#got to go to the museum in the city Twice......................! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rubysunnday · 8 months

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take my hand

summary: as much as y/n appreciates anthony's matchmaking efforts, it's hard to accept them when he's the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

a/n: 4.4k of pure angst/fluff and, yes, smut

Promenading was probably one of the most pointless endeavours the ton insisted on participating in. Miss Y/N Moore loved going on walks around the city. But when she was surrounded by the ton and their watching eyes and gossiping mouths, it was hard to enjoy anything.

"Stop glowering," her mother hissed, elbowing her in the side. "Smile."

Y/N sighed. But she raised her chin and smiled politely as they walked past the Featherington family.

There was only one reason why her mother had forced her out of the house: the Earl of Newburgh.

He'd been courting Y/N since the second week of the season. They'd danced together at almost every ball, gone to museum visits together and he'd had dinner at her house. Twice.

They were practically engaged in the eyes of the ton.

Yet Y/N wasn't happy. She liked the earl, there was nothing wrong with him. He was a lovely man. But there was no spark between them. Their relationship just felt like a good friendship.

She had never confessed it to her mother, however. If she did, Y/N was certain her mother would swoon.

"I do not see the earl anywhere," her mother muttered, rising up on to her tiptoes.

Y/N tugged on her arm and forced her back down. "He might not be here yet, mama."

"He did invite you to promenade with him, yes?"

"Yes -"

"Then why is he not here?"

Y/N kept quiet. Sometimes, when her mother got annoyed, she talked to herself, grumbling about anything and everything. It was easier to let her talk aloud and not acknowledge anything - otherwise they'd end up in a fight and Y/N knew how they always ended.

As her mother kept rattling on, Y/N gazed across the crowd gathered down by the lake. There were awnings pitched up along the edge of the clearing, providing shade to the families sitting under them. It was a beautiful day and the lake had numerous boats upon it, gently gliding over the water.

Y/N's roving gaze moved past and then came back to an awning nearest the lake. It, and the carriage, were both light blue. The carriage door boasted the Bridgerton family crest and Y/N's heart stuttered.

It was as if he knew she was looking.

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton looked up. He was sat on a blanket, his youngest sister Hyacinth sat by him, tucked into his side. They were making a daisy chain together. It snaked down Anthony's legs, growing longer as Hyacinth added to it.

It was as if the world stopped for a moment, blurring everything out except Anthony.

"Y/N, darling!"

Y/N jumped slightly. She turned and saw the Earl of Newburgh walking towards her, her mother practically hanging off his arm.

"I found him!"

Y/N tried not to cringe. She kept her composure and smiled at the earl, curtseying as he approached. "My Lord."

"Would you care to promenade with me, Miss Moore?" He asked, smiling at her as he offered her his arm.

"I would love to," she replied, threading her arm through his.

Her mother giggled. Giggled. Y/N tried not to sigh but her composure must've slipped as the Earl patted her hand sympathetically.

They walked down the grass, past the families and toward the water. Y/N could feel guilt eating at her every time she glanced at the earl. She didn't want to inconvience him or hurt his feelings. But she also didn't want to trap him in a marriage that was one sided.

"Miss Moore -"

"My lord -"

They both stopped abruptly, hearing the other speak. The earl laughed, shaking his head.

"Please, go first, Miss Moore."

Y/N sighed. "My lord, I apologise but I... I would rather we remain friends than take this any further. I value you and our friendship," she added quickly, "but I just do not feel any..."

"Spark?"

Y/N smiled and nodded. "I know I am running out of time," she said quietly. "And any other woman would accept your suit and gladly become a countess. But I yearn for a love match, as foolish as that might seem. I want what so many of the ton have and I am not quite ready to give up on that idea yet."

"I do not think you should either," the earl replied. He took her hand in his. "We all deserve a chance at true love, Miss Moore. I can only hope you find it."

"As do I, my lord." She curtseyed. "I hope to see you around."

It was as if her mother knew what had just happened. As the earl walked away, Y/N turned, glancing over at her. She could see the fury on her face even from this far away. Y/N swallowed as she began to walk back to her mother, bracing herself for the fallout.

"Miss Moore!"

She stilled. The voice as achingly familiar. She could smell him and it filled her with a weird warmth.

Y/N turned. Anthony Bridgerton was standing there, hands clasped behind his back, wearing a dark blue jacket.

"Lord Bridgerton," Y/N said, curtseying.

Anthony smiled. "I was Anthony last week," he said, moving closer.

"My mother is watching," Y/N replied softly. She risked a glance over her shoulder. "I just ended things with the Earl of Newburgh."

"Why?"

Y/N turned back to face him. She shrugged. "There was no spark."

Anthony nodded once. He glanced over her shoulder. "Well, would you like to come out onto the lake with me?" He asked, extending his hand out. "To escape your mother for a moment?"

Y/N looked at his bare hand. Slowly, she placed her own bare hand in his, letting him guide her hand to the crook of his elbow. She could feel the warmth of his body even through the dark blue wool of his jacket.

They began to walk towards the dock set up on the edge of the lake. The sun emerged from behind the clouds, sparkling off the water for a moment before disappearing again.

Anthony held her hand as she stepped into the boat. He kept her steady as it rocked, not letting go until she did. Y/N sat down on the chair built into the boat. Anthony sat down opposite her, grabbing the oars.

One of the workers untied them from the dock and gave them a gentle push out onto the lake. Anthony began to row, the oars splashing in and out of the water. Y/N sighed, relaxing back against the cushions, grateful to have escaped her mother's wrath for a moment.

Anthony was quiet for a while. He rowed them away from the dock, weaving through the other boats on the lake.

"What made you deny the earl?" Anthony asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

Y/N exhaled softly, letting her hand trail through the water. "There was no spark," she replied. "I felt nothing but friendship towards him."

"What is it you look for?"

"A love match," Y/N replied, taking her hand out the water and shaking the droplets off. "Despite how foolish it may seem, I yearn for a love match. One that matches the stories I read when I was younger. Whilst I know it will probably never happen, younger me isn't quite ready to give up on the idea yet."

"I do not think it foolish," Anthony said softly. He slowed the oars, holding them loosely in his hands. "Nor do I think you should give up on it."

Y/N found his gaze. The intensity of it almost took her breath away.

"I must admit, however, that I do not think the earl would have made a good match."

His words snatched her out of her dream. Y/N stared at him, affronted.

"Whatever does that mean?" She asked.

"Well, he lives in Scotland -"

"Do you have some personal vendetta against Scotland?"

"Other than the bagpies and the tartan and the constant rain?"

"Anthony, have you ever been to Scotland in your life?"

"Colin has."

Y/N sighed. "Your brother does not count." She paused. "Is Scotland the only reason?"

"Oh, I have a whole list."

"Oh for goodness sake."

Y/N knew Anthony had a soft spot for her. They'd been friends since she'd come out two years previously. He'd been a desired match despite his whining about not wanting a wife. Her mother had forced them to dance together numerous times and soon a friendship had formed.

Even if that friendship sometimes comprised of a very judgy viscount who seemed to make who Y/N was courting his business.

"Anthony, when will you realise that you cannot control who I court?" Y/N asked softly.

Anthony began rowing them back to the dock. "I do not claim to try to."

"But you do."

"If you want me to stop, you need only ask."

"Anthony, that's not what..." Y/N sighed heavily. "I do not get a lot of choice in this world, please stop trying to control the one thing I do get to choose."

"I was not aware I was," Anthony replied, brow furrowing.

Y/N didn't want to say it. But she knew she had to.

"Well, you are," she replied gently. "I appreciate the concern but... I do not have long left to find my true love. And you, Viscount Bridgerton, are not helping things."

She knew it was a low blow. All Anthony wanted to do was protect her. But he kept scaring off countless suitors - sometimes before Y/N could even speak to them. It was a miracle the earl had managed to bypass Anthony at all.

The boat hit the dock. Y/N looked at Anthony and could see the muscles in his jaw clenching. He cleared his throat and stood up, pulling his jacket down.

Anthony climbed out the boat and crouched down, tying the rope back to the dock. He said nothing. Y/N hated the silence. She'd upset him, she knew that.

But she could not allow him to keep matchmaking for her when the only one she wanted was him. It hurt to see him try to marry her off to another man. All she wanted to do was be with him.

She'd denied it for months. The feelings that had begun to blossom inside her. They had become uncontrollable now, taking over her entire being whenever she saw him.

She was in love with Anthony Bridgerton.

