#as he goes downstairs he thinks he sees liz following him. he thinks he sees the flash of her white cap. he turns | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blooming-violets · 2 years ago

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Okay let’s do this!

First part

Let’s talk about John:

When she first got that “u up?” text, I thought for sure that it was going to be followed by a dick pic haha. Now I want to know what his dick looks like in comparison to Peter’s because apparently that’s how my mind works. Let them compare dick sizes. I’ll get the measuring tape!

I love how the nickname Peach sounds so icky to me while the nickname Honey brings me comfort. It’s only because it comes from him that gives me the ick but it still makes me shiver whenever I read it. When Peter says “honey” I can hear it said with a thick sweetness and dripping with lust. It’s meant to be said with love in a way that protects her identity like the rest of his crew. When John says “peach” I hear it as a sarcastic, grating, passive aggressive way. Meant to be taken as demeaning to her and erasing her identity. Both nicknames were bestowed by men who want to possess her but they both hold the name’s in different regards. Honey is held high up on a platform above everyone else. Peach is stomped into the ground to live among the worms. I have no idea if that was the original intention or a happy accident but that’s how both men make their pet names come across through their actions towards her.

> where was eddie brock last night?

This shit made me gasp so hard that I choked on my own salvia. WHERE WAS EDDIE?? IF YOU HURT THIS MAN, LIZ. I was so worried about him because after Peter, his only real trusted friend, basically slapped him in the face with his dick where did he run off too? Someone find him and give him a hug before he goes to the dark side!!!

John being an evil, taunting voice in her head (or text on a phone) is such a heartbreaking thing. When I think about everything she did to escape him, the life she created for herself away from him, and now he’s back, stronger than ever and controlling her once more...it hurts, man.

And, let’s add microwaving a dog, too. Just to really hit home how evil he is. I want you to look these sweet babies in the eyes, Liz, and think about what you’ve done.

Peace. What a joke.

Okay, Flag.

Second Part

Let’s talk about Peter:

“Need you downstairs,” he replied with a flat tone. It was like all of the affection she felt budding between them had disappeared. Sprouts frozen and stagnated by a cold snap overnight.

His sunken, flat tone. All the life drained out of him. All his warmth gone. And that beautifully written sentence at the end there to sum it all up. Mmm sexy good stuff.

Let’s talk about Murdock:

Seeing how you’ve had every other character to ever exist in the Spider-Man universe make an appearance, I knew it was only a matter of time before my favorite blind lawyer made an appearance. And he did not disappoint!

His immediate switch the charm! The flirty, warm Matt smile and handshake. Keeping things sweet and light with her despite the situation. He’s truly the sweetest, softest ladies man around.

I love that Matt can immediately read Honey but Honey can also almost immediately read him as well. Peter lies, Honey watches Matt’s response, and knows what he’s saying is bullshit. AND WHAT HAPPENED TO “WE DON’T LIE TO EACH OTHER” PETER?? Or was that just supposed to be another one way action for your own benefit, hmm??

“You feelin’ okay?” Matt asked. His tone was light amidst the heavy circumstances. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell like a gym locker room.”

The most Matt Murdock shit ever. Light and sassy despite the surrounding chaos. Man doesn’t give a fuck.

“You know she’s hiding something right?” “Yeah I know.” EEEEEEEEE I squealed with excitement. I like the Peter knows. It brings me a weird comfort that at least it won’t take him completely blindly when he finds out. I’m sure it will hurt and destroy him but, ya know, at least he’s aware things aren’t all peachy.

Back to talking about Peter when he’s alone with Honey after excusing Matt:

This scene was hard to read because it felt so much like how I imagine John interacting with her. He keeps having flashes of abuse towards Honey the more he unravels. Not physical but verbal. His anger is getting harder to control. It doesn’t matter if it’s coming from a place of love for her, it’s still explosive anger directed at her which translated into abuse territory. Peter needs to find himself a good therapist. I recommend Dr. V from Inner Demons. She’ll help sort him out.

His voice echoed, crackling with ire. She flinched at the noise, tears welling up in her eyes. He fumed, and as if he spit acid in her face, he sealed his mouth with his palms. Spun on his heel and paced madly. The wolf was back, hackles up, canines dripping with aggression.

I know that his intentions are to get her to understand that being assaulted was not her fault and that she did not deserve it but, this shit right here, is abuse territory and I want to slap some sense into Peter and scream at him that you’re scaring her and that you can’t react like when she’s the victim.

As he leaned into her, she instinctively leaned back. Tears budded at the corners of her eyes.

When I see this, I’m screaming and pulling out my hair and yelling at him to stop being John! Stop scaring her! Stop holding yourself over her to make her feel small and guilty!

“Why can’t you understand that there’s nothing on this Earth that I care more about? That I would do anything to protect?”

He doesn’t deserve her. Not until he gets his shit together.

I will say, if I read this when I was 18/20ish I would have thought that was so romantic and sweet (in a scary way). Now that I’m in my thirties, after years of therapy and working on myself on how I expect to be treated by a partner, especially a male partner, I can say that I would not stand for Peter’s crap. You don’t get to yell at me, tower over me, scare me, make me feel like shit and like I’m stupid and dumb, only to turn around and say that it’s all because you love me and I deserve common decency. That’s not how this is gonna work, baby! Obviously this Honey’s story and part of her growth and her journey (and Peter’s too) so it’s not the same BUT I just wanted to throw that out there to anyone who might be reading and think this is chill and a normal way to show love. It’s not. Liz knows that it’s not. That’s the point. That this isn’t an acceptable way to talk to someone you love. It is not romantic. It is not out of love. It is not appropriate. Just keep that in mind, fellow reader, if you happen to read this ranting review. Basically, Liz is a god and knows exactly what she’s doing and crafting these character’s in such a particular light on purpose. Peter isn’t meant to be the morally good one in this story. He is not meant to be seen as the ideal partner. Not yet, at least. Honey comes from abuse and keeps falling into the same cycle. Whether it’s her mother, John, her coffee boss, or Peter she is still stuck in that cycle. Abuse is abuse no matter the form it comes in.

Despite the affection of his words, all she could focus on was the way he hissed at the end of the statement.

Just adding this part in to hit it home that Liz knows exactly how she’s writing these character’s and story on purpose. The words Peter is saying are strung together to make her not doubt herself or to raise her self image because he loves her and wants her to see herself the way he sees her but it is the way that he is saying them that is wrong.

I’m also going to disagree with his statement here. I think he very much can help her combat the voices in her head if he just shut the fuck for once and chilled out and spoke to her like she wasn’t a prisoner or someone he wants to constantly fuck and spoke to her like a human being with trust and kindness. He’s had a few of those moments in the past where his walls were down and he related to her so much easier. In those moments, she was actually able to feel safe and happy for one damn second. Yelling at someone to respect themself will not make them respect themself. It will make them feel like shit and make the voices go off on them even harder.

I fully believe that if Peter just sat down with her some place quiet and had a heart to heart, explained how he cares for her, genuinely apologize for how he handled every situation, gave his side of the story, and talked about how he wants to protect her and her family from harm, how is goal is to keep her safe, how he has so many resources, and that he won’t be upset if she felt like she had to hide things from him because of the way he acted....that she would come clean and tell him everything.

But, of course, he won’t do that because then there’s not a story. That’s the fun part about writing. You know exactly how to end the situation and trauma at hand but doing it by the book wouldn’t leave for much growth or building. It would be out of character for Peter to suddenly shift into being rational especially with the drug coursing through his veins. It would be out of character for Honey to suddenly stand up for herself without a care in the world as if she’s gone through years of therapy. That’s part of character writing and why character building is my absolute favorite part of any book/show/movie/game/fanfic/whatever. Fuck the action, I want to see a character make every mistake known to man and then use them to either grow from or use those mistakes to tear them down in villainy.

Okay, I’ll move on now.

Wait, no, not yet.

Like a thunderbolt, Peter slammed his fist on the edge of the couch. She let out a squeak as the pine frame cracked beneath his hand. She jolted upright and then ducked her head immediately. He fumed silently. Glared down at the floor. Nostrils flaring. Rooted in place for ages.

Just wanted to add a big giant fuck you, Peter, for this reaction. Go take your drug fueled anger somewhere else and stay away from my baby girl.

Okay now I’m ready to move on.

Wait, no, one more

They were supposed to have a date.

My heart hurts thank you for that delicious bit of angst.

Third Part

Let’s talk about Rex:

I’d die for Rex. That is all.

I was going to say that Peter should adopt her a dog for company but, knowing how John likes to do things, I think it’s best if the dog stays put. ..............if John ever hurts Rex...............no, I’m not putting that out into the world. We don’t need any more John Wick’s happening. I’ve never seen that movie but from what I’ve gathered on the internet he kills everyone he meets because someone killed his dog. That’s the vibe I got anyway. I’d kill everyone for a bearded dragon if I had to.

Honey and Rex need to run away and go on a road trip together. Imagine it:

The real love story here. Not her and Felicia. Her and Rex.

Rex was having an emotional time as well. He had always been on the large size for his species, but he had put on a few grams in the last few weeks, no doubt caused by the stress in their household.

I just love him so much.

Let’s talk about Honey:

She is getting smarter and smarter, I think. She’s learning how to play Peter. She’s learning how to use herself as bait. If Peter is going to manipulate her, why not manipulate him back? Go for it, baby!

It’s this fun balance between her genuinely caring for him and her desperately trying to sway his thoughts in a different direction and pacify him. Classic abuse victim mentality, honestly. Sometimes I think you write Honey and her abuse a little too well and it makes me to find you and hug you.

“Why are you snooping around my office?” Is quickly switched and reversed to “Let me hug you and tell you that I’m scared”. Because she knows that 1: They don’t touch very often so a hug like this will knock him back and confuse him for just enough time to throw him off the scent and 2: It has the potential to soften him and bring him back down from whatever scary place he is in thus taking her out of harms way. She’s smart. Just like her kissing him before was to manipulate him, the hug is a manipulation, but...also...not. Because she does care about him and is worries and whenever she get’s left alone for a long time, she starts to panic.

That glimmer of vulnerability opened a gateway to the shy boy beneath her fingers. The charming young prince who stumbled over his words, and whose bright smile magnetically yanked her feet out from under her.

This. Is. What. She. Needs. From. You. Peter. Parker. Get. Your. Shit. Together. And. Be. Better. Dammit.

While she gazed up at him and felt his defenses slip away, a voice in the back of her mind drew crosshairs in her eyes. She looked at him like peering down the scope of a rifle. The devil on her shoulder urging her to go in for the kill.

This shit is so fucking good omg

“Tell me what I can do... to help you feel better.”

HONEY IS GOING TO HONEY TRAP HIM and he’s going to deserve it and I’m going to love every damn second.

Fourth Part

Aka the part where I blacked out from how sexy this way

Let’s talk about Daddy Peter:

leaving only the wrinkled, damp, white dress shirt behind

Yesssssss

He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbow, collar loose with the top buttons undone.

Of course you did, baby, of course you did. I wouldn’t expect anything less of you.

He lounged back in his chair, knees shoulder width apart, glass of bourbon in hand.

Honey admitting that she’s scared of Peter, scared of what he’s capable of, scared that he will be like John (though without actually saying it) is such a step in the right direction for her.

“But I promise. I’m nothing like everyone else.” The implications of what this what line means to her. ughhh

“Relax,” he said. “Just let me take control of your body.”

I’m sitting here wondering if that’s what he said to Gwen when he took those pictures. Is history repeating in his head right now? Or is it such as different circumstance that he doesn’t connect the two?

She went light-headed.

Me too. Think I blacked out and then projectile vomited horniness everywhere.

He wasn’t going to eat her. He was going to devour her.

Honestly, at this point, I’d want to fuck Honey too, damn girl.

She wouldn’t be mated. She would be bred.

Fuck it, you need to write the werewolf fic, Liz. I need it to come out of your twisted, beautiful brain.

Now I’m thinking about mob!Peter with a pregnant Honey and a baby on the way. Shit shit shit.

She was dripping wet, moreso than she’d been in years.

Dude. Same. Jfc.

Momentarily, she was stricken with fear that he would facefuck her right there on the table, thrusting his cock through her lips with abandon

I mean...is that really a problem...

“That’s it, baby. Come for Daddy.”

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

If there was ever a time to kill a man, Peter, now would be it...

The young woman he kidnapped trembled up on his desk, legs pressed tightly together, her dress askew. She folded her arms around herself, shame filling her eyes, sweat cooling her skin. Her thighs caked with her cum. Next to her, a roll of film in Peter’s camera was filled with images of her that he forced her to take, leading up to, and including her finger-fucking herself in front of him while he crudely jerked himself off.

Well when you put it that way

I need to go take a cold shower. Again. I don’t care if I’ve read this before. The reread was still as sexy as all the other times.

I feel like I just ran a mile in high school gym class and I just want to shower off and lie down for a few hours.

sugar and vice, pt. 13 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: Peter teaches Honey a lesson.

words: 9.5 k

chapter warning: smutty dubcon spicyness (masturb*tion), references to drug use, manipulation, more john walker, graphic but brief reference to animal cruelty

series warnings: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. hurt/comfort. sexual situations. spousal abuse. family trauma. drug use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss. Please. For real.

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but butterfly hair clips and stretchy plastic chokers are not a new trend and if you did not know that, this isn't the right time for you.

Back to Part 12.

Part 13

A vibration stirred Honey awake. She had been sitting on the floor of her room, back against the bed, and must have fallen asleep. Still wearing the bathrobe from the night before, she rubbed the drool from her mouth, only feeling slightly better than the first time she’d woken up that morning.

Slowly, more pieces of the previous night were clearing up. She couldn’t remember the details or the context of what was said, but what she could remember terrified her. And that’s before she saw Peter shooting up in his office like a heroin addict. The sight deeply frightened her. Considering she was trapped in the penthouse with no one else, she did the only thing she could think of.

Hide.

Another vibration jolted her into action. The sound itself made her panic, as she thought she had silenced any possible notifications coming into her contraband phone. She didn’t get texts often. Most of the conversations were one-way, her divulging sensitive information so that John could steadily build a case against Peter. Or maybe even get him killed.

It made her sick to think about.

Even worse, if John was texting her, that only meant one thing. He was angry.

She dug her fingers beneath the mattress, in the gap inside the box spring. Once she pulled the device out, she glanced down at the screen. Her eyes were alert, blinking through the blurriness.

> u up?

She scoffed. “Gross.”

Before she could toss the phone, another message popped up on screen.

> someone had a wild night last night.

A chill shot down her spine. Instantly, her list of fears was renumbered, threats reprioritized in the correct order. John Walker was always at the top.

> of course i know. don’t be so surprised, peach. I know everything

> you looked like you were having a good time.

She swallowed back shards of glass as she gazed down at the taunting blue and white screen.

> don’t forget. you have a job to do.

Her eyes burned. Tears built up behind her eyelids. ‘A good time,’ he called it. It was an amazing experience, unlike any she’d ever had. She couldn’t remember a time she had ever felt so carefree. She recalled the blissfully warm memory as an overwhelming sense of peace. A feeling of euphoria. Of power, even.

What a joke. She had no power. Never did.

> where was eddie brock last night?

A knock at her door almost threw her into cardiac arrest. “Honey?”

She dropped the phone immediately, the device clamored to the hardwood floor. She shot up, coming to a hurried stand, as the doorknob twisted.

The door opened. Peter was in the gap, having changed clothes into a different suit.

He looked better than he did earlier when she spied on him in his office. ‘Better’ meant he didn’t look demonic. The whites of his eyes were visible again. The ‘tattoos,’ or whatever they were, had vanished. However, he didn’t look healthy; his skin was dull, an unusual milkiness to it, save for the dark shadows that carved out his eyes. His cheeks were sunken in, like he’d hadn’t eaten in days. The once-amber hue of his irises was faded, charred into blackened ash.

The sight of him pulled a slight gasp from her lips. She could’ve played it off as simply being startled. Truthfully, she was horrified; the mad fluttering of her heart gave her away. Not just at his presence, but at the phone hidden behind the bed, resting on the hardwood at her feet.

She clenched her fists as her sides. He eyed her with confusion. “What’re you doin’ on the floor?” he asked.

Rigidly, she dared not blink or avert her eyes. “Um... I... I don’t feel good.” That much was obvious, based on her appearance. Red-eyed, dehydrated, skin clammy. She fretted at her nose, finally breaking her unblinking stare. “Sorry, I... I’m still, um, I’m a little hungover. From last night. I think.”

When she looked back at him, a deep crease formed between his brows. He looked away, chewing his lower lip between his teeth. Nodded silently. “You need anything?” he asked, still not really making eye contact.

“Um... no,” she said, shoulders relaxing a bit. “I’ll be fine. I think I’ll just—”

“Need you downstairs,” he replied with a flat tone. It was like all of the affection she felt budding between them had disappeared. Sprouts frozen and stagnated by a cold snap overnight.

“Oh.” Her stomach felt like it was made of rocks.

His eyes were fixed on the doorknob, ever once reaching hers. “Get dressed. We have to talk.” Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared from the doorway, the door vibrating as it slammed closed again.

It felt like she was 12 years old, being told that if she couldn’t keep up with her chores she didn’t get to eat with the rest of the family. Or to eat at all.

Physically, the reaction was identical. She bit down to keep her lower lip from wobbling, dread twisting her insides. A loud rattle at her feet spooked her. It was louder than a cymbal crash in her anxious state.

She dropped to the floor again to silence her phone, getting a look at the two new messages waiting for her.

> stop me if you’ve heard this one before...

> what sound does a bitch make in the microwave?

Heart thudding steadily, she gazed at the phone with confusion. “What?” she whispered, beneath her breath. Brows furrowed. Is this a joke? What kind of weird joke—?

> give up?

She had no time to reply. But that was the point he was trying to make.

> poor old mrs. nimitz could tell you.

It took less than two seconds for her to derive his cruel meaning, and her stomach lurched at the implication. She slapped her hand over her mouth, feeling bile crawling up. A shiver racked her whole body, budding tears spilling down her cheeks.

Peace. What a joke.

Walking through the penthouse was eerie. All of the motorized blackout shades outside of her room had been drawn shut, turning the day into night. The entire space was cast into a dark shadow with only dim lamp lights to guide the path. She had the urge to tiptoe, like she was sneaking around a funeral home.

As she approached the doorway to Peter’s office, her stomach began to clench with trepidation. She could hear two voices.

“You keep forgetting,” she heard a deep voice that was not Peter’s say, “the Rand name still holds weight. Now you’ve got the Meachums coming after you. They already had the club shut down, got the alcohol license revoked in record time—”

“I don’t care about that,” Peter’s voice responded, heavy with guilt. “I care about what happens to Miguel and Jessica. I didn’t know there was a gun.”

Creeping closer to the door, she spotted two figures in the lounge area of the dark office.

Peter stood with head lowered and arms crossed, eyes downcast. Across from him, seated on a nailhead leather sofa, was a suited, brown-haired man wearing rounded sunglasses. The sunglasses were an odd choice to her, considering the room was so dark. As soon as she spotted the white cane in his left hand, it made sense.

Honey didn’t recognize the man, but Peter looked comfortable in front of him. The man wore a wine-colored, slim-fit tailored suit (Ralph Lauren, Purple Label, probably—she was getting better at this) with a black skinny tie, and a champagne silk pocket square.

“We can argue it was self-defense,” the blind stranger replied.

“It was self-defense,” Peter answered firmly. “Miguel’s not a killer. Not like—” He swallowed hard, dropping the sentence. “They wouldn’t have fired unless they were firing back.”

“Doesn’t matter, Pete,” he answered. “There was a shooting inside of a nightclub packed with people, the sound of which triggered a crowd rush. People got hurt. One of Rand’s bodyguards was murdered. DA’s not gonna see it any different. He’ll try to come down hard on this. Not to mention, you have a friend at the police station with a personal vendetta—”

Peter spun on his heel, simmering with rage. “If he wants it, he can come and take it!” he boomed like a crack of thunder. His voice echoed in the large office, and she gasped beneath her breath. The blind man stayed quiet despite the outburst.

Cooling his temper, Peter paced anxiously in front of the man. “Alright, what’s the hold up on the bail situa—”

The man on the couch gently lifted his free hand, bringing up his outstretched palm. Peter observed the gesture as ‘stop’, and he ceased his conversation. And then both men could hear it.

Her heartbeat raced just outside the door. “S’alright,” Peter announced, his back to the doorway. “Come in, Honey.” Her limbs locked up immediately, unsure how he could even see her. Regardless, her feet were already carrying her forward through the threshold, as if a whistle had been blown.

She might as well have a collar around her neck, she thought. She crept in, tail between her legs, her eyes flicking anxiously between her master and the stranger.

Peter looked up at her for the first time, and she had to fight to keep herself from shaking. “This is Mr. Murdock. He’s a good friend of mine.”

A pleasant smile had replaced the stranger’s grim expression as he came to a quick stand. “Call me Matt, please,” he declared, dripping with suaveness. He gracefully extended his open hand in her direction. She stared at it blankly before quickly moving across the room to return the gesture.

“Um, hi...” There was a squeakiness to her own voice that she loathed.

Matt nodded warmly, taking her hand and giving her a firm handshake. “Very nice to meet you, Miss.... uh...?”

“—Honey,” she answered, muscles rigid.

Peter’s head tilted in her direction, and she briefly caught a glance of his eyes before he turned away. She clarified, feigning confidence, “‘Honey’ is fine.”

Matt raised his brows with surprise. “Honey,” he repeated, considering the response with curiosity. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Matt’s a lawyer,” Peter muttered, pocketing his hands, as he faced his body toward the window shades. “Best in town.”

Matt blushed at the praise. “Please. We at Nelson, Murdock & Page have been fortunate, that’s all.”

Nelson, Murdock & Page. She recognized the name from the billboards. Subway ads. TV commercials. And the 52-story building on 8th Avenue, overlooking Hell’s Kitchen, where the names of the partners were lit up by 25-foot letters. The name was synonymous with success, she had once overheard someone say so while working at the coffee shop.

If Peter was a friend, all the law firm’s success came with a cost. Matt Murdock looked like he could afford to cover the bill and then some.

“What happened to Miguel?” Honey questioned warily. “Is he okay?”

Matt pursed his lips.

Peter answered her, “He’s fine. He and another friend of ours... just had a little misunderstanding with the cops.”

Honey spotted the way Matt shifted at the response.

“But we’re on it,” Peter added. “Nothin’ to worry about. He’s safe.”

Matt twitched again, gripping the head of his cane firmly. Honey didn’t need to see this action to know it was a lie.

She glanced between the two men, unsatisfied. “What’s going on?” she asked nervously. “Is this about last night? About... that guy?”

Tight-lipped, Peter looked away, pacing towards the window. Honey dug her thumbnail into her palm, wringing her hands anxiously. “If-If he wants me to apologize or something, I can—”

It was like he was shocked with a cattle prod. Peter snapped his head in her direction, eyes stern.

“I-I mean, if he’s pressing charges or something,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to-to make a fuss.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” He spat out each of his words like rotten fruit, glowering at her.

The irate tone of his voice was familiar, but not from him. She wanted to swallow her tongue, staring back at him with wide eyes. “I... I don't want anyone to get in trouble—”

Brows pinched together, he stared incredulously at her for what felt like forever, jaw clenched tight. Subtly, she began to squirm under his hardened glare. “Matt,” Peter said softly, “could you excuse us?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation, buttoning up his maroon suit jacket. He turned to Peter, “I have a car waiting for us outside. I’ll be ready when you are.” With a friendly bow of his head towards Honey’s direction, he took the cane and strode out of the room.

Peter was dead silent until long after he disappeared from view. Moments before, he couldn’t (or wouldn't) look at her. Now, he roasted her with his gaze.

“Um,” Honey cleared her throat when the tension was too much. “Look, I-I want to say—”

“What do you remember about last night?” The question was thrown at her like she was in an interrogation.

There were flashes of memories, some vivid, others blurry. Most of the words were cloudy. But the emotions were there, and they terrified her.

She gulped. Took a few shallow breaths. “I-I… I remember having a few drinks. And… and then I made Eddie give me something to-to take the edge off because there were so many people... and-and too many sounds, and I just don’t—I mean, I’m not making excuses. That’s—It’s my fault. Eddie didn’t want to, and I made him—”

“I’m not talkin’ about the drugs,” Peter snipped her sentence short, an edge of agitation returning. “I don’t care about the fact that you got high. I don’t care about any of that.” He fixed her with an intense gaze. “What do you remember about what happened next?”

She blinked, her heart beating hard enough to feel in her throat.

What happened next?

A hurricane of blurry images, punctuated by heartwrenching emotion. Like the fading outline of a nightmare.

Which nightmare did he want to hear about first?

Was it her overwhelming guilt from spying on Peter? Was it the terror, like she was walking a tightrope across the Grand Canyon, every time her phone buzzed? Or the urge to run to the nearest church and pray away whatever evil possessed him when he stuck that needle in his arm?

