jade you see performing live is a completely different entity to the woman she is away from it, and I found that out pretty quickly after we first met.”  

It is a stark contrast to the public persona of Jade Burton-Brody, a woman known for rarely shying away from being outspoken and controversial, whether it be her fiercely penned lyrics, or her opinions on the subject matters she holds dear. She was, after all, the woman who advised legions of young female rock fans to, and I quote, “Burn the patriarchy to the goddamned ground.” 

Before me today, though, I do see a much softer side to the screaming hurricane of a woman I familiarised myself with through the scouring of YouTube videos, a woman more than happy to let her husband lead in the questions, always looking to him to reply first. She has spoken in the past of him being her unequivocal strength and support, and I take her back to that, the moment she first met the man she would marry just six months after their first meeting.

“Jade, you’ve spoken about your first meeting a couple of times in the past, but for the record, would you care to share it again?”  

She laughs loudly at my question, leaning into her husband a little, combing her fingers through her hair as she remembers fifteen years into the past. “I screamed in his face, he liked it, and the rest is history.” 

Indeed, such a meeting did seal itself into history, the moment the iconic pair met captured by a photographer pointing his camera in the right direction at exactly the right time, immortalising the moment where the formidable first lady of metal took to the barriers at the Rock and Iron festival, grabbed the hand of the Hollywood heavyweight, and proceeded to scream like a harpy about an inch from his face. “She blew my eardrums out,” Adrien speaks of the moment, “I had never heard anything that loud in the whole of my life!”

Indeed, like it he did, the first stages of their fledgling relationship captured on film while a documentary team were following her and the band, shooting the footage for the 2010 documentary, “The Devil You Don’t Know.” As the footage shows, the actor found himself with a rare two-week break between projects, one of those weeks spent living on a tour bus with the band, unwilling to be parted from the woman he’d struck up such an immediate connection with. 

“I called my manager and told her to shift all my interviews to telephone, rearranged everything for the following week before I flew out to Hawaii to begin shooting Predators, and yeah, lived on a bus with five insane, but adorable women for seven days.” He smiles a little shyly, his eyes warm as he views her. “Didn’t want to let her go.”

When asked if it was love at first sight, he elaborates a little further. “I’ve never believed in that. Too many components have to fall into place for love to bloom, so I don’t think it can be so spontaneous as to simply view somebody and feel such a powerful emotion right off the bat. After that week I spent with her, though. Yeah. I departed from the tour knowing I’d left behind the girl I was going to marry someday.”

And for Jade? “I knew. He was my person. Still is fifteen years on, too.”  

Just viewing the natural ease the couple have around one another cements that, after battling with so much over their years together. They both freely admit they rarely saw one another for the first two years of their marriage, their relationship plagued by media scrutiny, storms of paparazzi, accusations of their romance serving purely as a manufactured PR pairing for publicity, others stating that it was to give Jade greater leverage as she further embarked upon her acting career away from the world of music. One only has to watch the woman on screen to see that she carries enough weight from her own talents to not need the bolstering of her husband’s surname to snare her hard-earned successes.  

Indeed, the pair have weathered many storms and come through them stronger, standing as one of Hollywood’s most illimitable power couples, yet the term is somewhat lost on them both. “We’re complete dorks,” Jade laughs, “we really are. We set one another off all the time being absolutely ridiculous.” 

“It’s true,” her husband confirms, beginning to chuckle right on cue. “Nobody makes me laugh like her. It’s so corny, but truly, she’s my best friend. Deciding to get on that bus fifteen years ago was one of the greatest decisions I ever made.”  

It can be witnessed quite easily, too. It takes only a few glimpses into their respective social media accounts to see the humorous ease they tease one another with, but always with incredible affection. ‘Baby love! <3 Love you too, Morticia!’ Adrien commented on a heartfelt post his wife recently shared to Instagram, a throwback picture of the pair kissing at the 2016 Oscar’s ceremony, where his beloved won best supporting actress for her role across from Robert De Niro in the 2016 blockbuster, Five Marked Men. 

“It took him about a month to get over me with black hair instead of blonde, so I was Morticia for four straight weeks instead of Jade!” she laughs, obviously taking his teasing with good humour.  

“I was so damned proud of her, even though I couldn’t get used to the black hair,” he laughs taking her hand in his. “Always have been. She’s incredible.” 

The story will chronicle their fifteen years together, from their first meet right up until present day. I said I wouldn't do this, write RPF again, but I did. Arrgh! I just have to hope my beautiful people enjoy it now, lmao!!

Also, as well as the obvious faceclaim of Angelina Jolie serving for Jade, I have a voice claim for her, too! Want to hear the scream she hit Adrien with? Here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a98LI-arNS4 And for something a little more melodic to acquaint you with her voice - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQNtGoM3FVU So yes, that's how I imagine her to sound in her chosen profession. Half angel, half demon. xD

I hope you love her as much as I do, guys! Huge thanks for my darling @jemmalynette for the beautiful picture manipulation. Her work is flawless, as always!

[vladajwrites]

Razor’s Edge

Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 5830

Notes; this chapter has actually had my head spinning lol

again, truly thank you for reading! much much love <3

(Not Beta Read)

You spent the remainder of the school day restlessly waiting to see Charlie again. The more you thought of it, the idea of him orchestrating that night with you, the more you warmed up to the idea.

It was an interesting and covertly complex tactic, definitely, but you were thankful he actually made a move. He clearly was not the type to just outwardly express his feelings and emotional intentions. The lying to you and Robbie, finishing up the project on his own; it should make you understandably unnerved, but it doesn’t. So, if this was what he needed to do to convey his feelings to you, you could learn to find it endearing.

You stopped Charlie in the hall on the way to film club after the last bell rang. His cheeks were tinted red as he met your eyes. 

“Charlie,” you began. 

“Look, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have lied to you.” He tripped over his words. 

His expression showed his confusion as a small smile slipped up your lips. You loved how nervous he still was around you.

You placed your arms over his shoulders. “I forgive you, but don’t you dare lie to me again, Charlie Walker.” You whispered right beside his ear. 

He cleared his throat, stumbling back a bit as you pulled away. “Yes, ma’am.” 

You laughed, sliding one of your arms through the gap between his elbow and stomach. 

“Ma’am? I am not my mother.” You teased him, pulling him down the hallway. 

He tensed a bit as your free hand came up to hold around his upper arm.

You both walked in silence for a moment. You could see from the corner of your eye that Charlie was anxiously looking up to meet the perplexed gaze of the students you passed by. You guess this was really the first time that you had shown any affection towards Charlie publically. 

You only held him tighter. You hardly noticed anyone else around the two of you. 

“Did you hear about Kirby’s party next weekend?” You broke the silence. 

He looked down to meet your eyes. His face held something that almost resembled discomfort. 

He nodded before responding. “Yeah, I did.” 

You stopped for a moment as you rounded the corner that led to film club. “Well, Kirby invited me, but I only want to go if you can come with me.”

His arms dropped to his side. You followed suit. What was this expression he now had? You couldn’t read it. He couldn’t meet your eyes before responding. 

“I made plans to visit my mom at Isle Institution. I haven’t seen her in a while-“ 

Your face dropped as you took in his words. Isle Institution? That was the psychiatric care facility in the next town over. When he had said that his mother was in and out of psychiatric help, you never imagined her living in a facility like that. You immediately felt horrible for bringing up the party. Visiting his mother was clearly more important. 

“Oh, no, I completely understand. Go and see your mother. It’d be nice to have a night in on my own, anyway.” You gave him your most reassuring smile. 

He looked down to meet your eyes again. You could tell he was rolling some idea around in his head. 

“No go, I shouldn’t be gone too long. I’ll meet you there. I’d love to go with you.” He tried to give his best smile in return. You weren’t sure you were buying it. You really didn’t want to go to this party alone, didn’t mind spending the night at home, but if he was able to meet you there not too long after? You’d like that very much. 

“Okay,” you nodded. “But don’t worry if you can’t make it. Just try to let me know, please.” 

“Deal.” He replied. 

Film club passed by quickly, as did the rest of the weekend. 

You spent most of your free time texting back and forth with Charlie. He was so much more sure of himself over the phone. Maybe it just was the face-to-face stuff that made him so nervous. 

The school days during the following week were spent looking for Charlie when you could. You made an effort to pass small touches in the halls, could tell he did the same. You couldn’t help but feel your stomach twist up when you caught him watching you in class.

It’d be a lie to say you hadn’t become even more enamored with him with each passing day. He was so incredibly interesting. You wanted to know more, know everything. You caught yourself laughing along with every dumb joke he’d try to make. 

You’d invite him over after class nearly every day. His confidence around you grew as you spent more and more time around one another. 

You couldn’t lie, being in such close proximity to him was making you feel frustrated in a way you hadn’t felt before. You just wanted to be closer to him. You’d watch his lips, his hands; and pray that he’d just reach over and hold you underneath him-

But as the next few days passed by, you could tell something was growing increasingly troublesome in his mind. He just seemed so far off, distant. You wished you could have just found the right words to say to him, take away whatever was worrying him. You wanted him to come back to you so desperately. 

On Friday, you finally worked up the courage to ask him what was wrong. You laid in your bed next to him, pretending to work on something for your English class. 

“What’s bothering you, Charlie?” You asked. He sat beside you, staring out your bedroom window. 

“Hmm?” He replied as if he hadn’t caught your question. 

You grabbed his hand, urging him to look at you as you adjusted yourself into a sitting position. 

“What’s going on with you?” You asked gently. 

His eyes darted quickly over your face. “Nothing-“ 

Your brows furrowed as you shot a look at him that said, ‘I know you’re lying to me.’

He sighed before continuing, “I- I don’t know. It’s just my mom, I think. I haven’t seen her in a while, to be honest. I’m always nervous to be around her. I don’t want to upset her.” 

You ran your thumb over the back of his hand and nodded. “I’m sorry Charlie, I’m sure she’d love to see you.” You smiled softly. 

He sucked in a breath, nodding. 

You both sat there for a moment, hand in hand, heads against the headboard. Music played faintly in the background, filling the lapse in conversation. 

Charlie was the one who broke the silence after some time had passed. His question was so quiet, you nearly weren’t able to catch it. “Could you hurt someone?”

You turned sharply to look at him. His face stayed forward, but you were able to catch his gaze from his peripherals. 

“What do you mean?” You tried to conceal your confused tone. 

He turned to face you now. “If you had to, could you do it if you absolutely had to?” 

His question was nearly disorienting. Why would he ask you this? Your confusion cleared as you thought back to his mother and his father. Was this what he meant?

Could you? Really, could you bring yourself to do it?

You swallowed hard. “If it were between my life or someone else’s, I think I could.” He settled into the bed a bit at your answer. 

“If this is about your father, Charlie, you did what you had to do. I’d never hold that against you. And I’m sure your mother wouldn’t either.” 

He didn’t reply, only let his gaze fixate on the ceiling fan above. You didn’t push it any further. You hoped he’d be back in his usual spirits after his visit with his mother. 

You woke the next morning in a tangle of sheets. The record you had been playing the night before was skipping over and over again on the player. The conversation you had with Charlie the day before played over in your mind. You frowned. It must feel so lonely to go through life after what he had lived through. You prayed this day would go well for him. 

You sat up, groaning, pushing the hair out of your eyes. You reached for your phone, scrolling through your limited notifications. 

Kirby’s text was at the top. “I’ll see you later. ;)” 

“Can’t wait!” you replied. You honestly hadn’t been keeping up with Kirby as much as you believed you should have. You made a mental note to thank her for the invitation when you saw her tonight. 

Charlie had also messaged you, “I should still be able to make it back in time for the party. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” 

There was a second message from him sent slightly after the first one. “Send me a picture of what you decide to wear.” 

You smiled to yourself. He didn’t care about what you had decided to wear, not so smooth. “You’ll see what I’m wearing when I see you at the party.” 

You honestly hadn’t given much thought to what you would wear. Kirby had messaged you asking for advice on her outfit a few days before. You wanted to dress up like her, look nicer than usual.

You stood, lifting the needle on your record player and turning it off. You pulled your closet doors open and riffled through the mess of hangers inside. After throwing skirts and dresses and other articles of clothing into a pile on your bed, you realized that nothing you owned fit the image you had in mind. 

You groaned, collapsing amongst the pile. It was useless, you resigned yourself. 

Just then, Irina passed by your door, which was propped open about a quarter of the way. An idea came to you then. She’d surely have something. You knew she kept most of her clothing from her life-of-the-party days. She had amassed a comprehensive collection of clothing over the years. Her closet was nearly daunting to explore on your own. 

You quickly stood, throwing open your door. Irina jumped at the end of the hall. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You tried to laugh it all off. She grabbed at her chest, laughing with you. 

“Is there something I can do for you? Or were you trying to give me a heart attack?” She asked, steadying her cup of coffee. 

You made your way down the hall toward her, apologizing again. “Yes, actually, I’m desperate.” 

She cocked an eyebrow, following you into her bedroom. She turned to face you again, unsure where the conversation was about to go. 

“Okay, there’s this big party tonight,” the smile on Irina’s face grew to meet her eyes as you continued. “And I have nothing to wear. It’s just not coming together.” You sighed, dropping onto her bed. 

She set her coffee on the nightstand beside you before opening the doors that led into her closet. 

She started flipping through hangers towards the back of her wardrobe. She reached for a hanger before turning over her shoulder. “Oh, I definitely have an idea or two.” 

You smiled as she walked out, holding a black silken dress in her hands. She placed it in your hands as you looked it over. It was definitely beautiful, imaginatively form-fitting, low-cut, and incredibly short. Not the type of thing you were used to wearing, but you trusted Irina’s vision. She returned from her closet again with a pair of deep red heeled-boots. 