The man who was against love, against marriage, against happy ever afters. He had made his intentions clear and Y/N knew he was not going to back down on them for her.

Her heart belonged to him and he didn't even know it.

Anthony held out his hand to her. "Miss Moore."

"Lord Bridgerton." She placed her hand in his.

Y/N stepped out of the boat and onto the dock. As she did so, she glanced down at their hands, fingers still holding on to one another.

Neither one of them wanted to let go. Even as the seconds ticked by. Anthony ran his thumb along her knuckles, hovering over the ring she wore on her middle finger.

Then, as if struck by lighting, they pulled apart. Y/N and Anthony both took a step back together, not realising another couple were directly behind them.

There was a yelp of surprise. It was a tangle of limbs and ropes and suddenly, Y/N found herself hitting the water. For a moment, she was blinded, but then she found her way upright and surfaced.

She turned her head, catching the splash as Anthony awkwardly surfaced from the depths of the lake, arms wheeling. The other man they'd knocked into the water was glowering at them but Y/N didn't care.

In fact, she was finding the entire situation highly amusing.

A crowd had gathered at the edge of the dock, her mother among them. Anthony was angrily shedding his jacket and cravat, slinging them into the water.

Y/N made the mistake of looking over.

His white shirt was near see through thanks to the water. It clung to his torso, highlighting the muscles and giving her a near clear view of everything.

Her cheeks began to burn and Y/N turned away quickly.

"Anthony, are you okay?"

Y/N looked up at the dock. Daphne Bridgerton, Anthony's sister, was stood at the edge, looking down at them, his brother Benedict next to them.

Benedict looked as amused as Y/N did at the whole situation.

"No," he grunted. "This idiot decided to tie his boat where there was no space!"

"You walked into me, my lord!"

Y/N rolled her eyes as the two man began to bicker. She half swam, half waded away back to the dock. The crowd moved back as she put her hands on the edge and pushed herself up onto it, gratefully accepting Benedict's help as he pulled her back onto dry land.

She knew she looked a mess. Her dress was covered in grime from the lake and there was a stray twig stuck in her hair. Yet she didn't seem to care.

Y/N shook her head, pulling the twig out. She looked up as Benedict straightened, giving her a smile. He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet

Y/N watched as Benedict crouched back down and offered a hand to his brother. Anthony slapped it aside, glowering at Benedict as he laughed at his brother's misfortune.

Anthony clambered back up onto the dock and snatched a towel from one of the workers hovering hesitantly nearby. He marched off, giving Y/N a tilt of the head as he passed by.

Y/N watched him leave. A shiver danced through her body and she wrapped her arms around herself. A warm jacket landed around her shoulders.

"So you have a reason to come by," Benedict whispered in her ear as he stepped back.

Y/N smiled up at him, pulling the jacket tight around her.

She knocked on the front door of Bridgerton house, Benedict's freshly laundered jacket in her hand. It wasn't long before the butler opened the door and ushered her inside, taking her calling card.

Y/N waited in the foyer for a moment, admiring the paintings and the walls. Then, the butler appeared again and guided her up the stairs to the drawing room.

"Y/N!"

She'd barely taken one step inside the room before Hyacinth came barreling at her, wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Hyacinth," Violet admonished, hurrying over. "Please do not ambush Miss Moore."

Hyacinth beamed up at Y/N before skipping away, back to her marbles.

"Miss Moore - Y/N," Violet corrected, seeing Y/N open her mouth to do so, "what do we owe the pleasure?"

Y/N held up the jacket. "I believe this is your son's." She paused. "The artistic one."

Violet chuckled, taking the jacket from Y/N. "Thank you," she replied. "I do apologise for what -"

"Oh, it was not anyone's fault," Y/N said, shrugging. "A funny accident was all it was."

Violet sighed. "I wish Anthony saw it that way. He is still rather angry at being pushed into the lake."

Y/N knew that, whilst he probably was angry at that, it wasn't the only thing. Yet, she did not say so aloud.

"I apologise for the lack of people here," Violet continued. "All of them are out. Bar Anthony, he's in his office."

"Not to worry, I only came to drop the jacket off," Y/N replied. She paused, hesitating to ask her next question.

"What is it, Y/N?" Violet asked, her mother's instinct isntantly reading the heistation on Y/N's face.

"I may have said some things to your son that upset him," she admitted softly. "I should not have done so but..." She sighed. "I cannot explain it myself, to be honest."

Violet nodded, eyes full of understanding. "You do not need to. Your relationship with Anthony is a special one. I do hope that this does not ruin it." Violet smiled. "I always think it best to be honest with someone, Y/N. Even if it's scary. It almost always helps things."

Y/N nodded. "Thank you."

As she turned to go, Violet called her name, halting her.

"His office is behind the stairs," Violet said.

Y/N smiled at the older woman. She turned and made her way down the stairs. As she got to the bottom, she turned to the right instead of heading for the front door.

It was easy to spot Anthony's office. The door was slightly ajar and she could see his jacket, abandoned on a chair by the fireplace.

Y/N knocked gently on the door.

"Just a moment, Hy," Anthony called.

Y/N stepped in, peering round the door, holding on to the edge. "Should I be flattered that you assumed I was Hyacinth?"

Anthony looked up sharply, his quill scratching along the parchment in one, thick, ink heavy line. "Miss Moore."

"I believe it was Y/N the other day," she replied, throwing his own words back at him, hoping to lighten the tension.

It didn't work.

"Why are you here?" Anthony asked, gripping his quill tightly.

"I came to return Benedict's jacket," she replied.

His reaction was obvious, despite how hard he tried to hide it. His shoulders slumped and his demeanour changed.

"Ah," Anthony replied, turning back to his papers. "Did you get lost?"

"I came to see you as well," Y/N replied. She was still hiding behind the door. "But only if you'll hear me out."

"I might."

"And if you stop being so rude."

At that, Anthony looked up again. He stood up, pushing back his chair. "What do you want, Y/N?" He asked, walking over to a cabinet and opening the doors.

"To apologise for what I said," Y/N replied, edging further into the room. "I was stressed amongst many other things and I took it out on you. Of course I value your opinion and I appreciate your assistance."

"You did not seem to the other day."

"Well, I was having conflicting feelings."

Anthony scoffed. Y/N watched him pour out a glass of whiskey and drink it in one.

Y/N sighed softly. She walked further into the room, pushing the door shut behind her. "The truth is, Anthony, that... as much as I appreciate your matchmaking skills and your assistance with this whole thing I..." Y/N trailed off.

She could still change her mind. She could still lie to him, claim innocence.

But she didn't want to.

Now was her chance to tell him. To let it all out. It would hurt. The denial would sting. But she would get over it. And then maybe, she could find another match.

"I cannot have the man I love trying to marry me off to other men when the only one I want is him."

Anthony's glass clinked against the bottle he was holding. He went very still, frozen mid-pour. Y/N let the confession settle, the silence grow. She moved closer to him, the heels of her shoes against the wooden floor the loudest sound she'd ever heard.

"I can’t get you out of my head," she admitted softly. "You haunt my dreams at night and in the day. I find myself searching for you where ever I go, yearning just to hear your voice, to feel your hand in mine… your lips against my skin.

"You torment my very being. Whenever I see you, whenever I hear you there’s a spark inside me that demands to be let out. A spark that doesn’t exist with anyone but you, Anthony."

Anthony set the bottle down and turned to face her. Y/N didn't know how she expected him to react but the tears brimming in his eyes was not high on the list.

"I know that this might not be what you wish to happen," she added quickly, stepping even closer, "and if that is the case, I will walk away right now and forget this ever happened." She paused, breathing deeply. "But I think there is something, deep down inside, that yearns for this too."

That god awful silence fell again. The clock chimed from the mantle place, indicating that it was inching close to six o'clock. Anthony stared at her. Y/N stared at him. She let her fingers grip her skirt tightly.

"I will admit," Anthony said softly, his voice hoarse, "that I have felt something too. For a long time I have denied it." He swallowed. "I loved my father deeply and his loss aches even today. I fear to love anyone else as much or to allow anyone to love me as much because I do not wish to inflict that ache on anyone else.

"But what I have discovered since meeting you, Y/N Moore, is that the ache means that the love was so great, it cannot be put into words. We know what happens in the end, yet we love anyway. It has taken me a long time to accept that. To accept that falling in love will only mean more pain, more heart ache. But for you, I am willing to accept that. For you, I am willing to love again."