Was it confusion about what her heart wanted, one hand reaching out for him while the other sought to stab him in the back? Half wanted to dunk him in holy water, the other half of her wanted to reach out and touch—

A gasp caught in her throat. Another distinct memory came to light.

Lust. Heated, unapologetic debauchery. It left a filthy sensation, a film congealing on her surface, like she’d spent a week locked in a room watching nothing but porn. Sin oozed from her brain, spinning her dizzy, bending her over, and presenting her cunt in the air to be fucked hard by any willing passerby.

She had wanted it to be Peter.

Her face felt like it was on fire. He must have noticed because he broke his gaze, eyes suddenly downcast. A tidal wave of shame crushed her.

“Do you remember,” he asked, more gently, “when you were assaulted?” She blinked, observing the concern in his gaze when he looked back at her. “When Rand put his hands on you?”

She blinked a few more times. Yes, she remembered that. Clear as day. She remembered the sudden urge to scream, cry and vomit all at once. She remembered Peter punching Danny and how scared and disgustingly satisfied it made her feel. She remembered Peter ordering his crew to protect her like she was Helen of Troy—not a slutty, mob mistress fucked-up on a little THC.

Her lower lip began to quiver. “I… I shouldn’t have been in there. I-I was out of my mind, and if I hadn’t—”

“Don’t,” his voice cracked like thunder. He sucked in a breath to silence himself, face contorting into a grimace. “Don’t finish that sentence. I swear to god, if you tell me that nothing woulda happened to you if you hadn’t been in there—”

“I’m sorry!”

“What are you sorry for?!”

Her heart thrummed in her throat, her eyes like saucers. When he looked back at her, his face was twisted sourly. Exhausted. Heartbroken. He dragged his fingers through the scruff of his beard, and stepped towards her.

“Why don’t you get it, huh?” he said, quiet and grim. Eyes desperate. “Why can’t you see it?”

As he leaned into her, she instinctively leaned back. Tears budded at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t—I don’t know what—”

He held up both hands, silencing her. She hiccuped in distress. “Honey,” he said, calmly attempting to bite back his frustration, “when are you gonna learn that you’re worth fighting for?”

Her breath hitched. His dark gaze was fixed on her.

“Why can’t you understand that there’s nothing on this Earth that I care more about? That I would do anything to protect?”

She stared up at him, wordlessly. He inched closer until she was within arm’s length.

“I’ll fight for you. I’ll protect you. But Honey…” he sighed heavily, “I can’t save you from yourself.” Pity marked his features, eyes glistening. “I can’t fight the bad guys and the voice in your head. The one that tells you it’s okay for some prick to grab you and get away with it. For some asshole boss, your crazy mother, or anyone else to talk down to you. To make you feel unworthy of common fucking decency.”

Despite the affection of his words, all she could focus on was the way he hissed at the end of the statement.

Her eyes fell to the floor in shame. Hot tears pooled behind her lids. “Did Miguel shoot someone?” she murmured mournfully.

He nodded. “Yes.”

Wiping a tear from her cheek as it fell, she sniffed back her anguish, voice lined with disdain. “Because of me? Because I freaked out?” She sounded so small. Powerless. She hated the sound. “I don’t even remember what happened. Maybe nothing happened at all, maybe he didn’t even touch me—”

The sound of his heavy exhale compelled her to peek up at him beneath her lashes. He lifted his chin, eyes cast downwards, and tensely declared, “You can lie to yourself all you want. But I told you. Don’t ever lie to me.”

She hugged herself tightly, restraining a tremble. Mouth agape. Tongue twisted uselessly. He didn’t wait long for a response.

“I-I gotta go,” he said. Peter rubbed the back of his hand across his chapped lips. He looked disoriented, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. He tugged on the edges of his slate-gray sportcoat, eyes focused on everything but her. “Won’t be back for a while. M’goin’ to the precinct.”

She tensed, eyes wide. “You’re going to the cops?”

Still, he kept his eyes down. She wasn’t sure whether it was defensiveness or disgust that prevented him from looking at her.

“Don’t wait up for me.”

Without any room for discussion, he marched out of the room. Stopping for nothing. Leaving her alone.

Stupefied, she stood in his office feeling like the ground was trembling beneath her feet, and she’d be sucked into a sinkhole at any moment.

Despite this, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

They were supposed to have a date.

Peter felt like he was sweating all over. Never mind the fact that it was a bitterly cold day. He shuffled from the elevator towards a blacked-out SUV idling in the underground garage. Every step was shaky, like he was balancing upright on a plank in the middle of the Atlantic. An ache radiated from his organs. Could’ve been starvation or salmonella. Never in his life had he ever been so ravenous and so wrecked by nausea.

One of his guards was already at the back passenger door, opening it for him as he approached. With little more than a tense nod, he crawled into the backseat where Matt was waiting.

“You feelin’ okay?” Matt asked. His tone was light amidst the heavy circumstances. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell like a gym locker room.”

“M’fine.” The car lurched forward. Bile scaled up his tongue. Peter crouched in on himself, eyes fixed on the window.

“Yeah,” Matt scoffed. “Sure.”

He murmured coldly, “You let me worry about me.”

“Hey, you called me,” Matt frowned teasingly, tossing his hands gently in surrender. “And for the record, I advised you not to go through with this.”

“Not gonna leave them to rot—”

“I’m saying we need to be strategic, is all. Chances are, we can get Jessica released today. Miguel is another story.”

Peter acknowledged that Matt was very good at his job. He could smell guilt. He could hear the pulse pattern of a lie. There was no hiding anything from the man, and it created a completely transparent relationship that Peter clung to. It was rare.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them as Peter contemplated his reflection in the glass.

The lawyer spoke after a few moments, clearing his throat. “So. That’s her, I assume?”

There was an ominous inflection in his voice. The idea of Matt’s attention being called to the woman in his penthouse made his skin prickle. Felt clammy. He squirmed in his seat, rolling his neck and shoulders.

“Yeah.”

A pause. “She seems sweet.”

“She is.”

“That’s good. Great.”

Another stretch of silence followed with Matt holding his tongue between his teeth. They both could sense each other’s distress, in the air and in their ears. Peter debated further attempts to conceal his fluctuating heartbeat. He needed to save up his energy.

It was hopeless cause anyway. Matt saw everything.

The lawyer let out a heavy exhale, weighed by grim reality. “You know she’s hiding something from you, right?”

Peter didn’t react. Brows furrowed, he simply stared into space.

Matt was very good at his job.

“Yeah. I know.”

Honey was making lists again. Montgomery. Juneau. Phoenix. Little Rock.

State capitals. Alphabetical by state. Sacramento. Denver. Hartford. Dover.

Fifty cities for fifty states. She counted to fifty and repeated the action, over and over, until she could sing them to a tune she composed.

It didn’t do anything to ease the dread in her belly.

The rest of the afternoon since Peter left her alone went by agonizingly slow. She purposely avoided her bedroom, where her phone was well hidden. She avoided the bed she shared with Peter. Avoiding any intimate space whatsoever.

The standard crew contracted to clean and maintain the condo came and left, as they did three times a week. Though she tried, the language barrier made having a conversation with anyone impossible.

The more she thought about it, she wondered if the staff was capable of conversation all along, but they’d been instructed not to talk to her. The guards certainly didn’t, even as they lurked in the hallways like ghosts.

The best conversationalist in the entire house was Rex.

She spent a good deal of time cleaning and rearranging the bearded dragon’s terrarium, despite the task having already been completed by a housekeeper.

Honey felt like she’d seen him grow a few inches since she arrived. Peter explained that it was unlikely, he probably reached full size years ago, but she felt strongly about it. The reptile’s length spanned her entire forearm, from tip to elbow, and she was certain that it was an improvement.

She needed to believe that something had been made better by her prescence.

Rex was having an emotional time as well. He had always been on the large size for his species, but he had put on a few grams in the last few weeks, no doubt caused by the stress in their household.

Honey wasn’t there to judge. She helped him get some exercise outside of the tank, letting him explore her arms and lap. His scaly embrace brought tears to her eyes. Rex was the only one she could actually care for. The only thing she had the power to protect. Perhaps the only unconditional love she’d ever experienced.

Maybe the only love she deserved.

On a lighter note, Rex was a real riot once you got to know him.

That evening, Honey and Rex were enjoying a late night snack in the kitchen when she heard a crashing sound echoing from another part of the condo. She paused for a moment, trying to determine the source of the noise, curiosity stirring her chest.

Putting Rex safely back in his terrarium, she padded up the staircase towards the source of the noise. Just as she was ascending the stairs, one of the faceless guards rushed past her without a glance. Another one followed soon after, and she got the feeling that they were running from something. Like how rats scurry away before a train passes by. Or right before an earthquake.

Another sound—this one was just as sharp, but different. More animalistic. A roar. She tensed mid-step, jaw clenched tight, as she realized where the noises were coming from.

Peter’s office.

Her instincts told her to run and hide, and incomprehensively, to go forward. Whatever it was, it was in pain. Or it was causing pain. Was Peter in pain?

Bracing herself, she crept to the solid oak door and gently pushed it open.

Like much of the penthouse, Peter’s office had floor-to-ceiling views of Lower Manhattan’s breathtaking skyline. Typically. On this night, the only thing outside the window was a terrace, which stretched around the condo, and a solid wall of fog at its border. Beyond the rain-streaked glass, it was nearly impossible to see through the black cloud. The haze made her feel trapped, suffocated. Blindfolded when an atomic monster could be lurking just outside of the windows.

The probability of a monster outside was steadily increasing. Despite the sounds she’d heard, concerningly, the inside of Peter’s office was empty.

Swallowing hard, she wandered inside with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She approached the center with bated breath, eyes darting towards each corner.

She jumped at the sound of a clamour coming from the terrace. Searching from edge to edge, she couldn’t see the source, but didn’t need to wait for it. She glanced around the office, narrowing in on Peter’s desk. She darted behind the asymmetrical, functional piece of art, searching frantically for something that could be used as a weapon.

Her fingers roved around the furniture, pulling open hidden drawers and extending pieces in search of something sturdier than a Bic pen. As she slid her fingertips beneath the table surface to search for a handle of some kind, she brushed over a latch.

A pressurized spring popped open to reveal a sliding compartment. Hidden. Secret.

She stilled, mind struggling to comprehend what she was looking at.

She obviously recognized that it was a handgun. A pistol built of black soulless metal. It looked fully assembled, as far as she knew. Another thing that holds bullets—a magazine?— was nestled tightly next to it.

Her fingers twitched, curled into balls. Her cells urged her to reach out and touch. With arms firmly at her sides, she gazed down at the weapon. Swallowed hard.

This was a tool. A gift, perhaps. A new puzzle piece. Biting her lip, she debated how to use it, and if she even could, and fuck I don’t know how to hold a gun much less shoot somebody, and are you ready for that? Would you actually shoot someone?

As quickly as she could, she slapped the hidden compartment closed, obstructing the weapon from her view.

“Somethin’ I can help you find, kitten?”

She snapped her head around to see Peter standing near the windows, concealed in shadow. Her breath caught in her throat, and while her mind was spinning because where did he come from how did he get in here how did he get up here how long as he been there—

—and what the fuck did he just call me?

When Peter stepped out of the shadows, he looked like a different person. He was wearing the same face, even the same clothes (although they were drenched and clung to his skin as if he’d just come in from the rain). He looked alien to her, a skinwalker. Like his body had been stolen by an otherworldly entity that puppeted his movements as he prowled towards her.

Instinctively, she took a step backwards. He crept like the drizzle outside—languid, chilly and deceptive of the violence capable within.

Honey opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come out.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.” The lilt in his voice made her shiver. Peaceful rage. Gentle malace. It was like an unharmonius song to her ears, full of opposites and contradictions.

She had no idea when her lips started moving. “I... I... was...um... I-I heard...”

“Why is it every time I come home I catch you creepin’ around in here?” he replied, like words whispered between lovers. He loomed closer. “Curious little kitten, aren’t you?”

Cold sweat beaded at her brow. Her voice was thin. “I-I... don’t like that.”

“Don’t like what?”

“I don’t like you calling me that.”

“What would you like me to call you then, huh?” He sauntered nearer, a few strides away from her rigid stance. “You were never clear on that.”

She stood helplessly, frozen in the lights of his gaze, as he stalked towards her. She tensed her muscles, bracing for impact, expecting to be splattered across the floor. In a split second, she lunged forward.

Throwing her arms around his shoulders, she pulled him into a tight embrace. Heart thrumming loudly, she held him close to her body. The wet clothes soaked through her sweater. His fluttering heart tapped against her cheek.

Holding him was exhilarating and terrifying and terrible all at once. He went rigid underneath her touch, and she couldn’t see whether it was from rage or shock. She pressed her cheek firmly into his chest, stifling tears.

“I’m worried about you,” she whispered. His body was tense and his skin cold, corpse-like. “’M’afraid, Peter. Afraid something bad is gonna happen.”

It was like embracing a statue. She couldn’t even feel him breathe.

“What happened to you?” she trembled with despair, her lip quivering. Despite the overwhelming confusion in her heart, her concern was genuine. She was afraid for him. She knew that. It just wasn’t the only thing she was afraid of.

After several more moments of silence, she finally felt him soften. Her shoulders slumped, feeling the slightest relief at the gradual rise and fall of his chest. With his next breath, his muscles loosened a bit more. Soon, he felt human again.

His Adam’s apple bobbed against the top of her head. “Y’know I’ll protect you, right?” he said. The sentence was feather-soft. And just as hollow. “From anything.” He didn’t embrace her in return.

Her eyes burned and glistened. “I know.”

She pushed away from his chest, staring up at his face. The action forced him to meet her eyes. The color was missing from his irises, giving them an inky black appearance. But other than that, there was a glimmer of the man she knew looking back at her.

“I... I want to protect you too,” she said, biting her lip. Clenching her jaw tight, she let her hands travel up the wet fabric of his shirt. She ran her fingers gently over the expanse of his chest, gulping at the feeling of marble beneath.

When she met his eyes again, torment was etched onto his face. He was in pain, and he’d let her see it. That glimmer of vulnerability opened a gateway to the shy boy beneath her fingers. The charming young prince who stumbled over his words, and whose bright smile magnetically yanked her feet out from under her.

Her whisper was breathless. Soft, like a butterfly teasing a flower. “Tell me what I can do... to help you feel better.” The lilt in her voice carried a suggestiveness that she watched spread like an ink stain through his mind.

He stared down at her intently, turning her inside out, pulling her apart in his gaze. His scrutiny unnerved her, but she forced her body to remain calm. To charm. She ran her fingers across the scruff of his beard, bringing her hand gently up to rest at his cheek. Felt the cords in his neck tighten as he resisted the urge to nuzzle her palm. She gazed up into the darkness of his eyes, heart aching, and vowing devotion.

His expression was hard to read, even for her. Regardless, she felt the air around her get inexplicably colder.

“Yeah?” he breathed, his eyes glazing over. His mind was drifting somewhere else, listening to more voices than just hers. Unsettlingly, he stared down at her, inches from her face, and yet she got the feeling that he was simultanously looking at her from an outside window. “You wanna make me feel good?”

The sound of him shifted. The sinfully-deep timbre of his voice sent heat rushing to her core. Ebony eyes half-lidded, swirling with lust, he trapped her in his gaze. Pinning her with just a look. She steeled herself timidly, restraining a tremor. Tension stretched her belly, as she pinched her lip and nodded.

“Say it.”

The heat of his breath, combined with his scorching eyes that explored hers and suggested wicked thoughts, made her dizzy. Body and voice both firm against her.

“Say you wanna make me feel good.”

Her mouth felt dry. She gulped. “I... I wanna make you feel good.”

As he peered down lechorously at her lips, she kept herself from buckling beneath his gaze. He was panting, lips slightly parted, projecting lewd images of that mouth into her brain.

His lips curved into a slight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Go put on that pretty dress I got ya.”

He said it suggestively, although it was far from a suggestion. Her heart began to beat faster. “Um... which—”

“You know exactly which one.”

It was a declaration. A challenge. A warning. She swallowed dryly at the intensity of his stare.

“Go on.”

Her instincts screamed at her again. Begging her to turn around and run. Instead, she stepped away slowly. Her retreat was tense, controlled and calculated, like walking on a tight rope. She willed her muscles to move, forcing herself to turn her back to him.

“Good girl.”

She stopped. Trembled in the heat of his stare. Then, she complied.

When she returned to his office, she was wearing the lavender babydoll set, with the matching lace bikini-cut panties beneath. The open fireplace had been lit, casting him in a flickering, orange glow. When he glanced up from his desk, the look he gave her stripped her naked.

Her body shook. Biting her lip, she felt heat pooling between her thighs.

Despite how much she disliked his new nickname, she regrettably saw how it fit her in this circumstance. Tight-lipped, she tiptoed through the threshold like a frightened cat. His gaze hunted her figure as much as it admired her, studying her every move.

On his part, he looked just as sinful. His slate-gray, houndstooth-plaid patterned blazer had been discarded somewhere, leaving only the wrinkled, damp, white dress shirt behind. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbow, collar loose with the top buttons undone. His hair was still damp around the edges, wildly sticking out in a rogue style.

It wasn’t just sinful. He was the Devil incarnate, hiding behind an angelic face and doe eyes.

He lounged back in his chair, knees shoulder width apart, glass of bourbon in hand. His posture spawned just as many lewd thoughts in her mind. He peered at her sideways, his eyes roving unabashedly over her body. It was almost too much when she connected with his eyes, her face heating with embarrassment. He shamelessly smirked, as if boldly daring her to object to his ogling. Challenging her to deny him access to whatever he wanted.

“There she is.” He sounded gentle. Sing-song.

She stopped several paces away from the desk, but it was all posturing.

There was no amount of distance she could put between them that he wouldn’t cross. No obstacle. No line. No mercy.

She gulped anxiously. “Wha-what... What did you, um... need help with?”

He watched her silently. Intensely. “You said that we were interested in the same hobby,” he said with a dry tone. “Figured I’d get back into it.” Setting the glass down on the table, he came to a stand. He sauntered around the desk towards her, a hidden object in his grip.

His old film camera.

Her stomach dropped out at the sight. Images of the ethereal blonde woman in Peter’s photos, strewn out salaciously in pornographic poses, flooded her mind. She knew nothing about Gwen. Except that she is the woman of Peter’s dreams, and Peter didn’t want to lose her, and now he keeps her hidden in a box.

At least they had that in common.

“No better way to learn about photography than to experience what it’s like to be on both sides of the lens.” She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as he stalked towards her, his gaze crawling across her small form. “Want you to be a model for me.”

The blood drained from her face, weighed down by dread. It must have been recognizable, because after a moment, Peter’s voice softened. “It’s okay to be shy,” he said placatingly. She peered up at him from beneath her lashes. “But you don’t have to be. Just me here. Nobody else.” His eyes lingered as they brushed up her thighs, dragged across the curve of her breasts, and caught her mousy gaze. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

The kindness in his voice would’ve been soothing in any other circumstance. In this scenario, she felt like she was basking in the warm glow of an angler fish hunting prey.

“I... I don’t know, Peter, I can’t— I’m-I’m not a model.”

“Nonsense.”

“I’m... I’m nervous,” she explained with a pleading voice. “I don’t even know what to do—”

“You do exactly what I say,” he answered, matter-of-fact. The words were soft but made the imprint of a demand. “We had a deal. Won’t even touch you. Not unless you want me to.”

She blinked several times, shrinking at his dominance. A warm smile stretched his lips.

“Just relax,” he cooed, a hot knife slicing through butter. “Now come on. You wanna help me relax, don’cha? Be a good girl. Stand over by the desk.”

Her muscles felt stiff. Like a rusted axel on a locomotive lurching forward, she forced her legs to move. Slowly, she padded towards the front of the desk. He glided away from her, backing into the shadows.

“Put your back against the edge.”

Hesitantly, she did.

“Palms flat.”

She pursed her lips. Wiggled into position. Awkwardly. Slightly leaning her weight back on her palms, so her chest protruded outwards.

“Look at me.” As if there was a choice.

Click.

His gaze was ravenous. “That's it...”

Click. Click. Click.

“Perfect—”

Her mouth felt cotton dry as she glanced idly at the doorway.

Click. Click. Click—

The rattle of the shutter ceased, and her eyes darted back to him. He stared at her through slitted lids. Suspicious, but pointedly unconcerned. He paused the photo session and drifted to the doorway. She looked on apprehensively as he reached for the door, closed it, and locked it tight.

The sound made her stomach clench. “There.” He looked back at her, self-satisfied. “No more distractions.” Her breaths came out short, teetering on panic, as he loomed closer with the camera raised. “Now—”

She sucked in her lower lip. “Peter, just wait, I can’t—”

Click. Click.

“Do that again. That thing with your lip.”

Click. Click. Click.

She swallowed hard. Whimpered. “Peter, please stop. Please, I—I’m scared.”

Either the phrasing or the vulnerability in her voice nudged him out of his trance. He glanced up at her outside of the viewfinder, observing her state. Her shoulders were straight, back like an iron rod, with white-knuckled fingers that clawed the wood veneer.

“What’s the matter?”

She sniffed, trying to steady her voice. “I-I’m afraid.”

He tilted his head curiously. “Why are you afraid?” He spoke delicately, like chanting a nursery rhyme. “You think something bad is gonna happen to you? I told you. I’ll never let that happen. You believe me, right?”

“It’s not that—”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“Please—”

“Please, what?” His sentence was punctuated with force, the last of his patience worn thin.

She gazed at him, wide-eyed and flustered, babbling like she spoke a different language. His expression urged her to just speak, to tell him what she wanted.

All she wanted was to tell him the truth. She wanted to take a knife to the suffocating balloon of lies that bubbled up in her lung, letting it all spill free. But she didn’t speak. Couldn’t. She held her breath. Held his gaze. Hung her mouth open uselessly.

He pursed his lips, letting out a frustrated huff. “Just say what you’re gonna—”

“I’m afraid of you, Peter!”

He leaned back at the small outburst, a crease forming between his eyes. She fought to steady her breathing and control her volume.

It was the truth, and the truth should feel good. But all she felt was trepidation.

“I’m-’m afraid of what you’re capable of. Afraid... I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me. Just like—”

She bit her tongue to stop it from moving. Terror sealed off her throat.

Peter gazed at her expectantly, brows pinched.

She drew her lips into a hard line, jaw locked tightly in place. “Just like everyone else.”

He studied her closely and silently, until his shoulders slumped. When he broke the silence, his tone was firm. “I’m a lot of things. I’ll admit that.” He fixed his contemplative gaze on her. “But I promise. I’m nothing like everyone else.” She swallowed, gulping at the implication. “Trust me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Heart thrumming, she eyed him back. Never before had the words ‘trust me’ been so ambiguous. The two sides of him were in clear view. Two lives. Two halves. Two wolves staring right back at her.

One of them was desperate for her affection. Had an evolutionary imperative that drove him to win her over, to court her, to provide for and to protect her. To make her want to be his for life.

The other looked like he wanted to eat her.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered, in a tone low enough to slide beneath her skin. It was soft, secretive. The way he crawled into bed with her at night. “Don’t be ashamed. Don’t be scared.”

He said that, but the sound of his voice had the opposite effect. His words chilled her, she felt her stomach tumble with trepidation. Simultaneously, the heat of his voice roasted her alive. She must have been melting from the inside out. Dripping into a puddle. That could be the only logical explanation for the sensation between her thighs.

He leaned into her, and his proximity alone could be felt. Gooseflesh broke out across her body. As if his presence could touch her without lifting a finger, with eyes that probed her flesh, breath that licked over her curves. Desire that radiated from him and forced its way through her supple lips.

“Relax,” he said. “Just let me take control of your body.”

She went light-headed. Fell down a rabbit hole and was now hypnotized. Under his spell. Her breath caught in her throat, and her stomach fluttered as if she were freefalling through the atmosphere.

She saw him step away from her. Physically, he put distance between them, she was sure of it. But being locked in his gaze felt like being restrained in his grip. Pinned in place. He licked his lips, and his hands brought the camera back up back up to his face, finger on the shutter-release, and fuck how would those fingers feel wrapped around her throat—

“Just like that,” she heard him murmur darkly, voice heavy with desire. “God, you look so pretty like that—”

Click. Click. Click.

The shuffling of the shutter faded into a rhythm. A hypnotic drum beat matched only by the fluttering pace of her heart. Entranced, she set her fear aside, just as he’d wanted. The soft crooning of his admiration, gentle gasps between giant gulps, drifted into her ears like a sacred chant. She was enchanted, swaying to his song. Enraptured, guided by his words alone.

Lift your chin... lean back, all the way... show me your throat... that’s it... good, bend your elbow... sit up on the desk...turn your hips the other way... bring up your knee... put your hand right there....

She was a puppet. Maybe she had always been. He pulled her with soft demands and invisible strings, making her dance for him. But unlike a marionette, she didn’t feel hollow. She felt whole.

It felt good. Maybe it was a residual high from the drug taken the night before. Maybe she was cured. Maybe she was broken.