She dropped the boots in your hands as well. “Well, go try it all on.” 

You nodded, standing up. 

Once in the bathroom, you stepped out of your clothes, gently pulling the dress over your head. You slid on the boots before giving yourself a once over in her full-length mirror. 

Your breath caught in your chest at the sight. This was it, exactly the sort of thing you had wanted to wear. How could she always tell? 

You hadn’t realized how long you stood there before Irina knocked on the other side of the door. You steadied yourself, smoothing over the dress before opening the door. 

Irina’s eyes lit up immediately, her hands came up to her chest. “So beautiful, sweetheart.” 

“Thank you,” you replied breathlessly. 

She fixed the straps and tugged at the waistline a bit. “It’s just a little big, but should work for tonight. I’ll have it tailored for you sometime soon.” 

“Thank you so much. Really, thank you.” You replied, wrapping your arms around her. 

The rest of the day was spent anxiously pacing around your house. You fussed with your hair and makeup until giving up and calling in Irina to help you with that as well. 

Once you were all ready, and it was time to go, you collected your few things in the clutch your aunt had also let you borrow. She insisted that your usual purse would have completely ruined the entire outfit. You didn’t fight her on it. 

Irina stopped you at the door. “Have your phone?”

“Yes, fully charged.” You replied. 

She nodded. “Well, keep your ringer on. Call me if you need anything.” 

“Okay.” You reached over to give her one last hug before leaving. 

“Have fun tonight. Be safe and responsible! If the police pick you up, I’ll post your bail!” She called after you as you made your way to your car. You laughed, waving at her over your shoulder. 

You followed the directions to Kirby’s house carefully, trying not to pay any attention to your nerves. You parked in the first spot you found amidst the ever-extending line of parked cars in front of her house. 

You locked your car, shoving the keys back into your clutch. 

The music was loud enough to be heard from the street. You noticed a few people standing on her front porch smoking. 

You anxiously smoothed over your dress. The cool air made your skin prick up. You should’ve brought a jacket. Maybe you could go back and grab one-

No, you quickly put the idea to rest, knowing if you left now, you wouldn’t return. 

You wished Charlie was there to walk in with you as you entered the party. You quickly grabbed a plastic cup from the table that had been set up in the entryway. You filled it up with whatever alcoholic concoction was sitting in a tub in front of you. You finished it in a few gulps, swallowing down hard. The first drink was always the worst. 

You filled it up again before making your way further into the party. The music was making the floor pound. It was hard to keep steady as you pushed through the crowd toward the living room. Most of your peers already appeared to be completely inebriated around you. 

You tried for a few moments to find Kirby but gave up after a while figuring she must be busy or off doing her own thing. 

There were black and white masks thrown about the party. It took a moment, but you eventually recognized them from the Stab movies. You had never personally watched them, but had always seen the advertisements for the films.

Of course, you thought. You honestly hadn’t even really thought about the terrible reality that those movies were based on since moving to Woodsboro. The only time you had really heard about the murders was briefly in your childhood, and occasionally on the news during the anniversary of the killings. Hadn’t they happened in October? 

You found the mask’s presence here odd, even a bit morbid, but you hadn’t actually grown up here. You figured that the lifelong residents who had lived through this all had a right to remember it however they wanted to. 

As you pushed the thought of the murders toward the back of your mind and made your way deeper into the growing crowd, your head began to grow fuzzy and swim under the neon lights that flashed around you. It was a welcome feeling, slowly working to drown out your nerves from before. 

After finishing your third cup, you decided to have a fourth. After this, you’d slow down, you promised yourself. 

You eventually ran into Kirby. She looked stunning, as usual. She was clearly already drunk but held herself together eloquently. 

“Oh my God, it’s so good to see you. I wasn’t actually sure if you would come!” Kirby said while pulling you tightly into a hug.

She stumbled a bit as she let go. You held both her and yourself steady. The effects of the alcohol were slowly reaching a peak inside you. 

“Yeah, it’s good to see you, too. Thank you for the invitation!” You had to shout your reply. Your voice was still nearly muffled by the voices and music around you. 

“Of course! Hope I run into you again.” Kirby smiled and went to turn on her heel. She stopped herself briefly, grabbing your arm before you also walked away. “Have you seen Jill anywhere? She was supposed to be here hours ago.” 

You barely caught the last of her words. “No, I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her.” 

Kirby looked a bit defeated but nodded. “She’ll turn up. Thank you anyways!”

After leaving Kirby, a girl you recognized from your homeroom class passed you a shot glass and another cup of too-sour mixer and what surely must’ve been cheap tequila. You took the gifted shot with a small group of people in the kitchen before slipping back through the main area of the party. The music was becoming too loud; the lights were blinding. You felt so hot, could barely breathe. 

With the cheap DIY margarita still in your hand, you made your way into the backyard. You just needed a moment, needed to see if Charlie had reached out to you yet. The back patio was dimly lit, the cool air was now a welcomed companion. 

A small crowd was formed around some more tables on the lawn below. Beerpong was well underway, and apparently very intense at the moment based on the way people were yelling and cheering each other on. 

You took another sip of your drink before setting the cup on the patio railing, reaching into your purse for your phone. 

You swayed a bit, frowning to yourself after seeing you had no messages from Charlie, no missed calls, either. Your fingers hovered over the screen for a moment as you tried to make out the now swirling letters on your keyboard. 

“Are you almost here?” You took your time rereading the text to make sure you had gotten out the right words. Satisfied, you pressed send. 

You watched your phone for a moment, staring at the screen, hoping for a quick text back. You just wanted to be near him so badly. You came to the conclusion that he must be on his way if he wasn’t responding. Seemingly resigning, you dropped your phone in your bag again. 

As you reached beside you for your cup, it was picked up before you had the chance to grab it. 

Your heart sank as you turned to face the man who was now holding your drink hostage. Scotty towered above you. You watched in disgust as he quickly finished the rest of your drink. 

Even in your now almost drunken state, you wanted to be away from him as quickly as possible. As you turned to walk away, his hand rapidly planted itself on the wall beside your head. You watched with disdain as he threw the now empty cup over his back and placed his other hand on your shoulder. 

His grip was bruising as you tried to shrug him off of you. 

“Hey, where are you trying to run off to? We can be friends, right?” He smelt like liquor, his eyes could hardly focus on you. 

You shivered as he stumbled forward, planting a knee between your thighs, effectively pinning you to the wall. 

You shook your head, looking around for anyone else close by that could step in and help you. It was just the two of you alone on the porch. From what you could tell, no one was paying any attention at all from the lawn below. 

You brought your hands up on his chest, pushing him with all your strength. Your head felt so dizzy, he barely moved an inch. Your body was effectively working against you. You instantly regretted coming to this party, drinking, all of it. You could hardly even find the strength to use your voice.  

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you want me, too; showing up here looking like this tonight. I’m glad you ditched that loser you’ve been seeing.” He brought his head down closer to yours.

The blood under the surface of your skin boiled. Without giving it any thought, you leaned in closer, spitting in his face. 

“Get the fuck off of me.” Your words were more slurred than you had imagined they would be. 

A satisfied smile graced your lips as you watched him stumble back, wiping at his face. 

The proud expression you held quickly transformed into terror as you watched Anderson’s line-of-sight turn dark, filled with rage. 

You barely had time to process what was going on before he stepped back closer to you. You could feel his sickly hot breath on your skin. He closed the distance so quickly. This time, his aggression was not hidden behind the sly mask he wore only moments ago. 

He wouldn’t really hurt you, would he? 

Your question was devastatingly answered as he stepped back half a step, raising his arm to swing. An absolutely evil look showed in his eyes. You wouldn’t have been able to slip past him in time to escape. 

You dropped nearly to your knees, shielding your face with your forearms. 

The entire world seemed to slow and stop around you. It was only you, your back against the wall, your heart pounding in your throat. 

You tensed your entire body, bracing for the impact you were sure was to come. 

Suddenly you were just a child, on your bedroom floor, your father smacking you around as he verbally tore into you. 

You couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes. 

Abruptly, you felt a heavy thud in front of you, pulling you from your thoughts. You jumped, the deafening buzz in your ears subsided as you recognized a familiar voice. 

You peeked over your arms. Scotty never got the chance to make contact with you. 

“I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you.” The sound of a fist connecting with the hard bone of a lower jaw rang out around you. 

It was Charlie. 

He was standing over Anderson’s barely conscious body. His left fist was hooked into the collar of his shirt, while his right swung back to let into him again and again. 

Your eyes widened in shock. The sound of Scotty choking back on his own blood urged you to your feet. 

By now, people from the lawn and the thrown-open back door were filing onto the patio. The shocked whispers of those around you fell on deaf ears. 

You reached forward, wrapping your arms around Charlie’s arm that held Anderson in place. 

You pulled with all your strength, working on pure adrenaline. “Stop, Charlie, please. You’ve got him. It’s okay, I’m okay.” 

He slacked at the sound of your words, straightening up to grab you in his arms. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest, or maybe it was just your own that you were feeling. 

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been here sooner. I’m so sorry.” He said over and over again. His hands worked themselves comfortingly up and down your back. 

You nodded, painfully pulling yourself away from him for a moment. There were now a few people surrounding Scotty, trying to pull him up from the ground. You could feel the questioning and shocked eyes on you and Charlie from the small crowd that had formed. 

“Please, please, can we just leave?” You gasped out. 

Charlie nodded, looking you over. His arms draped over your shoulder, pulling you into him. He skillfully and carefully moved you through the crowds and out of the house. 

You shivered and stumbled out into the street. Charlie was quick to steady you. He shrugged out of his coat and threw it gently over your shoulders. The tears were steadily streaming down your face and onto your chest. 

Once at your car, you messed around in your purse, digging for your keys. 

“Here baby, please, let me drive you home.” Charlie reached for your purse and walked around with you to the passenger side. He opened the door for you, waiting until you were in comfortably before closing the car door slowly. He was quick to find your keys and turn over the engine.

The car was silent. You were both unsure of what to say. 

“I’m so sorry,” Charlie spoke just above a whisper. You looked over at him. His knuckles, from what you could tell, were white as he gripped the steering wheel. A thick layer of blood had dried across his right hand. 

You shivered again at the thought of what had happened just moments before. You honestly would’ve never believed Charlie had that kind of physical strength in him. To drop a man, who was objectively much bigger than nearly everyone was, to the ground- it was just so- 

You looked up to meet his eyes. “Please don’t be sorry. If you hadn’t come when you had, hadn’t done what you had done to protect me- I’m sorry that you even had to get involved.” 

He sighed, reaching to rest one of his warm hands on your bare upper thigh. “Don’t apologize to me. It should’ve never been able to get to that point.” 

You put your hand over his as gently as possible, carefully avoiding his knuckles that were already beginning to swell. 

How could this have all happened? How could you put yourself in this position? You tried to will away the dark thoughts that were telling you that this was in any way your fault. You truly couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt, though. What if Charlie got into any trouble because of this? What if Anderson pressed charges or tried to get back at Charlie or you in some horrible way? Were you both in any danger now? No one stood up to men like Anderson and his group.  

And if Charlie hadn’t gotten there when he had-? How was it possible for him to always be there in the moments you needed him? And how was he able to do what he did? It was all just so unbelievable. You had seen a side of Charlie tonight you would’ve never imagined you’d see. The venom in his voice, the strength, the quick brutality of actions- 

This entire situation sobered you up rapidly. You dropped your head in your hands, willing away the tears. You hadn’t even realized you were beginning to hyperventilate until you felt Charlie’s hand tighten around you, urging you out of your own thoughts.

You could feel him steal small glances of you as you stared out the passenger window. 

“I’m sorry, I’m okay.” You said, your voice raspy and broken. You sat up straight, wiping away the last of your tears. You had to be stronger than this, it was going to be okay, it had to be. 

“Don’t say sorry anymore, please.” Charlie looked over to meet your eyes.

The hand he held on your thigh came up to rest in the mess of your hair. He moved his fingers, carefully working to comfort you. 

Your eyes fluttered back as you relaxed into him. 

As long as you were with him, it would be okay. You would work it out together. 

Charlie’s hand dropped back into your lap as your breaths evened out a bit more. His fingers traced steady circles on your upper thighs, just above the silk of your dress. 

You carefully shrugged out of his coat; it was just getting so warm. You went to reach for the dial that adjusted your AC, only to find it had been shut off this entire time. 

You felt your face flush as you dropped your hand back in your lap. 

“You know, I’m glad I waited to see that dress on you in person.” Charlie gave you a smile, trying his best to reassure you, relieve any of the tension that still drilled into your nerves. “You really do look beautiful. I mean- you always do, I-“ 

You let out a sigh that nearly resembled a real laugh, sinking further into your seat. Your head fell to rest on his arm. 

“Thank you, Charlie.” Your heart swelled as you looked up at him. The features of his face lit up so perfectly under the dim street lighting. You wished you could capture this image and keep it forever. You hadn’t even noticed that you were now parked in front of your house. 

He was just so beautiful, kept you safe. You knew, in his own way, he absolutely adored you. He was absolutely everything to you. You would do anything, if it brought him any sort of peace. 

Your smile widened as he looked down at you. 

He gently moved the hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. 

“What’s going on, babe?” His brow furrowed a bit as he tried to find the cause of the tears that had begun to well in your eyes again. 

You never wanted to be away from him. You just hoped he understood how deeply you cared for him, how much you needed him. How much you lo- “I love you.” The words spilled mindlessly out of you. 

He immediately tensed beside you. Had you actually said that out loud? 

He was quick, carefully wrapping his hands on either side of your face, pulling you close to look at him. He studied your face for any hint of sincerity. 

