#because I do know after they split a couple bottles of Merlot they WILL start to lez out it’s human nature it’s what wine does

[isdalinarhot]

God I’m so sad Desirée DeLite (Ace Attorney) and Ialai can’t have girls night wine night together they’d have a ball tbh

[hockeyboysiguess]

Countdown

a/n: what’s up everyone? i’m new in town because i found one stupid hockey boy which led me to another and you know how it goes. let me know if you want me to continue writing!

warnings: some swearing, a little bit of drinking.

Your feet were killing you, and you’d definitely had a couple more than you set out to have when the night started, but it was New Year’s Eve, you told yourself. It was the kind of night you could have a little too much. You rocked a little forward on your heels, trying to relieve some of the pressure on the arches of your feet, but it threw you off balance. Luckily, Mat was there with a steady arm to keep you to your feet. You could’ve done without the chirping that immediately followed the incident.

“You know, you could just take the shoes off if they’re bothering you that much,” he said, with a laugh edging at each word as he spoke.

“I’ve definitely explained this to you before,” you sighed. “You look at the shoe, you look at your feet, you tell yourself that your shoes and your feet are married tonight and nothing in the world will separate you. You can’t get divorced after two hours, would look bad for my next husband.”

“You are more committed to those shoes than you were with your last boyfriend,” Mat retorts, never the one to stop the banter first.

“He couldn’t support me like these babies can.” You point your toes and jut one foot out for emphasis, “He didn’t make my legs look this killer either.”

Mat rolled his eyes at you and laughed, a constant combination in your friendship that had become one of the most crucial in your life this past year. You’d met him towards the beginning of the year, and you got along instantly due to your identical senses of humor. Your friendship solidified with his willingness to try practically every restaurant in New York City with you and the fact that you always let him be the DJ whenever you were together. You tried to go through the timeline of your friendship, trying to find the moment something shifted and he stopped being your friend Mat and started being the reason you said no to dates with other guys when they approached you and why you refused to let any of you other friends set you up with anyone. You glanced over at the clock to distract yourself from your thoughts, 11:50pm. Ten minutes to midnight.

“Hey, I was just thinking about the day we met,” Mat told you, a smile on his face carrying over to yours as you remembered the first time you met him.

Ten.

- Months ago, you were at a party pretty similar to this where everyone was a little less dressed up and the alcohol was a lot worse. You were standing with two of your friends, debating on if you wanted to stay longer or head out to the bars when a ping pong ball landed in your cup.

“Hey! My buddy needs a partner for pong. Can you play? Doesn’t matter if you’re shit; he’s probably worse.”

You shrugged, said, “Why not?” and stepped up to the table next to him. You set your cup down on the table and turned to your new partner for the evening, “If I have to carry this team, now’s the time to let me know that you’re dead weight.”

His face was a little taken aback for a second, but then a wide smile formed across his face. He nodded softly.

“I like you,” he said. “You’re right, I am totally about to be dead weight. My name’s Mat by the way.”

You introduced yourself to him and proceeded to win the next two rounds of beer pong with Mat making three cups the entire time. You made fun of his accent. He pretended to be upset that you got away with breaking the elbows rule because you had boobs and they distracted Tito, but the distraction was to his advantage so he said he’d let the rule breaking slide as long as you promised to be his pong partner for the night. You agreed to take him on as charity case for the night if he tried a Thai-Greek fusion brunch with you tomorrow morning that none of your other friends we’re willing to go it. He took the deal and your friendship began.

Nine.

“– seasons of How I Met Your Mother? Jesus, is this even going to be worth it?” Mat complained

“Get the popcorn, sit down, and shut up,” you told him. “I cannot believe you haven’t seen this before. It’s a classic.

“Friends is a classic,” he sighs as he sits down on the couch, dropping the popcorn bowl between you. “This is a cheap imitation. Besides, I thought you would hate this. Isn’t Barney like very anti your whole super feminist thing or something and doesn’t Ted just suck?”

“If you don’t realize you have to take everything in this world with a grain of salt yet, then you are beyond help, Barzy.”

You binged it in under three weeks. While you’d lived the last episode premiering live with your family, you didn’t think you’d ever seen anyone as pissed off at the ending of the show than Mat was. Your sides hurt from laughing so much at his insane ranting about how they could have possibly done that to him, with all of the time he invested in this show. He took it personally and swore he’d never watch another episode again. You still couldn’t bring it up without making him start a whole diatribe. It was your party trick together even though Mat wasn’t quite in on the joke.

Eight.

- Days in Spain in June. Mat insisted on you joining him on his post season tour of Europe. By tour he meant never leaving Spain but going on a lot of wine tours and pretending he knew a lot about wine even though he couldn’t tell the difference between a three-hundred-dollar bottle of age merlot and a bottle of Barefoot if his life depended on it.

“Oh, isn’t this a fabulous red vintage?” Mat said to you, doing an impossibly bad British accent in an attempt to sound fancy. “I can taste floral,” he sipped the wine again, smacking his tongue against his lips loudly, “and citrus notes in this one. You’ll quite like it, madam.”

“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” you sang softly to him as you noticed the daggers he was getting from your tour guide.

Mat slung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in tight to him. You could feel his muscles tense under his thin t-shirt, and your breath caught in your throat. Some part of you had known he was attractive this whole time; you’d just never been forced to pay attention until this exact moment when you were pressed up against him. You pushed the thoughts to a far corner of your mind. This was your friend Mat and you didn’t need anything more than that from him. You didn’t want it, you told yourself.

Seven.

- Seconds left on the clock. You were pretty sure you hadn’t breathed for the last 5 minutes of the game and you were gripping your seat so hard that your knuckles were starting to go numb. The Islanders were down by one going into the last two minutes against Tampa Bay. Tito had scored to create a 3-3 game with just over a minute on the clock to play. You didn’t want this to go into overtime and neither did the guys. They wanted to complete the comeback win here and now.

You watched as Mat shifted the puck side to side on the ice. You saw him glance up at the clock for a brief second, then he looked back towards the net and he saw his shot. He took it without any hesitation. You were on your feet before the puck hit the back of the net. Mat was immediately engulfed by his teammates, swallowed up in a sea of blue and orange jerseys. His games practically gave you a heart attack, but you’d never turn him down if he asked you to come and he asked you to come a lot.