She was a rose blossoming beneath his lens. Bathing in his praise.

Fuck, that’s perfect... so good... such a good girl... lie on your stomach right there, bring your arms up... yeah, just like that... fuck that’s it... gorgeous... look at me... yes... arms above your head... so good for me... so good at this... lie on your back now, bring up your knee, spread them apart just a little bit... hmm, you look so precious... your body was made for this...

Time passed. She had no idea how much. Could’ve been a few minutes, or a few hours. Under his lens, she felt microscopic and rare. A new species waiting to be discovered. A strange fruit waiting to be tasted.

Slow it down, leave your fingers soft... good, good girl... yeah, just a gentle touch... curl your fingers... feel that?... so perfect...

He drew in air steadily, slightly increasing, and soon they were both breathing in short, soft gasps.

Eyes on me... That’s it, that’s good... that’s—

They both froze, but his gaze was fixed on her shoulder. She followed his line of sight until she saw that the right strap of the lingerie had fallen loosely across her upper arm. Her hand darted towards it, compelled with a modest urge to fix the strap.

“Leave it,” he said with a throaty whisper and ragged breath. She stilled, a startled fawn. Slowly, he shifted his position to a different angle, this time entranced on a view of her chest. The lace brushed across her cleavage innocently. He licked his lips at the sight. “Look at me.”

She did, and oh—

He could not look at her that way.

He wasn’t going to eat her. He was going to devour her.

She wouldn’t be mated. She would be bred.

Her flesh was burning hot. Scorched. Melting beneath that look.

And in the back of her mind, over his soft demands, his gentle orders—arch your back... so beautiful... spread your thighs, wider... that’s it... god, so sexy, so perfect—she was also aware of the sound of her own breathless gasps and sharp, rapturous exhales.

She felt the tickle of delicate fabric sliding back up her legs the more she angled her body. The French Chantilly lace of the skirt—treacherous snake—teased a view of the tops of her thighs. She felt her bare legs prickle in the cold air, despite the sweat beading on the nape of her neck. The hem of the dress drifted backwards into her lap, and his artful eye roved across her body, admiring the masterpiece of her form.

And when she heard his breath hitch, she knew exactly where his gaze had landed.

The paper-thin, lavender lace covering her core was now darkened a deep plum color. The delicate fabric was slick with her arousal, clinging to her flesh. She was dripping wet, moreso than she’d been in years. She didn’t need to look down to see what he was seeing. She knew. She could feel it. Smell it. Taste her tangy sweetness on her own tongue.

The way his ravaged-red lips parted as his eyes darkened, she knew he was thinking the same thing.

She gasped, tension building, “Peter...”

He looked down at her, eyes dazed as he braced himself on the edge of the desk. Possessed. A man driven mad by hunger. A rabid wolf, muscles tense, mouth watering at her scent.

No one had ever looked at her the way he looked at her. Like he was prepared to worship her and defile her in the same night, every night, for the rest of eternity.

His gaze was intoxicating, his wrecked appearance was exhilarating. She was drunk off of it. High off of it. Basking in it, with caution thrown to the wind.

Unbidden, her left hand sailed across the sea of fabric, smoothing over the lace, until it reached the hem of her panties. He watched her, eyes blown out with lust. Her hand drifted down past her waist. Fueled by an electric arousal and drugged with desire, her fingertips dipped beneath the waistband of her panties, slipping through her wet folds.

He clenched his teeth, swallowing hard, eyes fixated on her hand as set a pace with her fingers. He snapped his eyes shut for a moment, as if processing what he was seeing. Or debating what to do about it.

She watched his face intently, eagerly waiting for his eyes to open back up. She wanted to see the look in his eye as she came undone.

Every time the pads of her fingertips brushed over her clit, sliding shamefully through her slick, her chest fluttered in short gasps. The melody of her gentle whimpering was too much to handle, and he ripped his eyelids back open to look. The lewd sight matched with wet sounds twisted his insides into a thin wire. His dick jolted at the debauchery.

“Perfect,” he breathed, ravenously addicted.

Licking his lips, his eyes found hers. The heat of his gaze was relentless.

“Y’like that?” he whispered with a ragged, open-mouthed pant. He was quiet, like a secret. One meant for the two of them. “You like playin’ with yourself?” She stifled back a moan, biting her lip to seal them shut. “Betchu do. Like playin’ with me, too, yeah? Playin’ filthy little games...”

She heard the clink of metal. The sound of his belt unbuckling. Her mouth fell open in scandalized shock while her neck and chest flustered with heat. Momentarily, she was stricken with fear that he would facefuck her right there on the table, thrusting his cock through her lips with abandon. At the same time, the crude thought made her quiver with excitement, and she bit down into a desperate mewl.

He locked his eyes on her. She heard the rustling of fabric, but the sight was dreadfully obscured by her position on the desk. He poured his gaze over her, coating her completely. Everything from the hypnotic flick of her wrist to her twitching thighs.

He ground his teeth. “You think I can’t hear you through the walls?”

She gasped, her hand going still. Her chest heaved from the growing pressure in her body, thrust into vertigo from her humiliation and sinful hunger.

“Naughty girl. You think I can’t hear you when you touch yourself? But I can.”

Her cunt fluttered at his words as her fingers reached to soothe the ache. She clenched her jaw, dragging in each breath like crawling across a coral reef.

He grinned lecherously, a challenge buried in his eyes. “I hear it. Every time.”

His shoulder jerked as his arm jolted into a steady pace. He winced painfully, grunting into each thrust. The sight of him pleasuring himself could’ve been her undoing. Like being struck by lightning, her wrist sprang to life, rubbing tiny circles across her clit.

A guttural groan rose out of his chest, darkened stare darting between her glistening hand and her dizzied, shimmering eyes.

“Drives me crazy, y’know,” he hissed as his jaw fell open. “Like p-pheromones... Like-like you're taunting me...”

Tight lipped, he moaned beneath his words. She mewled at the sound. He clenched his jaw, picking up the pace. His hips jerked of their own accord, beginning to drive each thrust into his palm.

“Like you’re daring me... to come in and take what’s mine.” His breaths were ragged and dry, dragging behind the pace of his hips.

Her jaw fell open at the sight, the coil in her belly twisting up. She was close.

“I can’t help it,” he groaned, jaw tight. “I touch myself every time I hear you.”

His words ravaged her womb further, pulling her strings tight. She cried out at the ache. A hundred pornographic and sacrilegious pictures flooded her mind, corrupting her thoughts. Peter was tied to every one of them.

“S’that it, huh, baby? You want me to fuck you like an animal?”

Her blood raced towards her core as she edged over the peak of the rollercoaster, dangerously near the drop. It’s like he knew exactly where she was, and with one raspy whisper, he pushed her over the edge.

“That’s it, baby. Come for Daddy.”

The cable snapped as she hurtled over the peak, plummeting through the air at breakneck speed. She cried out, back arching, tears budding in the corners of her eyes. Her climax shattered her. Wrung her body out as euphoria gushed from her center. She writhed desperately, a slave to the newfound pleasure spilling through her folds.

Needing it. Willing to work for it. To sell her soul for it.

Over the disembodied sounds of her orgasm, she could hear him breaking down inches away from her.

“fuckfuckfuck that’s it, that’s it—”

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The door rattled. Everything came to a grinding halt at the sound of a heavy-handed fist pounding on the door. “Sir! Are you in there?”

Brakes squealing, sparks flying, everything stopped. Peter jerked at the sound of the guard’s voice, like a dog whiplashed at the end of a leash. Honey gasped in horror, face filled with humiliation. He bit back an agonized cry, his finish ripped away from him by harsh reality.

“Sir, we have an urgent situation that needs your immediate attention.”

Peter squeezed his eyes closed, as the words collided with him like a bucket of ice water. Chest heaving, he heard Honey scramble to sit up, while he remained doubled over with a painfully hard erection.

“Sir!”

“Yes!” he snapped, his voice taut with anger. He stepped away, pulling together his pants, stomping towards the door. Concealing himself and obstructing any view into the room, he tore the door open, nearly ripping it from the hinges.

His face was flushed with rage. “Swear to god—”

“It’s O’Hara, sir.”

Peter went still, brows pinched together.

“He got ambushed in lockup. He’s in an ambulance as we speak.”

At once, his body went numb. Flesh made stone. Limbs into rigid, frozen steel.

Peter said something wordless to the guard, and closed the door. As soon as it snapped into place, his head fell forward against the grain. Weariness and exhaustion overtook him. His legs felt like rubber, threatening to buckle beneath him. Limbs shaking.

When he turned back towards his office, he was shaken by the sight. It was Honey, but now his vision was sharp. Cleared of the fog of lust. The thrill of limitless power.

He sealed his eyes closed, feeling his stomach turn inside out beneath his ribs. The back of his eyes burned, pain contorting his face.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice nearly breaking beneath the weight. He swallowed hard, feeling more dead than alive. Empty. Soulless. Hopeless.

Mournfully, he locked glistening eyes with her for as long as it was possible. “I need you to go back to your room.”

To be continued...

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A/N I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And if not, CALM YOUR TITS they FUcK WheN I SAY THeY'RE READy 2 FUCK OK???? leave me a note, comment, or anonymous ask! I can't tell you how incredibly grateful I am for everyone's support, not just of this fic, but of me as a person, and I thank you wholeheartedly.

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

Text

let’s just pretend

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: rom com references, drinking, and a little bit of angst

summary: you cope with your feelings for peter by getting drunk on halloween

a/n: ok i really really love this and i loved writing it too? it’s the first like original idea i’ve had in a while so maybe that’s why but yeah i hope y’all enjoy and that this puts you in a halloweenish mood :-)

there’s something about fall that makes you nostalgic. the same images pop into your head whenever you hear the word october. pumpkin patches, colorful leaves, and hot coffee. it reminds you of being a kid. only when you were a kid, all you could think about this time of year was what you were going to be for halloween.

you’d spend weeks getting your costume together and coordinating with all your friends. trick or treating was literally the only thing that mattered. if you wanted to get good candy, you had to have a good costume.

the high school version of candy is alcohol. everyone just goes to parties so they can drink the whole night. no one even dresses up usually. you personally would rather have chocolate than cheap beer. your whole friend group agrees on that.

that’s why you decided to throw your own party this year. anyone who misses the old halloween can come hang out. so far it’s only peter, mj, ned, betty, and the rest of the decathlon team coming. betty invited everyone for you. she also asked liz, but she’s going to flash’s party. he only gets so many people because his parents are never home and don’t care if he raids the liquor cabinet. whatever.

you’re out finding something to wear with peter and mj a few hours before it starts. ned and betty already picked their costumes. she’s going as an angel, and he’s going as the devil. you think they should switch. they’re out shopping for snacks while the three of you hit up spirit halloween.

mj groans every single second there’s silence, and peter keeps getting scared by the motion sensor decorations. he eventually ends up having to go somewhere in the store that doesn’t have any. so, it’s a lot.

“why don’t you be a vampire?” mj asks in her fake interested voice, taking a pair of fangs off the rack in front of her. you scoff. “i think i did that in sixth grade.” she puts them back with a huff. “witch?” she’s just suggesting every costume she sees so you can get out of here. her lack of enthusiasm makes you want to take longer.

“no.”

“zookeeper?”

“eh.”

“what about cat in the hat?”

“mj, what? no.”

“uh... school girl?”

“ok, that’s just offensive.”

“you’re right. why do they have that?” she eyes the costume suspiciously. you cover it up with a random cloak that fell onto the floor. you’re never going to find anything at this point. maybe it’s a sign you’re too old for this. just when you’re about to lose all hope, peter comes over.

he’s holding up the plaid yellow skirt and blazer cher wears in clueless. it’s one of the most iconic rom com outfits. you grab it with a gasp, peter giving you a knowing smile. “oh my god! wait, where did you find this?” “they have a section with movie stuff.” there’s a han solo costume in his other hand.

you throw an arm around his neck for a quick hug. peter squeezes you and chuckles when he pulls away. it gets a sigh out of mj.

“sure you don’t wanna be the guy she ends up with?” she elbows peter’s arm. the two of you share a disgusted look. “josh? ew, he’s her ex stepbrother,” you dismiss her. “they’re, like, related,” peter adds. mj rolls her eyes almost to the back of her head and starts to walk away. “someone needs to unplug both of your tv’s.” you and peter follow after her.

of course she would suggest a couple’s costume. she was probably trying to make you both get weird. you’re always being teased for spending so much time together. even your parents and may make little comments about it. you can’t help the fact that you have almost everything in common.

peter is the only person your age who doesn’t try so hard to be cool. when you’re with him, you can be the biggest nerd and wear fluffy pajamas and play with legos. it’s a judgement free friendship.

you’ll admit you’ve wanted it to become a judgement free relationship. there’s no way he doesn’t feel your heart beating against him when you cuddle during movie nights. he has to notice your goofy smile whenever he calls you a nickname.

but, it could all be platonic in peter’s mind. maybe he sees you as more of a sister. that would make josh the perfect costume to go with you as cher.

you shutter and try to push the idea out of your mind for the rest of your time at spirit halloween.

it’s almost time for the party to start when you get back to your house. your parents let betty and ned in to start setting up on their way out. they’re going for dinner so they aren’t around to embarrass you. you have until midnight, then there’s nothing you can do. that gives you four hours.

mj is changing into the coraline costume you made her get, which she actually doesn’t hate. betty is helping you do some last minute decorating. peter and ned are putting out snacks. it’s a really good system you have.

“love the the plaid, y/n. you look so fetch!” betty compliments in between throwing fake cobwebs over your couch. you snort and finish stringing up some lights. “wrong movie, but thanks.” “oh. oops,” she shrugs and gets back to cobwebbing. “peter found it for me.” all the lights are up, so you go to plug them in. betty giggles on your way over.

your living room has an orange glow to it now. dusting your hands off, you admire your work. the moment of admiration ends when you notice how betty is looking at you. “what?” “peter found it for you,” she repeats suggestively. “when he was getting his costume, yeah,” you say like it’s nothing because it is nothing.

“so, what i’m hearing is he wanted to see you in a skirt.” you furrow your eyebrows at her. “what? no, he just-“ she wiggles her own eyebrows at you. you’re going to start sweating if you talk about this any longer. too aware of yourself now, you pull down your skirt and trudge over to the stairs. “i’m gonna go check on mj.”

you’re in the middle of convincing her she looks great and to leave your room when everyone calls your name downstairs.

“what?” you shout back from behind the closed door. “you should get down here.” it’s only peter this time. mj widens her eyes at you, but you’re gone before she can say she isn’t wearing this again.

you make your way down the stairs. the three of them are huddled in front of the door. “is someone here?” you mouth, ned looking off to the side awkwardly. they all move out of the way so you can see who it is. it’s flash. you’re obviously surprised to see him at your house, especially since he’s supposed to be having his own party right now.

“um, what are you doing here?” you try not to sound mean. “didn’t you invite the whole decathlon team? i’m on it.” you’d forgotten about that. peter says he’s only an alternate. flash side steps past you to get inside. you didn’t say he could come in. he heads straight to the chip bowl on your living room coffee table. you’re left shaking your head in pure confusion.

“dude, kick him out,” ned whispers to you. you wave your hand dismissively and walk over. he’s kicking his legs up on the table when you get there. “dope outfit. you look good.” he winks and crunches on a tostito. peter is clenching his jaw, but no one sees. “why are you in my house, flash?” you push the bowl away from him. “oh, yeah. my parents came home from vegas early.”

mj finally gets downstairs, squinting at whatever is going on with you while she walks over to everyone else. “i thought we could combine parties.” flash eyes your friends in a way you don’t like. “all your guests are pretty much here, so don’t worry about space.”

you look back at peter to see what he thinks. he shakes his head no. betty is nodding her head so fast you’re pretty sure she’s going to get whiplash. ned agrees with whatever she thinks, and mj doesn’t care. majority rules. plus, you could use one of flash’s playlists to liven things up. how bad could it really be?

“text everyone my address.”

people are flooding your house in the next fifteen minutes. like, your entire grade might be here. flash hooks his phone up to your speakers and blasts his songs. people grab fistfuls of candy and dance around. you’re running low on soda, but one guy brought extra drinks. alcoholic drinks, which you’re uneasy about. that was a big reason why you wanted to have your own party in the first place.

you don’t want to be a lame host, so you let it slide. a girl is sitting on top of your kitchen counter making out with someone. people are yelling so loud you can’t make out a single conversation. this is all going on and yet somehow, the most surprising thing is that they came in costume. some are more casual, like cat ears and lifeguard hoodies. it still counts.

feeling a little bit lost in your own house, you search for peter. he’s sitting on the top stair just watching what’s going on. you get his attention by throwing a mini packet of sour patch kids at him. he catches it, grinning when he realizes you did that. “i love these.” “good. they were the only ones left.” you take a seat next to him and scratch at the material of his vest for emphasis.

“i can’t believe you said yes to him.” peter opens the sour patch kids. the first one is yellow, so he offers it to you. sharing food with him always works because you each seem to like what the other doesn’t. “neither can i, but i think betty would’ve actually hurt me if i didn’t,” you joke while chewing. he rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “please. she’s too nice.”

you lean your head on peter’s shoulder and grab another gummy. he pokes your arm in protest. “this bag is small. get your own.” you’re nuzzling your cheek against him. “i told you they’re gone.” he’s about to put an arm around you when someone screams downstairs. you quickly sit up.

“i’m gonna go see what the hell that was. i’ll find you later?” peter does his best to hide his disappointment. “yeah, of course. good luck.” you clench your teeth and run down the stairs. this is somehow flash’s fault.

it’s been an hour and a half, and peter is nowhere to be seen. the chaos was just that someone really liked the song that was playing. it didn’t take you long to figure that out. when you went to tell peter, he was gone. you’ve looked everywhere for him since, except the backyard.

a pretty big group of people is out here either playing catch or talking. someone also brought a case of beer outside. you spot mj huddled up by the fence with a bottle. it doesn’t necessarily surprise you. it’s weird to see, either way.

“have you seen peter?” you walk up to her. she uses the bottle to gesture somewhere. he’s in the middle of a conversation with liz. your entire body feels like it’s collapsing into itself. it didn’t cross your mind she would be coming even when the party moved to your house.

she’s nice and all. you don’t have any issues with her. not that she knows about, at least. peter had the biggest crush on her for about a month, then it fizzled out. that’s what he told you. unless, he said that to save face.

you’re speechless. mj figured you would be. she gives you a sympathetic smile and holds out her beer. “yep. drink up.” your instincts tell you to take it, so you do. she heads back inside and leaves you alone with your thoughts. that’s not good for you. the only to way to get rid of them is by chugging the rest of this bottle.

you’ve never had your own drink before, and technically you aren’t now. this is still the most alcohol you’ll ever have in your system. before you can change your mind, you take a generous swig. it’s bitter. you don’t hate it as much as you expected to, though.

your eyes land on liz touching peter’s shoulder. that inspires your next big gulp of beer. you finish off the rest, and it hits you fast. you’re understanding why this is such a popular vice. you don’t feel anything but how tipsy you are. light and floaty. you decide to stumble back into the kitchen and find out what other drinks people brought.

the bright color of your costume catches peter’s attention. he was wondering where you were. excusing himself from liz, he follows you in. you bump into betty on your way to the punch bowl someone filled. she’s holding a red solo cup with the mystery liquid. both of you buzzed, you laugh and grab her arm.

“sorry. s- sorry.” you’re squeezing behind her, her angel wings brushing against your face in the process. you have to weave through everyone to make it to the drink table. peter meets you there when you’re getting a cup. he’s shocked.

“y/n?” smiling lazily, you take a sip. “hey, peter. pete.” the sober voice in your head tells you to stop talking. he probably shouldn’t know you’re drunk. then again, your cup gives it away. “y/n, have you been drinking?” he sounds concerned. everything is funny to you right now. you giggle out a “yes.”

peter doesn’t want to be that person, but you’re not acting right. he reaches for your drink. you pull it away too abruptly, and some of it spills onto the floor. “you... you’re so...“ you start losing your balance. “woah.” peter wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. he takes the drink out of your hand and sets it on the table.

frowning, he throws your arm around his shoulders so he can help you get upstairs. “come on, y/n/n.” you don’t argue this time. you’re at the part of being drunk where it doesn’t feel good anymore. peter holds you close to his side and walks you out of the kitchen. he stops to talk to ned for a second.

“hey, man. y/n’s parents are gonna be home soon. could you get everyone out?” he says into his ear. “why can’t she do it?” peter moves out of the way so he’s not blocking you. ned sees. you’re completely faded. “oh, shit. is she okay?” he whisper yells. “i’m gonna take care of her.” “i’ll tell everyone to go.” peter presses his lips into a tight smile, then he’s taking you up to your room.

you flop down onto your bed face first. peter shuts the door behind you. “you okay?” he chuckles, you nodding with your face smushed into the comforter. he’d think it was cute if you weren’t piss drunk. gently nudging you, he moves you so you’re on your back.

“let’s get you out of this.” “ooh, betty was right. you do like me in a skirt,” you giggle and bat your eyelashes at him. he huffs. “no, i mean you have to put on pajamas.” you’re pouting now. “you don’t like me in a skirt?” after going through your drawers, he comes back over with a big t-shirt and fuzzy pants. “i never said that.”

you grin again and grab them from him. “ha.” “do you need help changing?” he sits at the edge of your bed. you’re still laying down. he’s not sure you can handle getting up. “no. don’t be creepy,” you say completely serious. peter has to remind himself you’re drunk. “you were the one who thought i wanted you naked, but ok.”

making peter close his eyes, you peel the costume off your body. you got pretty sweaty. you kick everything onto the floor and start putting on your pajamas. your head gets stuck in an arm hole by accident, so peter has to fix that. the rest is fine. he’s about to bring you into the bathroom to brush your teeth, but you face plant into his lap. you’re out.

the next morning, you wake up feeling like ass. your breath is hot and tastes disgusting. your head is pounding. you could throw up. you’re not even sure how you ended up in your bed. then, you notice peter sitting at your desk. he must have helped you in.

a vague memory of him tucking you under the covers while you whined comes back to you, along with a few others. one of them is of him and liz. the whole reason you did this to yourself.

“hey.” your voice comes out hoarse. “hi.” peter nods and points to your night table. there’s a fresh glass of water. you drink it all down as fast as humanely possible, a hand on your heart. it doesn’t phase him after what you did last night. you set the empty glass down and pat the spot next to you. peter sits by your side.

he’s still dressed as han solo, but his vest and belt are sprawled out on the floor. the boots are under your desk. he actually stayed all night for you.

“i think i’m hungover.” you rest your head against his arm. his body relaxes. “you didn’t drink that much. mj said she gave you half a beer,” he almost laughs, you groaning. “that means i’m a lightweight.” “for now.” your arm wrapping around his, you look up at him.

“sorry you had to deal with me. am i in trouble?” “nah, your parents don’t know. we cleaned everything up before they got home.” he lightly pats the top of your head with two fingers. you squeeze your eyes shut when he does it. “you did? thank you so much, wow.” peter nods and smiles for a second.

he lays his back against the pillow on his side. “let’s just pretend that never happened.” “you’re good at pretending,” you mumble to yourself. you’re not as quiet as you think because peter hears it. “um, what?” you feel too woozy to come up with a cover. letting out a breath, you take your head and hands off of him.

“i saw you talking with liz.” “she wanted to know if i could lead decathlon practice next week. she’s not gonna be in school,” he says slowly, not getting it. “why?” having to spell it out is making you frustrated. “didn’t you say you don’t like her anymore?” “yeah, i don’t.”

“so, why was she being all... touchy?” the jealousy is clear in your voice. peter shrugs. “that’s how liz is. i still don’t get why it matters.” you ease yourself to sit up and turn to face him. those three words you’ve been meaning to tell him are on the absolute tip of your tongue. they’re about to come out.

then...

“i like you, y/n.”

peter says them for you.

you’re so surprised you nearly vomit for real. or, it could be the possible hangover. almost a minute has gone by when you realize you’ve been sitting there with your mouth hanging open. you swallow your spit. “you... you do?” “a lot. i kept trying to tell you, but there was never a good time.” his voice is softer now.

“i realized after homecoming. i wished i went with you instead of...” he doesn’t have to finish the sentence. you nod, a small smile spreading across your face. peter’s eyes are so hopeful. “i like you, too. a lot.” your gaze trails down to his lips.

“i’d kiss you if my breath didn’t stink.” “i’ll let you owe me one.” he’s fully grinning now, and both of you laugh. they’re the kind of laughs you do because you’re so happy you don’t know what to say.

peter presses his lips to your temple, your eyes fluttering closed. “get some more sleep. i’m gonna ask you out when you wake up,” he mumbles against your hair. you grab his hand that’s resting on the comforter. “can you stay with me?” “of course.”

he lays down next to you. you pull back the covers so he can get under them. your head is resting on his chest, an arm around his torso. both of his hug your waist. you’re instantly comfortable cuddled up in his embrace. you drift off to sleep with a smile.

this feels like such a dream. it’s the exact type of situation you’d make up in your head. but, it’s real. peter is still holding you when you wake up. he’s not going anywhere.