Y/N couldn't breathe. At some point during Anthony's confession, her breath had been stolen away by his words.

Here they were, baring their open and broken souls to one another. It shouldn't have felt this good. It shouldn't have brought her the relief it was.

Anthony stepped closer. Y/N followed his gaze, never breaking away. He lowered his lips to hers. It was slow and delicate yet the desire was there, the need for more was there. He pressed hard, pushing her lips apart slightly, wanting even more.

Then, they broke apart. Anthony took a step back. Y/N looked at him, breathing heavily. Anthony looked at her, his dark eyes burning into her soul.

There was a moment of stillness. A moment of calm.

Then Anthony surged forward, as did Y/N. They collide. His hands wrapped around her waist as he captured her lips again. They were desperate to devour one another, to know each others bodies, to feel one another after denying their feelings for so long.

Anthony lifted Y/N up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, never once breaking their kiss. He walked back and sat her on the desk, knocking over trinkets and piles of papers. His hands were frantic, desperately undoing the hooks at the back of her dress as she undid his waistcoat.

Desire coursed through them. The need to hold one another overwhelming them both. Y/N's dress fell down from her shoulders and ended up on the floor, forgotten.

As Anthony stepped back, Y/N jumped off the desk and pulled Anthony forward by his cravat. She smiled, licking her swollen lips as she pushed him down until he was kneeling in front of her.

Anthony chuckled, his hands reaching up and pulling down her stockings from around her thighs. Her drawers followed next. Anthony's hands danced over her hips and upper thighs as he guided the material down.

Y/N's hands caressed his face and combed through his hair with her fingers as he undressed her and Anthony tried not to moan in delight. He paused as her hands came around his throat, undoing the cravat and then drifting down to his shirt.

Teasingly, Y/N pulled the edge up, letting her nail lightly drag across his skin. A tremor went through his body, desire flaring between his legs. The shirt landed on the floor next to her dress.

Anthony paused, looking at her. “I will stop if you want me to,” he said softly.

"Please don’t.”

Anthony realised just how much he liked her begging.

Y/N lowered herself to her knees, looking Anthony in the eye. He recognised the look in her eyes and he slowly lowered himself down to the floor, the rug brushing his bare back.

She knelt over him, fingers dancing over his chest. Her hands moved down, brushing between his legs. He nearly came undone there and then. Y/N undid his trousers, sliding the fabric down his legs until they were both exposed.

Y/N lowered herself onto him, a sweetness growing between her legs as she did so. She yearned to reach down and relieve it. Instead, she straightened up, resting on top of Anthony. He tilted his head back, a groan burning in his throat. He let her warm to him, to his touch, and then he arched up slightly, encouraging her movements. Y/N moved with him, their limbs becoming one, entangling with the other.

Anthony reached the horizon of his desire, feeling it's release all over. Y/N rested a hand on his chest, breathing hard. She leant down, kissing his lips, the space behind his ear, his collarbone. She brushed her hand along the side of his face, taking in every mole, every detail.

Anthony took her face in his hands. He gently guided her up, until they were both kneeling again. Then, he pushed her backwards, letting her lower herself onto the floor. Y/N laid on the rug, looking up at Anthony, her eyes caught in his gaze. He knelt over her, his knees either side of her waist, his knee brushing her bare skin.

He smirked as slowly lowered himself downward, caressing every part of her body as he went. His hands ran over her covered breasts, hovering for a moment, before moving down to her stomach. He paused at her thighs and then, when he heard her whimper, went down further, to the sweet spot that yearned to be touched.

Y/N splayed her hands out against the rug as the sweetness between her thighs was eased by hands that knew exactly what to do and a tongue that knew just where to touch.

She didn't even hear the noises she made, so absorbed in the feeling of Anthony's fingers inside her. Her hips bucked up and he pushed them back to the floor, resting his other hand against her abdomen.

Needing something to grasp onto, Y/N reached for his hand. Anthony found it and gripped it tightly, riding with her as each surge of breath came in quick succession.

Y/N arched up, her head tilted back, exposing her throat, as she crested the wave of her release. Anthony finished off as she fell back against the rug, her skin glowing with sweat.

He laid down next to her, his hand coming to lie against her chest. He could feel her heart beating through the corset she still wore.

Neither one spoke - they didn’t need to. Y/N closed her eyes and turned her head, nestling into Anthony’s neck and breathing in deeply. His cologne was stronger there, evidently where he’d rolled it on that morning. Anthony’s thumb rubbed back and forth along her back.

In stark contrast from the hunger and desire that had gripped them moments earlier, they were both settled now. Anthony’s kiss was soft on her cheek, his hands gentle as he caressed her bare skin. Y/N found herself drawing circles on his bare back, following imaginary lines along the divot of his spine.

She sighed softly and relaxed further into his embrace, closing her eyes as she listened to Anthony’s heart beating in time with hers.

She awoke hours later. The candles had burnt down and the sky was dark outside the window. She was still in Anthony’s embrace, his hand lazily flung across her stomach, fingers on her thigh. She turned her head to look at him and he blinked at her sleepily, his hair mussed.

“I suspect I might have to marry you now,” Anthony whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I suspect you might, Lord Bridgerton” Y/N replied, smiling back. She brushed her hand through his hair. “Luckily for you, I’m all yours.”

“Lucky for me indeed,” Anthony murmured, pressing his lips to hers once more. Slowly. Deliberately.

For they had all the time in the world now.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagines #bridgerton imagines

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superums · 7 months

Text

42 songs — 42! miles morales x reader

spidey!reader. angst, no happy ending. for general audiences. (cannon) character death. reader is a but of a loser here. some fluff. reader has a (loving) mom. gender neautral reader. no pronouns. no y/n. childhood friends to crushes to enemies. jeff is a father figure to the reader

color coded text: miles. you/spidey. your mom. jeff.

inspired by: 24 songs by playboi carti

pre-spidey headcannons

crime is off the charts in this universe, every other day there's a riot, a robbery, accidental killings, purposeful killings, people on the news begging for help, bombings, and general terrorist attacks caused by mutated mad scientists and victims of freak accidents

in the daytime, you can sort of ignore the turmoil the city is in since everyone feels safer when the sun is out. At night time there's a curfew for teenagers and even some young adults because of all the crime that happens.

you feel uneasy a lot of the time because of the political climate but the crush you have on your mom's best friend's son, miles morales, makes you forget about it even if it's just a bit.

you've had a crush on him ever since you could remember; you couldn't even remember when it started.

for the longest time you wanted to confess to him but every time you tried to he would always get distracted by the pretty girls at school.

your hands were sweating as you held onto your backpack strap with two tickets for the museum. you found miles alone in a classroom putting things in his backpack.

"hey, miles." you saw him turn in your direction before smiling a bit. getting closer to where you stood a few feet in front of him you felt a little shiver go up your spine as you saw miles' big brown eyes look directly into yours.

"yeah?" his accent made your heart race a little. looking down at your shoes you began to ask. "y-yeah i was wondering if..." the sound of ruffling pom poms in the door cut you off.

"hey miles are you still coming?" michelle jones stood at the door waving at the boy with her two friends behind her. "uh... yeah im comin, my fault." miles continued getting his things together before walking past you. "can this wait? i gotta get ready for practice?" he said as he walked past you to join the three cheerleaders.

your embarrassment never left you as you watched him leave you in the dust. "yeah... my fault." you muttered to yourself as he left the class room to join the cheerleaders.

you ended up going to the museum by yourself (not wanting to waste any money), little did you know you were going to get bit by a radioactive spider at the vending machine

post spidey & cannon event headcanons

being spidey is not easy in universe 42. the crime was bad before but now it the gotten worse. during your second week of being spidey you had to fight villains that other spidermen would shiver at the green goblin, the sandman, and many more.

after 4 months you've been beaten down, almost died a few times, even almost got your secret identity exposed at least twice but you always get back up because you love your city and everything who lives in it—it's just too bad your new york doesn't feel the same about you.