“Hey there, superstar,” you said, the smile in your voice obvious as you met Mat in the tunnel after he’d finished up his interviews and changed.

“Hey there,” he laughed, giving your shoulder a little shove

You looked around as you walked out with him. He was walking you through that final shot, second by second, but you couldn’t focus on his story. You saw the girlfriends, fiancées, and wives of the other players greeting their respective partners and for a split second you let yourself imagine that with Mat. You hadn’t really thought about it before, but as soon as let that wall down and the flood gates opened, and your feelings for Mat hit you square in the stomach. You wanted to be like them, have what they have, and for a split second, you let yourself want that with him. You wanted him to look at you like the other guys looked at their girlfriends and wives.

“Um, hello?” Mat’s large hang waving in front of your face pulled you out of your moment.

“Oh, sorry. Can you start over? I got a little sidetracked.”

“You okay?” he asked, concern coating the words and his brows furrowing.

“Super-duper, superstar. Try me again.”  

Six.

“-Entrées is way too many. Look, I know you’re practically a championship level competitive eater for fun, but this feels like an exercise of your skills we don’t need to practice.”

“Two things. One, calling pancakes an entrée is a little much. It’s just pancakes,” you retorted, “and two, they serve six different kinds of pancakes here, so I’m getting six kinds of pancakes. Join me or get the hell out.”

Mat’s nose scrunched up as he laughed at your response. God, you loved his laugh. You loved it most when you were responsible for it, not the girl he met at the bar last night who was definitely responsible for the marks peeking out from under his shirt. Seeing those when he sat down made you felt like all the air had left the room. You shrugged off your thoughts as best as you could. Mat wasn’t yours to be possessive of, but that didn’t make the pit in your stomach settle either. You took a sip of your orange juice as Mat’s laughter slowed.

“God, how do I still think you’re cool even though that was super lame?” he asked you, stealing your water since his hungover self practically chugged his when he arrived

“Barzy, some things in the world are magical and they’re better left unexplored and unexplained.”

“Like all women,” he said proudly, like he’d discovered something profound.

You rolled your eyes at him. Even when he was an idiot, you still wished he was your idiot and not some girl at the bar’s idiot, but you wouldn’t risk this. This friendship was too important to you to jeopardize for your stupid middle school girl pinning. You put your feelings back in the box they’d let themselves out of just as the pancakes arrived.

Five.

“You think you’d had five drinks tonight?” Your eyebrow is arched as you look back at an incredibly hammered Barzy. You knew he had to be at least eight deep, more like ten, but instead you said, “Are you sure it’s five?”

Mat nodded profusely, looking more like his bobblehead then himself in that moment. You turned your palms up at him and shrugged a bit, giving him a look of complete disbelief. He proudly put down his beer and yanked his sleeve up to show you his wrist. On his wrist were five incredibly smudged tally marks of various lengths. He hadn’t even managed to realize you were supposed to cross the last one across the other four for every set of five, so there were just five incredibly crooked lines drawn on his wrist in Sharpie.

“See? Five tally marks, five drinks,” he told you, like you were the idiot in this situation.

You nodded in fake understanding as an incredible drunk Mat reached for you. He was significantly touchier with you when he was drunk, his large hands always finding your skin and making a series of thoughts you shouldn’t have run through your brain as your heartbeat picked up in your chest. His hands rested on your upper arms this time as he lined himself up with you, forcing you to make eye contact.

“I’m fine. Don’t you worry about ol’ Barzy here,” he slurred.

“You’re twenty-two,” you laughed. “Hardly makes you an old man, my friend. Come on, I called an Uber. Let’s go.”

You took on of his hands from your arm and held it, dragging him slowly out of the party. He had the attention span of a golden retriever puppy when he was drunk, so it was a good thing you had some practice with this and started your journey to the car ten minutes before your Uber was supposed to arrive. By the time you made it outside, it was already waiting for you. You gave him one small shove and he practically fell right into the car.

“You know,” Mat told you as the car started to roll away from the party, “you’re a really good friend, ya know.”  

You smiled at him but turned your face away quickly as you felt the tears start to sting in your eyes. Maybe it’s the few drinks you’d had yourself, but Mat calling you a good friend was definitely supposed to feel good, but all it was make your heart clench inside your chest. It confirmed everything you were feeling. You and Mat were friends, good to great friends even, but that’s how he saw you, his friend. You never wanted to be the kind of person that complained about someone not liking them back, but you finally understood where everyone else was coming from. This feeling was awful in a way you couldn’t quite describe. It was like a hand had reached into you, found the place where your feelings for Mat where, and squeezed hard, except that hand wasn’t actually all too careful to target that one spot and instead squeezed everything inside your chest until you could barely catch your breath and the tears were rolling down your cheeks. Thank god that Mat had way more than five drinks and was already asleep against the opposite window because you couldn’t keep it together the entire ride home.

Four.

“You really want four dogs at once?” The disagreement coated Mat’s voice. “That’s a lot of dogs at once. I think you need to reconsider this part of your life plan.”

“Four is a very reasonable number,” you replied, not even bothering to look up from your phone. “And this is my twenty-year plan here, Mat, not yours. You don’t get a say.”

“I’m your best friend. I deserve a say here if I think you’re going to screw up part of your life,” he countered. “You’re going to be beholden to these creatures. And you’re gonna have four of them! They’re going to need you constantly. You’re not going to have time for anything else.”

“I do plan on like, having someone around at some point,” you reminded him. “Step nine of this plan was to find that man, finally, and one of the key criteria is that is likes dogs, so he’ll help share the workload.”

“And then you really only have two dogs,” Mat mumbles under his breath as he start to nod in understanding. “Okay, okay, I concede. You’re right, four is the correct number of dogs.”

You laughed in response to his agreement, “Now I’ve just got to find a man and convince him like I convinced you.”

“Took you all of a minute to get me on board with your plan here. I’d sign up to co-parent four dogs with you. You’re gonna be a killer pet parent. I’m sure you can get some other schmuck to agree with you. He’s not going to be as hot as me though, so that’s going to be a downgrade for you right there.” You didn’t let his words sink in. You let them flow right out of your head as soon as they came in. It was for the best, you told yourself.