Had you been sincere? Yes, you resigned yourself. You really did love him. Whatever love meant to you, it filled your heart just for him. 

“Do you mean that?” His voice was so low. 

You nodded. “Yes Charlie, I just love you. I mean it.” 

His lips were on yours before he could give himself another moment to process it all. 

You melted into him, matching his fervent need. 

“I love you, too.” He spoke against your lips. The tears finally began to fall again. After all the terrible things that had happened to you in life, if you had to experience them all over again, just to stay in this moment with him like this for a moment longer, you’d choose to go through it in a heartbeat.

He worked quickly, picking you up over the center console and helping you over his lap. 

You needed more of him, impossibly more. 

His grip around you was nearly suffocating. You just wanted more. All the terrible things that had happened that night seemingly melted away while in his arms. 

He pulled away for a moment. His gaze was full of wonderment and adoration as he looked up at you. He made you feel so beautiful. 

“I’ll pray every night, just to thank whoever brought you into my life.” He spoke just above a whisper. He traced kisses softly against your chest and neck, marking a careful path back to your lips. 

You sighed, arching further into him. Your hands worked through his beautiful hair. 

You weren’t sure how long you both stayed like this. You could’ve stayed in this moment, just in his arms forever, as far as you were concerned. However, the sudden light from your porch sent you both back into your original seats. 

You looked over, eyes falling on Irina, who now stood in the open doorway wearing her robe. Her arms were crossed lazily in front of her chest. 

You groaned quietly, dropping your head into your hands.

You peaked over at Charlie, who was clearing his throat and clumsily adjusting the waistband of his pants. 

You gave him a smile before letting out a real, heartfelt laugh. You wished you could’ve just invited him, climbed into bed, into his arms-

He stepped out of the car quickly, flashing a smile toward you. You hoped he didn’t feel any shame about seemingly being ‘caught’ by your aunt. You knew she wouldn’t care, was just being nosy as usual. You made a glaring mental note to give her the rundown on the escalation of your relationship with Charlie. How could you have not said anything about it to her sooner? 

Charlie made his way over to your side of the car and popped open the door. He held out a hand, helping you out of your seat.

Once your feet hit the pavement, you threw your arms around him again. “I’ll see you again soon. Are you sure you’re okay to walk home?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.” He smiled down at you. 

You kissed him quickly. “You know I always will.” 

“I know. I love you for it.” He replied softly. 

He stepped away, turning to face your aunt. “I’m sorry, just wanted to make sure she made it home safely.” 

Your aunt nodded, “Uh huh.” She couldn’t hide her wide, knowing smile. “Good to see you again, Walker. Have a goodnight.” 

You tried your best to keep your cool as you made your way up the porch steps. Turning back once to wave goodbye to Charlie. 

Irina eyed you over as you both entered the entryway. You knew she must be dying to hear all the details from the night. 

You honestly wouldn’t have the first clue where to start. You curbed her line of questioning before she had the chance to begin. 

“I’ll tell you all about my night tomorrow. I promise, I am just exhausted.” You made your way up the staircase, turning once over your shoulder to face her again. “Thank you for everything tonight, I love you.” 

You could tell Irina was trying her best to hide her slight disappointment, “Okay honey, get some good rest. I love you, too.”

You slipped out of your clothing and heels, running through your nightly routine as quickly as you could before dropping into bed. 

You’d process the entire interaction with Anderson another time. Quite frankly, you believed he deserved to get his teeth knocked in much, much sooner. You were just thankful that Charlie was the one who had stepped in. A sick sense of pride washed over you at the thought.  

For now, you could sleep peacefully knowing that Charlie Walker loved you, too.

[pietrotheavenger]

learn to love

chapter 14 - how to breathe

summary: steve and y/n don’t get along. now, they have to.

pairings: au!steve rogers x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol

a/n: two years later LMFAO dedicated to anon. proofread once and did not edit. there will be another chapter!

series masterlist

steve did not text y/n when he got home. she stayed up an hour, waiting for her phone to light up with his text, but it never did. she didn’t know when she fell asleep that night, but when it came it was restless and absent of any dreams.

the following day was a rinse and repeat of her daily life; wake up, get ready for work, take the subway, and pretend to be busy for eight hours. when she got home and kicked her shoes off, all she wanted was a glass of wine. she paused at the fridge and she checked her phone for what felt like the millionth time that day. no new texts. she sighed, poured herself a glass, and sat down at the dining table. she looked around the empty apartment, her thoughts naturally drifting to steve as they usually did.

what was he doing? was he thinking about her? why hadn’t he texted her?

she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed again. then, she stood up with a start. since when did she sit around feeling sorry for herself? since when? she felt a bit of anger bubble up inside of her. all of this melancholy over a man? god, if she was one of her friends, she would’ve told herself to get a grip. well, she thought, nothing a good shower can’t fix. she pushed her thoughts of steve and his pink lips to the side, and took her glass of wine with her to the bathroom.

an hour later, while y/n was moisturizing her freshly shaved legs, her phone chirped. she looked over, absentmindedly singing along to the music she had put on for her shower. a text. she looked closer. from natasha. she finished applying the cream, then picked her phone up.

nat: will be home from work late tonight. don’t watch love island without me!

she smiled briefly, and shot back a reply.

y/n: wouldn’t dream of it! i don’t feel like cooking so i’ll order a pizza

she set her phone back on the counter, her gaze falling on natasha’s organizer filled with hair accessories. she looked up at the mirror, at her wet hair. she picked up her phone and sent another text to natasha.

y/n: can i borrow your hair pins?

a moment later:

nat: go for it

she quickly set to work blow drying her hair. natasha’s hair was always perfectly curled, and y/n had watched her on multiple occasions use pins to keep the curls in their shape and she had always wanted to try it herself, and see if her hair could be just as bouncy, or if the red head was just using sorcery. before she began curling her hair, she ordered the pizza so that it would arrive around the same time she was done. she also needed to refill her glass.

30 minutes later, she heard a knock at the door. “just a second!” she called out, as she carefully rolled up the last curl and clipped it into place. she paused to admire her handiwork. there was a couple stray pieces of hair sticking out, but overall not bad for her first time trying. she ran out of the bathroom and stopped in the hallway to rummage through her purse for cash. “one second, sorry!” she called out again, hoping the delivery person wouldn’t be annoyed with her. she barely missed stumbling over her shoes before she finally reached the door and opened it.

standing in front of her was six feet and two inches of man. of a man that was quite familiar to her. steve, to be specific. in his hand, in place of the box of pizza that she was expecting, was a bouquet of daffodils wrapped together with light blue cellophane and a bow.

“y/n,” he exhaled, seeming as if he had forgotten what he was going to say.

“steve,” she said, surprise equally evident in her voice and her face.

“i want you,” he rushed out so fast that it seemed that it was all one word. “i want you,” he repeated, slower. the second his eyes had fallen on her, all of the things he had planned to say to her flew out of his head. in their place, all that remained was one thing. one person, to be specific. her.

“steve,” she whispered.

he took a step closer. “i want you,” he said again, his voice low. she wordlessly stepped aside and allowed him to enter the apartment. she closed the door and turned around to face him and pressed her hands together to keep them from shaking. she didn’t meet his eyes, instead looking down at the shoes she had almost tripped over just a minute earlier. he sighed her name and reached for her hand, placing it on his chest, over his heart. she finally looked up at him, eyes searching his expression. “these past months without you,” he began, “have been the most agonizing of my life. i never realized that i need you the way i need air. when i saw you last night, it was like i remembered how to breathe again.

“i can’t lose you. i don’t care about all your stupid worries, i don’t care what my family would think about all of this. all i care is that i have you. i need you, i need to be able to breathe,” he said. “i can’t spend another moment of my life without you, y/n. i’ll do whatever i can to make this work, i’ll do whatever i can to make you happy, i promise. i just need you.”

her lips parted but she did not reply. they stared at each other for a full minute. he waited for an answer from her, anything. even a, “no steve.” but she said nothing. his heart was beating fast and he knew she could feel it. his hand fell from hers, and he broke eye contact.

her heart dropped, and she instantly knew that she shared the same madness as him. “steve,” she murmured, her hand trailing up to his face. her fingers carefully traced over his jawline, his stubble tickling her fingers. his blue eyes lifted to meet hers again. there was a small brown mole on his cheek. she had never noticed it. she wrapped both of her arms around his neck and pulled him in for an embrace. he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tight. the flowers became slightly crushed in the process, but he didn’t noticed. he buried his face in her neck, savoring her sweet, clean scent. one of the metal pins in her hair poked the side of his head, and she gasped, “oh my god,” and pulled back, her hand flying up to touch her hair.

“what?” he snapped, feeling a flash of agitation at the interruption of their hug. though she hadn’t escaped from his arms quite yet.

“my hair,” she gawked, as if it should have been obvious to him. he let himself take a good look at her. she was dressed in pajama pants and a college t-shirt, and her hair was pinned up like a woman out of a 1950’s fashion magazine. he smiled to himself. she looked ethereal. the annoyed look on her face quickly brought him back down to reality.

he fought the urge to roll his eyes and said instead, “it doesn’t matter.” how could it matter, when she was here with him? he swore his heart skipped a beat. she hadn’t said much, but she didn’t need to. this had to happen. he needed her and he would do whatever he possibly could for her to be his.

“it matters to me! i look ridiculous!” she cried, turning her head to look in the mirror on the wall next to the front door. she reached up and pulled a pin out, the curl falling down in a perfect spiral, mesmerizing steve.

he touched the piece of hair, making her hand stop mid air as she went to unfasten another curl. he wrapped the strand around his finger and released it, watching it bounce. “you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, repeating the motion, “every single part of you. i want it all.” his hand moved up to cup her face and tilt it up towards his. he closed the distance between them until they were barely separated by an inch. his eyes fell to her lips. “please, be mine,” he exhaled, his eyes fluttering closed.

she leaned in, her lips meeting his in a kiss.

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[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now? - Alternative Prologue

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Something in The Orange" - Niall Horan (originally performed by Zach Bryan)

Chapter Warnings: drinking to cope

Spotify Playlist: Here

Fic Chapter List

Chapter Notes: so I finished my tactician mode run as fallon this week, and i played it exactly how it plays out in her story (god!gale leaves her, karlach goes illithid, etc). I have now seen the epilogue party and how it goes if you romanced gale and he ascends to godhood and my brain has been whooshing ever since. So if i were to re-edit/re-write this entire story (i’m not– not right now anyway), just imagine this chapter slotted in between the prologue and chapter one.

Prologue B: You're Never Coming Home

When Fallon received the mysterious invitation requesting she attend a reunion party six months after defeating The Netherbrain, in the spot near The Emerald Grove where it all began, she immediately threw the invitation in the bin. Though she had seen most of her former companions several times since they parted ways on the docks, and though it would be nice to see her former companions again in one large group, Fallon had absolutely no desire to go anywhere that he might show up. Would whomever was throwing this party have even thought to invite him? Would he have even received the invitation? Fallon didn’t know where he was anymore, or if he’d become the god he sought out to become. As far as she knew, nobody had heard from him or spoken to him since he left. 

Not that Fallon’s friends dared to mention his name in her presence, so even if they knew of his whereabouts…they probably wouldn’t tell her. 

She should have expected that Shadowheart would show up at The Elfsong Tavern, where Fallon was still living, and demand Fallon attend. When Shadowheart threw open the curtains in the suite (curtains that had remained closed for the last six months), Fallon whined and buried herself under the blankets in her bed. “That’s fuckin’ bright, fuck.” Fallon complained, the dull headache she had from the previous evening’s attempt to drink until she reached peaceful oblivion intensifying. 

“Serves you right for living in darkness and not leaving this room for six months.” Shadowheart chastised her, and there was little sympathy in her friend’s tone. 

“That’s not true– I’ve left this room,” Fallon argued as she poked her head out from under the blankets, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the daylight now flooding her space. “I’ve gone downstairs.” Her words were slurred, and Fallon squeezed her eyes shut again, willing her brain to focus. There was no question about it: Fallon was definitely still a little drunk from last night.

Shadowheart tutted at her with her tongue and shook her head. The cleric didn’t need to say it for them both to know Fallon’s argument was weak, and going downstairs to the bar was not what Shadowheart meant. “Regardless, you’re leaving this tavern. You’re leaving Baldur’s Gate, and coming with me to the reunion party. If you won’t come willingly, I am prepared to drag you there kicking and screaming.”

“It’s not like I don’t know what you’ve all been doing. I’ve seen most of you in the last six months.” The only exceptions being Lae’zel, who had been off helping her people overthrow Vlaakith, and him. Everyone else had been by to see Fallon at least once in the last six months. Shadowheart ignored Fallon’s protests and disappeared from the bedroom. The sound of running water filled Fallon’s ears moments later and she realized Shadowheart was running her a bath. When the cleric reappeared, she stalked over to Fallon’s bed and ripped the blankets back, robbing Fallon of their warmth and the elf squawked with protest as she unsuccessfully reached for the blankets to cover herself again, if only to hide what she was sleeping in from her friend. 

Recognition immediately passed over Shadowheart’s face as she scanned the purple tunic that covered Fallon’s body, and pity filled the cleric’s eyes. “Where did you find that? I thought he took–” Shadowheart asked softly.  

“It was in my pack when– when he left. My guess is he left in such a hurry that he forgot I had it.” Fallon answered bitterly, unable to meet Shadowheart’s eyes. She hated the look of pity on her friend’s face, and Fallon wanted nothing more than to disappear back under the blankets and for her friend to leave. 

“And you sleep in it…to torture yourself?” Shadowheart questioned.