The people of your new york really like jonah jameson and respect his opinion so when he talked bad about you the public opinion of spidey quickly soured.

you work with the police aka hang criminals upside down with your webs and leave a little note as you swing away when you hear the sirens coming towards you.

you struggle to balance your school life with your spidey life so you end up isolating yourself like all the spidey’s before you have. so now you only interact with miles in passing. when you do have the time to actually talk to him your spidey senses pull you in another direction

your parents worry about you a lot, at first they thought you were fine because your grades were good and you had a few friends but now you sometimes walk with a limp and sometimes your friends (miles specifically) come by to check up on you it's just too bad you're never there

every blunder you made as spidey would always met with a loud rant from jonah jameson. like when you got knocked out by rhino slamming his head into yours multiple times or when you accidentally let the green goblin blow up an entire block because you were getting pestered by protesters who were trying to rip your mask off

speaking of blunders your mom calls you sometimes when you're fighting crime because she's scared about if you're safe and you always try to calm her down but it never works because there's always screaming and explosions going on in the back

most of the time you end you hanging up abruptly because you have to stop the villain or else more people get hurt but you always make sure to face time her when you get away from the chaos so she doesn't get too scared about you

almost a year after becoming spidey you were invited to jeff’s promotional party and your mom stressed that you be there. You haven’t been able to make it to outings recently—canceling at the last minute, not showing up without a warning or leaving early without a trace, it was starting to feel like you were only someone she could talk to on the phone and never in person.

and throw in the fact that the morales family have been friends with your family for years, almost like a second home and none of them have seen you not even miles— it was starting to worry everyone.

when the morales family invited yours to jeffs promotion party your mother practically begged you to come

when you got to the party you and your mom had an argument about your latest disappearances. she brought up how your school was calling her about missing school ans how you were flaking out on her and while you tried to argue that you had more than just her to worry about, your argument immediately fell flat when she asked you ‘like what?’

after congratulating jeff on his promotion you left to sit under the water tower and watch the streets of new york. you knew you couldn't keep lying to your mom forever, she was worried about you and you just wanted to keep her safe. looking out to the city you didn't notice the foot steps coming from behind you.

“you aint gon say hi to me?” a familiar voice said from the right of you. turning your head you saw miles leaning on one of the metal rods that held the tower up. “you were busy with everyone else. i thought you’d be too busy to talk to me.”

“you coulda still came to say hey or sum’ you're like a ghost now.” miles looked down at you causing you to shake your head before looking ahead. “tuh… anyway, i heard you made the basketball team.” you changed the subject as you turned your head around, not being able to see the bashful look on his face. “”yeah it was easy.” “i bet. you're like good at everything.”

the boy looked at his feet trying not to smile when he heard your praise. “also! i noticed your new hairstyle. it's really good on you….” you messed with your fingers a little before turning back to him. “yeah?” the boy would be blushing if his melanin allowed it.

you stayed at the tower for most of the gathering. your mom even coming to get you so you could watch jeff blow out his candles. after that though you had to leave the sounds of police sirens started to go off as the sun began to set, you had to go back to your job.

cannon event & 'cannon event'

as you work to keep the city safe there's always something you can't stop and that is death. unfortunately, you can't save everyone even if you try to. believe me you tried everything but nothing could stop him slipping through your fingers

it was a cold winter when it happened, everyone getting ready for winter break the christmas lights were beginning to be put on display it was almost perfect until norman osborne broke out of jail

if was like he wouldn't go down. it didn't natter what you did—final blow after final blow the man would get back up and destroy even more buildings.

you tried your best to keep everyone safe, multitasking between saving people and knocking down the green goblin. your bones were screaming as you swung across the city, webbing buildings together, destroying rubble before it could hit the civilians below, you did all you know.

but that wasn't enough.

your web couldn't stop the tip of the daily bugle antenna from hitting him. you almost moved in slow motion; jumping off of green goblins glider to chase after the rod.

the man you've seen all your life stood still, paralyzed with fear. your webbing got sloppy after hours of fighting, your left web missed, the other right one ran out of fluid—you couldn't stop the antenna from hitting jeff.

the green goblin laughed maniacally as he flew off into the snowy sky, leaving you shivering holding the man you saw as a father figure.

"spidey...." his voice was weak, the tip of the bar was lodged into his heart, he wasn't going to make it. "i'm sorry..." your voice was weak as you held onto him, you heard his slowing heartbeat above the chaotic city.

"im sorry... i'm sorry" you sung apologies to him as you saw the life draining from his body. "spidey... i was growing to like you." jeff started, looking directly into your mask where your eyes would be. "i know i don't got much time..." he heaved once. twice. thee times.

"but please, don't lose yourself cus a' me." his blinking started to slow down. holding him tighter your couldn't handle this. "please, please stay with me. the paramedics are almost here!" your begged the man who just gave you a sad smile. "remember.... with great power comes great responsibility."

the man stopped breathing in your arms. you almost screamed into the sky if it wasn't for the sirens getting closer. "freeze spidey!" you heard them cock their guns, they were going to shoot you. "w-wait you dont understand!" you tried to explain through tears but you knew you had to go.

a gun-shot from your right made you leave before you could get a word out, a few of them hit you but not enough to be anything fatal

you ran to your house and practically tire your shit off of you. you cried for days, and didn't go to school for at-least three. your mom didn't know why you were so upset but didn't budge, seeing g how depressed you were

spidey didn't show up for a while. almost disappearing entirely besides a few sightings. though the press around the hero in the mask got worse

“Spidey? More like spider menace! look around you New York—that fraudulent freak trying to call themselves a hero is a danger to our livelihoods!” a booming voice echoed through the snowy streets of new york. “The green goblin, the lizard all of them—this is all their fault!” “spidey has brought nothing but uncertainty and harm to this city!”

news reporters seemed to go on and on about you on every channel, every jumbotron, and street corner—spidey was the topic of discussion. they're a killer, a sorry excuse for a hero. who are they? where are they?

*the sinking feeling in your stomach never disappeared as you saw miles at school. he was darker, less talkative, more angry—you cant help but think it's your fault.

you almost quit being spidey but you knew the people needed you even if they acted like they didn't. the robberies, rampaging villaians everyone needed you.

you went back to fighting crime even acter you saw the headlines on the billboards calling you a murderer, a fraud.

in less than a month a new face was making noise on the news. the press called him the prowler. he's been stealing money from museums and the daily bugle; anything he can get his hands on.

his LED mask was the only thing they got as he sped away on his bike.

the prowler began to leave messages 'bring me spidey.' and a simple spider drawing with a red X over it. he wanted you dead, and you knew he wouldn't stop until he had it.

in hindsight it was like dejavu. you're back where you started. fighting on a building in the snow.

"i've been waiting on you spidey." you bearly escaped his claws. stream came from your mouth as you jumped back from him."who are you?!" you knew you were being played with but you couldn't help it. the masked man laughed before swiping at you again.your other cuts from him stung, his claws were full of poison.

"you ruined my life." he managed to punch you, poisonous gas exploded in your face from the impact. "you got me all wrong!" you fought back, bearly noticing you began to crack his mask. "you'll pay for what you did to me." he bunched your face repeatedly.

"no!" bringing your leg up you managed to kick him in his face, knocking him back. getting on-top of him you repeatedly hit him in his face. you didn't even notice the familiar brown eyes being unveiled to you until it was too late.

you froze in place when you saw his face. miles. he knocked you off of him again, smirking, he began to laugh. "this'll be the last face you see, spidey."

"miles?" you felt like throwing up all over again, looking at the boy you've loved for almost all your life talk down to you. you were almost living the worst day of your life all over again.

#42 miles x reader #miles g morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #prowler miles x reader #atsv headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv imagines #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #spiderverse x reader #miles morales headcanons

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makethatelevenrings · 2 years

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Shovel Talk // B. Wayne x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

WARNINGS: brief discussion of sex

Summary: It was the first time Bruce Wayne was introducing his partner to the world...and his kids. His very inquisitive, highly trained, pain-in-the-ass kids.

The steady, firm press of the hand against your lower back was the only constant of the night, it seemed. You were whisked to and fro to talk to various people with a tight smile on your face and honey on your tongue. Your partner kept close to your side as he warmly informed each person that you were his. Your appearance came as a surprise to Gotham society and also to Bruce’s family. Only Stephanie greeted you with a brilliant grin and a quick hug.

“So,” Tim said to the blonde as the Wayne clan sidled up next to their friend. “What’s their story? How do you know them?”

Stephanie smirked, wolfish and sharp, and tossed back the champagne that was in her hand. “Hmmm, the great detectives don’t know something? It must be eating you up. I could put you out of your misery…”

She considered her options and then shrugged. “Or I could go bully some rich assholes. Have fun! Toodles.”

Stephanie placed her champagne flute on a table, gave a little finger wave to the gaggle of fellow vigilantes, and escaped into the crowd of people. Dick glanced at Damian, Tim at Duke, and Jason at Cass. Unspoken words flowed between the pairs and they nodded.