Three.

- Hours into your co-worker’s engagement party and you were about ready to scream. If one more platter of engagement cookies with their initials and faces came past you, you were going to explode. The only reason you’d make it this long was Mat and the fact he tipped the bartender big time when you got your first drink, so he was making you doubles and triples when he was only supposed to pour singles at the open bar.

“This sucks,” you sighed to him, taking a swig of your drink.

“This party is fucking pathetic,” he said to you. “How are people this boring before they’re thirty? I just don’t understand. If I ever get engaged to someone who wants to have cookies with our faces on them at our engagement party, please shoot me.”

“I expect you to do the same if I ever think that’s a good idea,” you laughed as your spoke.

“You know what,” Mat paused only to down the remaining third of his drink in one go, “it’s time to blow this popsicle stand.”

“Jesus, Mat, they haven’t even made a toast yet or anything. We can’t leave yet,” you tried to remind him, even though it was completely half-assed since you might have been more miserable than him.

“Oh, come on, be irresponsible. Let’s go do something actually fun,” Mat said, leaning into you as he spoke. “You’re in a killer dress. You look incredible. There’s this cool bar down the road I’ve been wanting to try, and we’re dressed for the occasion.”

You scrunched up your nose as you thought. You wanted out, but you also really didn’t want to be rude since you’d have to show up to work on Monday regardless. Mat took your drink from you as you thought, taking care of the rest of your glass with ease even though the bottom quarter was definitely straight vodka due to how slow you’d been drinking. He looked at you, his eyes softly begging for you to get the hell out of here with him. You sighed and grabbed one of his hands, making your way towards the back exit. You couldn’t see the smile on his face, but you felt his fingers slide between yours as he gave your hand an appreciative squeeze.

Two.  

- Times that you’ve almost told him how you feel in the last month. The holiday season had you feeling particularly emotional in general due to a combination of Hallmark movies and the holiday parties’ people were having were giving you a few too many opportunities to be drunk around Mat. Drunk you was a little looser lipped than sober you. Both times started and ended the same way.

“Hey, Mat, can I talk to you for a quick sec?”

You placed your hand on his shoulder as he spoke, pulling him slightly so he’d turn to face you. Each time he agreed and followed you away from the crowd, tucked away in a less traffic area of the party.

“What’s up? Are you too drunk? Do you need to head out? I can call an Uber. Or should I call a Lyft?” he asked in rapid succession.

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I, uh, I wanted to tell you something actually.”

“Okay, shoot,” he replied instantly. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Your mouth went dry as the desert and your carefully rehearsed speech dissolved in your mind. You looked at him, his eyes dark as his traced over your face, trying to figure out what could have been important enough for you to pull him away from the party. Your eyes danced across his face, his strong jawline, his kind eyes, his soft lips. You wanted him. You wanted him so badly it hurt, but the idea of losing him from your life kept your mouth shut both times.

“You know what. Actually, it’s nothing. I figured it out myself. Let’s go get another drink.”

One.

You snapped back to the current moment, pulling your head out of the past. You watched the clock turn to 11:59pm.

“Sorry, I zoned out there,” you told him.

“It’s alright. Tito dropped in when you faded off, so no hard feelings,” he laughed as he spoke, “Um, actually, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about and I guess, why not start the new year off with a bang?”

You took a deep breath in as you looked over Mat’s face curiously. He was nervous. His hands were fidgeting with his cup. He was shuffling from side to side, foot to foot, transferring his weight with each movement. He looked down at the ground, unable to meet your eyes and mumbled something you couldn’t hear. The countdown for the last twenty seconds had already started, so there was too much background noise to catch his words.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you?” You had to shout to make sure he heard you.

“I like you!” he screamed back. “Fuck that, I’m in love you with and I really, really fucking don’t want to see you kiss anyone else at ten seconds because I’m pretty sure it’ll break me at this point.”

Ten. Your mind was racing. Nine. Mat wanted to kiss you. Eight. Mat liked you like you liked him. Seven. No, Mat loved you. Six. He took a step closer to you. Five. He was so nervous, nervous he’d just ruined everything because you still hadn’t said anything. Four. Your feelings burst out from the box you’d put them in, running through your body, making your heart rate kick up in your chest. Three. Mat leaned his face closer to yours. Two. Your eyes locked with his. One. You rocked up on your toes and pressed your lips against his.

His hands found your hips, pulling you desperately closer to him, practically crushing you against his chest, but his lips were soft and gentle against yours. The room exploded into cheers around you, everyone celebrating the ball drop and the new year, but you barely noticed them, until you pulled back from Mat. His eyes scanned your face, trying to figure out exactly what you were feeling.

“I love you too, Mat.”

“Thank God,” he chuckled to himself as he leaned down to kiss you again, “and happy fucking New Year to me.”

[nomadmilk]

Big Break (Peter Parker x F!Reader) - PART 4

Summary: It’s difficult working as CEO of Stark Industries, even if it was temporary. Stress has gotten the better of you, and so has Parker’s. Together, somehow, you guys find a way to escape your busy work lives.

Total Word Count: 10838 (Split into parts).

RATING: T+

Warnings: Fluffy Spoodermam. Did I mention swearing before???

Author’s Note: Much of my attention is towards my essays and dissertations this month... And counting down to ENDGAME... Enjoy!! And thank you!!

Peter stands alone. He’s a couple of feet or so away from you, and holding something fluffy and green in his hand.

You were waiting for him to say something.

“Isn’t that the frog we were trying to get from the machine?” Your eyebrows rise, and your forehead dips a little, gesturing to the green, googly-eyed frog peeking through the grip of his hands..

Pepper’s desk toy span three times.

“Oh. Yeah. This… Is for you.” His arm locks to present the frog, the frog itself lying upside down in his palm. He strides forwards, standing on the other side of the desk, and positioning the frog directly in front of you, the right way up. “It’s, uh, just without a hat.”

You place your pen on top of some unfinished paperwork, and pull yourself closer to the desk to reach over to it. Peter’s eyes removed themselves from your leaning figure.

“How’d you get this?” You question, inspecting the fabric and the seams.

Peter didn’t want to respond. Tony must have bought the entire arcade place just to get that thing.