Fallon shrugged and curled her body into itself, wrapping her arms around her knees and pressing them to her chest. “I guess so.” The truth was that Fallon slept in the purple tunic because it still smelled like him, and when she wrapped her arms around herself before falling into her alcohol induced slumber every night, she could pretend they were his arms instead of her own. It didn’t always keep the nightmares she had about that day on the docks at bay, but at least when she woke up in a panic, the feeling of the velvet fabric and the lingering smell of his cologne was enough to bring her back to reality. Fallon was more certain than ever that he had enchanted his clothes to smell the way they did, because after sleeping in his tunic for six straight months, the familiar smell never faded. 

Shadowheart sighed as she took a seat on the bed at Fallon’s feet. She gently reached for Fallon’s hand and squeezed it. “If you stay home, he wins. He’s already robbed you of enough happiness– don’t let him take this from you, too.”

Fallon looked up at Shadowheart, fear shining in her eyes. “What if he shows up? I don’t think I can–” She said thickly, her voice threatening to crack as panic rose within her. 

“If he shows up, we’ll protect you. If you don’t want to speak to him, you don’t have to, and I will personally spend my entire evening concentrating on the most powerful Hold Person spell I know if he tries to speak to you without your permission.” Shadowheart tells her with more conviction than Fallon has heard from the cleric in a very long time. 

“And if Shadowheart’s spell fails, I will rip his throat out if he comes near you.” Fallon’s head snapped up as a new voice entered the conversation, and she saw Astarion leaning against the door frame of her bedroom. The serious look on his face softened when they made eye contact, and he offered her an easy smile. “Hello, darling. Miss me?”

“That depends. Are you here to help her drag me to this party?” Fallon eyed the vampire warily. 

Astarion pushed himself away from the door frame and entered the room, his red eyes looking around in distaste. “Well right now I’m here to drag you to the bath because if you smell half as bad as this room does, the only person surviving this party is me because I’m technically already dead, gods.”

Fallon scowled at him as he raised the collar of his shirt above his nose in an attempt to filter the alleged smell of her bedroom, and she looked to Shadowheart for confirmation it was as bad as he said. 

“He’s being dramatic, but…it does smell a bit like something died in here. The fact that you don’t smell it yourself is all the more reason to get you out of here for a while,” Shadowheart scrunched her nose as her attention turned from Astarion to Fallon. “Do we…want to know how long it’s been since you bathed?”  

That she couldn’t remember was telling enough. “Probably not.” Fallon shook her head, and Astarion made a disgusted noise in response. 

Shadowheart closed her eyes and sighed. “Please come to the party with us, Fallon. We all miss you.”

Fallon missed her friends, too, and hearing about what everyone had been up to in between taking turns checking in on her would be a nice distraction. “Ugh, fine.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, completely unbothered by the way Astarion’s eyes went wide as he realized Fallon was not wearing any pants, and the purple tunic barely covered her ass. If her friends had wanted her to be decent when they came over, they should have sent word or, at the very least, knocked. 

Aside from poking her head in to leave what Shadowheart deemed an “appropriate” outfit for Fallon to wear to the party (“Honestly, I’m just glad I found something clean.” she’d said), Astarion and Shadowheart did not bother Fallon while she soaked in the tub, or tell her to hurry up. When Fallon emerged from the bath an hour later, the smell of lavender hit her nostrils as she re-entered her bedroom. No matter what Shadowheart and Astarion claimed her room smelled like before, it definitely hadn’t smelled like lavender. Fallon’s jaw went slack as she observed the now pristine room. Fallon found Shadowheart and Astarion waiting for her in the sitting room and she gave the pair a look of awe. “Did you clean my room for me?” 

“I cleaned your room, yes.” Shadowheart confirmed and Astarion glared at her. 

“Excuse me, I–”

“You did not help, you fluffed her pillows so you could say you helped, but I did all the work.” Shadowheart cut him off, and Astarion rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever. We’re going to be late. Shall we go?” He stood from his chair and walked to Fallon, offering his arm. Fallon nodded and inhaled slowly, deeply, trying to calm her mind. 

“Lead the way.” Gods, there better be alcohol at this party. 

There was, mercifully, an abundance of alcohol at the reunion party, and everyone else seemed as interested in partaking as Fallon did. Wyll himself said he intended to drink a half-dozen bottles of wine by the time the night was over, so Fallon did not feel guilty for taking an entire bottle of red for herself. There was no sign of him yet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t coming, so Fallon kept drinking. She was mindful to stick to the same brand and type of wine, so each time she opened a new bottle, it was less obvious. 

If anyone noticed that the elf had three full bottles of wine to herself in under two hours, nobody tried to stop her. It seemed like everyone was too happy to see her, especially out and about, to bother with telling her to slow down the drinking (if they noticed at all). Based on the look Astarion was constantly giving her, he’d definitely noticed. As she opened her fourth bottle of wine, her vision blurring at the edges and her balance beginning to falter as she swayed slightly, Fallon wondered why her friend was so uncharacteristically silent in his judgment of her. Then she saw a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye as something, rather someone tried to skirt their way out of Fallon’s line of sight. 

That was when Fallon felt it: the pull of otherworldly energy calling to her from across their former campsite. Slowly, Fallon turned her body as she searched for the campsite for the source. When she found it, Fallon inhaled sharply and nausea immediately began roiling in her stomach.

Gale. 

Not only that, but if the silver glow surrounding his body was any indication, he was a god. The man she loved more than anything had succeeded in his quest to reforge The Crown of Karsus and seize its power for himself. He’d gotten what he wanted, while she’d been left behind wondering what could have been. Shadowheart was at her side in an instant, and Fallon gripped her friend’s arm to steady herself and keep her entire body from trembling at the sight of him. 

“How long has he been here?” Fallon asked quietly. 

“Just long enough for Astarion to tell him to stay away from you.” Shadowheart rested her hand over Fallon’s.

As though he’d heard his name, Astarion appeared in front of Fallon, blocking her from Gale’s line of sight. “Are you okay? Say the word and I’ll take you home.” 

“No,” Fallon shook her head, closing her eyes. She was not okay, but she also wasn’t going to run away. “I’m not leaving. Remember what Shadowheart said before we came here? If I leave, he wins. I’m not letting him win.” 

“Are you sure?” Astarion asked, concern etched across his face. 

“I’m not leaving.” Fallon reiterated, as deja vu flooded her system and reminded her that she, Astarion, and Shadowheart had a similar exchange once where she refused to leave a location because of Gale. Only back then, it was at the Stormshore Tabernacle, and instead of waiting for Gale to leave before departing herself, she was waiting to leave until he returned from being summoned by Mystra.

Astarion sighed. “Okay. Just say the word though–”

“I’m fine, Astarion.” Fallon snapped. She was not fine, and they both knew it, but Fallon was too stubborn to admit it. Fallon released her grip on Shadowheart’s arm and took a long drink from her wine bottle, closing her eyes as she willed the alcohol to bring her to peaceful oblivion where she was unbothered by Gale’s presence. If Shadowheart and Astarion exchanged any looks, she did not see it. 

Fallon needed a distraction. Something stronger than wine, and when she turned to walk away from Astarion and Shadowheart as she lowered the bottle from her mouth, her eyes landed on the tall, broad figure of Halsin standing by the fire. 

A distraction, indeed. 

Fallon sauntered over to the druid with a coy smile on her face. “Hi friend.” She greeted like she hadn’t been speaking to him for half the night already. She stumbled slightly in her drunkenness, and her free hand instinctively reached for Halsin’s abnormally large bicep to steady herself, and the druid’s hands instinctively went to her waist to steady her. Fallon giggled. “My hero! I would have Fallon into the fire if you weren’t here. Wait– did I say Fallon instead of fallen? I’m Fallon.”

Halsin laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yes you are, friend. You’re also very drunk,” The druid’s hands dropped from her waist as soon as he was sure that Fallon was steady on her feet. “I take it you’ve had a good evening? The presence of a certain wizard hasn’t soured your mood?” 

“What wizard? There are no wizards here– just gods and mortals,” Fallon slurred, rolling her eyes. “My evening has been lovely, thank you. It’s been so good to see…well, almost everyone again. Could’ve done without Volo crashing. Or the god. Though I could think of a few ways it could be better.” She took another swig from her wine bottle as she eyed Halsin mischievously, like a cat circling in on a mouse. 

Halsin raised an eyebrow at her with a wary look on his face. “Oh?” 

Fallon stepped closer to Halsin, and as she did so, her eyes found Gale’s. Fallon inhaled sharply at the intensity of his gaze. He was watching her. Good. She turned her attention back to Halsin with a smile. “I seem to recall a time when you wanted to lay beneath the stars with me,” She placed her free hand on Halsin’s broad chest. “How about you and I find a place to watch the stars later…just the two of us?” Fallon bit her lip in a suggestive manner, her lips curling into a smirk as she eyed the druid.

Halsin covered Fallon’s hand on his chest with his own, and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it softly before redirecting her hand to her side and releasing it. “Flattered as I am that you sought me out, you have had quite a lot to drink this evening. I cannot in good conscience take you to bed in this condition,” The look on his face could only be described as gentle disappointment, like he was about to scold a child, not reject a fully grown woman’s advances. “However if, when you are sound of mind, this conversation comes back to you and you have sorted everything out with Gale and Astarion, you know where to find me.” 

Fallon stared at Halsin in confusion as he took a step back from her. “What do you mean? Sorted things out with Gale and Astarion?” 

Halsin chuckled. “It’s not often that one finds themself in a position where a god is ready to smite me where I stand and a vampire prepared to rip out my throat simply for placing my hands on a woman’s waist, but that is what just occurred,” He shrugged. “So you tell me.” 

With that, he bade her goodnight and Fallon was left alone by the fire, pouting and confused. Across the flames, she saw Gale again, and he looked smug. It was possible that was just his face now that he was a god, but even in her inebriated condition, Fallon had a feeling that wasn’t the case. Fallon downed the rest of her wine bottle and tossed it into the dirt with a soft thud before storming over to the god. 

“I wondered if I’d see you here,” Gale greeted her with a smile far too smug for someone who was seeing his ex-girlfriend for the first time in six months after abandoning her. “I imagine this must be quite a shock. Whatever you’re feeling, do not be afraid. I’m still me…just an improved version.” 

Fallon stared at Gale, stunned into silence at how casual he was being. “So you did it then. You became a god?”

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Fallon hated the condescending smirk on Gale’s face. No, this was most definitely not an “improved” version of Gale by any means– Fallon knew that and she’d only been in his presence for less than thirty seconds.

“Was it worth it? Is godhood everything you dreamed it would be, despite what you had to give up?” Fallon asked him. 

“Of course it was worth it– it’s not like I had to give up anything of consequence. I had nothing. Spurned by my goddess, my power all but depleted, my reputation destroyed… That’s what I gave up when I reforged the crown.” 

“And me.” She muttered, her eyes dropping to the dirt beneath their feet. His words stung, and Fallon could feel the anger bubbling within her. 

“Sorry, what was that? I may be a god now but that doesn’t mean my hearing has improved.” Gale chuckled jokingly, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d upset her at all. 

“I said ‘and me.’ You had me, Gale. Though from the sound of it, I was nothing of consequence and meant nothing to you, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at how easy it was for you to give me up.” When she looked back up at him, fiery drunken anger shone in her eyes. 

Gale looked completely taken back by her outburst, and the mask of the confident god faltered. “Fallon, I– I did this for you. I told you that I needed to reforge the crown, then I could give you everything.” 

“Don’t. Don’t fucking lie to me. You did not do this for me. You were only thinking of yourself. If you were thinking of me, you never would have left me behind in the first place,” Fallon spat, and she reached forward to shove Gale as her anger manifested physically. The god of ambition was unmoved by her attempt to shove him. She was not sure when it happened, but Fallon had begun crying. “You were everything to me, and I meant nothing to you.” 

Gale tried to take a step towards her, reaching for her, but Fallon stepped back and out of his reach. “Don’t fucking touch me!” She yelled. As though he’d been waiting in the shadows for this very moment, Astarion appeared almost out of thin air and he stepped between Gale and Fallon.

“Back up, wizard.” He snarled at Gale, placing a hand on Gale’s chest as a warning to not take another step.

Gale tilted his head, his gaze flitting back and forth between Astarion and Fallon, then a look of understanding passed over his face. Gale’s nostrils flared as he scoffed.  “Well you certainly didn’t waste any time, did you?” He quipped to Astarion, causing the vampire to get right in his face. 

“Walk away, Gale. Now. Need I remind you that this very specific group of people have taken on the effigies of four different gods, and won?” Astarion threatened, and Fallon glanced around only to realize that the rest of their companions had gathered behind her– every single one of them ready to back Astarion if a fight broke out. 

Gale looked at his former companions, assessing the situation carefully. Then, slowly, he raised his hands in defeat and backed up. “As you wish. It was time for me to return to the heavens anyhow,” Gale’s eyes fell on Fallon and he looked at her longingly. “I truly did come here ready to offer you everything. How unfortunate that I believed you would wait for me.”

With a glow of ethereal light, Gale disappeared, and Fallon immediately collapsed into Astarion’s arms as sobs wracked through her body as their companions surrounded her. “I hate him,” She sobbed into Astarion’s chest. “I hate him.”  

Those three words were the only ones she knew as Astarion carried her back to Baldur’s Gate via the portal they arrived through, back to The Elfsong Tavern and up to the suite. She repeated her mantra as she allowed Astarion to help her change into a set of night clothes Shadowheart found while cleaning, and as he helped her into bed. 

“I hate him” was the last thing she said before she passed out in Astarion’s arms, curled up against his side. 

The headache was what woke her bright and early the next morning, followed by the nausea. Then the panic set in as she tried to remember the events of the previous evening, but her memory failed her completely. 