They would figure out who this mysterious figure hanging off of their father’s arm was by the end of the night. They were determined.

Bruce finally left your side to speak with investors, leaving you to stroll through the gala on your own. It was then that the first team decided to strike.

“Hi!” Richard Grayson appeared in front of you, one hand on Damian Wayne’s shoulder. “I’m Dick and this is Damian. You are…?”

“Y/N,” you replied smoothly. “Your father has told me plenty about you two.”

“That’s interesting because we’ve heard nothing about you,” Dick said cheerfully. “How did you and Bruce meet?”

You grinned and clasped your hands in front of you. “We met at a charity event in the East End a few months ago. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. I guess he wanted to make sure I was a good fit before he introduced me to you all. How is school going, Damian?”

“Quite well,” the youngest Wayne answered. “My art class is highly stimulating.”

“Your father told me that you liked art. Have you ever been to the art museum in the city?”

“Richard has taken me once or twice.” Damian shifted his weight on his feet.

“I don’t know much about art, though, so Little D was doing all the talking,” Dick added.

“I fear my education regarding the history and styles of art is lacking.”

You shrugged. “I took a class or two on art history in the past and I’ve got a friend at the museum who gives tours. Wanna go with me someday? We’ll make Bruce buy us ice cream and everything.”

Damian glanced up at Dick, as if searching for his brother’s approval, and then back at you. He shrugged and almost appeared shy as he responded. “That would be agreeable.”

You turned to the oldest Wayne next. “You’re welcome to join us, Dick. I hear there’s an excellent photography exhibit on Cirque du Soleil right now.”

Dick blanched and he was clearly taken off guard by your response. A shy smile flitted across his face and he lost that handsome, rakish media appearance he usually kept up. “Yeah, that would be great.”

He racked his brain for something else to say, but Dick could see that you were earnest in your attempt to bond. How many times had this family scared off a potential love interest thanks to their hypervigilant secret life? And if Bruce of all people were comfortable with you, then you had to be something special.

Dick made his decision and planted his hands on Damian’s shoulders, steering him towards the hor d'oeuvres table that his other siblings crowded around in their attempt to look inconspicuous in their snooping.

“Thank you, Y/N. I see some investors we need to talk to but have Bruce set up a day for us, okay?”

“Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

The next kid you ran into was Bruce’s favorite child…and his trouble child. Jason intercepted you at the dessert table just as you were stuffing a truffle into your mouth. You glanced up at him with a wide-eyed expression and then merely held out a truffle in a peace offering. He grunted but accepted the sweet without an argument.

“So…you’re bedding the old man.” You choked slightly at his words and coughed to clear your throat before pounding on your chest.

“I mean, yeah, but he’s not paying me if that’s what you think,” you said once you could breathe properly. “Do you ask about the sexual behavior of everyone or am I just the lucky one?”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall as he studied you carefully. “He’s not paying you? Really? How’d he get you to stay?”

“Oh, I would dump Bruce in a heartbeat. But then I would lose Alfred’s cooking and I’m not a masochist. Well, actually, I’m dating Bruce Wayne so maybe I am a masochist.”

He snorted at your comment and nodded. “Alright, that’s fair. What’s your schtick though? I mean, Bruce Wayne could have anyone he wants. Why you?”

“That’s a fair question.” You handed him another dessert, this time a mini bundt cake. “I’d like to think he keeps me around because I’m smart, invested in Gotham, and decently attractive. But between you and me?” You leaned in close so you could lower your voice and Jason took the bait, following suit and craning his neck down so he could hear your whisper.

“I know his deepest, darkest secret.” A flash of uncertainty crossed his features but you forged ahead. “The back of his left knee is the only spot on his body where he’s ticklish. He shrieks like he’s in a horror movie or something. You’re welcome.”

A wicked grin spread across his face and Jason stood up straight, his gaze clearly seeking out his adoptive father in the crowd. You patted his bicep and he darted out into the crowd with a mumbled thanks tossed in your direction. A muted shriek rose from the crowd seconds later and you hid your grin behind the glass of lemonade in your hand.

Turning to grab a final dessert, you nearly jumped a foot in the air at the sight of the girl staring at you. Cassandra raised an eyebrow at your reaction and bit down on the cupcake in her hand. You pressed a shaking hand to your chest and sucked in a long breath before flashing a smile in her direction.

“I like your shoes.”

You both glanced down at the bright purple converse on her feet and she grinned. There had been a fight with Alfred and Bruce that she won. While converse weren’t deemed “gala appropriate” or “formal”, Stephanie had gifted them to her and Cass loved them. “Thanks.”

And just like that, she melted into the crowd too.

You were chatting with Stephanie when the last two sidled up to you. Steph groaned at the sight of Tim and Duke with their shit-eating grins but you offered them a gentle smile.

“Hello boys,” you greeted. “I figured you would be showing up soon.”

“You probably know why we’re here,” Tim said, getting straight to the point. You shared a glance with Stephanie and leaned back against the wall.

“You each get three questions. Hit me with it.”

Duke perked up. “Who’s your favorite member of the Justice League?”

“Green Lantern.” Your smirk grew at the thought of Bruce’s face if he heard you say that.

“Not Batman?”

You pointed a warning finger at him. “I’ll allow that as a follow up question, but that’s the last follow up question you get. Still have two more. And no, not Batman. I might be from Gotham, but I have taste.”

“Social security number?” Tim asked. You gave him an unimpressed stare and leveled your hand up in the air before flipping your thumb down in the style of a Roman emperor deciding the fate of a gladiator.

“Try again, Timbo,” Stephanie snickered.

“Fine. Occupation.”

“Nonprofit director for a food insecurity program in Gotham. Duke?”

He considered his options for a moment and then nodded to himself. “Favorite place to eat in Gotham?”

You ignored Tim’s mutter of “this is an interrogation, Duke!” and winked at Duke. “Probably Ernie’s Burgers over on 7th. You ever try it?”

Duke grinned and raised his fist. You accepted the fist bump. “If you don’t tell Bruce, I’ll break you out of school one day and we’ll go get some burgers.”

Tim intercepted between the two of you and crossed his arms over his chest, trying and failing at looking as intimidating as Jason did. You merely raised an eyebrow at him and he deflated quickly.

“Okay, okay. Where do you currently live?”

“A studio apartment over in Otisburg. If you want, you’re welcome to stop by. I’ll try and keep your favorite snacks stocked.”

He wasn’t buying it, however. Tim was the hardest kid to crack it seemed. You looked at Duke once more and he pointed to Tim. Alright then. Two in a row.

“What is your biggest fear?”

Stephanie stiffened beside you but you accepted the question with ease. You absentmindedly played with the ring on your finger and tilted your head to the side in thought.

“Losing the people I love,” you said simply. Your gaze strayed for a moment to glance at the tall, imposing man who chatted easily with investors. Your relationship with Bruce was both new but also building for a long time. The first meeting between you two was less than ideal, but your tentative partnership and later friendship built into an undeniable attraction. And, seriously, there was a lot of denial on both parties' end.

“What are your intentions with Bruce?” Duke’s final question snapped you out of your thoughts and you couldn’t stop yourself from barking out a laugh. Stephanie dissolved into a pile of embarrassment and giggles beside you and Tim looked positively stricken.

“Am I…am I getting a shovel talk right now?” you wheezed.

“Do you need a shovel talk?” Tim asked. You shook your head and waved them off, leaning onto Stephanie for support. The blonde wiped a tear away and snickered once more.

“They don’t have a clue, do they?”

“Not one bit.”

When the night came to a close and you were seeing out the last of the guests, you found Bruce waiting for you at the base of the stairs that led to the manor. He wrapped his jacket around your shoulders as you joined him on the steps.

“Did you have a good evening?” he asked.

“Yesit was. Thank you. And the kids were darling. Damian’s an adorable sweetheart.”

His eyes narrowed at your comment and he hummed. “Yes, a regular angel.”

“You really told them nothing?”

Bruce turned you in his arms and tilted your chin up so his lips could press against yours. You tucked yourself closer to him, both savoring the body heat he offered and the rich scent of his cologne. Resting your head on his shoulder, he swayed the two of you back and forth slowly.

“They’re watching from upstairs right now, aren’t they?” you whispered.

“Mhm.” His hand traced lazy strokes up and down your back. “I’ve trained them all for years and no one caught on.”

“Think Stephanie told them yet?”