“And what was Tony doing here?” You pry a little more. “Is everything okay?”

Showing his hands in front of him, as if it was an appeal to prove his innocence, he rushes to sit down on cushioned chair. “Everything’s fine. And Mr Stark was here cause’- I mean, I think he had…”

He didn’t finish his sentence; lying to you wasn’t something he wanted between the two of you.

“Mr Stark actually got it.” He exhales. “I don’t know when he got it, or how. But he told me to give it to you.”

“What?” You were befuddled. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to get it and give it to you-“

“Oh, my God. Was he spying on us?”

Peter’s lips thinned straight. “I-I think he was.” His shoulders hunched unsure and tightly. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“Ugh. Peter, I’m sorry-“

“I wasn’t in trouble with Mr Stark, that’s not why he’s here. He’s just here to speak to me about…” He had a few seconds to think, sitting in the empty chair in front of you. “Something.”

“Right… As long as you’re okay.”

“Y-you wanna’ go on a date?”

“What?”

“You wanna’ go on another break?”

“Like, now?”

“You’re free for the rest of the day, aren’t you?”

“How’d you know that?” You shook your head. “And how about you? Don’t you have anything to do?”

“Yes.” Peter inched his chair forwards to you, you both hear the creaks as the legs of it scratch the floor. “I can do it later. I just want to pay you back for what you did for me yesterday. I’d like to-to, y’know, take you somewhere that I-I think you might like.”

“Are you sure?”

He sprung out of his seat, clapping and rubbing his hands together. He took hold of the computer monitor and the keyboard, and swung it so he could view it. From the corner of his peripheral, he saw you dazed as he proceeded to save and exit files, and close down windows, and log you out of the system.

His back straightens, and he folds his arms in triumph.

With no reply, you got to your feet. You took hold of a bag strap and slipped it onto one of your shoulders, picking up the frog. It sits and sinks into your bag. You can’t fully seal your handbag, so the frog lies at one end, squished a little by the pressure of the zip. You smile at him, and he returns it. And you curse yourself in doing so as it just confirmed your suspicion of a second weak spot.

“U-u-unless it’s not good for you right now.” Peter’s face shifted to worry, as if the words just generated out of thin air. “Which is fine. It’s cool. Then another time-“

Even with the heels, you still needed to use the tip of your toes for your lips to reach his cheek. He felt your hand on his arm, as you used it for support to lean into him. It was only a millisecond, and you had pulled away quickly, but there were aftershocks.

He let out a brief chuckle, but his face looked at you with disbelief.

“Lead the way.” You simper.

You walk side by side as you leave the office. As you both leave the building, Happy is already outside with the car. You guys both hop into the back, and start commenting on how the car’s leather seats never seem to get worn down or faded after years of being a chauffeur car. Then Happy overheard and eliminated all solutions with telling the both of them that Tony Stark is a trillionaire now.

“You really think he’s not gonna’ hire people to clean the car?...”

The car, windows tinted, reflected the gleam of a low sunset as it drove through New York. It was able to drive past the flat where Peter lived. Even though he slept and ate at the Avengers compound, he sees Aunt May on a regular basis to have dinner with her; the meals were never successful, and they’d end up ordering takeaway instead. You’ve never met Aunt May, and she hardly attended the compound. You saw her one time with a cake box in Peter’s lab to celebrate his birthday. Peter was nonchalant when he spoke about her to you, but you could tell they’ve been through a lot together, and you admired that familial relationship. It was nice seeing him laugh as he told stories; he didn’t talk that much usually, and he didn’t even stammer once.

The car passed Midtown High, and you both saw students still exiting the gates.

“Why are they just leaving? It’s 5pm.”

“Yeah.” Peter shrugged. “That’s only the first half of the extracurriculars.”

You were bewildered. “The first half?”

“There’s extra extracurricular afterwards.” Peter said.

The car then pulled up into a parking lot, and you both head out of the vehicle. Happy drives off, promising to return if Peter gave him a message.

Peter held his hand in yours as you both turned around a street corner. He lead you into a convenience store named ‘Delmar’s Deli-Grocery’. Peter, pushing the door open, greeted a man behind a counter, the bell’s chime was heard in two shrills by the movements.

“This place has got the best sandwiches in New York. Can’t help but get one if I ever get the chance to…” Peter then proceeded to ask you what you’d like and, once taking your order, paced to the counter where he met an old man with a handshake, which was brought in for a hug.

As you left Peter by the till to catch up, you saunter over to the aisles, looking at snacks and magazines. As you switch to another aisle, you peer over to the till again; Peter still had his back towards you, and he was still having a chat. The old man catches your glimpse, smiles and nods at you. You awkwardly smile back with a small wave.

You scan through random DVDs, and drinks, and even took a gander at the toiletries aisle just to kill a little more time.

“Uh, Y/N,” You hear Peter call you, “Grab anything you want. My treat.”

“What do you want?”

“Anything. Get some snacks.”

“What else are we doing after this?”

“We’re seeing my Aunt May.”

As you agreed and went back to the snack aisle, you miss Mr Delmar’s nudge at Peter.

You get some popcorn, chocolates and a couple of wine bottles; a Pinot Grigio for Aunt May, and Merlot for yourself. You head over to the counter and stood next to Peter, setting the items next to a couple of freshly made, toasted, sandwiches.

Peter fishes through his pockets for a couple of dollar notes and hands them to the man behind the till. “Thanks, Mr Delmar.”

“It’s not a problem, kid, it’s always nice to see your face.” Mr Delmar says, handing him some coins in change. There’s a snap beneath the counter, and he whips open a plastic bag to place the items in. “Who’s your lady friend here?”

You make eye contact with him. “I’m Y/N. I just work with Peter-“

“Ah! I thought I recognised you!” Mr Delmar exclaimed, like a light bulb had lit above his head. “You’re head of Stark Industries.”

You shrug, receiving the plastic bag, “It’s only temporary. Pepper Potts will be back to resume position.”

“You still must be a busy woman.” He points to Peter. “How have you got time for this guy?”

“Oh. Thor was busy.”

The man chuckles, as you smirk at Peter; he glares at you, with a small beam twitching on his lips.