#tom holland #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #peter parker smut #tom holland x reader

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pixie88 · 4 years ago

Text

Laila's Birthday

Chapter 15 - Always the Bridesmaid.

A/N: Sorry AGAIN I haven’t uploaded anything new in the last week. I have been away and writing loads. But today I think I wrote the last chapter for ATB maybe... I’m not sure yet. I don’t know how long I want to make this series. Thanks for being patience with me! I hope you like it.

If you would like to be ADDED or REMOVED just let me know! I hate to annoy people with tags.

Read previous chapters HERE!

Song: Bill Medley, Jennifer Warnes - (I've Had) The Time Of My Life

Warnings: Fluff & NSFW

Word Count: 2806 Sorry it’s a long one.

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy!

Daniel had worked his magic on them both "We'll see you tonight D" Nikki calls back as they leave. "Are the kids coming tonight?"

"I was going to bring them, but Stu's Mum said she would have them. So, I'm letting loose tonight" They both laugh "My dad has said Harry and I can stay the night. No need to worry about staggering home"

"Just the worry of keeping the noise down when you go to bed" Nikki winks at her "Oh god!" she rolls her eyes at her.

They say their goodbyes as the part ways to head home.

~*~*~*~

Laila decides on a blue floral wrap dress, she looks herself over in the mirror. Harry comes up behind her and rest his head on her shoulder as his arms wrap around her "Well, birthday girl, don't you look stunning!" she blushes "Why thank you!" she winks at his reflection.

"You ready to go?" He kisses her neck "Yeah, we better go now.... I have a feeling we won't leave otherwise," he chuckles "You're right, let's go!" they leave her flat and head to her parents house.

As soon as they arrive at her parents garden everyone wishes her a Happy birthday. Laila pulls Harry over to her Grandad "Grandad, this is Harry, Harry, this is my grandad Ezra" Harry smile and holds out his hand to Ezra, who takes it "Nice to meet you Ezra" Ezra smile "Nice to meet the guy who has made my granddaughter smile again!"

Harry looks over to her with a smile "No threats grandad?" Laila jokes "Poppet, does it look like I can take this fella?" they laugh. Nikki wanders over with a glass of Prosecco and a beer for the pair "Laila, you go have fun with ya friends" Ezra tells her. They go over to the group Rem hands the group a shot each "Rem!!" Laila whines, but Rem's laughs "Stop being a little girl" they all knock back the Sambuca shot, all hissing with disgust at the taste.

"Argh! That's awful!" Laila hisses, they do a few more shots before grabbing some food "Laila, will you come inside for a minute" Liz calls her over, Terry follows them. She leads them into the living room "Mum, what is it?" Terry moves to stand with his wife and they hand Laila an envelope "What's this?" Liz is over excited "Your birthday present from us"

"Oh, thanks. I'll open it later," she smiles at them "No, Laila could you open it now?" Terry pleads with her, she huffs opening the envelope as soon as she can't believe her eyes.

She's speechless, Terry and Liz are beaming.

Laila walks out into the garden still shocked over her parents gift "Lai?" Nate smiles at her "Are you OK?" he asks "Erm...I think so...Mum and Dad just gave me, my birthday present"

"Ah! The 31st birthday present," she looks over to him "You got it too?" he laughs "Lai, we all did!"

"I wasn't expecting it! Maybe at 18 but 31? Nate it's a lot of money! I feel bad for taking it!" she whispers "I'm glad they kept it until we are in our 30's. I would have wasted it at 18! Lai, don't! They have done this, so we can put down roots...You could buy your own salon... in or out of London. Don't feel bad" she starts to tear up "It's just so generous! I wasn't expecting it" he pulls his sister in for a hug "You doughnut!"

Harry spots Nate hugging Laila, he knows something is up with her. He makes his excuses and wanders over "Laila?" she hears him call over her shoulder, Nate loosens his arms from around his sister, he smiles as he leaves her with Harry. She turns, he notices she has been crying "Laila, what's wrong?" he cups her face and catches her tears with his thumb, his eyes burn into hers "Hey, it's my party and I'll cry if I want to! Right?" she laughs.

"But what has upset you?" He asks concerned "Can we go and speak somewhere quiet?" He nods. She leads him inside and up to her old bedroom, he chuckles "I remember the last time we were in here," she smirks "Are you going to tell me why you've been crying?" She sits on the bed, he takes his place next to her "It's stupid really. My parents, they gave me this as a birthday gift," she hands him the envelope "You can open it! I got a bit overwhelmed by it," he opens the envelope and looks down at it "Wow! That's a lot of money"

"They have been putting in since we were babies! But they have waited until we were in our 30's to give it us. Mum said we would appreciate it more! I just feel bad," he hands it back to her "No need to be! They did this for you because they love you" He pulls her to his chest and kisses the top of her head. He suddenly lays back onto the bed, pulling her with him, she looks up at him "Nate said I should get my own salon in or out of London" she laughs, "You'd leave London?"

"Maybe if I found the perfect place, but it's just an idea," she smiles at him "Hopefully not too soon?" she can tell he doesn't like the idea "I don't even know what to do yet," he cups he face "Whatever you decide whether it's in or out of the M25 I'm going to be right there with you" he brushes the stray strand of hair out of her face "Duuuuh! I need someone to lift those heavy boxes!" she teases him.

He laughs before flipping her onto her back, pinning her arms down "Just a removal man, ay?" she grins biting her lip "Maybe..." she winks up at him "So does this make you, my sugar mumma," she rolls her eyes "Depends what your limits are?" She cocks her brow at him "For you, I don't have any!"

His face moves closer to hers, this man has her weak with just one look, his scent, his touch. His lips hover just itches away from her, "We better get downstairs before people come looking for you," he whispers, his eyes never leave hers.

She composed herself, "You're right let's go!" he gets up and they head down. He's close behind "There you are!" Rem pulls them over for more shots "We are playing never have I ever" an unimpressed Alec informs them "Harry, why don't you get your brothers and sister over"

Laila calls them over Chris and Will sit it out "As Laila and Harry when off to play hide and seek they're next! Harry, you first!" Rem cheers, Harry thought hard for a few seconds "Never have I ever had sex in a car!" Rem, Nate, Max, Jade, Katrina, Priya, Izzy, Arthur, Brad, Alec, Alene, Stu, Nikki and Laila all do a shot. He looks towards his girlfriend with a raised brow "My past is my past, but maybe it can be your future" she winks at him, he blushes. Rem pretends to gag!

"I guess it's my turn now! Never have I ever had sex against a tree," she laughs knowing already who will have to drink. She was right Nikki, Stu and Alene drink "Wait, that wasn't a 3 some, right?" Rem asks "What!! NO!" Alene hisses "It's me next?" Izzy questions.

Rem nods.

"Never have I ever gone down on a guy!" Rem, Nikki, Jade, Katrina, Priya, Alec and Laila, who looks up at Harry as she takes her shot he winks. Which didn't go unnoticed by Izzy "You guys are making me want to vom!" She jokes "How do you think I feel all of my brother's wives drank! Yes, I saw you Priya, Jade and Katrina" Max goes next to change the subject "Never have I ever slept with any other people than my wife" a few of the group huff. Laila, Harry, Alene, Izzy, Nate, Jade, Priya, Arthur, Brad, Rem and Alec drink.

This made Laila want to raise the question of how many women had he slept with? The game goes on by the end all are more than tipsy. Laila head over to get a glass of Prosecco, all the open bottles are empty. Terry comes over with a open one "Thanks dad!"

"You having fun sweetie?" She nods "Just these glasses aren't big enough!"

Josie chuckles over her shoulder "Just drink from the bottle, it's your birthday!" Laila contemplates it before grabbing the bottle and taking a swig as she sits "She might be a Carelli, but she's an Anderson at heart!" Ezra laughs, "Laila!! That's not very lady like!" Pat hisses at her "Wait! No, it's not!" Josie hands her an extra long straw "There that's better!" Josie baits Pat, who shook her head in disgust.

"What did your boyfriend get you poppet?" Ezra asks her as she starts to lean against him on the bench "Aww Grandad, he got me this," she raised her necklace from her neck, he takes a look "Aww Poppet that's like the one my mum had," she smiles at him, "It is!" Liz coos "That's why your dad was going through all our photo's a few weeks back" Terry winks "All I'm saying is that boy really put some thought in what to get you. Now are we doing the candles on this cake"

Liz rushes off to light the candles, everyone starts to sing happy birthday to her, she gets a bit teary. She blows out her candles, the music starts back up Time of my life - Bill Medley & Jennifer Warnes is playing Liz drags Terry to dance with her. Laila looks over to Harry, he shook his head as if to say no. She gets up and makes her way over to him giving him, her best pouty face, "Please? It is my birthday," he huffs but with a smile "Come on then! But I'll warn you my dance moves are aw..." she pulls him over to a free space.

They start dancing, he spins her "You said you couldn't dance!" he chuckles "I don't have any rhythm!" she grins,"Your rhythm is perfectly fine!" she winks as she whispers. He pulls her in close, so her body is pressed against his as they move, his lips come to her ear "That's a bit different...and it's a bit public to use those kinda moves" she blushes at his words.

He looks around at the others dancing "How big is this back garden?" he whispers, "Big enough..Why?" he grins, "Follow me!!" he takes her hand and walks towards the trees at the back, the further they walk the more the lights from the house fade. "Harry, where are you taking me?" she giggles, he turns to her smiling, he starts to run, pulling her with him, they get deeper into the trees.

"Harry?" suddenly he pins her body against one the trees, his lips roughly capture hers. His kiss is desperate, she barely catches her breath as his hands move over her curves. His lips move to her neck, nipping as they move, his hands slip to the back of her thighs lifting her. She drapes her arms over his shoulders, she pulls his lips back to hers. Her hands slip between them unbuckling his belt, he smirks against her lips "Are we OK out here?" he asks.

"I don't really know, but to be honest...I don't care" moving her underwear to the side as the pads of his fingers brush over her apex, he grins against her lips "Like I'll ever not be ready for you!" she whispers. He unzips his jeans, pushing them down just enough, he thrust into her, she moans aloud his lips crash to hers to drown out her cries.

Her nails dig into his shoulders, a growl escapes his lips. He clutches a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back "Still long enough to pull on!" He smirks against her ear. His grip quickly loosens "Oh..hmm...Harry!!"

He groans against her skin, she clenches around him meaning she's close his pace speeds up. It's not long until she reaches her high "Harry! Yes!" she moans a little too loudly. She feels him smirk against her neck "There's no way they didn't hear that gorgeous!" She giggles "I don't care! It's my birthday!" He's close, moving faster, it's not long until he falls over the edge he grunts as his body jerks.

Both panting, trying to catch their breath, he rests his forehead against hers "Is that what you brought me out here for?" she's smirking at him "Maybe" he winks. Letting her down, he tucks his shirt back into his jeans "Harry, I can ask you anything right?" he looks over to her curious and nods.

"Max's never have I ever, how many have you slept with? You don't have to answer if you don't want to...it's just you know my number but I don't know yours" he chuckles and pulls her to his chest, "I don't mind! Our relationship is built on honesty right?" she nods "So including you? My magic and lucky number is...5" she looks up at him "5? That's it?" he chuckles "You know most girlfriends would be happy with a low number"

"I am but you had a 3 some?" he shook his head at her "Yeah, I had 1 girlfriend before the 3 some then that happened with 2 girls which happened because I was heartbroken. Gemma then you my lucky number 5!" he kisses the top of her head "You thought I was a man slut didn't you?" She laughs, "No..I just mean...well, look at you! Why haven't you been with more women?" he blushes "Because my love, you may think your boyfriend is the sexiest man alive but I'm not built for one night stands. I will only sleep with a girl if I see a future with her! That 3 some was a huge mistake one I can't take back but I have moved on from"

"So you see a future with me?!" she teases him "I do! But I have a question for you!" he smirks "What's your number?" she laughs, "That's a joke, right? But I'm game, including you?....Let me think," she begins to count on her fingers "....hmm...32..33...34...!" his fingers dig into her ribs tickling her "Ahhh! OK, it's 3!" she giggles "It's 3! You're my third time lucky" he stops, wrapping her in his arms "Come on, we better get back before people come looking for us" they take a slow walk back to the house.

A few more drinks later most have started heading home, it's late, Laila cuddles up to Harry "Shall we head up?" he asks stroking her arm, she nods "Laila, before you do...erm I have a lunch date, Wednesday are you free to come with me?" Alene asks "Erm..I'm working, but I can take my lunch break around the time you meet? Somewhere near the salon?" Alene nods "Maybe Harry could come? So, I'm not the third wheel?"

"I would love to gorgeous, but I'm back to back all day" Laila sighs "Maybe Rem?" she asks, "No!! Erm, don't want to do a meet the family on the first date," she awkwardly smiles at her "Oh, OK, I get it! So, just message me a time and place and I'll meet you. Right now I'm ready to crawl into bed!" she yawns "Come on, lets get you upstairs" Harry gets up and pulls her up with him, they say their good nights and head to bed.

They have no intention on sleep just yet.

~*~*~*~

Wednesday Laila finally reaches the restaurant she and Alene agreed to meet at on her lunch break. Laila walks in and the waitress take her to the table, Alene spots her, her date has her back toward Laila, but from what she could see from her clothes she was an older woman.

They reach the table, she soon recognizes the older lady, it may have been over 10 years since she last saw her, but she could never forget the face of the woman who disowned her son over his sexuality.

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 16.

@lem-20 @aussieez @secretaryunpaid @shewillreadyou @khoicesbyk @casualpostqueen @irisofpurple @tea-me-kah @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer

#ATB #atb fic #Always The Bridesmaid #Original Work #original writing #original character #original story #@pixie88 #pixie88 original #harry x laila

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weepingvoidpenguin · 5 years ago

Text

The Gods’ Blessing

Summary: In your world, everyone had a soulmate. That’s just how things went. Everyone had some sort of Indicator that their other half was out there, be it telepathy or a red string that connected these two strangers. Yours was one unspoken of, in fact, you’d never heard anyone say that they had the same Indicator as you. And because of this rarity you longed to meet the person who could gift you with what you lacked, maybe not so much so to be with the person but more so to finally see what others took for granted. Yet, you held onto the hope that one of your best friends was your Meant-To-Be but he has his eyes on another girl and the little green monster slowly engulfs you at the deterioration of your hope.

Warnings: None,

Potentially a Part 2, I finally have some free time over a mini break and my heart is yearning for some good ol’ Spider-Man.

Word Count: 5,223

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

“If I have to sit through another one of her lectures I’m going to lose my mind,” you said, rubbing your temples and taking your seat at the lunch table with MJ.

“We’re only halfway through the year,” MJ responded, twirling a piece of celery in the air as she spoke.

You grumbled and rested your head on the Advanced Biology textbook in front of you, “Yes, thank you, MJ, for so eloquently pointing that out,”

She smiled, “You’re welcome,”

“Hey guys.” Ned took his seat next to you and slammed his AP Biology book on the table, “If I have to sit through another one of her lectures,”

“Thank you!” You exasperated, throwing your hands up in agreement.

MJ snorted with laughter and pulled her phone out, “So what’ll it be for tonight? Movie at my house? Movie at the theater?”

“Studying,” you answered, throwing open the textbook and immediately forming a headache.

The chatter of the lunchroom rang in your ear and you grumbled in annoyance, trying to rehash on today’s lesson as best you could when another loud thud on the table caught your attention.

“So, have we decided what we’re doing for tonight?” Peter asked, excitement clear in his tone.

“Apparently (Y/N) has no intentions on having a good time and has dedicated her life to passing Biology,” Ned offered up, handing Peter the notes he missed for the class.

“Aw, come on, we can’t keep skipping out on our weekly hangouts, that’s when they disappear altogether,” Peter huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair as Liz sat in the empty chair beside him and Peter quickly straightened his posture and a twinge in your chest caused you to roll your eyes. He was constantly trying to make himself look good around her.

“Hey guys.” She smiled and pulled out her lunch for the day, “What’s the plan for tonight?”

“Ugh!” You groaned and Ned snatched his notes back from Peter to study over them with you.

“Movies at my place,” MJ decided and nodded her head as if agreeing with herself, “Yeah, that’s what we’re gonna do,”

Peter’s eyes lit up and he faced Liz, “Unless you wanted to do something else? Of course, movies at MJ’s is always fun but if you had anything else in mind then I wouldn’t be opposed to-”

Liz held up her hand, “Movies at MJ’s sounds fun,”

For as long as you could remember, Peter’s had a huge crush on Liz Allen and boy was it starting to really tap dance on your final nerve. Not only did you not appreciate Peter’s constant gawking over her but it was bad enough that now she had to come to the weekly meet-ups at Peter’s insistence. Now, you didn’t hold any grudges against Liz, in fact, she was pretty cool and superbly nice and that was something you could appreciate about her. It was just the fact that every time Peter looked at her with his puppy dog eyes your heart would twist in agony that was starting to get really old. Like, really old.

“I think I’m gonna have to pass on this one,” you said, Ned skimming to the part of the notes that you were confused about.

“No one’s flaking out this time,” MJ spoke up and lifted her pencil off her sketch pad, “Peter’s practically rainchecked every hang out this month and he’s finally willing to breathe with us for a second so we’re going to hang out whether you like it or not,”

“MJ, I would but I have to study for the exam on Monday,” you tried to explain but she could tell by the look on your face that there was an underlying reason.

“So then Peter can help you study while I set up for the movie but you’re not skipping out on us,” MJ turned away from you and started a conversation with Liz about their soulmates.

See, on this earth everyone was born with a soulmate and they could find out who in a variety of ways. Some people had an invisible red string that only they could see, some could read each other’s thoughts, some couldn’t see color until touching their soulmate for the first time and the list goes on but no matter what, your soulmate always had the same indication or lack of ability.

For the longest time, you thought you didn’t have a soulmate. You weren’t born with words on your body, no red string, no telepathic ability, nothing. It was until one night on the summer of your tenth year that you finally found out what you were missing.

“(Y/N), MJ’s here!” your mother shouted from downstairs and you hopped off the bed to see your best friend standing there in her usual baggy clothes.

“My mom’s gonna order us pizza for tonight,” she chimed cheerily and whisked you away by your hand after saying good-bye to your mom.

“Have fun!” She shouted after you and watched to make sure you entered your neighbors house.

“My dad says there’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, you wanna see?” MJ asked later on that night when the pizza had arrived and you’d cuddled up in bed together.

“What’s a meteor shower?” You asked, not convinced you wanted to waste your time looking at something you didn’t even understand.

“It’s when the sky looks like there’s a bunch of shooting stars,”

You shrugged your small shoulders and looked out of MJ’s window. The city had been so light polluted that anyone could hardly see the sky anyway so you shook your head and threw some popcorn in your mouth, “I don’t think so, you can’t see anything out there,”

She nodded her head with no argument, obviously not as interested in the topic as you had assumed, and continued to watch Spy Kids with you.

“I hope you know I’m Carmen,” she said after the movie had ended and the popcorn had long been gone.

You shook your head and pretended to throw a gadget at her feet, “I’m Carmen!” You said, ducking under a pillow as the make-believe gadget electrocuted her.

“Nu-uh!” She stomped around her room, her tiny fists balled up at her side when there was a sudden knock on the door.

“MJ, (Y/N), come look at this!” MJ’s dad’s excitement could be seen on his face so you both followed his order without second guessing.

He led you to her parent’s shared bedroom and opened their window, stepping out onto their fire escape and walking to the railing. You gulped. You’d always been afraid of the fire escape but only because it had been ingrained into your mind that the fire escape was not a toy and was very dangerous. So you cautiously followed her dad and mom out the window to the railing.

MJ’s mouth dropped as she stared at the dark expanse above you, “Wow!” She squealed.

You looked up to find what she was looking at once you caught up to her.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Asked her father, amazed at the sight before him.

MJ’s mom nodded and brought you closer to her so you could get a good look at the show.

“What?” You asked, straining your eyes to see the night’s sky, “What do you see?”

“You don’t see it?” Her father asked, his eyes never once prying away from above.

“See what?” You asked, your eyes scanning back and forth, up and down and still nothing as the minutes passed. “I don’t get it,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest and almost stomping around to head back into the house when MJ grabbed your elbow to keep you in place.

“Look!” She gasped, pointing out into the void.

And you looked. You looked hard for so long until your eyes burned with the strain but that night you never became amazed in the same way that her family was. They held admiration for the sky sprawled above them but you could never meet their excitement.

For that night and all the nights before then when you looked up at the sky, you saw nothing.

MJ had found her soulmate last summer while on a school trip and although you weren’t going out into the world and looking for your soulmate, you couldn’t help the bit of envy you felt. You were happy for her of course, she’d been so happy when she met her other half and they have yet to go a day without communicating as he didn’t live anywhere near the area. You’ve met him over facetime calls and had a few meaningless conversations with him when MJ wanted you guys to get to know each other (she wants her best friend and her boyfriend to get along). But you couldn’t help the twinge of guilt whenever she would go into the other room for a phone call and you were left by yourself.

Again, you weren’t sad or upset, more so just kind of wishing you had something similar so you didn’t have to wait in anticipation to find out who your soulmate was. But then again there was a part of you that didn’t wish to know because if it was anyone other than Peter, you would’ve been crushed.

You’d been crushing on Peter since you met him in the early days of your High School career. You’d had a few classes with him and actually joined the Decathalon team much to MJ’s persistence and you were forever grateful when you did. Not only because you’d gotten to spend more time with her and the fact that you got to spend more time with Peter but because you actually liked it, like, a lot.

But as time passed you’d become great friends with Peter and his friend, now your friend, Ned. And MJ and Ned both noticed how your behavior changed once Peter started growing feelings for Liz, who claimed she’d already met her soulmate mind you. It wasn’t until months later that Ned that it slip that Liz had lied about that to make everyone back off but she’d let it slip to Pete who’s hopes shot up.

Ever since Peter found out she lied about meeting her soulmate, he’s been following her around like a lost puppy. But in good conscious, we all pretended we didn’t know Liz was lying about having met her soulmate so she didn’t feel self-conscious about it, despite her reasoning making sense.

As far as you knew, Peter could see the night sky and you’d never shared with anyone what your soulmate indication was. All of the ones that your friends had, the first words, first touch, the lack of color, none of theirs had matched up with yours. In fact, you have yet to hear of someone who lacked the ability to look at the stars so you kept your mouth shut in fear of being ostracized.

“Earth to (Y/N)!” Ned said, waving his hand in your face to catch your attention.

“What? Oh, sorry, let’s get back to it,” you said, focusing back on your studies and failing to see the guy walking towards your table.

“Hey Liz, MJ,” said the brunette boy who you’d come to know as Brad Davis. They greeted him with smiles and he turned to you, “Hey (Y/N),” he said, twisting his hands around in themselves and looking down at his shoes before managing the courage to look up.

“Hi, Brad,” You said, not once looking up from your textbook.

After a few seconds of silence you felt Ned elbow you and you pulled your eyes from the book to see Ned motioning to the looming figure beside you. You stared up at Brad and gave him a confused look, “What’s up?” You asked, wanting to get back to Satan’s science as soon as possible.

“I was wondering if, maybe you’d want to come see a movie with me this weekend?” he asked with a shy smile on his face.

You smiled politely at him and you felt the eyes of everyone at your table burning through your body, “Brad, we don’t have the same Indicator,” you simply responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I know,” he looked down at the words tattooed on his forearm that would disappear once he met his soulmate, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t like spending time with you and there’s no harm in a movie,”

You looked away from Brad and scanned the eyes of your friends, all of them waiting for you to respond, you were too shocked at his question that you didn’t notice the slight panic in Peter’s gaze. You turned back to Brad and shrugged your shoulders, “Why not?” you agreed, “But not tonight, how about tomorrow at six?” you offered, knowing MJ would kill you if you flaked on them for someone that wasn’t even your soulmate.

His smile broadened and he nodded, “Yeah! I’ll pick you up,”

You smiled back at him, “I’ll text you my address,”

Brad walked away glowing with a radiance that he didn’t have before asking you out on a date. Once he was out of sight you turned back to Ned and raised your eyebrow at his expression.

“What?” You asked, now registering everyone else’s reactions as well.

“Nothing,” Mj said, shrugging her shoulders and completely unbothered by what just happened while Ned and Pete exchanged quick glances before Ned called your attention back to the textbook.

Later that night, you headed straight to MJ’s after school with Ned and Liz while Peter claimed he would meet up with us in a few hours. You’d walked the way to her house in excitement as the day’s events clicked in your mind. MJ wasn’t too interested in the topic but Liz wouldn’t stop talking about it with you. She seemed elated that Brad had asked you out despite clearly not being your soulmate and you felt the flattery slowly disappear as she began talking about Peter and how she was beginning to grow feelings for him.