“The last thing I remember was talking to Lae’zel about Shadowheart moving in with her, and that was…pretty early in the evening?” She asked Astarion for confirmation, and he nodded. 

“Jesus…” Fallon paused for a moment, chewing on her lip as she tried to remember, but nothing came. “Did–did he show up?” 

Astarion was quiet for a moment, but then he sighed and shook his head. “No, darling. He didn’t come.” 

Of course he didn’t. Fallon blinked back the tears that formed in the corner of her eyes. “He’s never coming home, is he?” She said more to herself than to Astarion, and Astarion, bless him, seemed to know this, so he did not answer her. 

“I want to be alone, please.” Fallon said quietly as she laid back down on the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Please, Astarion.” 

The vampire surveyed his friend silently, as though he were trying to figure out if she meant her words or not. “Alright. Shall I come by later to check in?” He asked as he rose from the bed..

Fallon shook her head. “I’ll call you if I need you. Promise.” She nodded her head towards the sending stone on her bedside table. 

Astarion nodded and began walking to the bedroom door, but he stopped halfway to the door and turned back to look at Fallon. “He never deserved you.” Astarion said softly. 

As he exited, he noticed the purple tunic Fallon had been wearing when he and Shadowheart arrived sitting on the top of a pile of dirty clothes, and in a split second decision, Astarion checked to make sure Fallon wasn’t watching before swiping the tunic from the top of the pile with the intention of throwing it away the second he passed a garbage bin outside the Elfsong Tavern. 

[suddencolds]

Fool Me Twice [5/?]

Hello, remember this series? This chapter took me like six months to write. It was very embarrassing opening up the google doc again to see that the last edit was in April (back when I rewrote this chapter from scratch five times over before giving up entirely.) Anyways, I need to post it before I lose my nerve. 😭

Part 5 ft. fake dating, a cold, and an intervention

You can read part 1 [here]! (No context is needed aside from the previous 4 parts).

—

The drive to Good Day Diner is uneventful. Francesca recommended it to him awhile back, when they were both still in college, and he’s been trying to puzzle out their recipes ever since. Though, even with the ones where he’s come close, he rarely has the time to make them properly, in between work and everything else, so he’s been back here a few times since then.

Yves picks up two pint-sized containers worth of soup—chicken farro and miso with ginger—and strikes up a conversation with the cashier while he waits.

“This isn’t your usual order,” she says.

“Yeah,” Yves says. “It’s for a friend.”

“They’re a fan of miso?” Yves considers this. They’ve gone to more than a couple work outings together, and though Yves hasn’t paid particularly close attention to what everyone else has ordered, he thinks he remembers Vincent getting miso salmon on one occasion, a few weeks back. “I’m not sure,” he says. “I hope so.”

“Your friend didn’t tell you their order?”

“He doesn’t know I’m getting dinner for him. I just happened to be passing by, so I thought I might as well.” That part’s not entirely true—the restaurant is a twenty minute drive from the office, and it’s not really on the way home, either.

“So it’s a surprise,” the girl says, leaning back with a smile that looks a little too knowing for Yves’s liking. Whatever she thinks she’s figured out, he’s sure she has the wrong idea. “That’s awfully nice of you.”

“It’s not like that,” Yves says. “We aren’t that close. I’m not even sure if he’ll be happy to see me.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s done a lot for me, and I think—” I think I might’ve repaid him in the most ungrateful way possible, his mind supplies unhelpfully. “I think all I’ve done, in return, is cause him trouble.”

The girl finishes ladling soup into the containers and reaches over the counter for two caps. “Usually when people do a lot for you, that means they like you.” 

“Or it means they’re just really nice,” Yves says. “I think that’s closer to it.”

“So you’re getting him soup because you feel indebted to him?” She sets the soup containers carefully into a brown paper bag, slips in two plastic sleeves worth of utensils, then slides it towards him.

“Something like that,” Yves says, taking the bag from her. “Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes the next time I’m back. Have a good one!” 

“You too,” she says. “I hope your friend appreciates it.”

It’s not as nice as treating Vincent to dinner, but maybe what Vincent needs right now is convenience, not luxury. if he’s already made up his mind about working late, then at least he can work late with dinner on the side. Yves doesn’t even have to talk to him, really. He can just leave the soup on Vincent’s desk with a note, as unobtrusively as possible, and then take his leave again.

The drive back is shorter than expected. Yves turns on the radio, if only to not be left with just his thoughts, and listens to the newscaster talk about traffic, and the weather, and a local festival that’s going to be held on friday. When he puts the car into park and pulls the keys out from the ignition, the silence that follows is not reassuring in the least.

He pockets his keys and heads up the stairs, into the office building, and takes the elevator up to the fifth floor. The office is well-lit, even this late at night—it gives the impression of it being perpetually daytime, even though the clock on the wall says otherwise. 

He takes a post-it note off of Cara’s desk, scrawls on: Figured you wouldn’t have time to get dinner, so I got you soup, and signs it: -Y. He sticks the note onto the paper bag, regards it for a moment, and then—after reconsidering—staples it on, just in case. 

Then he heads off—past rows and rows of desks, around the corner and through the hallway, past the break room, to stop at the doorway which overlooks the room where Vincent sits.

Vincent is still at his desk, paging through documents with one hand, scrolling through what looks to be a long list of email correspondences with the other. From this distance, it’s hard to tell that anything is off, except— 

He looks exhausted. It’s subtle, but once Yves notices it, he can’t stop noticing it. It’s present in the way Vincent holds himself, as if the wiry frame of the office chair is the only thing keeping him properly upright. It’s in the way he blinks hard at his monitor, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if he’s been staring at it for hours.

There’s a mug of what looks to be black coffee on his desk, half empty but still steaming, which seems to imply that he plans on staying much later. Yves clears his throat.

“Still working hard?” he says. 

Vincent’s gaze snaps up to where Yves is standing. “Yves,” he says. “I thought you left.”

“I did.”

“Did you forget something here?” Vincent dog-ears the page he’s flipped to, then sets the stack of papers off to the side. “I can help you look.”

“No,” Yves says. “Well, not exactly. I know you said you didn’t want to be bothered. I promise I’ll be out of here soon.”

“Okay,” Vincent says, expectantly.

“Have you eaten?”

“I ate,” Vincent says. The relief Yves feels, at that statement, is unfortunately short-lasted. “Lunch. A few hours ago.”

“Lunch was eight hours ago.”

“I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“Will you catch up on sleep tomorrow too?”

“If I manage to finish this by then,” Vincent says, “Then yes.”

Yves stares at him. Does Vincent really, truly think there’s nothing wrong with any of this? With whatever sleepless, miserable late-night work session he’s already seemingly resigned himself to? “So what? You’re going to crash on the couch here?”

“I’ll head home around 4,” Vincent says.

4am. “And what? Lay down for fifteen minutes?” 

“Three hours, maybe,” Vincent says, turning aside to muffle a cough into his elbow. “I don’t live that far.”

He says all of this in earnest, as though none of it strikes him as even the slightest bit unreasonable. Yves can’t help it—he doesn’t think he could hide the incredulity in his voice even if he tried. “You have to be kidding me.”

Finally, Vincent’s face shifts to show—something. Something other than the utter blankness from before, something past the civil, perfectly drawn business facade. Yves doesn’t have to look for very long to register it as frustration. “What part of my answer was unclear?”

“None of it is unclear,” Yves says. “It’s just… exceptionally unreasonable.” 

“By some arbitrary metric of yours, sure.”

“Ask anyone else at the office and they’d agree with me.”

“What you—or anyone else at the office—think about my sleep schedule doesn’t concern me.”

“Let me help,” Yves says. “Please. We’ll get it done twice as fast if I help. Or if you really don’t trust me, hand it off to someone you do trust.”

“There’s no need. It’s my work to get done.”

“You should be at home right now, not working overtime on your first day back,” Yves says. He looks over all of it, now—over the desktop computer and the monitor, the charts and graphs laid out on screen, the piles of paperwork currently occupying Vincent’s desk. There’s a pang in his chest that he hadn’t quite accounted for.  “It can’t be pleasant doing all of this with a headache.”

Vincent blinks at him. “What headache?”

“The one you’ve had since before I left.” Vincent can attempt to deny it if he wants. But between Leon, Yves’s younger brother, and Victoire, his younger sister—who’ve caught their fair share of colds throughout the years, between the other members of the crew team he’d spent his 6ams with—who he’s seen frequently tired and occasionally under the weather—Yves thinks he’s well equipped to recognize a headache.

And Vincent looks as put-together as always, for the most part—he looks like he could’ve just walked out of a photoshoot for some classy magazine, his hair neat, his tie done neatly, his suit jacket criminally well-fitted to his shoulders. But Yves doesn’t miss the stiff set of his jaw and the tension strung through his posture, the way he tilts his head ever-so-slightly away from the bright overhead lights as if it hurts to look at them, the way he rubs his eyes or pinches the bridge of his nose, always subtle enough to go unnoticed. The way he holds himself, now, as if it’s taking all of his energy to appear so presentable.

“I don’t,” Vincent starts. “I haven’t—”

“I can tell, you know,” Yves says, a little dejectedly. “I’m pretty sure it’s my fault you have one, anyways.”

Vincent frowns. “Talking to you hasn’t given me a headache.”

“Not that,” Yves says. “But I’d imagine that spending all of New Year’s Eve next to me when I was under the weather might have.”

Yves watches the surprise flicker across Vincent’s face.

“So that’s what this is about?” Vincent says slowly, his eyebrows furrowing. He looks—confused, now, taken aback by Yves’s admission—and then a little sad. “You’re just here because you feel guilty.”

“I do feel guilty,” Yves agrees—that much is true. “But that’s not why I’m here.” he feels hopeless, suddenly, attempting to explain himself to someone who would probably have preferred it if he never bothered. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come. Perhaps it was presumptuous to think that he could help in the first place. “I realize now that I can’t change your mind on any of this. But even if you plan to stay here all night, I— I just thought maybe I could—”

He’s interrupted with a harsh, “hhHh’NGk-t!” which jerks Vincent forward in his seat. Then a soft, wet sniffle, and then another— “Excuse m—Hhh’GKT!”, neatly pinched off into his hands. Vincent’s eyes flutter shut as he cups both his hands over his mouth, his eyebrows drawing together as his shoulders tremble with an inhale: “hih… hiIIh… hI’GKSCHHuuh-! Snf-! hH… HEh’DZSSChhUH!”

It’s immediately followed up with a few harsh, grating coughs which leave Vincent hunched over slightly, his glasses slightly askew, his hands still cupped to his face.

“Bless you,” Yves says, a little stunned. 

Vincent doesn’t say anything to that—he just reaches across the desk for a tissue and blows his nose quietly into it, before he discards the tissue into a small metal trash can under the desk. The tips of his ears look a little red.

His throat probably hurts too, Yves realizes, with a jolt. Yves really shouldn’t be prolonging this conversation if he can help it.

“I, uh, brought soup,” he says awkwardly. The paper bag crinkles slightly as he lifts it. “Just so you wouldn’t have to skip dinner entirely. That’s why I was gone earlier. I initially meant to just drop it off here, not—” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to argue with you.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment longer. Then he says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Bring you dinner?

“You didn’t have to come back at all.”

“I know that,” Yves says. “But I wanted to.”

Vincent takes the bag from him, lifts the post-it note so he can read the few lines Yves has scrawled onto it. He turns aside to muffle a few coughs into his sleeve. “This must have been a lot of trouble.”

“Not more trouble than attending a New Year’s party on someone else’s behalf, that’s for sure,” Yves says. It’s a wonder that Vincent agreed to that arrangement in the first place—Yves doesn’t know how he’ll even begin to make it up to him. “If we’re keeping count, I still owe you.”

Vincent regards him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I never thought that you owed me.” 

“Okay,” Yves says. “Then I’m doing this on my own accord.”

“What do you possibly have to gain from that?”

Is it not obvious enough? Yves sighs. “Nothing. I care about you.”

Carefully, slowly, Vincent opens the bag, shifts his documents over to the other side of the desk, and takes out the two containers of soup. Yves regards them closely—hopefully they’ve still retained most of their warmth, even after the drive here.

“I’m not sure if they’ll be to your taste,” he says, a little sheepishly. “If you tell me what you like, next time I’ll try to keep it in mind.”

“I’m not picky,” Vincent says. He rummages through the paper bag for a spoon. “I think I’d like both of these. Have you eaten already?”

“Not yet,” Yves says. Perhaps he should’ve picked up dinner for himself at Good Day, too—he’d been so preoccupied with getting something for Vincent that he’d forgotten. Either way, it’s inconsequential. There’s probably enough in the fridge to last a day or two before his next grocery run.

“You also got dinner for yourself, right?”

Yves must hesitate for a moment too long. 

“That’s a little hypocritical,” Vincent says. “Do you want to pull up a chair?”

“What?”

“You haven’t eaten. You brought two soups.”

“They were both supposed to be for you.”

“You’re already here.” Vincent says. He shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side, clears a space on the table, and sets the chicken farro soup in front of Yves. As if it really is that simple.

Yves stares down at it, a little perplexed. I thought you didn’t want to speak to me, he wants to say. 

“Unless you’d just prefer to take this home,” Vincent says, misinterpreting his silence as hesitation. 

“No,” Yves says. “You’re right. I’ll pull up a chair.”

—

Yves ends up dragging over a chair from one of the tables nearby—he makes a mental note to put it back before they leave. Vincent shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side.

“Now we’re both staying past nine,” Vincent says.

“Yes,” Yves says. “I’ve always wanted to see what this place turns into at night.”