The bell jingles as you both walk back outside to the queues of cars filling the streets, illuminated by headlights, neon store signs and changing traffic lights. The sky was a deep purple, blanketing the sky with velvet against the hubbub of people passing you and Peter on the sidewalk.

You’re pretty nervous about meeting Aunt May officially. You were glad that you were in your work clothes, so at least you felt presentable. Chatting with Peter about random topics, and munching on your warm delis is easing you. On the other hand, as you arrive at the flat, you realise that you had just been blocking all that stress. Are you sure seeing Aunt May was a good idea?... And why were you stressing out about this? It should be fine. The wine should be fine. Maybe she doesn’t drink?

You stand behind him, plastic bag of snacks and drinks held in one hand and an almost finished sandwich in the other. The hallway is empty, and at the very end is a window, showing the sky, darker than before.

The sandwich had disappeared from Peter’s hands, and some of it was on his cheek, or had fallen as crumbs on his collar. He sifts through his back pockets for the sound of a set of keys, and unlocks the door.

“Aunt May?” Peter shut the door, the keys jangling in a bowl. “Think she might be working late.”

[90sgrungewriter]

9. Untitled - Eddie Vedder

Status: Unedited

The following afternoon came very slowly. Work, as well, went by pretty slow. There weren't many customers for a Saturday morning, so you mostly just doodled your whole shift. Once one o'clock hit, you were on your way home. Eddie wouldn't be over till two, so it gave you time to change from your work clothes and make yourself look half decent.

Time went on, you dressed in a pair of dark jeans, and a dark grey long sleeve shirt. As you finished running the comb through your short hair, you heard a light knock at your door. Your heart rate sped up for a few seconds, feelings of anxiousness filled your chest. It was only Eddie, but you didn't know exactly what his intentions were. But you kept reminding yourself that, it was just Eddie. Sweet, humble, kind, Eddie.  Grasping yourself out of your daze, you made your way over to the door, and took a deep breath before opening it.

Eddie wore a loose fitting brown t-shirt, dark denim jeans and a his signature black boots. He sport a shy smile on his lips, eyes gazing into yours. You smiled and shifted over, allowing him into your home.

"How was work?" He spoke kindly, you could tell he was a bit nervous though.

"It was alright, not many customers so just doodled in my sketchbook for most of the time." You grinned sheepishly. He nodded his head.

"Well, sounds like it could be alot worse." he said, and you definitely agreed. You had some pretty wack days at work sometimes.

He took of his jacket off and set it gently on the chair, before turning to you. You gestured for him to take a seat on the couch, and he did. You sat down beside him, turning on your TV.

"I'm taking you somewhere" he spoke quietly, turning to you and you took notice of how close you were. "but not till later..." his tone was mischevious. You cocked a brow.

"You made plans without me?" You teased. He grinned and nodded.

"Where are we going then?" You continued.

"Well...you'll see. When we get there." That little bastard. But, you secretly somewhat...liked surprises, so you just quietly agreed and went on looking for a channel.

"Alrighty, then."

The two of you spent the next couple of hours goofing around, making fun of lame TV shows, you showed him you recent doodles from work that he asked to see. As time went by, you were basically in a full blown game of pictionary. Eddie had some pretty interesting drawing skills, you could definitely say. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself and it made you happy. Like he no longer felt like the new guy. He fit in well with everyone, and was drastically becoming more and more comfortable.

Once five o'clock hit, you were both laughing so hard you were in tears. His stick figures were awesome. He put his pen and paper down on the table in front of him and straightened up.

"So you gonna tell me where we're going yet?" You took a sip of the water that was on the table to your right.

Eddie turned to glance at the clock. "Nope. You'll see when we get there." He winked. You sighed, rolling your eyes.

"Alright, I'm trusting you here." You teased, getting up and cleaning up the junk.

"We can head out now though, if you want." You nodded your head, kind of excited for wherever he was taking you.

"Are you hungry? I was thinking we could grab a bite to eat, first."

"Yeah, I really am now that I think of it." You giggled, shrugging on your leather jacket.

"Good, I've got a cool place in mind." He grinned, opening the door and gesturing to you first. Such a gentleman.

"Lead the way, Vedder."

Eddie drove the way through Seattle (still using Jeff's truck), taking you to a part of the City you never really go, so wherever he was taking you, you sure as hell had no idea.

After a few more minutes of driving, he pulled the truck into a half empty parking lot of a restaurant you had never heard of before. Before you could even untie your seatbelt, Eddie was out of the car and by the passenger door, opening if for you. Your cheeks turned rosy, as you thanked him and stepped down. He smiled cutely and nodded his head.

"What is this place? I’ve ever heard of it, so how do you know about it?" You wondered, curiously.

"Uh, just heard around from some people they have a great fire oven pizzas." He laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Well, I do love me some pizza!" You thanked the heavens he hadn't taken you anywhere fancy. You weren't good with that kind of shit. Hell, he probably wasn't either.

The restaurant was actually pretty nice, not too fancy but it didn't look like anything fast food that was for sure. More of a resto-bar type atmosphere. It was pretty cool.

The host quickly sat you in a booth by a window, giving you a view of the  seattle streets. It wasn’t raining, and it wasn’t too cold either, it was a nice evening. Eddie was looking around the restaurant, as he had never actually been here before.

"Good choice, I like it." You smiled. When his eyes locked with yours, he smiled.

"I'm glad." Then, the waiter came to introduce himself and get our drinks started. Looking through the drink menu, you spoke first. For the both of you.

"Bottle of your finest Merlot, please." You put the menu back down on the table. He nodded, with a smile and stated he would be back in a few.

"You're getting to know me pretty well, huh." He twiddled his fingers, traces of a smile play on his lips.

"I guess so." You winked this time. Hah, see how you like it, Vedder.

"You could have gotten yourself a beer, you know." 

"I like my wine once in a while. What more perfect time then now?"

"I guess you're right." He grinned.

After a few more minutes, the waiter returned with a nice big green bottle of the delicious red liquid, and two glasses.