Bruce rested his chin on the top of your head and sighed. “No, we would hear it.” He drew your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the ring that sat on your finger. To some, it would appear that billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne was moving quickly. Proposing already to his mysterious partner? What would the tabloids say!

But under the moonlight and the warm lights of the manor with the eyes of all of his kids watching, the two of you knew better. The ring glinted for a moment and then, briefly, flashed blue.

You had lied to Dick. While you had met Bruce at a charity event, you had met Batman long before that on the decks of the Watchtower when Hal introduced you to the Justice League.

If there was one thing the Bat of Gotham needed, it was hope.

Tag list: @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @alexxavicry

#bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batfamily x reader #batfamily imagine #batmom imagine #batmom x reader

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crplpunkklavier · 7 months

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there is something to be said about how i really barely feel disabled anymore once i'm in a truly accessible space. because the space is no longer disabling me.

so, we went to see the @montereybayaquarium for our honeymoon. we didn't make it through the whole aquarium on our first day, so we went twice. on day 1, i came to the ticket desk with my cane and said i'd like to have a wheelchair. on day 2, i didn't bring my cane, and once again requested a wheelchair. there was absolutely no difference in the employees' reactions: i didn't have to ~look disabled~ to be immediately met with a nod, and a wheelchair that 1) was my size and 2) i was able to move myself.

this is going to seem like a list of things that clear a very low bar, and i suppose it is. but i have been to bookfairs that attempted to take my cane from me because they didn't believe me i needed it, as if cane users carry cane prescriptions around with them (NOT A THING.), and who only let up when my friends and i explained to them (not reminded. explained) that what they were doing was illegal. the cologne zoo only has visitor wheelchairs that can be pushed by a companion, not wheeled by the user themselves. the art museum needs me to bring my own. so, you see where i'm coming from.

the aquarium was fully accessible. (at least for me as an ambulatory wheelchair user - i of course can't speak for people with different disabilities.) there was no exhibit i was cut off from by stairs, because all of them either had reasonable ramps (not too steep), or elevators that were quick and roomy enough not to make me feel like i was missing out. every exhibit was at a height/level that someone sitting down could still see. some of the active touch exhibits (like getting to pet certain animals or feel kelp) were trickier, but staff always came forth unprompted to ask me (not forcibly, just ask) if i could reach everything okay, and if i couldn't, they leaned down and over to help me get where i wanted. there was a walk-through bird enclosure where a staff person followed us, and explained that the doors need to open and close somewhat quickly, so she'll just stay around us while we're there, and as soon as i'm ready to exit through the door i was to let her know. she was fully in the background while we were in there, and at no point did i feel like i was under any pressure to get out soon, or like i was inconveniencing her.

literally the only difficult thing about going through the aquarium with a wheelchair was that at the very end of the day we weren't entirely sure where to give it back. the only difficult thing about going through the monterey bay aquarium with a wheelchair was getting rid of the wheelchair!

am i just advertising the monterey bay aquarium in this post? maybe. yeah. they're good in general and i'll give them as many free ads as i want. they were just also a really good example for accessibility that made me feel like a completely normal aquarium visitor. like i wasn't disabled, because the place enabled me to visit it.

and it's on my mind now that i'm back home in germany, because yesterday i had to take a train from a station that had me crawl up 4 flights of stairs with a cane and a suitcase around crowds of people that didn't help. and it wasn't that the elevator was broken or anything. it's that plenty of train stations even in large cities like cologne simply are not accessible for anyone who can't climb stairs.

and the aquarium was a good example for how it's not just things like ramps and available wheelchairs that are necessary, but how their staff also clearly knew what they were doing. there is an etiquette to learn for people who had never worked with disability before (you will at some point!), and they'd learned it. my needs never stumped them. and i got to spend my honeymoon feeling like an easy customer and only ever weeping because i got to see the ocean.

#this was more structured in my mind but whatevs #thank u monterey bay aquarium and if i never have to go to cologne again itll still be too soon #and also thank u to my wonderful spouse whose first time it was accompanying me on a wheelchair day and who did beautifully <3

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ohbutwheresyourheart · 1 month

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I have far too many half-written things in my google docs that have never seen the light of day, so I've decided to start buffing up the best ones and posting them unfinished. Maybe I'll come back to them later, or if not at least someone will hopefully enjoy reading them as they are.

First up: fragments from a WIP based on the concept that Eva did not actually die when the twins were children; instead, she got caught in the magic field of a Geryon and sling-shotted to the middle of Devil May Cry 5. What I wrote revolved more around the aftermath, and Eva trying to come to terms with the modern world, her losses, and not knowing what happened to her sons.

The building is echoing once the buffer of trash is removed. High ceilings dissipating into shadowy un-shapes. Dark corners shifting like predators turning and twisting. It’s too like the manor in those early days before she tamed it as Sparda had; made it respect her for all she was a mortal woman.

Made it respect her because she was a mortal woman.

She feels so tired, though; too tired to start a fresh war. So Eva lives with the shadows and whatever they may hide. At least it’s not outwardly hostile. Even if it was, by rights she shouldn’t be comfortable here.

This domain, this world, empty of her sons.

----

Swollen and fragile all at once, like a wine glass held too long in hot water - ripe for shattering with a single thoughtless move.

Midmorning is an inauspicious time for any demon to appear; Eva uses the reprieve to walk the city streets. Capulet is smaller than Red Grave but still a decent-sized city in its own right, checking off all the requirements: university, libraries, museums, churches, arts district, cheerful cafes dotting the sidewalk…

A few months ago -- no, thirty years ago -- she would have delighted in browsing the art supplies store, or checking the museum events for child-friendly exhibitions (but boys you must behave), or laughing into her coffee as two eight year olds descended into extensive debate on the merits of chocolate cake over strawberry tarts.

Now she buys peppermint tea in a to-go cup and takes it to the park.

Capulet is unexpectedly windswept in August, errant breezes stirring up the parched over-long grass around her ankles and pulling her hair, strand by strand, out of the confines of her ponytail.

The park is quietish; the younger children are out in force but a university city never really feels alive during the summer while the students are away. She follows the winding gravel path towards the duck pond at the centre and circles it once, twice. Watches other mothers with children tossing breadcrumbs to the ducks; running; playing.

“Why don’t you go and play, boys? Just--”

“Be careful, I know.” Vergil’s eyes, already so much older than they should be. “Why even try when we have to pretend?”

She’d never come up with a good enough answer for him.

Trish finds her on a bench. She sits down without ceremony or preamble, sunglasses her one concession to the summer day but otherwise as unaffected by the August sun as she no doubt will be by the coming autumn chill.

(Eva is rapidly coming to dislike Trish. Not because she is a demon, per se, but because it’s so fucking demoralising to constantly see the perfect version of herself; an Eva who will never succumb to sagging tits or a bloated stomach or even messy hair.)

“Are you all right? You’re sitting there like a ghost.”

Eva sips her tea to save herself from an immediate response. The cup is almost empty and the dregs are cold; she doesn’t remember drinking it.

“I’m fine.”

“Mm.” Trish doesn’t look as though she believes Eva in the slightest, but thankfully doesn’t push the issue. “Well, in that case, I have a favour to ask.”

“Oh?” Eva becomes instantly wary. Even as despondent as she feels, she knows better than to thoughtlessly promise a demon anything.

Something flashes in Trish’s eyes, gone too quickly for Eva to define it. The slow smile that curls the corners of her lips is equally inscrutable.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a favour for me, exactly,” she assures her, waving a perfectly manicured hand (again that familiar burst of jealousy towards a creature that could control their human physical appearance at will; Sparda had never had a bad hair day in his life--). “Lady heard you’re quite the dab hand with magic and she wanted to know if there were any goodies you could make for her, or teach her, or… whatever, really.”

“Last I saw, Lady has a tongue in her head,” Eva replies coolly.

Trish’s smile widens. “Oh, she does, but she’s out of town this week and when I saw you I thought I might as well ask now as later.”

“Mm.” Now it’s Eva’s turn to give Trish a searching look. She taps her nails (not perfectly manicured by any definition of the term) against her empty cup, wishing there was some left; she could make use of a timely pause to sip her tea and give herself a moment to think. “Well, I’m happy to talk to Lady about what she needs when she’s back in Capulet.”

“I’ll pass the message on.” With one flowing, elegant movement, Trish gets to her feet and stretches like a languid cat. “I’d better get going. See you around, Eva.”