“Does it live up to your expectations?” “It’s a bit of a ghost town,” Yves says. “But not in a bad way. Feels like I could take all the snacks out of the break room and no one would bat an eye.”

“That’s the real reason why I’m here right now,” Vincent says, so deadpan that it barely sounds like a joke. Yves laughs. 

Something about this scene—about sitting with Vincent, here, having dinner on the only corner of his office desk that isn’t occupied by documents—feels a little nostalgic.

“This is just like when I first joined,” he says. “When you were helping me with all the onboarding stuff.” 

Back when he first joined, Vincent’s desk was a frequent destination. It’s not that Vincent is particularly friendly—it’s more just that Vincent is really, really good. He has expertise in things that he’s only done once in his life, and he can spot mistakes at a glance. He’s patient, too, even though Yves thinks that if the roles had been reversed, anyone teaching Vincent anything would never have to exercise any patience at all.

He can’t blame Angelie for looking to Vincent for help, either. It wasn’t that long ago that Yves was the one hovering at his desk, watching Vincent go through relevant work over his shoulder.

“The first couple weeks are - snf-! - always difficult,” Vincent says. “But you picked things up quickly.”

“I can’t imagine you as a beginner at anything,” Yves muses.

“Everyone’s - snf -! - a beginner at s-some— hH-! Just a second—” Vincent turns his head away sharply, burying his nose into his shoulder before— “hh’GKt-! Hh… Hhh’IIZSCchuhH! snf-! Hh-! hhih… HiH’GKT-!... Hh… hHih… hIH’IKTSHhh’uuh!”  

“Bless you,” Yves says reflexively. 

“Thank you,” Vincent says, with a small cough, which he muffles into his sleeve. He sighs. His voice has held up pretty well, but Yves can hear the muted edge of congestion in his voice, softening his consonants. “What was that you said to me? ‘You’ll get tired of that phrase really quickly?’”

“I won’t if you get over this cold soon,” Yves says. “Maybe that’s the real reason why I brought soup.”

“So that’s why you’re being suspiciously nice to me,” Vincent says, with a laugh. “I’m relieved to know you’ve had ulterior motives all along.”

Everything gets easier, after that. Vincent seems to enjoy the soup, for the way his eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, after he takes his first bite. (“So I was right to think you’d like miso,” Yves says, and Vincent laughs and says, “Am I really that predictable?”) When Yves offers again to help, after dinner, Vincent wordlessly hands him a small stack of business proposals. It’s not much, but just the fact that he’s agreeing to let Yves help is already a step in the right direction—give Yves an inch, and he’ll take a mile.

Yves looks through all of the documents he’s handed, scrawling notes in the margins, and then goes through another third of the stack of unreviewed paper on Vincent’s desk, while Vincent scrolls through pages of spreadsheets, processing data and creating new graphs. Vincent is almost frighteningly efficient, even when he’s not feeling his best—they lapse into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the occasional, near-inaudible hitch in Vincent’s breath, always followed by a wrenching sneeze, or two.

There’s the coughing, too—always muffled tightly into his sleeve, after Vincent turns to face away from him, which must be exhausting. Yves doesn’t know why he bothers. It’s not as though he can catch this cold again.

(“Bless you,” Yves says, after the tenth-or-so sneeze, trying not to let the concern creep into his voice. “I think the pharmacy near 59th is still open. If you want, I can stop by and grab you something for your symptoms.”

“No need,” Vincent says. “If it - hh-! - gets bad enough, I’ll — Hhh-!”

“Bless you again—”

“hihH’IZSCHhhuh! - snf-! - I’ll get something myself.”

Yves wonders what his metric for bad enough is. Then again, it’s probably better not to press.)

It’s nearly eleven before Yves decides to head home at last.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Vincent says, with a rueful sniffle. “You must be tired.” “Not really,” Yves says. “I usually sleep pretty late. If you’re still feeling this bad tomorrow, take the day off.”

“I’ll think about it,” Vincent says. 

Yves sighs. “At the very least, promise me you’ll head home sooner rather than later?”

 “No promises,” Vincent says—though at the disapproving look Yves gives him, he amends, “But I’ll try.”

He sounds like he means it, at the very least. Yves supposes he’ll take what he can get.

[ Part 6 ]

[bitchyycapricorn]

Almost There

Peter Parker x Ghost!Reader

Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Wordcount: 4.8K

Synopsis: Peter enters his apartment that night expecting to find an empty bed. But instead, he comes face to face with your transparent glowing figure.

Warnings: Angst! Mentions of death, hospital rooms, cheating(not on reader), Fluff, SMUT AT THE END, P in V, Oral (M and F receiving), praise kink, happy ending

AN:Not edited.

Peter’s heart was racing as he races down the dimly lit hall with you pressed against his chest. Your pleads still echoing in his head, rattling in his brain, making him feel weak and useless as he runs in attempts to save you from bleeding out. He could feel your warm blood staring to soak through his suit, his arms feeling weaker than normal as he cradles your head in one arm, while your legs are thrown over the other. His mind feels frantic as he thinks of how to get you safely to the hospital. You’re loosing too much blood, he knows this. “We’re almost there Y/N,” he breathes softly, “Almost there.”

He approaches the fallen elevator, shifting your body do you’re thrown over his shoulder. He mutters a quick ‘fuck’ as he dials Ned. The phone rings for a moment before he hears Neds voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey Peter, where you been?” Neds cheery voice makes Peter wince.

“Ned its Y/N. I need you to get Aunt May and meet me at the abandoned elevator with a spare thing of my cloths. It’s urgent.” Peter hands up the phone, preparing to climb up the wall with you thrown over his shoulder. With a small grunt, he sticks himself to the wall and begins to climb, only relying on his webs from keeping you from falling.

As Peter approaches the top of the elevator he can see both May and Ned looking down at him. His body heaves your unconscious one up and onto the ground outside the elevator doors.

“Peter what the hell is going on?” May says slowly, trying to keep herself from freaking out.

Peter lets out another grunt as he lifts up your shirt, shooting his webs onto your still bleeding wounds in hopes of preventing any further blood loss. “I’ll explain in the car, we need to get her to the hospital.” He stumbles as he stands up, leaning down to lift you into his arms once again. Both May and Ned exchange looks as they follow Peter to the car.

“Do you want to explain what the hell is going on now?” May asks as she starts the car, pulling out of the apartment complex.

Peter nods, stripping out of his suit in the backseat, being careful not to tussle you around too much in the process. “A few months ago, basically around the time we moved in, I met Y/N.” Peter says as he pulls on the pants Ned brought him. “The thing about Y/N is that she’s sorta, or was sorta a ghost. Not fully alive, but not fully dead either.”

Ned turns to May nodding. “It’s so cool, she could like turn into a solid person, and then suddenly be invisible as a ghost. It was scary cool.”

“I’m sorry, you expect me to believe we had a ghost living in our apartment?” May cuts in, looking back at Peter in the rear view mirror.

Peter throws his shirt on before easing your head back into his lap. “Well May, I have spider powers, Thor exists, and so does Dr. Strange so…” He says slowly.

May rolls her eyes before nodding. “You make a fair point. Continue.”

“Well anyways, me and Y/N went looking for her body below the building. Originally we thought she’d be a skeleton but she wasn’t. She was like, frozen in time.” Peter says as he checks your wounds.

Ned turns around to look at you both, “cool like a coma?” He asks.

Peter shakes his head, “No, I don’t think so. If it was a coma she would’ve died from lack of food and water. Plus she wounds only started bleeding when she like, go absorbed back into her body.”

Ned’s eyes went wide as he looks from Peter to May, and back to Peter. “Wicked.”

“Okay, so where has this half ghost half girl been staying these last few months exactly?” May asks as she takes a sharp turn, trying her best to rush to the hospital without getting pulled over.

“She was staying with me for a while.” Ned pipes in. “You know, after the fight.” He says glaring at Peter.

Peter could feel his jaw clench as he draws your body closer to his. “It was a misunderstanding. Not a fight.”

Ned rolls his eyes, “sure, you having a girlfriend and letting her touch Y/N stuffed animal was a ‘misunderstanding.’ You kicked her out of your room dude. Also, she clearly liked you. Otherwise she wouldn’t have kissed you that one night.”

May eyes flicker to the rearview mirror, looking at Peter’s now guilty face. “Was she living in your room or something?”

“Oh yeah, until she started sleeping with me. That was after MJ and Peter got together.” Ned nods.

Both May and Peter’s heads whip to the side to look at Ned. “You and Y/N slept together?” Peter squeaks, trying to stop himself from raising his voice.

“Well yeah, obviously. Why do you care? You’re with MJ.” Ned scoffs, not seeing the big deal in you both sharing a bed so you could actually fall asleep at night.

“Ned what the fuck.” Peter groans, “I totally thought the kiss we shared before she came back to life met something! Now you’re telling me you and Y/N were having sex?”

“Sex?!” Ned shrieks.

“Wait a second Mr. What do you mean kiss? You and MJ are dating.” May scolds.

“SEX?” Ned repeats as his face pales even more.

“Nobody cares if you and a ghost had sex Ned, Peter cheated on MJ.” May snaps, slightly irritated as she pulls into the parking lot of the hospital.

“We didn’t have sex! We shared a bed!” Ned cries, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Wait, so you didn’t sleep together?” Peter lets out a sigh of relief.

Ned lets out a small groan, “We slept together in the actual sleeping way, not the sexual way dude. You’re so dirty minded.”

“I got worried okay! Would’ve been really weird if you and Y/N were having sex when we both almost had sex earlier today!” Peter defends.

“Peter Parker!” May cries, turning around to look at Peter who’s getting your still passed out body out of the car.

“I’m sorry May, I really am but I need to help Y/N.” Peter says, hosting you into his arms and dashing towards the entrance.

+++

Your eyes flutter open and the sound of beeping fills the room. When you turn your head you’re met with Peters worried face along with numerous tubes and fluid bags. You look down at your arm to find it attached to an IV, while your nose is plugged up with oxygen. “Peter?” You croak.

Peter lets out a small sob, placing his hand on the side of your face. “I thought I lost you, I-“ he cries softly.

You let you a small laugh as tears begin to spill from your eyes. “I’m here now, I’m okay.” You promise, placing your hand over his hand that’s resting on your cheek. “I-I think I’m alive.” You whisper.

Peter nods, tears still spilling from his eyes. “You are, you didn’t disappear last night, you-you stayed with me.” He chokes.

A smile spreads across your lips as you lean in to kiss him softly. “Peter, I can stay with you now. I-I’m all yours.”

He nods, kissing you again and again. “You’re mine,” he whispers.

You nod as you shift over in your hospital bed. “Lay with me?”

He nods, crawling into bed with you. “I really did think I was going to loose you without saying goodbye.” He says as he brings you into his arms. You lay your head down on his chest as he continues. “I brought you in and you were immediately taken into surgery. For hours I waited for you. Crying, wondering if I’d ever see you again. Both May and Ned eventually had to go home, since only I could stay.” You feel a hot tear hit the top of your head as another sob racks through Peter’s body. “I really love you Y/N, I hope you know that. I love you so so much.”

“Peter, I love you.” Tears begin to flow down your cheeks again as you pull Peter into another kiss. “I’m not going anywhere, not again.” You hum.

He nods, holding you closer to his body. You listen to his heartbeat in a peaceful silence for about ten minutes before the nurse comes in.

“Y/N L/N, is that right dear?” The nurse smiles as she comes over to check your vitals.

“Y-yes.” You stutters, a feeling of anxiety washing over you. It had been so long since you had last been in contact with another person other than Peter, Ned, and Eli.

She gives you a sweet smile as she adds more pain meds to your IV. “How are you feeling sweetie?”

“Really good actually.” You say softly.

“Good! That means the pain meds are working. I just wanted to come check on you and let you know we got in contact with your parents.” the nurse replies, giving you one last kind smile before exiting the room.

“M-My parents? But how?” You look up at Peter who smiles softly.

“It took a while to find them, and convince them to come down here.” Peter admitted. “Had to show them a lot of proof that we found you.”

Your eyes went wide as Peters words sunk into your head. “My parents are coming to see me?” You say softly.

He nods, issuing your head softly. “They should be here soon.” Peter whispers softly in your hair.

There’s a small knock on the door after about an hour of you resting in Peter’s arms. Peter shifts his gaze from you onto the door as he calls out “come in.”

The door creaks open and a man and woman step inside. They resemble you greatly, he can see your eyes in your moms, especially when she smiles. “Oh my god, our baby,” the woman cries, approaching the bed.

You begin to stir at the commotion, stirring up slightly in Peters arms. A small hum escapes your lips as you gently run your eyes. Looking around the room, your eyes lock with your moms as a small cry escapes your lips. “Mom! Dad!” Another sob escapes you as your parents rush to embrace you.

“Oh darling what happened to you? Where were you?” Your mom sobs as she holds you in her arms.

Your dad Hugs your from the other side gently drawing circles on your back. “They told us you were dead, we pressed them to keep investigating, we even began searching for you on our own. It’s been eight years.” Your dad places a kiss on top of your head as he speaks.

“I-I was dead.” You croak, “well, sorta dead. Peter helped find my body and I was frozen in time.”

Your parents slowly pull away from you to look at Peter. Your dad pats your back gently before leaning in close to whisper to Peter “has she been tested for any trauma responses?”

Peter shakes his head, looking between both your parents. “Honestly, it would be so much easier to say that she’s having a delirious episode and her story is made up to comfort her. But, she’s telling the truth. She was living in my apartment.” Peter admits.

Your parents look from one another, shaking their heads. “That’s not possible.” Your mother says after a brief moment. “How could she be dead and then come back to life?”

Peter shrugs, pulling you back into his embrace once more. “Honestly, we accepted Thor existed, is this really that far fetched as a God from another planet?”