"I'll give you's a few more minutes with the menus." He said, and walked away. You hadn't even looked at the menu yet anyway, you were too caught up in how cute Eddie was looking. He looked kind of... nice? You didn't mean that in a rude way, just he wasn't dressed the way he normally would be. Instead of his usual shorts and wacky t-shirt or flannel, he wore a pair of dark denim jeans, a black t shirt and a brown blazer. His hair looked more taim than normally and you couldn't help but blush thinking about it. He wanted to look nice for this....your heart was melting. Looking up from his menu he noticed you were staring at him. He quirked an eyebrow.

"You look handsome tonight, Ed." You might as well just say whatever was on your mind at this point. You were starting to get past the awkward stage now.

"Thanks. You too." You giggled, and he shook his head laughing "I mean pretty... uh- beautiful. You look beautiful." He took a sip of his wine to probably just shut himself up and you laughed some more. You seemed to be laughing a lot with him and it made you happy. Maybe this could actually be something, someday.

"Not that you don't always look beautiful." He mumbled. You were going to be putty on the ground by the end of the night if this is how it was going to go. Before you had the chance to say anything, the waiter came back, ready to take your orders.

Eddie decided on the buffalo mozerella, tomato sauce and fresh basil, while you took a chance with the roasted seasonal mushrooms and truffle cheese. Handing him back the menus, you and Eddie talked about quite a few things, politics, music, society. It was never a dull conversation and he was a pretty smart guy. It was nice.

You were about half of the wine bottle in when the food arrived. The two of you dug in, and you had to say it was one of the best pizzas you had ever tasted. You were really having a good time with Eddie, and things were going great. You wondered where he was taking you after this though. To be honest, you would be happy doing absolutely anything as long as it was with him. After finishing your food, there was a good quarter of the bottle left. You knew by the end of it, you would start feeling a bit of the effects from the alcohol. But it defintely wouldn't get you hammered.

You two took your time, still making interesting conversation till the wine was all gone. You had been in the restaurant for almost two hours. It was neering 7 when the waiter came to hand the bill. Within no time, Eddie had his wallet out of his pocket and was paying the man his cash. You stared at him, and he knew it too. Little fucker.

"Why couldn't we split? You suck, Vedder." He opened the door of the restaurant for you and the two of you made your way to the truck.

"Haha, because I asked you on this date, not the other way around. So, its only fair I pay. Right?" You rolled your eyes, and made the annoying talking gesture with your hand. He laughed and to make you stop he grabbed your hand, bringing it back down to your side. But as he went to pull his hand away, you decided to make a bold move and lace your fingers with his. He didn't pull away, just went on, a small smile appearing for a few moments.

"Well, I guess so. Thanks for dinner, then. It was delicious." You smiled, you had reached the truck. With his free hand he opened the truck door and helped you up and in the passenger seat. You never let go until you actually needed to. He shut the door and made his way to the drivers side. You placed a hand on your full tummy, and sighed.

"I'm so full, that was really fucking good." He spoke, as he looked down to see your hand placed where it was. You laughed, and agreed with him.

"So where to now, pretty boy?" You joked as you pulled out of the parking lot and onto the quiet street.

"You'll see, my dear, all in time." He tried not to laugh, but you didn't stop yourself.

You drove for a good while, a bit less than a half hour, and we were heading to the outskirts of town. Countryside, where the hell was he taking you?

"I hope you're not going to murder me and dump my corpse out here." You joked, and he laughed.

"No, I swear its not what it looks like." He stole a glance at you before returning his eyes to the road ahead. You trusted him, so you weren't worried. It was getting dark out, and the full moon was shining bright in the sky.

You drove for about another 15 minutes before he pulled in to a parking lot for the...beach? You looked around the lot and there were no other cars. The reflection of the moon shone off the water and it was a beautiful sight. There were so many stars it was breathtaking. You had nearly forgotten how beautiful the world was when outside the city.

"The stars and the moon...holy shit. Its gorgeous." You spoke, grabbing his arm and gripping onto it.

"Well, I remembered you telling me about your love for camping when you were a kid, so I figured maybe we could relive some of those moments. Together." He smiled. You were so in awe that he actually thought all this out and it was for you. No one had ever done anything like this for you before. You really didn't know what to say. He finished parking the car and shut the engine off, turning to you.

"Well, lets go!" You both stepped out of the car, you thanked the heavens it wasn't terribly cold out, and your jacket would keep you warm.

"I got some extra layers in the back in case you get chilly." You walked over to to the back of the truck where he stood, holding a couple of sweaters and hats. You giggled and nodded, deciding to trade your jacket in for an oversized dark green hoodie. It looked familiar, but you couldn't remember which of the boys it belonged to. At this point, they all shared fucking everything anyway.

Eddie led you to a spot closer to the shore, where there was plenty of firewood. You rose an eyebrow in question.

"I came here earlier today to set some things up." He smiled shyley, his hands behind his back.

"Eddie...this is the coolest thing anyone has ever done for me. Seriously, I can't express how much of a good fucking time I’m having. Thank you." You held your gaze with his for a few moments and if he was closer to you, you probably would have kissed him right then and there.

No, that was a lie you would probably chicken out. Just then, Eddie spoke.

"Crap, I forgot the blankets in the truck. I'll be right back!" Before you could even blink he was running back to the car. You giggled and turned back to the firewood, deciding to get the fire going.

The wood was placed in a medium sized pile, and there were stacks of newspaper to the left, so grabbing your lighter from your pocket, you lit the first paper on fire, setting it underneath the wood. Then, the sound of the truck being started tore your gaze away from the fire. Eddie was driving the truck down closer, maybe he didn't want to carry all the stuff from that far away. You didn't blame him, and wondered why he didn't just do that off the bat. Silly guy. You turned back and continued your task, and the fire was slowly starting to catch. A few more papers, and you'd you golden.

When he stepped out of the truck, he no longer wore his blazer, but a thick flannel. There was your Eddie.

He started to pull the blankets out of the back and placed them on the ground, creating a comfy setting. The fire was a go, and you plopped down on the blanket. Not long after, Eddie did the same, his arms full. He had another bottle of wine, marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers, along with a few other things. Your eyes widened and you cracked up laughing.

"Oh my god, Eddie you are the absolute best! I haven't had smores in forever!" You were grinning ear to ear and he was clearly amused, big smile on his lips. He was laughing too.