“Yes, see you,” Eva mutters to her back; Trish is already going, sashaying through the park like she owns the place.

Something about this doesn’t smell right and Eva has sense enough to be cautious.

And yet… When she returns to Devil May Cry, she spends time going through the cupboards she’s restocked and checking her herbs. She uses the laptop Nero and Nico set her up with and finds websites that sell the supplies she needs -- whether advertised for witchcraft or otherwise -- and prepares lists of useful tricks; things that used to give her the edge she needed to survive another night.

It might not be useful for Lady -- if, indeed, Lady even asked the question -- but it’s useful for Eva. Practically, because she can’t be too careful even now, and in the abstract; when she goes to bed that night, Eva sleeps better than she has in weeks. Her hands might be dry and her nails might be broken, but with her fingertips stained and smelling of herbs once again she almost begins to recognise herself.

----

To Eva’s palpable surprise, Lady does actually swing by Devil May Cry the following week.

“Trish told me she saw you,” Lady explains as she unholsters Kaline Ann and sets her down on the desk. “Did she tell you the kind of thing I was looking for?”

Because there is truth in this cover story that Lady and Trish have concocted between themselves. Yes, mainly they want to check on Eva, but it also never hurts for an old bitch to learn some new tricks.

And how does Eva look? Less like Trish than she used to; Eva has taken to shoving her hair up in a loose bun at the back of her head (the better, Lady assumes, to keep it out of her face now she was no longer playing lady of the manor) and has swapped her elegant black gown for a serviceable sweater and jeans. On her feet, Doc Martens. On her hands, broken nails and stained fingertips. In her eyes - fire.

“In passing.” Eva is - suspicious? Well, Lady can’t entirely blame her for still finding her feet with all of them, particularly Trish - though Trish herself had taken it as a compliment that Eva considered her enough potential trouble to be wary of.

“You’re welcome to anything I can teach you, although…” Eva’s gaze slides across and down to Kalina Ann. There is something distinctly hungry (covetous?) in her eyes. “You seem to have the offensive side pretty well covered.”

Lady grins, one firearms aficionado to another. “Give Nico a call if you want anything - you can’t beat the Goldsteins for guns and for you she’ll probably do it for free.”

That does it: the reserve cracks and Eva grins back. It is not the kind, motherly smile that Dante probably remembers. This is the smile that a tiger would give you if it could.

“Noted.” Eva pulls out a stack of books from one of the desk drawers. “Now, where do you want to start?”

It does not take long for Lady to be very, very glad she arranged this meeting. Eva is an absolute trove of knowledge. Much of it Lady already knows, and some of it is interesting but not strictly relevant -- Lady’s fighting style being much more full-on than Eva’s tactics lend themselves to -- but she still picks up plenty.

----

Nero is a dutiful, darling boy. He checks in with her, regular as clockwork, trying to disguise the anxiety in his voice. He doesn’t know how to be with her, but he tries nonetheless.

He asks her, often, to visit him in Fortuna; to meet his girlfriend and the children they have adopted. Eva demurs and lets him think she’s still putting off the inevitable label of grandmother. It’s not a total lie, but it��s far from the primary reason. Maybe, perceptive as he is (and he is; Sparda’s eyes staring at her, seeing straight through her despite the un-Sparda-ish mouthing off), he knows that, too, and is giving her time.

It’s just… what if they come back, and she isn’t here to greet them? What if they think she’s truly gone again? She can’t hurt her boys like that a second time. She can’t let them down again when they look for her, reach for her. God knows she was worth fuck-all to them then and even less now, as much protection as a paper cut-out, but if they know she’s willing to put herself between the two of them and danger, then… that’s something, isn’t it? However little, it’s something.

The latest attempt comes on a late autumn evening. October is slipping away, each dark evening bringing them a little closer to Halloween. The most enterprising of the local children have already ventured out trick-or-treating with the excuse that the 31st is a school night, and Eva watches troupes of ghosties and ghoulies and long-legged beasties parade past the windows with a bittersweet smile. She bought a bag of candy but doesn’t really expect any trick-or-treaters; Dante, with good reason, didn’t take pains to encourage the local kids to come calling.

Nero and Nico pull up, a welcome interruption to her descent into melancholy, out of breath but radiant from their latest skirmish. They stop by Devil May Cry on the pretence of leaving word for Morrison that payment is due, but Nero could do that himself on the little computer phone he carries around with him. In reality, they’re checking on her.

Eva doesn’t mind, really. She likes the company, and the kids (God, she calls them kids, they’re not that much younger than she is) are energetic; it’s hard to be actively maudlin when refereeing a shouting match. Nico especially is nosy and almost impossible to brush off or offend. On every visit, she wheedles a few more secrets out of Eva’s recipe books. Lately, Eva has been amusing herself by giving her tidbits and letting Nico reverse-engineer either the process or the product. Usually, she gets it right. Occasionally, she comes up with something better.

Tonight, though, Eva feels even harder to cheer than normal. Nico is put off by a wad of cash to get takeout -- Sparda laid the bounty of the world at her feet, but Nero and Nico are giving her a world tour laden with grease -- leaving Eva and Nero alone for half an hour. Nero has unchecked notebook privileges, as long as he’s careful with them, and he flicks through the entries thoughtfully.

“How did you learn all this stuff in the first place?”

“It depends which stuff we’re talking about.” Eva leans over his shoulder, pointing to the pages. “Sparda gave me a lot of them; things he’d picked up over the years, I don’t even know where from. But this one -- here -- that was from a hunter I partnered up with a lot in the early days. These tisanes were from my aunt. I used to say she should have been born a mediaeval herb-woman, except they’d have hung her for a witch.”

But Nero has stopped looking at the pages. He’s looking at her instead; thoughtful, in a way that is so Vergil it makes her heart skip a beat.

“What were they like, your family?”

“My family...” How long has it been since family wasn’t Sparda and the boys? How much longer since it meant the house she grew up in, and the people who populated it? “Oh, they -- they’re long gone. Better not to dwell. I have the boys,” Except she doesn’t. “And you, of course.”

Nero isn’t diverted, not for a moment, and the tilt of his eyebrows is pure Vergil. But he lets it go for now.

They taper off into silence. It lasts for a few minutes, Eva turning over possibilities in her mind. The words, when they come, are nevertheless a surprise; something she hadn’t meant to let loose.

“My father was a twin,” she says abruptly. “He and my uncle were thick as thieves. I always used to hope I’d have twins -- they say it skips a generation, so I thought it was likely I would -- and then they’d both always have a friend.”

She lets out a hollow little laugh. A friend. What a fucking fairytale.

Where did she go so wrong? Yes, the boys had always had their spats, but Eva had chalked that up to a mixture of their demonic blood and the marked differences in their personalities, watchful but not truly worried. She tried to encourage them to get along, to talk out their problems, but had also comforted herself that it was something they would grow out of as they got older and developed a bit more emotional maturity. Siblings fought; it was perfectly normal. Even she and Elijah--

Eva squeezes her eyes closed. She can’t think about Elijah right now.

A warm, calloused hand covers her own and Eva opens her eyes to see Nero watching her, his expression unusually serious.

“It’s not your fault,” he tells her, quietly but with a forceful conviction behind his words that reminds her of Sparda. “Yeah, they’re idiots, and they’re both kind of fucked up in their own ways, but it’s not your fault. They’d be a lot worse if it hadn’t been for you.”

Is that true? Eva isn’t sure which is worse; that she has ruined her boys, or that they would somehow be even worse without her.

But none of this is Nero’s problem. Grandson, she reminds herself once again. Grandson. Not a peer, not a comrade to lean on. A young man she needs to protect.

Pull yourself together, Eva.

----

Eventually, Eva gets sick of sitting around Devil May Cry waiting for something to happen.

She has never been a passive person. Eva makes things happen. Ever since Lady asked for some tricks to help her on hunts, Eva has been building up her supplies again. Restocking her herbs, potions, and powders. Dusting off Dante’s collection of magic books (a surprisingly comprehensive collection; Vergil had always been the bookworm, while Dante was too much of a fidget-bottom to sit still for five minutes) and reminding herself of her favourite cantrips. Eventually, she contracts Nico to make her a pair of guns like her old ones.

The last time Eva felt so lost, she was drowning in grief for her husband and it ended in tragedy for her sons. She will not make the same mistake twice. Reaching back through the years, breaking down the walls she had so carefully built up, she remembers how it felt to be fifteen and alone; fifteen and desperate; fifteen and unstoppable.