Your parents cast each other glances before nodding. “I suppose you’ve got a point kid.” Your dad says after another long pause. “So you two were just rooming together while my daughter was dead.”

A blush spreads over both yours and Peters face as you nod. “He helped take care of me dad, if it weren’t for Peter I wouldn’t be alive right now. In fact, if I went to the basement alone and found my body I would’ve bled to death. Peter’s the one who rushed me to the hospital.”

Your parents look over to Peter whose face is also a bright red. “Is this true?” Your mom asks, shaken by the thought of you alone and bleeding.

He nods, “Yes ma’am. I care about your daughter a lot. I’ve grown to love her in the months I’ve gotten to know her. Sure, she scared the living daylights out of me the first time I saw her as a ghost. But beyond that, your daughter is seriously amazing.”

A smile breaks across your lips as you turn to face Peter. “Thank you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Yes thank you, Peter.” Your dad smiles, patting his shoulder.

+++

Leaving the hospital was the hardest thing you’d ever done. Your parents lived a few hours away in a town over, and you didn’t want to leave Peter. It took a while to convince your parents that what you needed more than anything was to stay with the boy who saved you. Luckily even the doctors backed you up, explaining that if you and Peter were suddenly separated you might go into a trauma shock.

After your parents reluctantly agreed, they exchanged numbers with Peter and made a plan to begin the moving process near you as soon as they could. This just left talking to May.

“I know she’s a girl and I know I’m asking for her to stay in my bedroom with me but even the doctors said it’s best she stays with me for now.” Peter pleads with May.

May smiles at you softly before turning back to her nephew. “Peter, can we talk privately for a moment.”

Peter shifts his gaze to you and you give him a nod. Peter looks back at his once calm and collected aunt who seems to now be loosing her shit. “Uh huh.”

May leads Peter into her bedroom where she had him sit on the bed. “Look Peter, I’m so very proud of you for helping this girl. I really am. But I need you to understand that as you’ve done this you’ve fucked up big time.” She scolds.

“What are you talking about?” Peter counters, unable to fathom what he could’ve possibly done wrong.

“Your girlfriend, MJ, incase you’ve forgotten, has shown up to see you everyday you were in the hospital with Y/N. Every. Day. She has no idea what’s going on, you didn’t contact her once. And as far as I know, you’ve been cheating on the poor girl with a ghost for the last few weeks.” May glares down at Peter knowing damn well she did not raise him this way.

“I-“ Peter stops, realizing how majorly he did fuck things up. Even if he stopped having any sort of feelings for MJ a long time ago he still kept her around for when the day came you did leave this world forever. “I messed up.” He admits after a moment. “I messed up big time.”

“Damn right you did Peter.” May sighs before taking Peter into a small embrace. “Listen, you gotta end things with MJ. And you need to tell her the truth.”

Peter lets out a small groan, knowing Mays right. “I’ll give her a call and have her come over.”

“Good, now I’m going to take Y/N shopping. Poor girl needs some new cloths desperately.” May smiles, heading back out to collect you.

After you both leave Peter rings up MJ. He asks her to come over and she’s there within 15 minutes.

“Hey M,” Peter says as he opens the door.

“Peter where the hell have you been? Were you on a mission or something? Because you didn’t even bother to let me know. And Neds been very vague with me, same with May.” MJ rants, terrified of where her boyfriend’s been.

“MJ, I need to tell you something.” Peter sage finally.

“Go on.” She says slowly, taking a seat in the couch.

“Remember the girl Y/N?” Peter asks.

“Her?” MJ scoffs. “Yeah what about her?”

Peter frowns, realizing this is going to go horribly. “Well, Y/N was a ghost. But then I helped her find her body and she’s sorta back again.”

“This is the stupidity excuse I’ve ever heard.” MJ cuts in.

“It’s not an excuse. She was a ghost, and she was living with me before we started dating. The thing is, I realized I have feelings for her. Strong feelings for her. And I’m so so sorry.” Peter mumbles.

He looks into her eyes, watching as tears begin to flow over her cheeks. “Peter, we’ve been best friends since high school. You were my first kiss, the first person I actually liked, and you feel in love with a ghost that was rooming with you?”

“I messed up, I know that. And I’m so so sorry. I can’t help my feelings for Y/N though. I- I’m sorry.” Peter looks down, guilt washing over him.

“Whatever Parker. See you at school.” And with that MJ storms out.

+++(SMUT)

You and May stumbled through the door a few hours later laughing. “Peter!” You squeal, holding up your shopping bags for him to see. “Look I got new cloths!”

Peter smiles at you, completely forgetting his conversation with MJ. “I can’t wait to see them.” He smiles, taking you into his arms and giving you a small kiss.

“I’ll model them for you now!” You squeal, dragging Peter over to the couch and disappearing into his room to change.

May let’s Peter know she’s got a call in for work before leaving you to model outfit after outfit for Peter. You strut around the apartment showing him your new dresses, shorts, shirts, pants, and even skirts. With each outfit Peter could feel himself wanting you more. You look ravishing in everything you wear causing a desire to bubble up inside him.

“I like that one a lot,” Peter hums. Standing up to grab your hips as he admires the shirt purple dress. You let out a small laugh, kissing his lips again.

“May left me pick out my own underwear and bras at Victoria’s Secret, wanna see what I have on underneath?” You hum, pulling gently at Peter’s sweats.

Letting out a small groan Peter nods, allowing you to lead him into his room. You guide him over to his bed, pushing him down gently. His eyes watch your figure with precision, as you slowly begin to lift your dress up and over your head before letting it fall to the ground.

Underneath you reveal a red lace lingerie set. Peter’s eyes scan your body in awe, his mouth dropping slightly as he takes in the intricate details of the lace. He admires the way the top cups your boobs perfectly, the way it flows down and hugs your shape. He eyes the three shiny hearts that line the middle of the set.

“Fuck,” Peter mumbles, still admiring your body. His eyes shift down to your bare thighs, looking at the dangling garters. “You look, fuck” Peter groans, unable to form a sentence as he stares at you.

“You like it?” You beam, walking over to where he’s sitting so you can straddle his hips.

“I want to tear this fucking thing right off you.” He moans, kissing your neck. His teeth graze against your soft skin making you shiver.

“Yeah?” You hum as you pull your fingers through his soft brown curls. “You want to take this off of me right now?”

Peter lets out a small growl, reaching behind you to eagerly undo the bra. You allow the bra to slid off of you, as he flings it to the side. “These have to go too.” He says as he lifts you off of him to slide down your underwear.

A small gasp escapes your lips as you stand naked in front of him. “Peter,” you whine as the aching in your core becomes evident. You look down at him, his tight white shirt and grey sweatpants making you loose all sense of reality. “Peter please.”

Peter traces his hand along your abdomen, admiring the now scared skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, pulling you back into his lap. His lips meet yours again, kissing you roughly and passionately. His hands travel to the small of your back, pulling your naked body closer to his. You feel his lips on your neck, pressing soft wet kisses against your tender skin. “You’re all mine now you know that? You’re my girlfriend.” He hums into your neck before biting down softly.

A moan tumbles from your lips as your hands make their way back to Peters hair. “Fuck Peter, I’m yours,” your eyes are skewed shut, taking in the simple feeling of Peters lips all off your body. The feeling of his head dipping down and to your breast. He lifts you up slightly, allowing him full access to your boobs. He pulls you towards him and connects his lips to your right nipple, flicking his tongue over the soft bud.

Another whine escapes your lips as you tug on his hair a little harder. His lips drag across your chest, moving over to your other nipples. He slowly takes it between his teeth, causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips. “Peter please, I need you.” You whimper as Peter pulls away from your chest again.

“I can tell, you’re so wet for me.” He groans, shifting your body so your back was now on his bed and he was hovering above you. “I’m going to make you scream.” He smirks, guiding your thighs open.

He drops to his knees in front of you, kissing down your thigh. He lowers himself so he’s eye level with your hot core, the sight causes his dick to twitch against his sweatpants material. “Fuck you’re so hot,” Peter mumbles. He leans forward, darting his tongue between your folds. “You taste so fucking good darling,” he moans as his tongue continues to draw circles around your now swollen clit.

Another soft cry escapes your lips as the muscles in your legs contract. Your thighs squeeze around Peters head at the feeling if his mouth devouring every inch of your soft cunt. Tugging at his soft brown locks, another whimper tumbles from your lips, his tongue lapping up all your juices. Peter tugs your hips even closer to his face, helping you grind yourself onto his soft tongue. “Fuck, oh fuck,” you whimper, feeling something tug in your stomach. “Peter oh, I feel something I-“ you cry out as your first ever orgasm washes over your. Your body convulses as you cum on Peter’s tongue, which hasn’t stopped eating you out.

A groan escapes your lips as Peter leans up to kiss you. “Did I do good?” He whispers, kissing you again. You nod as you continue to kiss his puffy lips, moving your hands down his body and tugging at his sweatpants. Peter pulls away from your lips, tugging down his grey sweats followed by his tight white shirt. He hovers over you again, a goofy smile splayed across his face. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” He admits, gazing down into your lust filled eyes.

A small laugh escapes your lips as you sit up, pushing Peter backwards. “Neither do I, pretty sure I just came for the first time.” A blush spreads over your already rosy cheeks as you stand up next to Peter. “Lay down though, it’s my turn to help you,” you whisper softly.

Peter slides onto the bed, propping himself up onto his pillows, his eyes following your every move. You crawl onto the bed with him, laying between his legs. Hesitantly, you grab onto his hard length and begin to stroke his hard cock. “Does that feel good?” You ask as Peter lets out a loud moan.

“Feels so good,” Peter gasps.

“This was what you were doing under the covers that one day, wasn’t it?” You question, looking for conformation that what you were doing was correct.

“It is,” he groans, his hips thrusting up into your fist. “You’re doing so good,” you can feel his length throbbing in your hand causing you to smile.

“What else do you want me to do for you?”

Peter lets out another moan at your question, brushing the hair out of your face. “Fuck- use your mouth please.” He begs, his eyes watching as you lower your head onto his cock. Your mouth stretches around his length, gagging slightly as you go down. Peter throws his head back at the sight, gripping your hair between his fingers. You slowly begging to move your head up and down. Hallowing your cheeks as your tongue swirls around his swollen pink tip when you come back up. Saliva begins to dribble down your chin, causing a small moan to erupt from your throat and vibrate around Peter. “Shit,” he groans, bucking his hips forward. You gag again, making Peter’s dick to twitch in your mouth. “I’m going to cum,” he moans, shooting his hot cum down your throat. You pull away slowly, tears falling delicately down your face as a string of saliva connects from your lips to Peter’s still hard cock.

“Did I do good?” You hum, leaning up to place a kiss on Peter’s lips like he did to you after you came.

“You did amazing, I’ve never came so hard in my life.” He sighs, pulling you into another kiss. “Now lay down and rest your head on the pillows for me.”

You nod, switching places with Peter. He hovers over you, his body placed between your legs. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his body into yours. Peter lets out a groan as he places his hands on both sides of your head, your arms going around his neck. “Ready pretty girl?” He hums, positioning himself.

“Yes,” you moan, feeling as Peter pushes himself inside of you. Another moan flies from your lips as you stretch around Peter’s length. His cock pushing deeper within you before pulling out again at a slow pace. “Peter,” you groan, rotating your hips slightly. A low groan escapes his lips as he thrusts into you harder.

His pace begins to pick up, his hips ramming into yours as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Your mouth falls agape as his hips slam into yours, the feeling of pure bliss traveling from the soft kisses he was placing on the shell of your ear all the way down to your toes. “Peter, I- you make me feel so good.” You moan, your chest heaving as his pace quickens again.

Peter watches as your boobs bounce up and down with every thrust, his mind going foggy as he fucks you into the mattress. “Pretty girl, are you going to cum on my cock?” He groans as he places a kiss on your lips.

“Yes Peter,” you cry, feeling another orgasm beginning to build up in your core. Peter keeps up his ruthless thrusts, making your whole body shake. Moans and cries slip from Peter’s lips as well, followed occasionally by your name. “Peter I’m going to-“ the feeling of your orgasm cuts you off as a wave of ecstasy overcomes your whole body.

Your cunt squeezes around Peter, causing his hips to falter as he reaches his orgasm as well. He pushes his hips deep within you, painting your walls with his cum before slowly pulling out. His body falls next to yours as he pulls you into his chest. “I love you.” He whispers to you softly.

Your fingers trace over his abs “I love you too Peter.” You hum. You both lay there for a moment in silence, soaking up everything that just happened. “Peter,” you say after a moment. He lets out a hum, looking down at you. “You remind me what it’s like to be alive.”

He smiles, kissing the top of your head softly. “You are alive darling,” he says against your hair.

“Yes, and you’re the reason I wanted to live again.” You say, shifting your body so your chests are pressed together and your face is hovering above his. Your lips press against his, and you take in the feeling of your heart beating in your chest as the way if feels to be out of breath. Your eyes lock once more as Peter pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “You saved me Spider-Man.”

“Just returning the favor, ghost girl.”

+++

AN: Hey guys! This might be the last chapter, not sure yet. If you want me to continue and make it so she gets introduced to maybe the Avengers or something lmk! Also! I will be out of the country until the end of June so I may or may not be able to publish anything for the next 20 days.

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[obxone]

Vigilante Shit (Chapter Six)

Edited-ish. ~3.1k words

Tag list: @fishingirl12 @gillybear17 @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gills-lounge @emmafitzzz @redfieldfx @baby19sthings

Masterpage

Kildare County Detention Center looms before you. You sigh, shouldering your bag before climbing the steps into the building. You smile weakly at the sheriff as you go through the process of getting scanned for any possible weapons and contraband.