"Well, lets get started then." Ed started opening the box of chocolates as you cracked open the bottle of wine and took a swig, before passing it down to him. You looked up once again at the stars and moon, the water, the fire. It was amazing, but you also enjoyed the sounds. It was so quiet, but it wasn't at the same time. You could hear the calm waves reaching the shore, the fire crackling, the bugs. No sounds of other humans and you were definitely going to enjoy the fuck out of that. Suddenly, Eddie's voice ripped you from your thoughts.

"Sticks! We need to go find some sticks to cook these with." He pointed to the two s’mores which lay on the blanket in front of him. Awe, he made you one. He was so cute.

"Well, lets go!" You stood up, and reached down with your hand. Accepting, he grabbed on and you propped him up and the two of you started to walk around to the trees. It wouldn't be too hard to find some twigs, you were sure. There were quite a few trees.

You were right, and the next thing you knew you were sitting back down on your cozy blankets. Eddie wrapped them up in tin foil, stuck the twig through them and handed you yours. You grabbed it and you both sat there, laughing and talking about everything, having a good time and roasting the s’mores. You didn't want this night to end, that was for sure.

The hours went by and you both ate a shit ton of s’mores and marshmallows, and drank even more wine. You were both feeling pretty tipsy by this point, and you were having such a good time. You really did get along with Eddie, and you were very happy to have met him. You couldn't remember the last you felt this happy. You didn't know what time it was by now, but the hours were flying by. You guessed it was pretty late, as the moon had shifted a significant amount. The fire was still going strong, as the both of you were still feeding it. You were leaning into Eddie, and his arm was wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm gently caressing your knee. The laughter died down, and a few moments of comfortable silence had past.

"Hey, Eddie..?" You spoke quietly, not taking your gaze away from the stars above. From the corner of your eye, you see him glance down at you. His face was very very close to yours now, probably the closest it ever had been and you could feel your heart beating faster and faster with every passing second.

"Hmm?" He mumbled lazily, his voice deep.

"If you're drunk... and I'm drunk..." You trailed slowly, while Eddie was still looking at you, a small, lazy smile on his lips.

"Mhmm..." He mumbled once more.

"How to we get home tonight?" He chuckled loudly, and so did you.

"I don't think I thought of that..."He giggled, and looked away laughing quietly, "maybe we could call Jeff and he'll pick us up." He looked back down at you once again.

"Mhm, or..."You spoke, shifting, wanting to get closer but that probably wasn't possible, as you were as close as you could probably get.

"Or...?" Eddie teased, wanting to hear your offer.

"We could camp out in the truck." You grinned evily.

"Hm...that would be awesome." He started to play with your fingers, and it was so cute.

"It would be...lets do it!." You drunkenly lifted up the bottle of wine, taking your final sip, before passing it to Eddie so he could have the last of it. He took the last swig and set the bottle down to the side as best he could. The fire was keeping the both of your warm, but you wondered what time it actually was. So, grabbing Eddie's wrist, you tried to read the numbers in the dark. It read 1:34 AM. Holy shit, time had passed so quickly.

"We should set up the van, we'll probably need to move a few things around." You spoke, and reluctantly (and quite sloppily) tore yourself away from him. You stood straight, and he stoodup after you, nearly falling over. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his torso to help keep him steady. Well, and you just really wanted to be close to him again. His hands found yours and he set them ontop as if to hold them in place. If your face wasn't flushed enough from the wine it definitely was now.

You both made your way over to the truck, opening the back doors. There wasn't too much stuff at least, just a few pieces of musical equipment that we could easily just move to the front. Hopping inside, the two of you tried your best to move the shit around and not fall over, he almost did a few times and you were laughing pretty hard.

Once everything was finished, the fire was starting to burn out. It was a little after two now, and you were in the processing of transfering the blankets into the truck. Eddie piled them up and layed them nicely on the floor of the truck (or tried to anyway). You pulled out your pack of smokes, and shot him one, before lighting it. Eddie had a lighter in his own pocket, and he thanked you with a goofy smile from inside the truck. A few minutes later, the fire was burnt out completely, and it grew more quiet. There were some signs of wildlife and bugs, but nothing out of the of the ordinary.

Finishing up your smoke, Ed came and stood next to you. You smiled up at him before returning your gaze to the stars above.

"I could observe them for hours." your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know how you feel."  There was something about his tone that made it not sound like he was talking about the stars. He was looking at you, once again.

"Come on, we should crash." You gently grabbed his arm and rested your head on him as you made your ways to the truck. He helped you inside and you layed down in the surprisingly cozy blankets. It was as comfortable as it could be, and you were pretty drunk so you didn't really care. Eddie was here, thats all that mattered. He stepped in, closing the doors behind him. The lights dimmed and went out in the truck, and you felt Eddie plop down next to you when he let out a litte yelp.

"Fuck, forgot there were no pillows." You burst out laughing, and soon, he was laughing with you. You noticed after a few moments that he wasn't very close to you. Maybe he was nervous? Maybe he didn't want you to think he was being too pushy or weird? Either way, you were too drunk to care at this point. You moved your body closer to his and warmed up next to him. He slowly gripped you in his arms and you truly felt at home with him. Before you knew it, you were both snoring away.

[firstjustgoin]

Good Advice, Deaf Ears

5. Start with a good piece of advice no one in the rest of the story will ever follow.

My mother was a useless woman, always one lost hairpin or burnt dish of cornbread away from unraveling. I loved her only out of necessity because when you are eight years old you would love a piece of driftwood if someone told you that you were supposed to. Come to think of it, there was nothing much different between my mother and a piece of driftwood –– the woman could tread water for years longer than anyone thought she should, but damned if anyone could track her direction.

My grandmother, on the other hand, was a woman of substance. She loved the weight of words and she held onto them with fervor in moments that no one else in her life could withstand her grasp. Her house stood as a testament to the weight of words, layered like newspaper papier-mâché on every surface.

A wooden sign nailed to the wall next to the front door read, Do what makes you happy. Be with those who make you smile. Laugh as much as you breathe. Love as long as you live.

A crocheted throw pillow that slept next to her for sixty-five years reminded her to Live where your feet are.

A framed photo lived next to her cutting board that I saw every Thanksgiving told her to Do small things with great love.