You nodded at all the right parts and smiled when you were supposed to but never spoke up or dug deeper than she would offer up herself. Truthfully, you didn’t want to know how the boy you’d had a crush on for the past three years might actually get the girl he’d been crushing on for the past three years.

Once the knot began to form in your throat, MJ took hold of your hand and squeezed it tightly, reassuring you that she was there for you. You squeezed her hand back in a silent thank you and walked the rest of the way by her side with a sad smile on your face.

“So what’s on the menu for tonight?” Ned asked once the pizza showed up and Peter texted you all in the group chat letting you know he was around the corner.

“We have action, comedy and horror. What do we start with?” MJ asked, wriggling her eyebrows.

“Same order you announced,” you offered, taking a slice of the pizza in front of you and taking a bite out of it.

“Same order it is,” Liz agreed and you handed her the box, “Thanks,” she said and took a slice.

The sound of the door opening and locking behind you caught your attention and the steps coming up the stairs made your heart rate pick up. You watched in anticipation as Peter joined the rest of you and zipped his backpack shut quickly.

“Hey,” he waved to everyone and you nodded to him as casually as you could.

“I saved you a seat.” Liz patted the available space beside her and you cursed yourself for not noticing that she had been saving the spot.

Pete took his spot next to Liz and you huffed, sitting back against the cushion of the upstairs living room in MJ’s huge apartment. MJ popped the DVD into the console and took her seat next to you before leaning and smiling.

“I know I’m not Peter Parker but I hope I will do for tonight,” she teased.

You softly shoved her and handed her the plate she had been making you hold for her while she chose the movies. “Of course, you’ll do, but only for tonight,” you responded and she rolled her eyes before outstretching her arms for you to lean in and get comfortable to watch the movie.

The first two movies flew by and during each movie break you’d stretched and tossed away the garbage you’d created.

“Last one for the night,” MJ said, showing everyone the disc and you agreed already yawning from the exhaustion creeping up.

You heard snickering come from your left and you peeked over to see Liz leaning against Peter and his arm wrapped around her shoulder, their fingers intermingled and you stood up abruptly from your seat, catching everyone’s attention.

“You ok?” Ned asked, reaching out to take your hand and seat you back down but you retracted your hand and took a step away.

“Yeah, sorry, I just need some air,” you apologized and walked towards MJ’s room and opened the window, taking a step onto the fire escape and resting against the metallic railing.

You looked out into the empty void above you, noticing how it looked the same as it always had. No twinkling lights, no shooting stars, no Jupiter or Mars, no belt. Nothing. Of course, it was hard missing out on the beauty that others took for granted but it was almost worse during the day. Considering the sun was also a star, that meant seeing things during the day was a little difficult for you.

You wiped at your eyes when you heard MJ’s door open and close behind you but you didn’t bother turning around, already knowing who was there to comfort you.

She didn’t say anything at first, she just stood there beside you and looked up at, what you were sure, was a beautiful sky. A few minutes passed of her just keeping you company when she finally spoke up.

“You know they say those that can’t see the sky have been specifically chosen by the gods,” MJ chimed, looking out into your void. “They blessed a few rare spirits with the strongest kind of love, the kind that the celestials wished for themselves but those few spirits could not lay eyes on the gods until they met their soulmate. And since the gods are supposed to live among the stars, they couldn’t see the night’s sky. That was the price they had to pay because they were chosen,”

You scoffed and looked away from the nothingness, “Chosen for what?”

MJ shrugged her shoulders, her eyes still glued to the abyss, “Who knows? I just know that the myth says you can’t see the Gods because they’re waiting for you to join them once you’re ready,”

“So, I have to die?” You asked, your tears long gone but your agony ever present.

MJ chuckled but shook her head, “No, more like actually meet them. Only heroes meet the Gods.” She turned away from the railing and entered her bedroom through the window, “I know you want it to be Peter,” her voice dropped, trying to explain that she felt the pain I felt once, “But maybe you should just let destiny do its thing,”

You nodded, too weak to verbally respond to her.

“We’ll be watching the movie, take your time.” MJ opened the door to her room and halted before leaving, “Oh and uh, you’re not missing much, ya know? With the stars? There’s too much light pollution for you to really see anything anyway,”

The door shut behind you and you sighed when you were rejoined with silence. You looked up at the darkness above and held out your arms, “The Gods, huh?” You asked, almost trying to speak to them, “What do you want with me? I’m no hero,” you whispered, your brave façade torn apart now.

You turned around when nothing answered, not that you were expecting a response just that you were hoping for a sign or something. But nothing came so you begrudgingly turned back around and joined your group of friends after shooting Brad a text.

Hey. I know we agreed on tomorrow but how about tonight in an hour or so?

You watched the rest of the movie, waiting in anxiousness for a response. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t want to go on a date with Brad, you just wanted a distraction from Peter. Especially after how much they were cuddling right now.

Towards the end of the movie your phone vibrated and you pulled it out of your pocket.

Sure! I’ll be on my way soon.

You smiled at the message and sent Brad the address.

After the movie had ended you stood up to help MJ throw away the lingering garbage.

“So who was the mystery person you texted during the movie?” Ned piped up, taking the garbage from your hands and tossing it into an empty bin.

“You were texting someone during the movie?” Liz asked, too occupied with Peter to notice anything, not that you’d blamed her.

You shrugged your shoulders and walked over to the mirror on the wall to make sure you didn’t look too tired for the date. You didn’t particularly care how you looked, you weren’t even that interested, you just didn’t want to come off as a slob.

“Brad’s picking me up soon, I just wanted to reschedule because I have a lot of studying to do this weekend and I don’t want to waste another day when I can hit everything on the list tonight,” you admitted.

MJ smiled at you, “Ooh, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,”

“What wouldn’t you do?” You teased, a devilish smirk on your lips.

“Exactly,” she responded and you all laughed at her retort. All except Peter.

A few minutes had passed before you heard a knock at the door and you picked your head up as you finished tying your shoes.

“Wow, he came to the door and everything,” Ned joked, watching for Peter’s reaction.

“Such a gentleman,” MJ added and opened her front door, “She’s getting ready, you can wait inside if you want,”

MJ stepped aside and let Brad through the door. You couldn’t help but look him up and down. Although you weren’t attracted to him and he most certainly was not your soulmate, you weren’t afraid to admit he looked good in his outfit. A simple black shirt and jeans with a black jacket thrown over his shoulder. He looked like a Greaser.

“Nice outfit,” you complimented, throwing your arms through your own jacket and standing in front of him.

“Oh, this? It was nothing,” he joked but you could tell by the way his eyebrows furrowed that he was nervous.

“Alright, get out of here,” MJ shooed you both through her front door, “I want her home by eleven!” MJ said sternly and you knew she’d wait for a text from you to let her know you were perfectly safe.

“Have fun!” Liz shouted as MJ shut the door behind the two of you.

The date with Brad ended up going okay. There was nothing particularly wrong with him and he tried his hardest to impress you but you just didn’t connect with him in any way so when the date came to a close you denied a ride home and opted to walk home instead. You knew it was stupid and practically asking for danger but you just wanted some fresh air to clear your head. Much to Brad’s insistence, you couldn’t walk home without calling him first and having him on the line until you reached your destination. You appreciated his kindness and agreed to his terms, knowing that it was probably safer that was as well.

You walked the streets of the city and barely took in your surroundings as your thoughts flooded your head and sidetracked your mind. It was only when you heard a thud that you lifted your head and looked to the now occupied space to your right.

Your eyes widened as you recognized the blue and red suit and you took a side step before muting your phone.

“Hi!” He chirped up quickly, the whites that were his eyes on the mask squinted slightly as he waved at you, “Uh, I know this is random but I just noticed you walking by yourself and wanted to know if you were okay,”

You stared in shock at the masked man and took a step towards the street, “How do I know that you’re not some crazy dude in a mask?”

“Well, I mean, I kind of am,” He responded and managed to crack a small smile from you.

“Okay well then how do I know you’re the Spider-Man?” You asked, raising your eyebrow.

He raised his hand and shot a web at the nearest streetlamp and flung himself around it, landing back at your side. “Proof enough?” He asked.

“Maybe,” you said jokingly and continued walking at a steady pace.

“Well is maybe good enough to walk you home?” He insisted.

You looked him up and down with suspicion but slowly nodded your head and stuffed you phone into your backpack to avoid it flying out. Spider-Man held out his hand for you and brought you close to him. You could feel the warmth radiate from his chest as it pressed against yours and you melted into his arms. There was a welcoming feeling about him that you’d never experienced in anyone else’s arms, it was weird and sudden but familiar and not unwelcome.

He stiffened for a split second before relaxing and letting you rest your head against his shoulder, “You ready?” He barely spoke above a whisper.

“Are you sure you can carry me?” You asked last minute and was answered with being flung in the air as Spider-Man slung from building to building and you held on for dear life as the city blurred past you. A few screams managed to escape your lips but you held the rest in as the fear turned to excitement and you embraced the way the ride felt.

You managed to let him know where your building was, although he was somehow already going in the right direction, and he placed you down on the railing that you said was outside your window.

“Thank you,” you said, trying to fix your hair and wrapped your arms around yourself when it began to turn cold from the wind.

“No problem,” he said, his hand going to the back of his head, “Thanks for letting me walk you home,”

You laughed, “Yeah, well, you can walk me home anytime,” you joked and unlatched your window with the magnet you carried around.

You stepped into your room and grabbed your blanket before stepping back outside and thanking Brad for staying on the phone with you but that you were home and safe and sound. You managed to leave out the part where Spider-Man was the one that accompanied you home and hung up.

“So who’s this Brad?” Spider-Man asked, resting against the railing.

You rolled your eyes, “Just this one guy. He asked me out earlier today and I was just coming back from the date when you picked me up,”

“A date?” he asked, “And he let you walk home alone?”

“Not necessarily, I basically had to beg him to let me walk home. I just needed some air to think for a minute,”

“Why? What’s wrong?” He asked, sitting on the stairs beside your window.

You shrugged your shoulders and failed to meet his gaze, or what you thought was his gaze, “I’ve just got a few things on my mind, is all,”

Spider-Man nodded and slowly stood up, “Well I can leave you to your thoughts if that’s what you’d like,”

“No!” You said, grabbing his hand and holding him in place but then blushing at your action and letting go despite your body telling you not to, “I would actually really like some company right now,” you admitted, feeling your knuckles turn white from the strength of your grasp.

He stood there for a second, contemplating what you said but nodded and sat back down, “Then my company is what you’ll get,”

You smiled up at him and the part inside of you that was screaming for his presence subsided a little. You pulled out your phone and sent MJ a text letting her know that you were okay and you were home.

You talked to Spider-Man about your friends and family, letting him know things about you that you wouldn’t normally tell someone you just met. And he reciprocated by telling you as much as possible without giving away who he was.

“There’s this one guy,” you started, your cheeks blushing at the thought of Peter, “I’ve had feelings for him for years now,”

“Years!?” Spider-Man teased, “Who is it?”

You rolled your eyes, “Like I’m gonna tell you! You probably know him,” you joked, taking a swig of your water bottle and handing him the one he asked for.

“How would I know him?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know but you could!” You responded, not budging on telling this kid who your heart belonged to.

“Can I get a hint?” He asked.

You smiled but went silent for a minute, “The only thing I’m telling you is that it’s unrequited,” you responded and your smile faded.

The previous light-hearted ambiance dissolved to be replaced with silence, “He’d be an idiot to not like you,”

You chuckled at that, “You don’t even know me,”

He cocked his head slightly but then nodded as if remembering something, “Well, you’ve told me quite a bit about yourself tonight and from what I gather I like you,”

Your heart leapt for some reason and you cursed yourself for letting simple words like that excite you, “Well he’s also not my soulmate,” you responded, “So it doesn’t even matter,”

“What’s your indication?” He asked, scooting ever so slightly closer to you.

You wanted to tell him, you really did, but your embarrassment kept your mouth shut, “Nothing, I’m not even sure I have one,”

“Everyone has an Indicator,” he said, leaning closer to you.

You shook your head and stood up slowly, “Maybe another night,” you offered and took a step into your room, “Thank you for keeping me company tonight. I really enjoyed talking to you,”

He lifted his arm to reach out to you but quickly decided against it, “No problem, I liked talking to you too,”

You watched as he hopped onto the railing and just as he was about to jump off you cried out, “Wait!” He stopped his motion and turned his head to look at you, “Will I see you again?”

You could see a smirk form through his mask and he turned back around, “Sooner than you’d think,” he said and jumped off the railing before swinging around the corner of the building and leaving you there wishing that he’d come back.

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foramomentonly · 4 years ago

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Malex New Year’s Ficlet

It’s New Year’s Day and the first ever RNM fic I wrote took place on New Year’s Day. So this is a shameless reblog of my first ever contribution to this fandom. Love you all.

Read on AO3

Michael shuffles out of Isobel’s guest room on New Year’s Day and pads groggily downstairs, following the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The good stuff. He expects to find Isobel sipping coffee at the kitchen table, her casual, but effortlessly chic look perfectly curated to shame the rest of their disheveled, hungover asses. Isobel had invited everyone over for a quiet, elegant New Year’s Eve soriee. He and Liz—perfectly matched partners in mayhem as well as in scientific research and discovery, as it turns out—had turned it into a drunken rager. Secrets were revealed, grievances were aired, but they’d somehow rung in the New Year with arms draped heavily on shoulders, sloppy cheek kisses, and even sloppier declarations of eternal love.

Which is why Michael is surprised to walk into Isobel’s unexpectedly cozy kitchen to find Alex standing at the sink, elbow-deep in sudsy water, drying rack beside him half-full of Isobel’s boho dish set.

Alex glances over his shoulder at Michael’s soft oh! and smiles at him.

Defying the expectations of their friends, they had avoided a drunken throwdown the night before, chatting casually, if briefly throughout the night. They’ve already torn into one another a hundred times over, fueled on occasion by alcohol. They’ve used words like teeth to gnaw at old wounds and tear apart tender flesh. Their truths still float unspoken between them, but time and proximity have taught them how to treat each other like there might just be a tomorrow after all.

“Hey,” Alex says easily. “Sleep well?”

Michael smiles in return, moving farther into the kitchen.

“Ugh, did anybody?” He points to the half-empty carafe of rich, dark liquid on the table. “You make that?”

Alex nods.

“You still make coffee stronger than jet fuel?”

Alex shoots him a devilish grin and nods again.

“Bless you,” Michael sighs, pressing his palms together and half bowing toward Alex. He grabs a mug and pulls the nearest chair out with his mind, dropping heavily into it and pouring himself a cup. They’re both silent for a few minutes, Michael guzzling his coffee and Alex scrubbing a particularly crusty serving platter.

“You trying to avoid Isobel’s wrath?” Michael finally asks, gesturing towards Alex’s work with his now half-empty cup. Alex huffs a laugh.

“I just thought I’d make clean up a little easier for her and load the dishwasher,” he says. “Turns out she has no dishwasher, and ninety percent of her stuff isn’t dishwasher safe anyway.”

He shrugs as best he can while rinsing out a champagne flute.

“Yeah, she used to have one,” Michael replies. “A dishwasher, I mean. But me and Max and fucking Noah kept putting her fancy dishes in it, so she made me take it out and install a custom wine fridge.”

Alex laughs, and Michael smiles at the sound. He drains his cup and rises, moving to stand next to Alex at the sink.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll dry. I know where everything goes, anyway.”

Alex hums in response, reaching to take Michael’s dirty mug out of his hands.

“Never thought of you as the domestic type,” he teases. Michael shrugs, a little self conscious.

“I like to cook, actually,” he says. “No room to in the Airstream and Isobel can’t cook for shit, so she lets me use her kitchen.”

“Did you make the food we ate last night?” Alex asks, hesitant.

“Fuck, no,” Michael snorts. “I like comfort food. Isobel had the thing last night catered.”

Alex sighs in what Michael interprets as relief. He remembers Alex picking politely at his plate at dinner, but mostly eating a lot of rolls.

“I was actually thinking of asking Liz’s dad if he needs some help at the diner,” Michael admits, eyes fixed on the plate he’s drying. He feels more than sees Alex turn towards him. “It’s been slow at the junkyard and I’ve had way too much time on my hands to fall back into, uh, bad habits.”

Alex has been the unwitting witness of Michael’s bad habits, scraping him off the floor of The Wild Pony or fielding phone calls and voicemails that prick like barbed wire and leave a million tiny cuts. He’s also been the impetus of of them, on days when dark shadows cloud his brain and he can’t seem to see or care who’s reaching out to him.

“I think that’s really great,” Alex says softly. “You should mention it to Liz. Let her work on Arturo a little before you go in.”

“Yeah, I will,” Michael says, shelving the final plate as Alex drains the sink. Without the easy routine of a shared task, they stand awkwardly together, the silence heavy between them.

“I’m, uh, I’m starting therapy next week at the VA,” Alex says, offering a piece of his own vulnerability to Michael in a hesitant exchange. “Yeah?” Michael asks. “Well, look at us.”

And it’s not midnight, it’s not even close to fixed between them, but like lost parts of a whole, like the pieces of Michael’s incomplete ship they slide together, warm lips pressing lightly, then more insistently as mouths open and small breathes of pleasure escape. The kiss is slow and easy, full of later, soon, tomorrow. They pull apart, step back easily, and offer soft smiles.

“Happy New Year, Guerin.”

“Happy New Year, Private.”

#malex #roswell new mexico #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #new year's day #rnm fic

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kelieah · 5 years ago

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my neighborhood (peter parker x vigilante!reader) [1]

request: @annamckayla : HELLO! Omg i love ur writing so much ahhhh! I was hoping I could request for a peter x reader, where they are both heroes (or reader is bad idm up to you) and they are fighting ppl / each other but they are super flirty! AHH OK ILY BYEEE ;)))))))))

warnings: sarcasm, insulting, flirting, fighting. reader is a vigilante, goes to midtown high and is semi close friends with peter. kinda like a hate love relationship. alsooo reader’s powers is speed and eletricity so basically the flash idkdkdk sorry

edited: i’m working on a new series based off of this request! masterlist for it is here

a/n: my first request! so happy hehe ilyt!! also im so sorry if this doesnt make sense, im not great with super powers lol

pov: first, y/n

masterlist

I have to admit. He’s cute, but he’s so irritating. Is it the fact that he’s so undeniably cute? Yes. No, yes but Peter is such a know it all, or at least I think so.

For some reason, it didn’t stop me from hanging out with him and his friends for the past couple of months. After picking up some school lunch, I grab a seat in front of Peter and Ned.

“Hey Y/n,” Ned smiles. “Hi Ned! Hi Peter,” I greet back, looking over at Peter. He didn’t seem to notice, his eyes too focused on Liz.

“Why do you even hang out with them Y/n, they’re losers,” I hear MJ pipe up. Ned, Peter and I all turn our heads to her.

“True-” I stifle a laugh.

“Then why are you sitting here with us?” Peter retorts.

“Because she’s cool, and doesn’t drool over seniors like, someone,” I cough, smirking at him. He rolls his eyes and glares at me.

“She’s not wrong,” Ned murmurs.

“Dude!” Peter huffs, making me giggle. He smiles slightly and slumps on the palm of his hand, looking away.

“Pete, could you come over after school? I need help with chem, and I know you need help with English,” I poke him with a fork causing him to swat me away.

“Yeah whatever, I think that’s just an excuse to get me to come over,” he teases.

“Shut up!” I groan. Ned and MJ share a suspicious glance. “What?” I ask cluelessly.

“Nothing,” they both say quietly.

After a long dreadful day of school, Peter and I met up at the front of the school, by the gates.

“Hey Penis Parker,” I smirk, holding onto my backpack straps.

He lets out a long sigh, “Not you too, Y/n. C’mon,” he huffs.

“I’m just messing with you Pete,” I bump into him, beginning to walk ahead.

He follows, catching up easily, “Right. Anyways, have you heard about the new vigilante in town?”

I tense at the subject, “Uhm yeah, that speedy girl?”

“Yup. What do you think about her?”

“Uh, I don’t know. All I know is that she’s probably better than Spider-Man.”

He looks at me offended, “Who’s to say? Spider-Man is like, super-human, he has a bunch of powers-”

“Don’t get your panties all in a twist, I’m just saying,” I laugh, “Sheesh didn’t think you were such a big fan of Spider-Man.”

“U-uh why wouldn’t I be, he’s s-super cool.” “Said every teenager ever, I like this new girl. She’s kind of refreshing y’know?”

“Meh,” Peter shrugs, and I scoff shoving him aside.

We eventually head to my apartment and study together. I messed around while Peter tried to help me with homework, but he ended up getting distracted anyways.

I let out a long groan, “Shut up! You’ve been talking about chemistry for the past 30 minutes and I didn’t understand one thing that came out of your mouth.”

Peter’s mouth drops. He throws one of my pillows at me, “You asked me to come over!”

“I know, because I’m lonely.”

“Sure.”

“You’re right, I just needed you to do my homework.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too,” I flash him a cheeky smile, causing him to roll his eyes. I glance over at the clock, “Hey uh, I think you should head out soon. My dad’s coming back from work soon and you know how he is with boys.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t miss me too much,” he gets up, gathering his things.

“Reverse card!” “See you,” he chuckles and walks off.

“Bye Penis Parker!” I yell, making sure he left. As soon as he closed the front door, I rush into my closet to get out my suit.

After putting it on and tidying up room, I head out my window and jump out to the fire escape.

I decide to scan the city, running and jumping from building to building. It seemed quiet so I sat down on the ledge of some random building.

I hear a quiet thud next to me. I glance over at the figure, who I made out to be Spider-Man. “Ah, well if it isn’t the infamous Spider-Man.”

“Thought I’d check out who the new girl in town is,” he chuckles. His voice seemed higher than I expected it to be, it almost sounds familiar. Weird. Could it be? No way, that’s impossible.

“You care about me? I’m touched,” I place a hand on my heart. I hear him stifle a laugh and shake his head.

He went quiet for a second and stood up from his crouching position, “There’s something going on by 5th street in some warehouse,” he says.

“Guess we should head over-”

“We? I don’t know about that new girl, this is my neighborhood,” he jumps off the ledge, swinging from building to building.

The fuck, who does this guy think he is!?

I rush downstairs and speed off to 5th street, managing to get there before he did. “Yes, we,” I cross my arms looking up at Spider-Man who arrived shortly after me.

He scoffs, “So you’re fast. Hopefully you can catch up, sweetheart,” he swings up to the roof of a warehouse.

I quickly follow, managing to find a way inside and on to the rooftop. I run over to where Spider-Man is crouched down behind a large air vent. I poke my head out to see a poor lady tied to a chair, with a bunch of men surronding her.

“Some kind of intense hostage situation,” he whispers.

“You’re an intense hostage situation,” I murmur.

“What? Shut up!” he whispers. “Oh my god, I think that’s the mayor.”

He jumps up from the vent, placing his hands on his hips. “Hey uh, guys I don’t think you should be treating a lady- especially our mayor like that,” he says, changing the pitch of his voice. I scrunch up my nose at his awkwardness.

“What the fuck, who called him-!” I hear a rough voice yell out, followed by a series of gunshots and screaming.

Spider-Man yelps and manages to fling some guns aside, causing two men to gang up on him, “Hey, new girl a little help!” he yells out. There another two men next to the mayor, with large guns in their hands.

“On it!” I call back, rushing over to the two men circling them. “Hi there,” I grin, place my hands on their guns surging a large amount of eletricity to them, knocking them out.

I help the mayor out, making sure she wasn’t injured or anything. “Karen, call the police and give them our location,” I hear Spider-Man mumble quickly, grunting as he knocks out the two men he was dealing with.

The mayor who was still in complete shock began to ramble, “T-thank you Spider-Man. T-thank you?” she looks over at me.

“Uhm, Velocity?” I rub my arm as Spider-Man watches in amusement.

“Thank you both really-” she sniffs. Suddenly, the roof top door slams open and a bunch of big bulky men come out with these weird looking weapons.

“Heads up, Spidey!” I yell, as one of the men shoot their weird looking gun that emitted some type of green energy.

I grab the Mayor and speed down to the front of the building, where a bunch of police cars pulled up.

Shocked from the momentum, she falls to her knees. “I’m so sorry, but I had to get you out of there. Stay safe!” I rush back to the rooftop.

I notice Spider-Man struggling to get this one guy off of him, “Pretty boy, to your right!” I yell. I run over to one of the weapons and toss it to him.

He quickly webs it and slings it against the guy, knocking him out, “Pretty boy?” he scoffs.

“Yeah, that’s what you sound like!” I grunt, punching a guy who was coming to my left with a surge of electricity.

“So you’d be an annoying girl?” he smirks, also fighting off someone who rushed towards him.

“I’d be honored,” I scoff. “Holy shit!” I let out a yelp as I felt myself being lifted in the air by one of the weapons.

I hear a quick thwip and suddenly I was back on my feet, with Spider-Man’s arm around my waist, “My hero-” I gasp dramatically.

“Cute,” he rolls his eyes. He pushes me towards another guy who was trying to get their weird gun to work.