“Maybank, through here,” Peterkin gestures to the enclosed room after a deputy escorts you down the hall. Several incarcerated men bang on their doors and yell at you from their cells, but you ignore them.

The room is larger than you expected. Several people sit at aluminum tables that are placed throughout for inmates and visitors to sit at while they talk. You see your dad sitting at a table. His back to you, but that does not stop the nerves from exploding inside of you. In an attempt to wipe them away, you brush your hands down your jean clad thighs. It does not work. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She stops you, arm barred across the doorframe before you can enter. “I’m glad you are back, Sweetheart. I hear you’ve turned over a new leaf. Now, we need to get your brother to do the same. That’s the trick.”

“I’m trying. For both of us.”

“Good. You don’t need to end up in a place like this, you hear me? Either of you.”

You nod, and she drops her arm to let you through. You slid onto the bench across from Luke. He stares at you, a smirk toying at his lips.

“And the prodigal daughter returns.”

You huff as you drop the bag of things you had with things that were allowed to be given to him onto the table. “Do you even know what that word means? You barely graduated high school if I remember correctly.”

He snorts but seizes the bag and rifles through it. “Why are you here, y/n?”

“To let you know, I’m back and cleaning up some of the mess you created.” You say, chin raised as you stand your ground. “Again.”

He smirks, picking at the pack of cards you had brought him. “My dutiful daughter. Barry found out you’re back?”

You shrug, clasping your hands together. “Barry knows. When do they think you’ll go to trial?”

“Next month.”

“A plea bargain offered yet?”

He nods, the tip of his tongue toying with the inside of his bottom lip. “Five years in prison and parole for two after.”

“Was it worth it?”

He laughs, that dark maniacal laugh you hate. “What do you think?”

“No.”

“Smart girl. You always were, you know.” He looks up at you through his lashes. “Just like your momma. You’ve always been just like her. You look like her, and you act like her too.” He goes back to digging in the bag like a toddler that is ready to count his prizes. “Thought you were gone for good.”

“I did, too,” you confess quickly. “But JJ needs someone in his corner.”

“He didn’t want to come today?”

“No.”

He frowns, shaking his head. “Ungrateful bastards, both of you.”

“Ungrateful?” You ask, venom lacing into your next words. “Ungrateful that you abused us, barely managed to provide enough food and shelter to keep us alive? Oh wait, or is it that we both had to start working when we were old enough to pay the bills because you are a cocaine addict and always gambled away our rent money?”

He rears back like you have smacked him, and you smirk at him. Pride swells inside of you because you are still able to dig back at him. 

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

“You are such a little shit. After everything you’ve done, you want to talk to me like this?”

“Everything I’ve done?” Your eyebrows raise, and your gaze hardens. “If I remember correctly, I almost ruined my future getting you out of debt with a drug dealer because you couldn’t pay for your cocaine habit.”

He shakes his head. “You started with him before my debt ever came up.”

You ignore his retort as the anger builds inside of you. “I’m not scared of you anymore. And I will be making damn sure JJ isn’t. You gave us nothing and took everything. This will be the last time you see me. You will never see him again. Not if I have any say.”

You begin to get to your feet and leave him, but he snaps and reaches out after jumping to his feet. He grabs your wrist tightly, yanking you against the table to keep you there.

“Who are you to walk away from me?!”

“Let. Me. Go.”

His grip tightens, and he yanks hard. You gasp, pain spreading up your arm and around your hips, as he tugs you harshly against the table’s edge.

“Inmate Maybank, let her go,” Peterkin orders from across the room. She and four other deputies are in the room along with the original set of guards. Several other inmates and their families look up to see what the commotion is about. Your cheeks redden as all the attention in the room shifts to you. “Let her go, now.”

“Not until she apologizes for being a brat!” He tightens his grip again, and you wince, body bowing from pain, curling away from him as he glares at you. His sole focus is on causing you the most pain he can now. “Apologize! I raised you better than this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all.” You spit at him and try to yank your arm back, but he only yanks you closer again. The upper half of your body practically pulled over the tabletop. “Big John did, The Cut did, you did nothing!”

“Let her go!” Peterkin demands louder, a taser lifted in his direction. “Luke, I will tase you right now if you do not.”

He lets you go and shoves you harshly away from him. You fall backward over the bench. You close your eyes tightly, ready to topple over, but a strong grip prevents you from crashing into the floor.

Deputy Thomas glares at Luke after he helps you back onto your feet, and you glance around, fighting the tears of humiliation. Peterkin steps up to your side and reaches for your wrist.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, carefully moving your wrist away from her reach.

“If you’re sure.”

You nod, turning your attention to your dad. You would not give him the satisfaction of seeing your crack under his aggression anymore. “I just need to say goodbye.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, and gestures for the other four to leave the room with her.

After they are gone, the attention seems to shift away from you both. You raise your chin and glare at him. “You might be my family, and I wish I could say I loved you. But I don’t. You are terrible, you’re horrible, and I hope that you rot in here,” you mutter as you rub your injured wrist. Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to cry in front of him. You will hold it in until you get to your car. “Enjoy your time in prison.”

You leave him behind, and despite your hopes for him not to, he screams after you. Your name and profanities blend perfectly enough together to drag you back to your childhood.

Once you are in the safety of your car, you exhale, pressing your forehead to the steering wheel. Nails bite into your thighs when you grip your legs and try to calm your racing heart. Old tendencies ache to be unleashed so that you can take out the hurt brewing in you. To release it from under your skin. You nor JJ would ever come back to visit him. Not after today.

The tears brim over and streak down your face as you shiver at the reminders of childhood. Of that haunted look in his eyes as he assaulted you. It is the same look her had when he used to yell at you and abuse you because you were too much like your mom.

After getting control of yourself and trapping that damaged little girl back in her hiding hole, you head to Figure 8. A shift at the Island Club is the last thing you want to do, but it is what you have to do. Finding a parking spot is the first thing you do before you shut off the car and dig out a makeup remover wipe to use on your face with hopes to try and get rid of the tearstains on your cheeks, and that is when you notice it. A brilliant red mark is left from Luke’s grip on your wrist. You will bruise, just like you always do after he hurts you. And this one is a very public bruise, unable to be hidden by clothing because long sleeves during summer in a beach town would raise just as many questions.

“Welcome to chaos,” Summer greets you at the door of the girl's locker room when you emerge from changing into your Island Club uniform.

Confusion paints across your features, and you stare at her for a moment. “What chaos? It’s a Wednesday.”

“Lauren went out to deliver a drink to Mr. Beckett and hasn’t returned.”

“What?”

She nods, not impressed with the bartender’s actions. “And then Gerald went to find her, and he is missing too.”

“How long?” You ask as you tie your apron into place. Being down a bartender and a barback is not a good thing, especially when the backup is not due to arrive for another two hours.

“An hour nearly since Lauren went and fifteen since Gerald went.”

“And no one has seen them?”

She shakes her head, and you look at your watch.

“I have ten minutes to spare before I’m even allowed to touch the timecard system. I’m going to go look.”

“Please for the love of the ocean, come back when your shifts begins!” She begs, and you wave at her with a laugh as you jog to the golf course. The first mission, find Mr. Beckett, and maybe they are with him. If not, the second mission is to track them down. Sometimes the older guests could be demanding and promising a good tip if you stuck it out with them, which is the most likely reason that they have gone missing.

“Well, look who it is!”

You smile tightly when you see Kelce grinning at you and Topper not far behind him. “Hey, Kelce.”

He offers you a fist bump, and you take it, not wanting to start anything.

“Your boyfriend should be coming soon. Reese lost one of his golf clubs during a swing.”

You giggle, picturing him swinging the club, and it goes flying along with the ball.

“Right into the water hazard, it was glorious,” Topper supplies with a gloating grin. “What are you doing out here? Are you a cart girl today?”

“No, looking for Lauren and Gerald.”

Kelce shakes his head, looking around. “Haven’t seen them.”              

“They were helping Mr. Beckett.”

“Oh!” Kelce grins. “He’s out by the sixteenth hole.”

“Of course he is,” you frown, looking around for a staff member on a golf cart. “Thanks, Kelce!”

“Anytime.”

You wave at him and ignore Topper, who is grinning like the cat that ate the canary as you walk away. You shiver in disgust before climbing one of the grassy hills to see if you can spot them or a golf cart to temporarily use.

“What are you doing out here?”

You sigh, eyes closing briefly when it is Rafe that meets you at the top. Likely on his way to his two kook friends.

“Are you a cart girl now?”

“Nope. Just looking for two staff people.”

“Lauren and Gerald?”

You nod, squinting against the sun. “Have you seen them?”

“Sixteenth hole.”

You huff, kicking the toe of your shoe into the grass. “I’ve heard.” You plant your hands on your hips, judging if walking out there is worth being late and risking Summer having a panic attack. “I should’ve grabbed a golf cart.”

He smirks, squinting against the sun before he shifts his club to his other hand. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

Your attention snaps to him in surprise, and he shrugs, looking away.

“I was.”

The silence hangs for a second, and you reach up to fix your hair in an attempt to busy yourself. When you had dated, Rafe always had a way of knowing when you had been crying, even if you redid your makeup to cover it up. You never could figure out how he knew when no one else ever did.

“Have anything to do with the mark on your wrist?”

Another huff escapes you, and you turn your attention back to him. “You are too observant, you know.”

“I know you.”

“You used to,” you amend, closing your eyes briefly. “I went to the detention center, saw my dad.”

“And?”

“And he grabbed me,” you shrug before taking a step past him. The conversation is turning in a direction that you would rather not have with him. “Just like old times.”

He groans, shaking his head. “Why’d you go?”

“To see if he was getting out soon.”

“And?”

You bite your lip and look at him, tipping your head. “Why do you care?”

He stares at you, his gaze hardening by the second. “Forget it, Maybank. Enjoy your walk.” He turns his back to you and walks away, and you notice the hard tension in his shoulders and the way his neck has a slight red hue to it. Kelce and Topper joke with him loud enough that you can hear them, and it answers whether the walk is worth it or not for you. You would much rather make the walk than have to pass that trio again to get back to the clubhouse.

You spot Mav and Reese once you are clear of the next dune. Reese’s shorts are damp from wading into the water hazard, but he seems happy from what you can tell.

“Hey!” Reese grins, hugging you before Mav can. “What are you doing out here?”

You smile at him, patting his shoulders, and he drops you onto your feet. You shake your head at him as you hug Mav, sinking into his chest that you have found someone you want to be near. “I heard someone lost a club to a water hazard...”

Mav laughs as Reese rolls his eyes, grumbling about his misfortune.

“Kidding,” you laugh while staying pressed to Mav’s side. “Hunting two stray staff members.”

“Want me to walk with you?” Mav asks, his hand tightening around yours.

You shake your head. “I think I’ve got it. Enjoy golfing. I’ll see you later though, okay?”

Reese grins, his gaze shifting between the two of you. “She coming to the cookout tonight?”

Mav groans, shaking his head. “I hadn’t asked her yet.”

“My bad,” Reese mumbles before shrugging. “Ask her now. See you later, y/n.”

“Later,” you laugh as he runs off, unfazed by his slip-up. You turn to Mav and frown at the defeated look on his face. “It’s fine, Mav. I can play dumb if you want.”

He shakes his head and widens his stance to allow himself to be closer to your height. His lips brush your forehead. “Will you come to my family’s cookout tonight?”

Your eyes widen a bit at the realization. “Like meet your parents?”

He shrugs. “They’ll be there.”

“But…” Your mouth goes dry.

“They know about you already if that is your concern.”

“Ah,” you murmur before looking off over the visible parts of the course and the ocean at the edge. “Then yes, I will come.”

“Yeah?” He asks, happiness spreading through him as he cups your face with both hands.

You nod before leaning up on your toes to peck his lips. “I’d love to.”

“Good!” He smiles, and you run your fingers up his forearms to his hands. “Now that we have that out of the way, I have another question.”

“Go for it.”

“Have you been crying?”

The serotonin boost is temporary as you deflate and huff again. “Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Rough morning.”

His lips press into a line, and he gently lifts your marked wrist. “Have something to do with this?”

“Also, maybe.”

“What happened?”

You exhale and try to ignore the sadness as you watch him examine your wrist. “Nothing major. I’m okay, I promise.”

He frowns, his touch gentle as he flips your wrist over to inspect the inside of your wrist. “You can tell me, you know. It’s part of how dating works…” He looks at you with a teasing tilt to his lips, but you can see the concern in his eye. His attention shifts back to your injury, head bending over your wrist to inspect it further. “You don’t have to lie for my benefit, y/n. I like you, all of you.”

You blush a little and carefully pull your wrist from his hands. “Okay, truth then...” You fidget with your fingers for a second before meeting his gaze again. “I went to visit my dad in jail. He’s awaiting trial, and I went to see if there is a possibility he would get released anytime soon.”

“Is he?”

“No.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Mav attempts to read you.

“Good. If he gets out, then I can’t stay here.”

He frowns. “Why not?”

“It’s a long story.” You murmur, glancing back at the clubhouse. You are late now and likely sending Summer into a spiral. “But he used to abuse me. It is one of the many reasons I had to move away a few years ago.”

Mav nods before clearing his throat. “I can keep you safe, you know. So you can stay…”

You smile, stepping into his space. “Thank you, but I’m safe with him in jail. And I’m staying… some people need me here.”

Mav smiles at you. “Good.”

You smile at him, dragging your hand over his arm. "Now that we have caught up and I've agreed to meet your parents, I need to go find my coworkers, okay?"

He smiles before leaning in and kissing you. You kiss him back before patting his waist and starting the trek out to the sixteenth hole.

(Chapter Seven)