The words did not just live plastered to her house but within her person. Every weekend I could get up to her house, I sat with grandma on her tattered patchwork couch sipping lukewarm earl grey as she doled out the advice as heartily as she doled out her homemade brownies. Neither could I keep in my system for longer than a few days, but she loved to give it anyways.

“Remember, Fran, life’s going to give you dozens of reasons to trust nobody, to think that your love is a burden. But don’t believe it. Never be too proud to love somebody, to ask for the things you need from the people you love.”

“I won’t, Grandma, I promise.” She reached her hands to cover mine –– every time the movement a little shakier, every time the grasp a little lighter.

I promised Grandma a lot of things, all the way up until the day she died. I wanted to live up to the advice she proffered, to become something more than just the useless offspring of a useless procreator. But maybe, as the embroidered magnet that stuck to Grandma’s refrigerator said, Only He can judge.

I went through a lot of bad living situations after I moved away from grandma: old, drafty houses with seven roommates and spiders that scuttled through the rooms as soon as the lights were turned off; cramped walk-ups with two people to a room and strange clumps of hair stuck to every drain and every cushion; tiny studio apartments with vindictive girlfriends and cruel boyfriends who always would stumble upon perfect excuses to leave me and take our shared goldfish or gerbil with them to their next live-in love affair; suburban split-levels with laminated posters in every common space that whined dirty a dish, clean a dish, for a happier home we wish. I snuck out of apartments and leases in the middle of the night sometimes to escape whatever toxic living environment I had found myself in at that time, only to land somewhere else disturbingly familiar.

Jean was my first roommate after Shiobhan ran out on me (and took my bunny Calvin) and I loved her for it. We lived together in a third floor apartment squeezed between two towering glass developments, with a tiny kitchen really only good for cooking quesadillas and a window seat that looked out on the intersection between the two busiest streets in town. Though the constant honking seeped through the cracks in the windows and floorboards, that space always felt sacred, ignited by something even calmer than a meditation room.

Jean worked in bakery back then, waking up before dawn to knead sourdoughs and thread pie crusts and coming home mid-afternoon, as the sun would begin to set, covered in flour and oil and blackberry jam. She was always baker-slash whatever creative whirlwind was visiting her in her dreams that month.

She was an acrylic painter –– when she would stay up late into the night sipping merlots, staining the floors with red wine and dark, muted paints, painting my portrait again and again but with light bulbs for eyes or salamanders crawling along in the background.

She was a henna artist –– when she would invite friends of friends of friends over to the apartment and decorate their arms and ankles and necks in long black snakes after I had scrubbed off the ink and been painted again one too many times.

She was a spoken word poet –– a weary period where she would drag me to whatever hip neighborhood bar or coffee shop was putting on that week’s open mic night. I never told her was I really thought of most spoken word artists –– how I hated the way the timbre of their voices rose and fell dramatically to convey mundane points, the way they paused for so many excruciating seconds to pull in an audience only to disappoint them with a string of gobbledygook. Lucky for me, she hung up her ironic scarf and poetry passions after just a couple months.

The glass blowing phase was my favorite, after she slept with a guy who owned a studio in the town over. Glass blowing made Jean feel calm and powerful, like she could dominate any element with a precision that yielded such beauty. After a few weeks, her creations grew from palm-sized glass beads with pockets of air burping on the edges to mosaic circles and kaleidoscopic pinwheels. I arranged the bowls and vases on every windowsill so when the sun peaked through the windows, the whole room would dance in blues, oranges, and pinks.

Then there were times when Jean was not visited by any colorful dreams, no spirit pushing her to make, make, make. Those were seasons when I would find the browning apple cores and half-empty bottles of gin growing on the kitchen counter and know that Jean was alone in a place that only I could reach her.

Despite the gray quiet that settled over the apartment during those times, it was then that I found my greatest sense of peace. While I loved Jean and all of her frenetic bursts of creation, I also feared I would never be taken by such a manic energy, never whispered so deep in my unconscious to be anything more than I already was.

“Shut up,” Jean would say, pushing me against the shoulder, “You’re mad brilliant. Something’s gonna come up and it’s gonna hit you like bam, you’re not even gonna know where it’s come from, it’s just be there and you’ll feel it and then you’ll know, ya know?”

I smiled and nodded and said, “I know, I know,” but I didn’t know and I still don’t whether or not anything brilliant is ever going to come from me.

But those hushed moments in our apartment were the only times when I felt like fully myself, no longer giving parts of myself away to whatever brilliance possessed her at the moment. I could float from room to room with my shoulders pushed back, a sense of urgency to my steps. At the grocery store, I looked each passerby square in the eyes and smiled slightly, the smile of a woman who knew that she was needed and she was loved and wanted everyone in the world to know it.

I conjured up my grandmother in these moments, with her unremitting well of advice. I sopped up her warm solemnity, the slight squint of her eyes, the light nod of her chin. This was thirty years of training by being her granddaughter, the one who always listened, never the daughter who couldn’t keep her feet on the same ground long enough to try.

I would knock on Jean’s door and push it open to find her curled up against the wall, her fingers fluttering along the bedspread needing to be put to work.

“Hey,” I would whisper, just loudly enough for her head to jerk in my direction. “I’m here if you need me.” Without waiting for her response, I would lie down beside her, wrapping my arms around her thinning middle and squeeze; this was a long-held maternal inheritance in my family –– the pressuring, the centering, the gut-quieting –– even my mother, in her few moments of presence, knew that this was the only way to pull me back into the world again when I felt so far away.

“It’s going to come back, Jean, I know it will. I know it doesn’t feel like it now and that’s all normal, that’s good, save some brilliance for the rest of us, okay?” I would chuckle a bit and wait for her cheeks to pink up to show that life was still kicking around in her. “The real brilliance is in the struggle anyways, right? Beauty through pain, that’s what makes real art.”

Beauty through pain, that was our mantra in those days. She would tell me that my beauty came from being from having to be my own mom so much of the time and I would remind her in these moments when I could try to be her mom too.

These riven moments always passed, they had to; Jean’s creative force was too tsunamic to be kept at bay for long, the wind always broke through whatever shutters she had built up. And when she did spring back to life, I would slink back into the shadows, sliding sluggishly through the hallway, averting eye contact as I hunted down discounted noodles and red sauce.