I frown instantly, and circle around him grabbing the gun before he could do anything. I fling it against him, and press my hand harshly on the gun, causing eletricity to rush all over him.

He knocks out, and I turn around, seeing Spider-Man fling against the air vent. I inhale sharply and rush towards the guy, knocking him off his feet causing him to let go of the weapon.

I kick it away, the guy gets back up and attempts to punch at me. I easily dodge his attacks and punch him with eletricity.

“Oh my god, I did it- I mean we did it! We-” I look over at Spidey who was slump on the ground. “Shit,” I speed over to his side, propping his head up onto my lap. “Pretty boy, you still there?”

I notice his mask was slightly cut open, blood seeping out from the side of his head. I knew that he had the mask on for a reason, but he could be dying. It’s not like I would out him to anyone. I understand why he would keep his identity a secret, it’s what I do as well.

I inhale deeply, pulling off his mask. I let out a gasp, “Peter!?”

part two

taglist

@rcmxnoff @annamckayla @elsie512 @bubblesbts

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chocolatemillkk · 4 years ago

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Party (JS)

I put the final bottle of champagne behind the mini bar and adjust the cocktail bowl slightly to the left. I look around the living room, the grand Christmas tree was still up as it usually was until after New Year’s. The whole place was covered in string lights, outlining the furniture and hanging from the ceiling. This was the famous New Year’s Eve party my parents have been throwing since before I was even born and this year was the last one I’d be attending for a while, I realise sadly. This time next year I would be living in LA, in my first year of university and my parents planned to come down for Christmas and be back here for New Year’s. I wouldn’t come along. I always looked forward to this, guess I’d have to savour it the best I could.

Both my mom and dad were only children which meant growing up they made a lot of friends along the way and each year our parties got a little bit bigger, more and more families coming together for their New Year’s eve party. I always looked forward to two though, the Michaels and the Suggs.

“Are you done daydreaming?” My sister comes up from behind me. “Because there should be appetizers that need rearranging or something according to mom.”

“I’m on it,” I say mock-seriously. My mom really went all out with the food and my sister and I always teased her about it. My sister, Liz, had started uni this year but luckily she was only in London. A lot of our friends her age weren’t though, so we were missing a lot of people this year. But at least Joe would be around, I think. And Zoe.

“Put these near the piano,” my mom hands me a plate as I make my way to the kitchen. “Don’t drop them!” I pretend to struggle under the tray which earns me a stern look. “You should get ready,” my mom reminds me. “There’s only an hour before guests start coming!”

I run up to my room after gently placing the tray where my mom wanted it and put on the dress I had bought for the occasion. It was deep green satin with a plunging neckline and a leg slit that went up to my hips—a shorter skirt lay underneath so I wasn’t flashing the whole party. I usually wasn’t this risky but I figured the occasion called for it. The sleeves are almost bell-like, and I do a twirl before the mirror, excited to see how people liked it.

Who was I kidding, I wanted Joe to see me in it.

It was silly, there was half a year before I was leaving this place, but more than half my life that I’d been crushing on Joe Sugg. Sometimes, I thought he knew how I felt, I thought I was quite obvious as a kid. For a second, I thought maybe the feeling was mutual. But after truth or dare in the seventh grade, I’d tried my hardest to hide whatever feelings I had for him. I wondered if he’d noticed.

“Truth or Dare,” Olivia asks my sister, Olivia Michaels was our neighbour growing up and the one who introduced my sister and I to the world of beer and rock and roll. My sister and I were good friends with her and her younger brother Felix.

My sister choses dare and Olivia has her eat one of the gross drink concoctions we made earlier. A few rounds later, my sisters asks me.

“Dare,” I say, feeling brave.

“I dare you to kiss either Joe or Felix,” my sister says smugly.

“What? I-“

“It’s a dare!” Zoe laughs and I look at Felix, he was a couple years younger than me-he was a child...and Joe was my huge crush. There was no way I was going to have my first kiss with him like this; with popcorn in my teeth and my lips stained with popsicles.

“Unless you’d like to kiss them both,” my sister teases.

Not wanting any more pressure, I lean over and peck Felix on the lips. I can’t help but sneak a glance at Joe as I go back to my seat and everyone laughs at Felix’s flushing cheeks. But he looks uninterested.

A few rounds later, Felix asks Joe and Joe picks Truth.

“Who would you date from this circle?” Felix asks. My heart plummets into my stomach. Joe looks around, avoiding my eyes and that makes my heart race faster. He had to know how much I would die to date him. To call him anything more than my best friend.

“Liz,” Joe says my sister’s name and I felt sick. Of course he liked her better than me, she was smarter and prettier than me. I was just his best friend.

“Aw you’re cute,” my sister pinches Joe’s cheeks and his sister joins in. I excuse myself but I didn’t think anyone even noticed.

A knock at my door reminds me there was a party about to go down, or already going down, I realise as I hear voices already. “How long are you going to take? Mom wants you downstairs to greet everyone!” Liz calls through the door.

“I’ll be a minute!” I say. I take my new christmas present-an eyeshadow kit my mom had given, and the lipstick my sister gave after I used most of hers, and put on my makeup, feeling like a grown up already. So much was changing and I was buzzing with excitement.

I skip downstairs and greet everyone the way I usually did every year. This year everyone asks about school, I tell them my LA plan and they wish me luck. Over and over. Until Joe walks in with a bottle of something in his hand and I run to him, nearly knocking him down as I throw my arms around him. He smelled like the cologne he reserved for special occasions, and the soap he always used. I could never tire of it, of him.

He was as handsome as ever, a clean white button up tucked into black trousers. He’d cut his hair recently but I sort of liked the way he styled it, the soft layers looked bouncy.

“You look handsome! Where’s Zoe?” I ask.

“Food poisoning,” he hands me the bottle and I take it from him, stepping a bit back so he could see my outfit but he continues on without comment. “Mum’s stayed home with her, the bottle’s from her.”

“Duh, as if you could afford this,” I tease, pretending like my heart wasn’t just stabbed by his nonchalance. He follows me in as I sneak the bottle past my mom and hide it in the kitchen, it was a tradition for us kids to get drunk on our own stash we steal throughout the night.

“Where’s everyone else?” Joe asks. “Your sister?”

I ignore the ache I get in my chest, “Oh doing her rounds probably. Pretending she’s an intellectual because she’s done one semester at uni.”

Joe laughs and I love the sound, especially when he laughs at a joke I make.

“You-“

“Y/N! There you are!” Felix and Olivia pop in, interrupting Joe, and I give them both hugs. Olivia had brought her boyfriend this year so we get introductions and a quick catch-up before Olivia goes to find Liz and I’m left with Felix and Joe. Felix had grown to be surprisingly handsome, in a nerd chic sort of way. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was younger than me, I could have even considered dating him.

“So Y/N you look really amazing tonight,” Felix says.

“Aw thank you,” I say. “You look quite chic tonight too, is that suspenders you’re wearing under your jacket?” I tease Felix until he’s pink in the face before I turn to Joe who looks bored. I loop my arm through his, “Want to get something to eat? I’m craving some shortbread cookies.”

“Yeah. If we’re having our own party later on we don’t want a repeat of ‘09,” Joe jokes. That was the first year we had all snuck a bottle of wine from the party and drank it on an empty stomach. None of us had a good time.

“Don’t remind me,” I shudder before I call behind me. “Felix you coming?”

Joe stiffens beside me but we walk on.

•••

After a dozen devilled eggs and shrimp cocktails, I lose everyone to the crowd and find myself alone near the stairs. I watch the crowd and bask in the togetherness the holidays brought on, I would miss this a lot. I almost didn’t want to go when I was in moments like these, but I knew what I wanted from life and I knew I couldn’t stay in dreary UK for it.

As I look around with the room so full of lights, the corners of my vision suddenly warp and distort into a blurry mass. I blink a few times but it remains. This was so not happening.

I sit myself on the step and close my eyes, placing my head on my knees but as I do that, the nause creeps in. This was getting serious. Perfect.

I go up to my bedroom quickly and close the blinds, shutting the room in darkness. I unzip the side of my dress to give my room to breathe and lay down.

Of course I had to get a migraine the day of new year’s eve. My last party for a while. I groan and turn to the side, blindly groping for any pill bottle, not wanting to risk turning on my phone light.

I lay in the dark, I don’t know how long. Time passed slowly in the dark, the only thing I could hear is the muffled sound of the party downstairs. My phone vibrates a few times but I don’t dare look at it. I wanted to nip this migraine before it could come full force. I couldn’t believe this was how my year was going to end, I think. And without meaning to, the tears leak out from my eyes. Stupid migraines and stupid Joe Sugg! He hadn’t even noticed what I was wearing, he didn’t even care. He fancied Liz more than I and I was still crushing on him like an idiot. I wasted my high school years waiting for him. And now I was going to graduate soon, with no history of a relationship and no...

A soft knock interrupts my pity party. I wait again as the knock sounds, just to make sure I wasn’t hearing it.

“Y/N,” it was Joe.

I swipe at my face, pulling my blanket over my face. “I’m here,” I say. “You can come in.”

I hear the door creak open, the noise from downstairs flooding through before the closed door muffles it again.

“Migraine?” Joe asks. We’d been friends long enough that he knew exactly what was going down. I sense him standing at the edge of my bed, the room still in darkness.

“Yeah,” I inch the blanket off my face. It’s not like he could see my makeup streaks in the dark. “Great timing right?”

“Can I do anything?” Joe asks. God, I scoff, I thought I could just turn my feelings off for him but him just asking that brings them back full force. “Maybe some water...”

“I’ve got water,” I say. I sense him shifting around the room.

“Didn’t you used to have those ice packs?” Joe knows his way around my room, he often came over when we did homework, or in the summer before we would go out with our other friends. He locates where I kept the freeze packs and he cracks them, walking towards my bed and sitting on my sheets. “Here.”

He places one on my neck and I flinch at the cold.

“Sorry,” he mumbles before putting it back on.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, the cold already numbing the throbbing in my neck. “Thanks Joe.”

“It’s nothing,” Joe whispers back. I take the pack from where his hands hold it and hold it myself as I gently turn in bed, the little light streaming in outlines his sitting figure.

“You don’t have to stay here,” I let him know. “Go back to the party.”

“It’s no fun if you’re not there,” Joe says. He slowly inches himself down beside me and the smell of him invades my nose. Oh no.

“Joe your cologne-“ I say and he quickly gets up.

“Oh shit right,” Joe stands and I see the shape of him pace away from the bed. “Uh, I can go home and change-“

“Oh my god,” I let out a laugh and cut it short as my head throbs. “You’ve left so many shirts here when we go swimming in the summer. Just put one on if you want to stay here so bad.”

“I’m just here to avoid everyone asking what my plans after school are,” he jokes. “Are they in the bottom drawer?”

“Yeah,” I respond. “Tell them you’re still figuring it out.”

“Everyone here has kids who are doctors or some shit,” I can hear the Joe changing and I try to keep the inappropriate thoughts at bay. “That’s not an acceptable answer.”

“Who cares what they think though,” I say. Joe joins me back in bed, laying down to stare at the ceiling as I look at his profile, barely illuminated by the light peaking through my blinds.

“Sometimes I do,” he says quietly.

I find his hand and squeeze it. He squeezes back and then turns to me. “So are you going to tell me why you were crying before I came in?”

“I was not crying,” I lie.

“You so were.”

“Was not.”

“Was too,” fingers graze my jaw and I’m busted. “Your face is still wet.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “I was just upset I was missing the party.”

“And?”

“I dunno, it’s my last party for a while!”

“Oh yeah,” Joe quiets down. A moment passes. Then another. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“We still have like 7 months together, don’t cry for me just yet.”

“You’re the one that was crying,” Joe shoots back.

“Shut up!” I joke. “Can’t you let me win? I have a migraine!”

“How is it?” Concern creeps back into his voice.

“The usual, I just have to tone down my senses. It’ll get better.”

Joe’s hand moves up to my face and cups it, my heart fluttering, the blood rushing to my face and joining the dance my migraine was putting on in my head.

His hand creeps up into my hair and suddenly his hand is plucking out the pins from my hair, and putting it on my bedside. Of course he was just being helpful while I was getting all bothered. “Do you want to get into something more comfortable?” He asks. I try to ignore the way I felt with his body hovering over mine in the dark but my mind blanks for a moment. “Y/N?”

“Oh I have every intention to go back to the party later,” I say. “This dress stays on.”

“It’s a great dress,” Joe says.

“It is isn’t it,” I say, noticing how uncomfortable Joe was getting. He actually noticed. Why didn’t he say anything earlier?

“I mean,” he clears his throat. “You looked...beautiful.”

I pause, pure joy rushing through me. Joe noticed me, he said I was beautiful. And oh god, all these things happening in my body were not helping my migraine. But I wasn’t about to tell Joe that.

“Thank you,” I say softly, too afraid to break the moment.

“It’s nothing new though,” he says just as softly. “You always look beautiful.”

I look at him, squint in the dark to try to read his face but it’s hard to. Was he saying this because I was having a shitty time or did he actually mean it?

“Not as beautiful as Liz though,” I deflect, deciding he was just taking pity on me. “She’s the one with the looks in the family.”

There’s a deafening silence around us, I can hear my heart beating in it. He wasn’t denying it, I want to cry.

“She is...beautiful sure, but you’re something different Y/N. You bloody take my breath away every time I see you.”

I want to cry for other reasons now. Was this really happening?

“Sorry,” Joe interprets my silence as rejection and begins sitting up to go. “The dark’s just made me stupid, I said way too much and-

“Joe,” I try to cut through.

“You obviously just, you need to rest and I’m-“

“Joe Sugg,” I say again and grab his hand. “Lay back down you big idiot, your blabbering is making my head pulse.”

“Right,” Joe lays back down but I can hear his quick breathing. I was glad to know he was just as nervous. I still have hold of his hand and I place it around my waist, inching closer to him.

“When?” I have to ask.

“Do you remember when we had our second friendiversary?” He asks. I did. We met when we were both 7 after our parents had set up a play date and we got along so well we knew we would be friends instantly. We’d spit on our hands and shaken them, declaring that day our friend anniversary, and we’d celebrated most years since. “You had your parents drop you off on your way home from your nana’s because it was our friendiversary and we didn’t see each other all summer. And your nana gave you cookies for the ride home, and you saved me the peanut butter ones? I don’t know, when you came in that day I just took a look at you and I had butterflies in my stomach. You were there ever since school let out and I’d missed playing with you for so long. I think I realised I missed you more than just a friend that summer. And when I saw you-“

“I actually remember.” I join. “Because you had just stared at me with your mouth open. And I just put the cookies in your open mouth. I was angry I thought you were looking at me like that because Liz had put gum in my hair a week before and my nana had to cut a lot off.”

“Yeah,” Joe chuckles. “I remember that too.”

“And since then?”

“Yeah,” Joe’s hand curls around my waist.

“What about the seventh grade? Truth or dare?”

“You bloody kissed Felix!” Joe exclaims.

“I...you picked my sister because I kissed Felix? He was like 10!”

“I was stupid.”

“Was? If I was feeling better I would be slapping you right now.”

“Good thing you’re not,” Joe tugs me closer. Our faces are inches apart, and I want to lean over and just kiss him so bad.

“What’s taken you so long,” I whisper, my fingers resting on his face.

“Scared I would ruin our friendship. You’re so much better than me, I thought you would laugh if I told you.”

“You are so ridic-“

“Shh,” Joe shushes me. “Do you hear that?”

I quiet down and listen as the party downstairs begins counting down to New Year’s. Suddenly my hands are clammy, this was it. I was going to kiss Joe Sugg once and for all.

“5...4...3...” Joe whispers between us.

“2...” I get out before Joe closes the space and kisses me, his lips so soft, my head feeling like it would explode. And not just because of the migraine.

“Wow-“ Joe gets out before I go in for a second kiss, the cheering downstairs drowns out as I pull Joe closer to me, closer, finally the love of my life was in my arms.

We’re moving too quickly, a wave of nausea hits me and I pull away.

“Sorry was that too quick?” Joe panics.

“Head,” I say as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Shit,” I feel him sitting up and hovering over me, probably looking for the ice pack because soon the cold feeling returns to my temples.

“Thank you,” I whisper. He places a kiss on my lips as I stay still, trying to ease my nause. I feel a kiss on my jaw, then my neck. “Do you have to go home?” I ask.

“Nope,” Joe shifts beside me, I feel him get under the blanket, and he pulls me close to him. He lays his hand gently over me and I settle in beside him. What a New Year’s.

•••

“Y/N!” My sister’s voice wakes me and my eyes fly open. She stands in my doorway with her jaw open and I realise she’s staring at the weight on my right side. Joe.

“What?” Joe mumbles, awakened by my sister barging in.

“Oh my god!” My sister squeals. “It’s happening!” She runs out my door. “It’s happening!” She yells out to whoever was awake. And if they weren’t awake, her commotion sure woke them.

“She’s crazy,” I mumble before turning to Joe, the evening rushing to catch me up. He’s still only half asleep. When I call his name, he only groans and pulls me closer to him, hiding his face into my neck. My heart flutters, it felt like we’d always been together like this.

I allow myself the small pleasure of running my hands up into his hair and he groans into my neck, lifting his face up to look at me. Suddenly he starts laughing.

“Way to make a girl feel confident,” I’m suddenly self conscious as I get up.

“You do realise you’re in yesterday’s outfit? Including your makeup?” Joe asks, his voice hoarse.

“Shit!” I run to my mirror and laugh at what I see. “I’ll be back!”

I grab a spare shirt and move to the bathroom where I clean up and brush my teeth. My skin looked awful having slept in makeup but the glow I felt from waking up next to Joe kills any issue I might have had with it.

When I get back to my room he’s already up, the bed is made, and he’s folding his clothes from yesterday.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” I say as I walk to him. Immediately he catches my hand and pulls me in.

“Your head?” He asks.

“Great. Yours?”

“Clear as day. Glad it listened to my heart this one time.”

A smile creeps onto my face as the realisation of what he said settles in but pulls me in and kisses it off.

“Happy new year Joe,” I whisper when we part, pulling him in for a tight hug.

“Happy new year Y/N,” Joe whispers back. “I think it’s going to be the best one yet.”

#joe sugg #thatcherjoe #joe sugg imagines #joe sugg imagine #buttercream imagines #buttercreams #youtube imagines #jack maynard #caspar lee #fic #new year imagine #qd

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anogete · 5 years ago

Text

In Between

Hi, folks. I’m sorry I have nothing to offer as far as fic goes. Things have been... ::sigh:: You know, I don’t know what things have been. Not good, not bad. Just... things. I wanted to talk--get things out of my head--this morning, but I realized I don’t have a person/outlet who can accept these things right now. So, I will put them here for anyone who cares to read them.

1) My car blew up. Well, the engine did. I was on my way back home with groceries last Saturday, and I lost all ability to accelerate and brake. So, I puttered out on the side of the road and waited to be saved. The issue may be covered under the warranty so I had it taken to the dealership. They’ve had it for a week and still don’t have answers for me besides an offer to lend me a car for free until they can figure out what to do with my car.

2) This deserves it’s own point, though I almost included it on the first point. I’ve never bought a car without my grandmother. She was under five feet tall and had a tendency to wear sweat pants and Christmas sweaters year-round. She smoked Winston Lights and carried a purse covered in rhinestones. The car salesmen didn’t know what hit them because she wasn’t at all the sweet old lady who would roll over and accept their first offer. She was hard to read and she wouldn’t give an inch. She also wouldn’t tell them what she was willing to pay. No counter offers from her; she’d just tell you to “do better.” Anyway, she worked her magic when I bought all three of my cars. When I realized the problem with the engine was serious and might require me getting a new car, I went into a mental tailspin. Yeah, yeah, I was worried about fitting it into my budget and all that, but mostly I couldn’t seem to cope with buying a car on my own without my grandma there to hold my hand. I’m almost 39 years old and the thought of doing this without her had me sobbing in the floor. Except, I didn’t realize my tailspin was due to my grandmother at first. At first, I just thought I was incapable of handling stress. Maybe that’s still accurate.

3) While we’re talking about expensive-ass shit, I knew the air conditioner and furnace on this house needed to be replaced sooner rather than later when I bought it last February. It looks like the time has come. I managed to find a nice man with very odd hair (think a longer version of the Prince Valiant hair-do, but bright white) through my boyfriend’s dad. He does this for a living and said he’d give me a discount and do for $5,000 what other places were telling me would cost $9,000. So, that’s happening next week. I have the money, but the idea of writing a $5,000 check makes me want to puke. Ugh.

4) The days are running together. I’m working from home. I can’t complain, though. I’ve got it better than most. I’m alone all day. I have a library with a desk. I can go downstairs and make tea or lunch in my own kitchen. I’m getting paid my full salary with bonuses. I can pretty much make my own hours. The company I work for is taking the pandemic seriously and has told us that we can all work from home until we feel comfortable returning to the office. Their timeline for “normal” is months. I don’t think I’ll be back in the office until late summer, if that. Those who want to return are permitted to, but they can’t use the public areas (kitchen, conference rooms) and have to abide by some strict safety requirements. And they can choose when and how often they go into the office, working the remainder of the time at home. So, better than most.

5) I’ve been doing this social distancing thing since March 19th. It’s not difficult for me. On good days I’ll exercise (I have a Peloton) before logging into work around 9am. On not-good days (which seem to be more often than not), I’ll skip the exercise and just log into work early. Work keeps me busy and I spend a decent amount of my day on the phone with clients. I go to the grocery store once a week, but I order for pickup. Someone else does the shopping for me and loads it into my trunk. This is nothing new. I’ve been shopping that way for years. Now it’s just harder to get my usual pickup slot because everyone else has joined the party. I do miss taking a break from work and leaving my office to grab a coffee and sit outside on a bench downtown. I guess I could do that outside my own house, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

6) A few months ago, a husband and wife who are clients came in to meet with me at my office. They’re in their 80s and both were having trouble walking. They parked in the garage next door and couldn’t find the elevator to exit. I walked over and escorted them to our office building. They were both struggling with walking and the wife (Rose) had been fighting lung cancer for a couple years, so I suggested they wait outside and I’d valet their car once we were done. The thought of making the trek to their car alone was painful to me because it was a monumental struggle for them to walk down a hallway. Their daughter-in-law called me two days ago. Rose passed away two weeks ago. The husband, a former literature professor for a university, was in the hospital with four broken ribs because he’d fallen shortly after Rose’s passing. He was a Jewish child in Nazi Germany during the war. He’d told me stories about hiding from the Nazis, surviving off of tree bark and whatever he could find in the forests. He also jokingly told me that he’d live until he was 120. Now, it looks like he won’t survive the year. He and Rose would tease each other all the time, but you could see all that love between them. Whenever I’d call him, he’d ask me in that wonderful accent to wait while he got “the boss” on the phone as well. Rose thought it was silly that she was “the boss,” but she humored him. You know, they’re shorties, too. Five foot, nothing. Just like my grandma. Hearing that Rose was gone and Dr. (he’s a PhD) was likely soon to follow just broke my already fragile heart.

7) Fragile heart, huh? Yeah. After the car situation and the realization that one day I’m going to have to do big life things without having my grandma to help me, I was feeling pretty raw. But I’ve been trying to be responsible and do things I’ve been putting off lately. So, I gathered up all those medical bills from Ferguson’s illness last September. (Ferguson was my soulmate little chihuahua mix that I had for over 13 years.) I had pet insurance on him and hadn’t bothered to make the claim because I couldn’t handle it. But it’s been almost a year so I pulled out the invoices, which were over $2,000, and logged into the website and starting inputting the info to file the claims. The little box asks for a description of why I took him to the vet. And answering that question just brought back all that shit like a wave. I remember reading this nice description of grief and how it is like waves. At first they’re big and they knock you around and you can’t breathe. But over time they get smaller and you learn how to navigate them. Still there, but manageable. Filling in that box resulted in a bit of a tidal wave that knocked me on my ass. My boyfriend came home to find me sobbing at my desk like a lunatic.. He’s... not so good with emotional shit. And I usually keep it bottled up so that no one knows what’s going on inside me. But some days... Some days it just overflows. So, after confirming that nothing terrible had occurred and that I was reliving September 2019, he slowly backed out of the room to leave me with my grief-wave.

8) I want to be one of those succulent people. You know, the ones who have succulents lining their windowsills. The dining room and kitchen windows are full of this oddball little plants. The boyfriend hates it, but I told him he’d have to deal. I’ll die on this hill. I’m a succulent lady.

9) I’ve been reading memoirs or, rather, memoirs through collections of essays. I don’t know if it’s the mental state I’m in or if social distancing has got me subconsciously reaching out for life beyond my head, but I can’t seem to read much else. I loved Liz Phair’s Horror Stories. I’m reading The Book of Help by Megan Griswold right now. I’m determined to procure a signed copy of What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker by Damon Young. He did a virtual event for a local bookseller recently and they have signed copies available for purchase. I just need to muster up the will to call them and ask them to hold one for me. The little snippets of their life and experiences via these memoirs through essays bring me some measure of comfort.

10) I tried to watch Euphoria on HBO. I managed to make it through the first episode, but I don’t think I can watch more. I can’t relate, but that normally isn’t a necessity for an enjoyable story. Maybe it’s just too depressing for me right now.

11) I binged Dollface on Hulu and wish I had more to watch. Parts of it hit me hard. I’ve always had trouble maintaining friendships, period. But maintaining friendships while in a relationship has been damn near impossible for me. Just like Jules. Except, I’m not nearly as cool or gorgeous as Kat Dennings. And I have no friends in this city to go back to. Just friends at work.

12) I haven’t worn makeup for 2 solid months. I’m starting to miss it. I found old selfies I’d taken in which I don’t recognize myself. Did I ever look like that? I must have since here is photographic evidence. I look like shit now. I’m forever in yoga pants and a hoodie with half-wet hair from the shower. Maybe putting on a pair of jeans and a cute shirt and some makeup will make me feel like a human being again. Maybe I’m not doing as well as I thought in quarantine. Huh.

13) I hope you all are well. If you’ve sent me a message, I’m so sorry for not responding. My mental state has been delicate lately and the silence from me has nothing to do with your kind words. I promise I read and treasure and appreciate anything that is sent to me. I’m also sorry for having no offering of fic or a promise of something to come. I haven’t written since last summer. It’s been almost a year. I guess I’m in a dry spell.

14) Since I’ve been struggling with loss/grief lately, I’ll leave you with a quote from Philip Pullman, taken from his novel The Amber Spyglass. It’s about death, I suppose. Or maybe just a transition to something else entirely. It’s nice to think of my grandma and Rose and my sweet, sweet love of a dog falling in the raindrops and riding on the wind through tall grass. If it wasn’t raining, I’d take my computer outside right now.

“Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.”

#Anogete in real life #personal #coping with grief #Mental health where did you go #adulting #struggle bus

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shesclearlya3 · 5 years ago

Text

Dancing With a Stranger P.1

@iits-mikha asked: n a recent interview they asked Cody if he could have the opportunity to play another character he would had chosen to be the Countess, So my request is this: an AU where old!Michael where he’s not the antichrist but is the owner of the Hotel Cortez, please!!

I’m really nervous about this since it’s my first time writing for our boi Michael. I hope I delivered! I decided to make Michael 34 as, I am not too familiar with the Older!tag, but this seemed like a popular range.

pairing: Older!Michael x Reader

word count: 1,973

warnings: au!, language, seductive-boi, there will be a 2nd part!

part 2

October 29th, 2019

You stood next to your best friend, Winter Anderson, as you both stared up at the Hotel Cortez. You two were going to spend the next few days at Halloween Horror Nights, and this was the only hotel you two could afford. Universal was expensive, plus you knew you'd only be here to sleep, that's it.

"Are you ready, you seem kind of nervous," Winter asked, raising a manicured eyebrow at you. You smiled, nodding while tightening your grip on your suitcase.

"I'm fine, we can go inside," you said. You followed Winter into the hotel, gaping at the wonderous exterior. You had never seen so much red in your life. The lobby was huge, and you were slightly taken aback at how empty it was.

You stopped at the front desk, peering around it. An older, slightly plump woman sat in the chair, a worn-out romance novel in her hands. She was so entranced in the book that she didn't notice your arrival.

"Excuse me?" Winter piped up.

"OH!" she gasped, a hand flying to her chest. It startled you, but you managed to contain the laugh that bubbled in your throat. "I apologize, I didn't- yeah," she laughed, standing up. "I'm Iris, can I have the name for your reservation?"

"Anderson. Winter Anderson,"

Iris flipped open a folder, running a finger down the names before stopping. "There you are," she whispered. You frowned, wondering why they didn't just use computers like other hotels did. Iris reached behind her, grabbing a key from the shelf behind her. She handed it to you.

"Let me show you to your room," she said, smiling. You liked to see the good in people, but there was something off about the look in her eyes. Winter seemed to have gotten the same vibe because she kept pace with you instead.

The elevator ride to the fifth floor was claustrophobic. You tugged at the neck of your shirt, praying for the moment you and Winter were alone. Maybe you'd spend the night out instead of catching up on sleep, you had to be up early for your flight here from Michigan.

The doors slowly opened, before Iris led you down just a few doors. "Room 537," she said, before unlocking the door. She gestured for you guys to go first, and you smiled and thanked her.

The room was nothing too special, but you get what you paid for. Since you and Winter wanted to stretch your money as much as possible, you settled on sharing a bed. Winter set her stuff down, as Iris mentioned some of the things the hotel offered, including a bar downstairs.

"What brings you two lovely ladies to Los Angeles?" Iris asked kindly, and you felt your nerves from earlier slowly disapparate.

"We're going to Universal Studios, we're ready to get our asses scared, right, y/n?" Winter looked at you eagerly.

"Of course! Have you been there, by chance?" you asked Iris.

"Oh, years ago, I took my son Donovan," Iris exclaimed, seeming to be truly happy for the short length of time you knew her. "I'm sure lots have changed since then..."

Awkward silence.

"Well, I must get back to the front desk. If there's anything you two need, give us a call," Iris said, already turning towards the door. She set your room keys on the table, then she was gone.

You and Winter spent the next hour organizing your stuff. You usually left your things in your suitcase while staying in a hotel, but since you'd be here until November 2nd, you didn't want your clothes to be wrinkled.

"I think we should go down and get a drink, those seats on the plane were not comfortable," Winter complained as you organized your toiletries.

You glanced at your phone, seeing it wasn't too late. You and Winter planned on getting to the park first thing in the morning. "Who is buying? NOSE-"

"-GOES!" Winter said, whirling at you with a finger to her nose. You squinted at her before you spent the next few minutes trying to touch your nose before Winter.

Finally, you humored her and said you'd pay for drinks the first night.

Since you both had dressed comfortably for the flight, you changed into more acceptable clothes. Your favorite jeans and an off-shoulder top. Winter tied her blonde hair up into a half-down, half-up bun, and you set on your way.

There was only one other patron at the bar, and he didn't seem to pay you much attention. At least at first.

A tall woman with a shaved head and makeup talked to him, her eyes lightening up at everything he said. You and Winter took the seats farthest away, not wanting to seem like you were eavesdropping.

"Hilarious, Tristan," she gently scolded. "Hang on, my services are needed elsewhere," she laughed another time before approaching the two of you. "And who do we have here?"

"My name is Winter, and this is y/n," Winter said proudly.

"Welcome to the Cortez, I'm Liz. Liz Taylor," she offered her hand to the both of you, and you shook it with a smile. "Now, you seem to be old enough to drink, but I need to see your ID's. I am a woman of responsibility-"

The guy named Tristan laughed aloud at the end of the table.

"Ignore him, he drinks," Liz smiled as you and Winter laid your ID's out. "Perfect, what can I get for you?"

The last thing you wanted was to wake up with a hangover, so you kept it simple. Winter didn't have the same concern since she ordered a Screwdriver.

Liz was very enjoyable to talk too, and eventually, Tristan felt left out. He sat at the stool next to him, and you found out they had been dating a few months now. They were totally in love, and it showed whenever they looked at each other.

"I wish somebody loved me like that," Winter sighed.

"You will find someone, love. The both of you will." Liz smiled.

The energy in the room suddenly changed.

Everyone else kept talking and laughing, but you could feel it. You knew it wasn't the alcohol, this drink was more juice than anything. The sound of the elevator beeping, and the doors sliding open finally piqued their interest.

"Oh boy," Liz said flatly. Tristan chugged the rest of his whiskey before looking at you. You smiled briefly, wondering why they both seemed so on edge.

You and Winter seemed to be in a trance as a man slowly stepped out, his lean figure in perfect posture. He kept his hands behind his back, and you wondered if it was really comfortable walking like that. His hair was close to being strawberry blonde, and it reached his shoulders. This mysterious man kept his focus ahead, his gait elegant and intimidating.

"Who is that?" Winter asked.

"That's Michael- uh, the Count?" Tristan said, stuttering when Liz shot him a warning glance.

"What is this, Seasame Street?" Winter snorted. You couldn't help but laugh a little too loudly, but immediately stopped when Michael- the Count, turned his head in your direction.

From the side, you could see his excellent bone structure, but it didn't prepare you for getting a good look at him. His cheekbones, his jawline, his eyes immediately drew you in. Michael stared at you for what seemed like an eternity before he broke your gaze. He continued on his way, a smirk now prominent on his lips.

"Ooooooooh, he was looking at you," Winter teased, bringing her glass to her painted lips.

"Hush," you whispered. Tristan and Liz were still staring at each other, almost like they were having a conversation entirely in their heads.

"Who is he again?" you questioned.

"He owns the hotel," Liz sighed. "He can be nice when he wants to be, but for the most part, he is a pain in my ass," she continued. "I can't talk shit for long, he saved my life, and Tristan's here."

"For sure, babe," Tristan hiccuped, patting the hand Liz had on the countertop. "I used to be a model, but that environment was so fucking toxic, Michael- shit! COUNT got me out of it, got me help, and here I am," he giggled, before leaning his head on your arm.

"I think that's enough for you, mister," Liz said, taking the empty glass and replacing it with water. Tristan pouted, taking a dainty sip. You and Winter watched with amusement, and you could smell his cologne. It was quite nice.

"Do you think he'd talk to y/n?" Winter continued with her teasing, and you couldn't hide the blush on your cheeks. "I'd totally tap that if his hair was a bit shorter-"

Liz laughed, "Oh honey, he hasn't had short hair since ninety-nine, and he was a kid back then,"

You looked at her with a confused look, "Wait, how old is he?"

"I'm thirty-four," you froze at the sound of a velvety voice. "Don't you know it's not polite to ask a man his age?"

You and Winter shared a quick look, before slowly turning in your stools to face him. Tristan cleared his throat, taking a deep sip of water this time.

Michael smirked at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. You tried to laugh with him but found you couldn't make a sound. Winter was still gazing at you with a sense of excitement and an "oh shit, you're in for it now," look.

"I uh, I'm sorry, Mr...?"

"Langdon," he finished for you. A smirk still plastered on his face, "However, I do find it rather endearing that two complete strangers seem to fret so much about my life," he said, his eyes now sliding towards Winter, who looked away in embarrassment.

Liz had made you another drink while Michael occupied your time, making this one stronger than the first. You'd need it after this.

"You have such great eyeshadow," Winter said randomly, "It's perfect, really compliments your face,"

Michael's lips curled at this, but he found his eyes still trained on you. You were uncomfortable under his gaze. Like most of the human population, you hated being stared at.

"How long are you two ladies staying?" he asked.

"We leave Saturday morning," you answered without hesitation. Michael raised his eyebrow at your confidence. He assumed you were a bit of a hermit.

"Interesting... I'm going to extend an invitation to you, y/n," he said. You didn't bother to ask how he knew your name. "Halloween night, You're going to join me for dinner. I don't do this often, as you know," he said, directing this part to Liz.

Liz didn't say anything until he widened his eyes at her, and that's when it clicked. "Oh, yes, never does this, never," she shook her head. Michael rolled his eyes before bringing a hand to his head. You noticed the large rings adorning his fingers, wondering if you could pay off your bills with those things.

"I dislike when people talk about me, especially strangers," he smirked at you, "I find it rather rude, wouldn't you agree?" Michael pressed, waiting for a chorus of agreements.

And of course, he got them.

"Good. I'll have Iris keep you updated, y/n," Michael's eyes ran over you before he nodded towards the others. "And don't break anything, the other ones learned the hard way."

Michael walked off, still poised as if he were meeting royalty. You remained quiet as you swirled back in your seat, taking your new drink and chugging it. Winter grinned at you.

"Is he always like that?" you asked the couple beside you, who continued to stare at you.

"Weirdly arousing and complex? Always." Liz replied before taking a shot of Vodka.

*if you want to be added to this taglist, you know the drill.*

#michael langdon x reader #cody fern #ahs hotel #au!michael #older!michael #jim mason x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #xavier plympton x reader #michael langdon imagine #asks #michael langdon #winter anderson #liz taylor #tristan duffy

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florrickandassociates · 4 years ago

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TGF Thoughts: 4x07-- The Gang Discovers Who Killed Jeffrey Epstein

What a weird episode.

This episode is something else. The writers REALLY overestimated how much the audience (or at least the fandom) liked the pee tape and Melania divorce episodes if they thought this was a good idea.

My recollection of those episodes is that because everything was fake-but-real, the stakes wound up feeling lower and I stopped caring, and when I’m not on board with the plot, the surreal shit and the whimsy feel more annoying than innovative. This episode might fare slightly better in my opinion than the other two because of its central device (more on that later) but it’s (somehow!!!) even more audacious and wild than the episodes that came before. Not my favorite look for the show.

I DO like the tributes to musicians we’ve lost to COVID-19 that play over the credits.My one quibble is that they could’ve used a little card to inform viewers what’s going on and why. Last week I caught the artist in the captions but this week I missed it (or it wasn’t there), though I figured out pretty quickly it was John Prine.

Starting off an episode with Liz is always a good choice.

Liz and Marissa are, for reasons we’ll discover later, in New York and investigating Jeffrey Epstein’s “suicide.”

It drives me INSANE that Marissa consistently has the sound on her phone on. I think we’d know she was taking pictures without it.

Liz’s old boss, Wilbur Dincon, has tasked Liz to independently investigate what happened. If this case goes well, RBL will get more business from the DOJ.

I’m sorry, did you just say “S-H-U” instead of pronouncing it like “shoe”? I mean, I’m an expert on prisons because I watched Orange is the New Black so I know it should be said like “shoe.” (tbh i have no idea if one is more correct than the other)

This case has lots of details but it’s really only the thematic points that matter, so I likely won’t discuss any plot points… just what they’re going for.

Good to know Liz was ahead of the curve on knowing Epstein was a dangerous creep.

Liz is promised she can investigate anyone she wants and think outside the box. Sure. I believe this as much as I believe Diane is in charge of pro-bono stuff because STR Laurie has great intentions.

“Synergy” is such a great bullshit word. Has everyone ever said it for a reason other than the following three: (1) To mock the word synergy (2) as a euphemism for cost-cutting measures that will fuck over employees (3) because they think it sounds professional and want to cover up the fact they don’t know what they’re talking about?

In this case, “synergy” means that RBL needs to cut their payroll by 20%. Fun times.

Diane and Adrian (Liz is downstairs) are not happy about this, even when Mr. Firth reminds them it’s more money for them. They’d rather have less money personally but happier employees since they’re not soulless.

Mr. Firth says they have to do the layoffs. But if it’s any consolation, they get to hand pick who to lay off!

The dogs are still being walked through RBL, in case it wasn’t clear enough that STRL sucks.

The whole firm gets to work on sorting through the Epstein evidence. Liz tries to keep things organized-- murder evidence on one side, suicide evidence on the other.

Associates, however, immediately begin interpreting the word “evidence” loosely. Is there a photo of Epstein with someone they’d like to suspect of murder? Then it’s “evidence of murder”. Ok, Leah.

As expected, this immediately turns into bickering over politics. Sorry Liz-- it’s going to be tough to keep your staff on target with this one.

“No! No conspiracy theories. No insane charges. Everything we do, we need evidence, so let’s start here.” Ah, if only everyone could think like Liz.

The room focuses on evidence for about two minutes. Then they find a way to make it about conspiracies again. Go team!

Also everyone at RBL thinks they have better knowledge than professional medical examiners of the marks left on someone’s neck after they hang themselves. They also all believe that pretending to strangle themselves is the best way to prove their point. It’s a hilarious sight for Diane and Adrian to happen upon.

Adrian and Diane immediately start seeing their employees as numbers and imagining the cost savings of laying them off. Marissa is making $89,000 a year with three years of experience. Jay is making $89,000/year with eight years. Damn, that is so unfair to Jay. (I could see it if Marissa is more vocal about wanting higher pay or if they’re more concerned with losing her… but being vocal about money is probably closely related to Marissa’s privilege and there is zero evidence Marissa is any better, more efficient, or more hardworking than Jay!) I can’t remember how this plot ended last year, but I thought Jay ended up making more than Marissa after he complained?

Adrian seems to see Jay as the more disposable of the investigators, which is quite sad, especially since from what we see, Marissa and Jay seem to be equally skilled.

I wish we got to see the salaries, rather than just billable hours, of the other associates. But I’m glad they finally get last names!

Kevin Walker has been at the firm 7 years and has 2643 billable hours.

Diane imagines the red X over Marissa. I can’t tell if the Xs are to demonstrate who they think they should cut or just to show deliberations.

Lucca has been at the firm for 4 years and has 2788. Her title is “associate” but shouldn’t it be “Head of Family Law”?

Leah Davis has been at the firm for 3 years and has 2657 billable hours.

Jancie Muncy has been at the firm 11 years with 2456 hours; Micah Carroll has been there 5 with 2582 hours. John Danzette with 6 years and 2074 hours; Rosalyn Brock with 4 years and 1991 hours (we learn later she was on medical leave for part of the year). Josh Withers with 11 years and 2162. Linda Keller with 2 years and 2389; Mike Roberts with 3 years and 2147. So what I’m getting is that Lucca has the most billable hours of everyone?

I wish it told us their salaries. How much do the billable hours matter if we don’t know how much $ each hour is worth?

I really like this device. It’s a good way of showing how tough this decision is and how dehumanizing the process becomes.

Adrian jumps into the conversation and tries to convince everyone Epstein’s suicide isn’t a conspiracy-- it’s just incompetence. Apparently he has a sink that breaks every week and no plumber can fix it because they are all incompetent. I understand this analogy-- no one does their job perfectly 100% of the time-- but I am really concerned about Adrian’s sink. This sounds like a bigger issue than incompetence.

“People do just enough work to get by,” is a very true statement though. I have often thought that it’s kind of incredible the world is as functional as it is.

If you have 4 or 5 conveniently incompetent breakdowns at once, though, I’m not sure I believe it’s purely incompetence. Feels a bit convenient.

Diane jumps in and makes a case for why the conspiracy is also likely. This strikes me as counterproductive since what REALLY needs to happen here is for the associates to dig through the evidence. Why not go back to Liz’s original system where they look through the evidence and see where it leads them?

Lots of news footage and photographs in this one.

Diane’s larger point seems to tie back into Memo 618: “We all have to obey the law. I mean, if we’re told we have to check into with the police every 90 days, we do it. But certain people don’t have to. They’re given special treatment.” Diane claims this is America-- “a special fucking off-ramp for the well-connected.”

Isn’t it possible both are true? That there’s a lot of incompetence and also systems in place that protect the rich and powerful? Also none of this is evidence!!!

(I do like this scene for showing Adrian’s POV (cynical about human nature) vs Diane’s (fed up with the government and the treatment of the ultra wealthy). And the show can’t really dig into evidence they don’t actually possess. But evidence-free speeches don’t seem productive!)

Liz is like, okay then… and splits the room into three groups to look at evidence. I am glad Diane and Adrian helped her so much.

Liz is NOT happy about the layoffs when Diane and Adrian loop her in. She’s opposed to cutting anyone. Diane says she could lose Kevin, but Liz sees Kevin as someone newer employees look up to. Adrian suggests Lucy (who?) and Liz says that Lucy actually should get a raise. Diane points out this will look bad to the clients. All good points. This seems like an impossible decision.

Case stuff happens. Lucca knows a “hairdresser to the stars” through Bianca.

And now for some scenes where Diane and Julius try to report Memo 618 to the government and do the right thing! The Kings have said these were intended for episode 8, and while they don’t really feel that out of place since there’s clearly a thematic link between 618 and Epstein’s connections, this bit of info explains two things: (1) Why this ep is 53 minutes long when it feels like it could make its point in less time and (2) why the Julius stuff that happens later in the episode feels a bit anticlimactic because so much else is also happening. My guess is in an episode where it’s more of the focal point it would feel like a much bigger deal.

Do you ever just see a shot of Diane and think, “Damn, Taylor Swift does really look like a young Diane?” Because I do. All the time.

Lucca visits the famous hairdresser and he makes time for her right away. And he gives her a letter from Epstein that he (a) has in his possession and (b) has in an unlocked drawer in his salon. Whatever.

Lucca convinces him to let her have it, and RBL makes a video to establish chain of custody. I’m shocked we’ve never seen them do this before.

“It is Thursday, May 21st, 2020” Liz says. Nah. You’re in an office. It is not.

The envelope contains a key, a secret code, and a letter that says “If I’m dead, watch out for BUD”. Welp, there goes any hope of this not turning into RBL chasing conspiracies!

Rumors about layoffs (40%! Just paralegals! Everyone!) have spread, in case there wasn’t enough chaos.

The partners are indeed discussing who to fire, and they can’t decide on anyone. So they decide it’s time to get out from under STRL and buy themselves out. It’ll take 20 million, but they can pull that together.

This would play better if we knew why they decided to sell to STRL in the first place. Who WOULDN’T have seen this coming?

Liz tells Adrian not to make any promises he can’t keep and he is like, this is like our marriage. Diane is still in the room which is awkward and funny.

Marissa finds “BUD” on a blueprint. A clue! Meanwhile, Lucca and Jay (really, Jay) figure out the code.

This is the portion of the episode where I can leave the show playing on my phone and go check Twitter instead of writing any commentary.

Julius gets arrested for speaking out about Memo 618! It feels less impactful than it should when it’s sandwiched between a bunch of scenes following the conspiracy. (Also I am a little surprised they didn’t have Julius and Diane go to the press before the government.)

The conference room squabbles again and Liz asks, again, to tone down the conspiracy theories. They instead begin fighting about even more conspiracy theories.

Unless there’s another conference room scene later, I think this was the moment I understood what the Kings were doing and started to like the episode more. As soon as I realized “BUD” was a Citizen Kane reference, I burst out laughing. This episode plays way better when you know the point they’re trying to make is that this is a lot of fuss that will ultimately be futile (though Marissa and Jay DO come close to finding BUD) than when you’re supposed to be riveted by watching people debate fake evidence.

Why does Eli Gold have a cheerleader friend? Who knows! Who cares!

Adrian suggests that he, Diane, and Liz involve their own homes in the scheme to getting 20 million dollars. Liz objects since she’s a single mom-- very fair. Adrian argues that they’ve done well in the past so they’ll get it back. Liz and Diane attack that idea before I can-- if that were really true, they never would have sold to STRL.

Liz mentions losing ChumHum and the fallout from her dad’s scandal and then says “let us not forget why we joined STRL in the first place.” I feel like that line would work better if the “let us not forget…” came before the “we lost ChumHum”. Because we don’t actually KNOW why they joined STRL. And, as I said in a previous recap, I can roll with it for the sake of plot, but I can’t take lines like “let us not forget why we joined STRL” seriously when there was LITERALLY NO ON SCREEN DELIBERATION about it.

Adrian says STRL doesn’t value them, their employees, their history, or their culture. To which I say, DUH. Why would you think they did?

The only important thing about this cheerleader is that she’s played by the amazing Donna Lynne Champlin. Kind of sad she’s in this silly, non-recurring role. She’s so good. (Also she was totally on TGW playing a different role, shhhh). (Go watch Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, everyone!)

CONSPIRACY THEORIES! It’s another conference room scene. Maybe this is where I realized it was a Citizen Kane reference? But I think it was the earlier one.

Hey, it’s another Julius scene. Watching these and knowing they were meant for a different episode, I can’t help but notice that they do feel like pieces of the A plot of a different episode. The whole system is rigged, Julius and Diane realize.

Adrian, Liz, and Diane tell Mr. Firth they want out. Mr. Firth tells them they need to cobble together an impossible 80 million, not 20 million, because not all of the partners have been bringing in more revenue more than they used to. You see, Diane hasn’t been bringing in any money because she’s been in charge of the pro bono department. Ah.There’s the catch.

I’m shocked they went up to Mr. Firth without reading every inch of that contract. Aren’t you guys partners at a law firm? I’m shocked Diane went ahead with taking charge of pro bono without looking for a catch. This sucks for the character and all, but how are these name partners at a liberal firm that’s seen more than its fair share of drama this naive about big corporations!? This plot twist is devastating… until I start to think about all the things they had to believe to get to this point.

Still, it’s satisfying to hear Diane hiss “you fucker!” at Mr. Firth.

Mr. Firth turns into a villain quite nicely. I wonder if we’ll see more of him next year. My guess is the remaining three episodes were going to tie together the corporate overlords plot and Memo 618 and wrap everything up more or less with a bow so they could do a new concept next year. I feel like they’ll either move on completely and tell us what happened, or do an episode like 2x02 (the one that wraps up all the Maia/Rindell Fund stuff in one go so it doesn’t hang over s2).

Dincon drops by unexpectedly and isn’t impressed with what Liz and the team have done, since all they’ve done is collect conspiracy theories (and possibly travel all over the country? Jay and Marissa go to the Virgin Islands; it is unclear if the architect and key maker and lawyer and everyone else were in Chicago…

In Dincon’s defense these conspiracy theories sound like complete nonsense.

Dincon shuts the RBL team down, but Marissa and Jay are still off adventuring.

Diane asks Dincon what Memo 618 is because Epstein’s life was built on it. “Then you have your answer,” Dincon replies. This scene is another tell that those Julius scenes weren’t meant for 4x07.

Aaaaand now we get the direct parallels to Citizen Kane, with some shot-for-shot remakes and even a sled (ha!).

There’s a secret door! Marissa and Jay are excited to investigate! Marissa references Parasite, which I haven’t seen yet because I’m awful at watching movies.

Marissa and Jay find nothing and leave. “I think we lost track of the real story: the underage girls,” Marissa realizes. Yup. That is the takeaway. Looking at all these conspiracies is fun but useless, and the most important truth has already been uncovered.

After Marissa and Jay leave, we get to see what was in the secret room… BUD is Epstein’s penis. And… that’s a wrap on season 4? What a fucking weird way to end a season.

#the good fight #tgfthoughts

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justlightlysedated · 5 years ago

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hope is the greatest of the gifts we'll receive

day one of thirteen: a sort of beauty and the beast, enchanted christmas au, dedicated to every single person who has ever read or liked or reblogged or rec'ed any of my fics, i love you all more than you will ever know, and i hope that you enjoy this gift from the bottom of my heart

The Story So Far:

Alex Manes, son of Duke Jesse Manes, who hasn’t been seen or heard about since he was ten years old, is trapped in the old and abandoned family castle. An enchantment that his dad told him was for his own protection keeps him from crossing the castle gates.

For ten years, Alex has been on his own, with only the enchanted items inside of the castle and the sporadic visits made by Maria and Liz (who had seeked shelter within the castle walls when they were seventeen and had gotten lost in the woods during one of the coldest nights of the year) to keep him company.

Sporadic because the enchanted castle has a mind of its own and keeps running people off. This leads to rumors that the castle is haunted and that Alex is actually the ghost of someone who died within its walls.

And it’s not exactly like Alex tries really hard to tell people he’s not a ghost.

He likes the solitude and he has his books and he has the entire castle to keep him company. He wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

That of course, all changes one late November night during the tenth year with the arrival of Michael Guerin.

Michael had heard about the haunted but most importantly abandoned castle from stories Maria told from behind the bar, but he had figured that they were embellished, at least a little bit.

Michael believed in magic, but he in no way believed in ghosts.

The first night almost makes a believer out of him, but being saved from almost getting mauled to death by the very territorial wolf living in the stables by a very real, very alive, very hot Alex Manes changes his mind entirely.

He makes it his mission to find out exactly what’s going on, which becomes a real easy job once he has the enchanted castle on his side.

With Christmas around the corner, things seem to be going on the right track.

Alex doesn’t think that he’s a bad person.

He doesn’t deserve the reputation that living in a mostly abandoned castle gives him. He tries to do good things despite the fact that everyone thinks that he’s a ghost haunting the castle, not that he’s dissuaded anyone of that notion.

The only person who knows better is also the person who Alex is pretty sure was sent to torment him.

Michael is singing off key, to a Christmas carol while he decorates the hall outside of the library after Alex told him that he doesn’t do Christmas.

It’s Christmas Eve and they are the only two people living in the castle, not to mention the wolf named Buffy that has taken over the stable and the fact that the castle is enchanted and everything within it seems to have made it its goal to make Alex happy, and have decided that Michael is the key to that happiness, since Michael has been able to actually stay for an extended period of time, whereas whenever Maria and Liz come to visit the castle does everything it can to make sure their visits are short.

Alex had thought that that meant it just didn’t like anyone who wasn’t a Manes, but apparently, it just didn’t like Maria and Liz.

It loves Michael however given that Alex can see Michael being followed by a trolley full of Christmas decorations that is swaying in time to Michael’s horrible singing.

Almost like it can hear his thoughts, the trolley stops and turns to him, giving him what Alex thinks is a judgmental look.

Alex closes the door before Michael can turn and see him and leans his forehead against the door, exhaling deeply.

He waits until he hears them move down the hall, before he moves, pushing away from the door and walking back towards his chair and the book he’d been trying to read.

He knows the moment that Michael leaves the first floor to decorate the floor below it because it feels like the entire floor sighs, despondent at his absence.

Alex hunches down in his seat and tries not to sigh in unison. He can feel the chandelier watching him judgmentally but he refuses to accept responsibility for the fact that the castle is enamoured with Michael.

It’s only been a few days since he had stopped Buffy from showing Michael his insides after Alex had inadvertently scared him into running into the stables, but it feels like it’s been an entire lifetime.

Michael has gotten it into his head that Alex stays locked inside of the castle because he’s extremely shy, and Alex doesn’t know how to dissuade him of that notion.

He picks his book up and tries to lose himself in the story, and he almost manages before he smells like something is burning.

He looks up from his book and notices the vent that connects to the kitchen is open, and there is very light smoke coming out of it.

Alex is moving before he can stop himself, since it’s not like the castle will let itself burn just for the sake of matchmaking drama, but before he can tell himself that, he’s ducking into the secret passageway in the library that leads right into the kitchen.

He gets there in time to see Michael closing the oven with his foot as he carries a smoking loaf tin to the sink and then turns on the water.

The air is filled with steam, and Michael sighs, pulling off the oven mitts.

“Alright,” he says turning around to counter where Alex can see the cookbook making an attempt to hide back inside of the cabinet, like it’s attempting to escape Alex’s wrath. “Let’s not tell- Alex!”

He almost shouts his name, and Alex turns to him, raising an eyebrow.

Michael looks around, a blush working itself across his cheeks, “Sorry, didn’t mean to utterly fail at making a fruitcake and alarm you.”

Alex looks at him thoughtfully for a second, “Why are you trying to make a fruitcake?”

Michael darts a painfully shy look at him, before looking away.

“It’s a Christmas tradition,” he says. “My mom and I used to make one every Christmas Eve, and I just wanted to share it with you.”

Alex feels the entire kitchen cooing at how sweet Michael is being, Alex tries not to follow suit, biting down on his lip to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

Michael’s cheeks go even more red and Alex reaches out to get his attention, fingers brushing against Michael’s arm.

Michael jumps a little and turns to Alex, giving him a sheepish grin.

“First of all,” Alex says and casts a look at the oven out of the corner of his eye. “The stove will never let anything actually burn.”

Michael furrows his brow, “Then why-”

“Second of all,” Alex says talking over him. “Since you and your mom used to make the fruitcake together, wouldn’t it be better if we worked on it together?”

A sweet smile spreads across Michael’s face, and it leaves Alex feeling a little stupefied.

“I would love that,” he says smile widening.

Alex turns away from him and heads to the fridge to take out whatever it is they would need from in there to make a fruitcake.

The fridge opens helpfully, kind of smug, and Alex just glares at it.

Michael lists off everything that they would need from the fridge while he goes into the pantry.

They work in almost complete silence for a few minutes, Michael only speaking to tell Alex what he needed to do.

It’s only when Alex moves the fruit boiling away with some gin and spices for taste from the flame and turns to him to see what else to do, that he sees that Michael has finished mixing the batter, and is just waiting on Alex.

“We have to let them cool down a bit,” Michael says, and Alex nods his head, carefully leaning back against the counter beside the stove.

Michael smiles sweetly at him, and Alex looks away, blinking rapidly, ignoring the way both the stove and the fridge sigh, enamoured.

“What kind of traditions did you have, before all of this?” Michael asks, leaning on the island.

Alex purses his mouth, “I don’t remember much before all of this,” he says with some gentle mocking, that makes Michael rolls his eyes.

“But one thing I do remember is going ice skating with my mom,” he says, and looks around the room, ignoring the sympathy he can feel from every section of the castle.

“Right when the ice was strong enough to hold our weight, she would drag me out of bed at some ungodly hour in the morning, and strap skates on my feet and take me out into the ice.”

He exhales and looks back to Michael who is leaning his head in his hands, just staring at Alex.

Alex swallows hard. “It was the most that I would see her smile during the holidays,” he finishes, and Michael’s stare turns a touch sad, a touch pitiful, and Alex looks away immediately, turning back to the fruits and moving it around with the wooden spoon.

“I think it’s cool enough,” Michael says from right next to him, and Alex jumps a little not expecting him to be so close.

Alex lets Michael mix the fruit into the cake batter and stares at him as he puts the cake into the oven.

Michael closes the oven and turns to Alex.

He bites his lip and grabs Alex’s hand. “Come on.”

Alex lets Michael tug him out of the kitchen and through the hall, and into the front room, pass the staircase, across the downstairs living room, through the music room and out into the back garden, bundling Alex and then himself into their coats.

Alex stops them before Michael can drag them much further, feeling the terror of being so close to the barrier, but exhales carefully, when Michael lets him go and doesn’t do much but smile expectantly at him.

Alex makes a face and casts a look around the back garden.

It looks like a winter wonderland, covered in freshly fallen snow, and even the pond is frozen over.

Alex turns back to Michael.

“I figured,” Michael says, walking over to the small wooden shed where Alex knows he has at least one pair of ice skates. “That as long as we were doing my tradition, we may as well do yours.”

He pulls out the ice skates and Alex looks at the pond carefully and then looks back at Michael who is looking at the skates with trepidation.

“Do you even know how to skate?” He asks, and Michael just rolls his eyes and walks towards the small bench right by the pond.

Alex follows after him.

“What about the cake?” He asks, as Michael sits down and begins to take his boots off.

“It’ll take an hour and a half to bake through,” Michael says, looking up at Alex through the curls that are falling in front of his face. “I set a timer.”

Alex nods his head slowly, and just stares as Michael slowly gets to his feet and moves to the middle of the pond.

He turns in a careful circle and wobbles a little before he spreads his arms out and smiles invitingly at Alex, right before he slips, tries to catch himself and falls back on his butt.

Alex bites down on the laugh that wants to pop out, but Michael starts laughing immediately, giggling as he tries to get back up and fails.

Alex sits on the bench and puts his own skates on, they pinch his toes a little bit, but he manages to get to his feet easily, skating out into the middle of the pond, to help Michael get to his feet.

Michael holds on to him tightly, fingers wrapped in the open collar of Alex’s coat.

Alex catches him by the waist and tries to keep him steady.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Alex asks.

Michael gives him a mock glare, “What gave it away?”

Alex laughs, and lifts his hands to Michael’s on his coat and gently pries him away.

Michael makes a low protesting sound, but Alex just smiles at him, and moves back a little, keeping a hold of his hands.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on Michael’s hands and making him slide forward a little. “Just follow me.”

Alex leads Michael around the pond, and once he’s positive that Michael’s got it he lets him go and Michael takes a few steps on his own before he falls again, and the look on his face is so betrayed that Alex can’t help but giggle.

Michael starts laughing as soon as Alex does, and Alex helps him back to his feet.

Alex loses track of time as they continue to skate around the pond, until Michael is able to let go of Alex’s hands and skate by himself.

Alex stops on one side, and watches Michael circle the pond by himself, whooping and putting his hands in the air as he passes by Alex.

Alex wants to tell him that he’s going too fast, but instead just continues to watch Michael with a soft smile on his face, ignoring the way that he can feel the entire castle watching their interaction.

Michael takes a corner too fast, and before Alex can brace himself, Michael is barrelling into him and they both slip and fall back in the snow bank.

Alex lands on his back, and Michael lands on top of him.

They lay there for a single solitary moment before Alex bursts out laughing, Michael following after a few seconds.

Michael laughs into the crook of Alex’s neck, and Alex feels his entire nervous system jumpstart, making him giggle a little helplessly.

The laughter dies out and Alex sees the moment that Michael realizes how close they are pressed together.

Alex watches as the smile and bright eyes are replaced by parted lips and an intent look.

Michael moves in a little bit closer and their noses brush as he tips his head down a little, and Alex gasps, inhaling shakily.

Michael’s eyes dart up to his and Alex doesn’t know exactly how he’s staring at him only that, only that it lights something up in Michael’s eyes and he leans in even closer, eyes falling shut, and Alex can’t look away from him.

Michael moves even closer, and Alex can feel his hot breath on his mouth.

And then the timer goes off, startling the entire kitchen and making Alex jump and knock his forehead into Michael’s hard.

Michael pushes away from him, landing on his back in the snow, groaning as he presses a hand to his forehead, and Alex bites down on his lip.

“Sorry,” he says, and Michael opens his eyes and his cheeks are flushed with embarrassment. “The timer went off in the kitchen, and it kind of startled me.”

Michael looks at him speculatively at that, but doesn’t really say much as they get the skates off and head back to the kitchen.

Alex follows behind Michael at a more sedate space, so that by the time he makes it into the kitchen, Michael already has the cake out and is stirring something in another saucepan on top of the stove.

The entire kitchen smells like Christmas and feels warm, and for the first time in a long time, Alex is looking forward to the new year.

The door to the kitchen closes, pushing him forward a little, and Alex glares at it behind himself before he walks further into the kitchen.

Alex leans against the island in the middle of the kitchen and watches as Michael serves them slices of crumbling slices of hot cake and two mugs of what looks like hot chocolate, humming Christmas carols underneath his breath.

Alex hopes that he doesn’t ruin the image by singing, and the pots in the pot rack above him clang menacingly.

Alex rolls his eyes, and Michael turns to him with a smile.

He sets the cake slices and the mugs of steaming hot chocolate down in front of Alex, and leans on the opposite side of the island.

“It’s still hot,” he says as he pinches a bit of the cake between his fingers and blows on it before putting it into his mouth. “But it’s tradition.”

Alex just shakes his head a little, biting down on a smile as he starts to eat the cake as well.

“Okay,” Michael says once they’re halfway done, and Alex has drunk half of his spiked hot chocolate. “I think, in honor of adding new Christmas traditions to the roster, that we should have a Christmas ball.”

Alex gives Michael a look.

Michael just smiles back winningly.

“Hear me out,” he says, and then launches into a passionate spiel about how celebrations boost morale and how he has the space anyway, “And it’s not like we would have to invite people. We can just celebrate, the two of us, and the entire castle.”

Alex stares at him, at the way he talks with his hands when he gets really excited about something and has the faint thought that he would do anything to make sure that Michael is always happy and excited and never upset.

His eyes widen a little, and Michael stops talking and looks at Alex. “So what do you say?”

Alex is about to tell him that he doesn’t know, but just to tease him a little, when he goes cold all over.

He closes his eyes and concentrates and he can feel someone trying to get in through the gates.

The fact that they use a key to unlock the padlock tells Alex that it could only be one of four people, and not one of them can know about Michael.

“I don’t think so,” Alex says a little harshly, eyes flying open.

He regrets the tone and the way that Michael seems to curl in on himself, eyes going wide and hurt.

“I just wanted-” he starts and Alex cuts him off, grabbing him around the arm and leading him towards the secret passage that leads straight up to his room.

“I think you should retire to your rooms,” he says and pushes him into the passage.

Michael makes an aggrieved noise in protest, saying Alex’s name, but Alex closes the door in his face, locking it and then willing the entire castle to make sure that he stays in his room.

He feels the castle acquiesce to his request and lets out a relieved breath before he turns around and begins to hide all of the evidence he can find that two people are living in there, before he walks fast to the front hall, and sits down in the chair in the sitting room and book within easy distance.

He takes a deep breath and prepares himself to deal with whoever it is walking towards the castle.

Michael doesn’t angrily slide the door close, but he does stomp his feet all the way to his bed.

He drops himself down and lets his face fall into his hands.

He doesn’t know what went wrong exactly. Everything seemed to be going fine, better than fine really, and then out of nowhere, Alex just snapped out of it, like he had been under a spell, and Michael had said something that triggered him to wake up.

Michael exhales roughly and throws himself back on top of his bed.

It’s hard to believe that not even half an hour ago, he almost kissed Alex.

It all felt like it was a dream and Michael had been rudely woken up.

He presses his fingers to his mouth. He can almost feel the press of Alex’s nose, and his breath against his mouth.

Michael makes a low mournful and turns to his side.

He opens his eyes when he gets the overwhelming feeling like someone is watching him, and right there on the side of his bed, is a small black box with a blue bow on top.

He sits up and reaches over and picks the box up.

It feels a little bit heavy, and whatever is inside moves when Michael shakes the box slightly.

He opens the box and finds a note resting on top of a pocket watch.

He picks the note out and sets the box aside, unfolding it carefully.

this pocket watch is enchanted to show you whatever you wish for, just close your eyes and wish with all of your might and then open the watch

There is no name on it, but he knows that it’s from Alex.

He picks the pocket watch out of the box, and looks at the silver surface. It’s inscribed with a rose pattern, and Michael passes his thumb over the imprint before he inhales deeply, closing his eyes and thinking about what it is that he wants to see.

He feels the watch heat up a little in his hands, and then he exhales and looks down, opening the watch.

The clock surface is visible for a second, before it clouds over, and an image becomes clear.

Michael feels his breath catch in his throat as he makes out Max and Isobel looking like they were in the middle of a discussion, and feels a pang of longing in the pit of his stomach.

He hasn’t seen them in just a little over a month, and while it’s not like he doesn’t miss them daily, it’s worse, to see them like this.

He inhales shakily and closes the watch.

He jumps when he hears a door slamming open and he pushes himself off his bed, deciding in that moment to leave. If he hurries, he’ll make it to Max and Isobel before Christmas Eve is even over.

And they at least wouldn’t suddenly go through a mood change, fast enough to give him whiplash.

Michael grabs his bag and goes to the door.

He twists the knob and pulls and the door stays shut tightly.

“Fuck,” he says and pulls harder, but nothing.

“Come on,” he says. “You cannot keep me in here.”

He gets the overwhelming feeling that the door is telling him that of course they can keep him in there.

Michael huffs out a frustrated breath, but he knows that if he doesn’t leave right now, he won’t.

If he talks to Alex just one time, the will to leave the castle will just abandon him.

He doesn’t know what it is about Alex that has him so captivated, but he’s not going to stick around if Alex is going to be like this the entire time.

He turns and walks towards the window to see if he can open it without having to beg.

He’s trying to prop the window opens when he notices the two figures in the dying sunlight.

He quickly recognizes Alex as the one who is struggling, being dragged by the collar of his jacket like a bad puppy. Michael doesn’t recognize the other guy, and they’re too far away for him to make out any features, but Michael realizes immediately why Alex never wants to go outside.

They barely make it pass the hedge walls of the back garden before Alex starts yelling and struggling even more to get away from whoever.

The person lets Alex go, and Alex crawls back immediately to the safety of the hedges, and collapses on his back.

The person walks back towards Alex slowly, and they have the same shade of dark hair that Alex does, and Michael remembers vaguel the portrait of the four brothers that he had found in the basement along with other portraits of the members of the Manes family.

Michael is sure that they say something, but he can’t hear anything.

He knows Alex’s body language well enough by now to realize that he’s being antagonistic, and he’s proved right when Alex spits at the person.

They grab him around the collar of his coat and drag him back over the hedge, and Alex starts to yell again, loud enough that Michael can hear it clearly.

Michael is moving before he realizes, dropping his bag on the floor and running for the door.

The door opens easily, and he doesn’t think about the why as he rushes through the castle halls, wishing for once that Alex didn’t live in an abandoned castle so that he wouldn’t have to be running for a full five minutes before he even makes it out of the back doors.

Michael skids to a stop as Alex’s yells hit him full force and he finally hears the other person talking, asking him questions that Alex couldn’t possibly answer.

Michael reaches the hedge, and searches for something to use to help Alex escape his attacker, but in that moment he hears a loud howl, and then there is Buffy, wrapping her huge jaw full of pointy teeth around the attacker’s arm and pulling him away from Alex.

Alex drops to his knees, and whimpers low in his throat.

Michael goes to him, wrapping fingers in his jacket, and ignoring the way he weakly protests and pulls him closer to the castle.

Alex sighs in relief, and slumps on top of Michael, making them both fall to the snow.

Michael holds on to Alex as tightly as he can, and stares as Buffy chases off the attacker, snapping at his shins as he runs away, leaving behind a trail of blood pouring from the wound on his arm.

Michael doesn’t fully relax at all, trying to get Alex to move and realizes that he’s passed out.

He’s still breathing, and while that’s all well and good, Michael cannot carry his dead weight all by himself.

He’s startled out of his contemplation of what he’s going to do, by Buffy, who huffs, and while Michael freezes, remembering intently the way that she attacked him several days earlier, she just gently bites Alex’s arm, and somehow manages to get him thrown across her back.

She carries Alex inside, and Michael stands up and follows after them, looking back towards where he’d last seen the attacker, but he doesn’t see anything.

Buffy sets Alex down in front of the fireplace, and then whines until Michael is making a fire.

Buffy lies down right in front of it, curving her huge body around Alex, and Michael sits back in one of the armchairs to stare at them.

He wants to do something, but there isn’t anything that he can do.

It doesn’t seem like Alex is hurt. He isn’t bleeding anywhere. And he’s not pale.

It doesn’t take too long for Alex to start waking up.

Michael stares at him as he buries his face in Buffy’s fur, before blinking his eyes open and staring straight at Michael.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see him there.

“You have to go,” he says in a voice so low that Michael is sure that he misheard him at first.

But Alex just continues to look at him seriously, and Michael starts shaking his head immediately.

“What? No,” he says protesting immediately and Alex pushes himself up to his feet, only stumbling lightly, but catching himself.

He stands tall in front of Michael, illuminated by the fire.

“My family aren’t nice people,” he says, swallowing hard. “And I can take whatever they do to me, but they’ll kill you if they find you here. You have to go.”

Michael blinks rapidly at him, and he wants to protest, but Alex is looking at him desperately, eyes wide and pleading, and Michael really doesn’t want to go.

He inhales carefully, and looks at Alex seriously. “Okay,” he says, and Alex deflates immediately, “But I have one condition.”

Alex looks at him with a furrowed brow.

“I’ll leave after we have the Christmas Ball.”

Alex stares at him, looking slightly stupefied, and then his face twitches into a fond smile that makes Michael’s chest ache.

“Okay,” he says. “We can have your celebration, but you have to go right after.”

Michael nods his head, and he would celebrate the win, if it didn’t feel so hollow.

The piano plays a gentle Christmas tune, and Michael drags Alex to the middle of the ballroom, letting Alex take the lead after he almost makes them both trip and fall to the floor.

Alex holds him close, clasping Michael’s left hand with his right, and pressing his left hand low on Michael’s back, while Michael settles his right hand on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex moves them in circles, taking them on a waltz and overcompensating when Michael manages to almost trip them up.

Michael isn’t a dancer by any means of the imagination, but Alex has obviously had training at some point.

“You’re good at this,” Michael says, when he trips and Alex catches him and turns them expertly.

Alex just hums, and Michael bites down on his lip.

The dinner had been fine, but silent. Even when Michael had thanked him for his gift, Alex had just smiled, that soft smile, the one that told Michael exactly how fond Alex was of him, but he hadn’t said much.

Michael felt anxious, a squirmy feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he was running out of time, but he didn’t know exactly what he needed to do.

Alex spins them around and the song changes to something more soft and less Christmassy.

“I don’t want to go,” Michael blurts out, unable to help himself.

Alex slows their movements to a stop, right in the middle of the room and the piano stops playing, hitting a discordant note.

Alex sighs, “Michael,” he says in a hushed voice.

“I know,” Michael says sighing and pressing in close, dropping his forehead to Alex’s. “I know.”

“You won’t be safe if you stay,” Alex reminds him, voice barely trembling.

And Michael knows, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“What about you?” He asks, letting go of Alex’s hand to wrap his arms around Alex’s shoulders, holding him close.

Alex slides his arms around Michael immediately, “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Michael doesn’t really believe him, but he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’ll come back,” Michael promises as the piano begins to play again and Alex sways them from side to side, his eyes falling shut.

“I know,” Alex whispers, and Michael vows to return back to him, no matter what.

#malex fic #thirteendaysofgiftfics #okay so the way the story goes michael leaves and gets to town where he finds isobel and max immediately and asks them for help #tells them that he needs a way to break the enchantment on the castle #and isobel thinks that he’s delusional from hypothermia and takes him to the infirmary #where he finds the guy who attacked alex and demands to know why #the guy turns out to be alex’s brother who was sent by their father to find out what alex was keeping a secret #and he tells them all about the enchantment on the castle #basically jesse figured out that alex was not only magical but also gay #and used a curse to tie his magical powers to the castle and keep him prisoner #alex doesn’t know this #he just knows he’s never supposed to leave #michael and the others go searching for a way to break the curse with michael keeping an eye on alex through the stop watch #until one night he sees that the castle is on fire they go to save him #and michael convinces alex that all he needs to do is believe that he can cross and he’ll be able to do it #alex waits until the last possible moment burning his leg horribly beyond repair but he manages to escape #several days later #michael and alex are looking through the wreckage of the castle and alex finds the rose pendant that had been used for the curse #he and michael kiss and the power of true love’s first kiss brings the castle back from the brink of destruction #and so they move back into their enchanted castle #and they all lived happily ever after

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