Then she asks Morrison for some work.

As a young woman trying to break into this line of work, Eva had gotten used to the looks she elicited from these “brokers”. The initial amusement, thinking she’s joking. The surprise when they realise she isn’t. The patronising shake of the head as they assure her this is no work for a pretty little lady like her. Finally, the shock and anger as they hastily reconsidered their position with a gun jammed up against their throats.

Over time, she’d gotten a reputation for being an infernal bitch who was extremely good at what she did, which meant the work came easier. Eventually, by the time she met Sparda, she’d been running her own jobs without a broker at all - unless they were coming to her for a favour.

But that was then. Now she’s back to square one. Unproved. Untried. Untested. It’s aggravating but Eva knows she’ll have to just deal with it if she wants an in.

Because Eva is pretty sure she can talk Morrison into kicking a few jobs her way. Asking Lady, or Nero, or Trish to share, though? It will all be there - amusement, surprise, disbelief - and the worst thing of all is that they will be speaking not from baseless stereotyping but all too real knowledge.

Dante told us all about it, Eva. You barely lasted a minute when the demons attacked, isn’t that right? This is way too much for you.

No. She will work until she has beaten the softness out of herself. Until she can go back to them on an even footing. Until it’s second nature once again to have gunpowder on her clothes and the spark of magic at her fingertips. Until the Underworld has learned to fear Sparda’s whore again.

Then she will get their respect, rather than their pity.

Morrison drops by periodically for coffee and a chat. There hasn’t been any money-grubbing yet; Dante owns the office outright - Eva has seen the deed and it’s real enough - and the bills are being paid out of his last earnings. It won’t last forever, but it’s been enough to take one worry off Eva’s mind so far.

Instead, Morrison seems to simply enjoy her company, or maybe he just can’t kick the habit of showing up at Devil May Cry to see Dante. Whatever the reason, Eva enjoys his visits and his dry humour. What Morrison makes of her, she’s not sure; Eva had told him, in a tone that made it clear she was lying, that she was Trish’s long-lost sister. Morrison had simply chuckled and refrained from asking any questions.

That’s one thing Eva always did like about brokers; they’re the kind of people who don’t ask difficult, unnecessary questions.

“You’ve got this place looking real good, Eva.” Morrison looks around with genuine admiration and gestures with his lit cigarette to the spider plant growing ever larger in the corner. “Way better than Dante ever did. Mother of God, the state I’ve seen this office in… well. Maybe best not to elaborate too much there.”

Eva laughs, remembering how Dante always tried his best to weasel out of his chores. Even getting him to make his bed was a challenge. It seems he hasn’t improved with age.

“It’s certainly been quite the project. But, now that it’s done, I’ve been thinking I need something else to do.” Eva watches Morrison carefully, waiting for his reaction. “Do you have any work for me?”

Morrison smirks. “Getting bored already? Yeah, I got a few things on the back burner - the kind of stuff the other ladies think they’re too good for, if you catch my drift, and the kid really has got his hands full.”

...Okay, that was absurdly easy. Eva narrows her eyes, but Morrison doesn’t look like he’s trying to mock her. On the contrary, when he sees her expression, he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Hey, I don’t control the work that comes in! Besides, pay is pay, am I right?”

“I’m looking for hunting work,” Eva says pointedly, wondering if he’s mistaken her meaning.

“Yeah, yeah, I got you.” Morrison chuckles as he takes a drag on his cigarette. “What, were you expecting me to say no? If nobody will do the work, I won't get paid either.”

“I…” Eva is floored. All of her preparation, all that time spent rehearsing her arguments, and it turns out she doesn’t need any of them. “I was expecting, uh…”

“Pushback?” Morrison gives her a knowing look. “Do you really think I’d have lasted this long with those ladies if I trotted out that kind of line? As far as I’m concerned, if you hang around with Dante, Lady, and Trish, then you know what you’re doing and you can take care of yourself.”

Morrison pulls a notebook out of his pocket and rifles through it, humming under his breath. He tears out a page and walks over to lay it on Eva’s desk.

“Here are the details. Just give me a call when you’re done with them and I’ll arrange your payment. Damages come out of your cut, mind you. If everything goes well, I’ll see what else I have for you.”

----

It really is grunt work, but Eva doesn’t mind; she’s not arrogant enough to think she could jump single-handedly into something like Red Grave, guns blazing.

The job also isn't urgent - hence Morrison being lackadaisical about bullying someone into taking it - which gives her the leisure of reconnaissance and planning time.

An empusa nest out on some waste ground that a local developer bought before noticing his unexpected squatters. Straightforward enough, although Eva takes more precautions than she thinks are necessary just in case. After all, she’s seen her judgement is far from perfect.

But in the end, all goes smoothly. No nasty surprises. Just some nasty stains on the concrete from empusas blown to kingdom come. Eva grimaces at them, hoping they don’t count as “damages”. The land is being developed anyway, right? Surely they’ll be putting down fresh tarmac?

In the end, Morrison does take a cut from her pay, but it’s less than she feared and so Eva swallows it with as much good grace as she can muster. The stack of notes is a reassuring weight in her hand. Ballast, though for (or against) what, she’s not entirely sure. The important thing is that she’s done a competent enough job that Morrison leaves her with the details of another couple of jobs. In this way a reputation is built.

“Morrison,” Eva calls out just before he leaves.

Morrison pauses on the threshold. There’s a beat before he looks back at her over his shoulder and Eva gets the impression he knows exactly what she’s about to ask.

“Do you think he’s coming back?”

Because Morrison is not Trish, or Lady, or Nero. He does not know her connection to these people. To Dante. So he has no reason to lie to her or spare her feelings.

He sucks in a breath, considering. “You know, I’d gotten to the point where I never thought I’d see anything Dante didn’t come back from. So many times I thought he was in way over his head, only for him to walk away laughing. But this job… this felt different from the start. Gave me a sort of -- premonition, you might say.”

A soft hum; something that might have been a laugh, if there was any humour in it, and Morrison shook his head.

“The truth is, Eva, I don’t know. I really don’t. He could come waltzing back in here tomorrow, carrying a pizza and laughing at us all for ever doubting him. Or we might never see him again.”

Eva sinks slowly into the desk chair, feeling the truth of it in her bones. A tidal wave of exhaustion crashes over her, threatening to drown her in one clean swoop. Tired of worry. Tired of uncertainty. Tired of never even having the cold comfort of a body to bury. Tired of that tiny speck of hope that even now refused to be snuffed out completely because, however ridiculous it was to expect it, there was still the chance--

“I knew someone else like that, once,” she hears herself say. “He never did come back.”

Morrison gives her a searching look. He seems, for a moment, to be on the verge of saying something more, but in the end refrains. Instead, he tips his hat to her.

“You take care, Eva.”

“Yeah,” Eva replies distantly. “You too, Morrison.”

----

The work is important for more than Eva’s ego.

Her blood sings in her veins once again. The hum of power at her fingertips, like the whine of electricity. A promise, maybe even a vow if you were so inclined to call it such, that one day in the none-too-distant future a small slice of the world would once again turn at Eva’s call and beckoning. She has known this once before when playing lady of the manor. Now, the power is both weaker, for lack of Sparda’s force bolstering her, and sweeter, for knowing it is all of her own clawing and devising.

Her blood sings and Eva tastes iron and lightning on her tongue. Her fingers smell of metal and herbs and something no mortal can rightly put words to; the tang of the Underworld and the burning sulphur of demons.

When Eva looks at her reflection in the chipped bathroom mirror and sees an old, familiar light in her eyes, she knows it is time.

Very little magic needs to be complicated. The point is will, and the directing of it. For those unfamiliar with the craft then the trimmings of rituals and candles can go a long way in finding that direction.

For those who live long enough to become old hands, just the thinking, coupled with the right runes, is enough. Eva takes a sharp knife, a handful of herbs, and a silver-backed mirror (in this, old ways are better; a mercury mirror would work better still, but this will do for now)... and she searches.

Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, soul of my soul, I seek thee now. Come to me, come to me, come to me…

It is a powerful spell. Kinfinding may not be enough to physically draw her boys forth from the Underworld, but it should at least show them to her in the scrying mirror.

Eva seeks until her blood runs dangerously thin and her head pounds and her vision begins to darken. She seeks further still until she knows herself at the very precipice of what she can safely come back from… and only then, with great reluctance, does she let the spell go.

She has not seen them, either of them, even once.

----

Eventually, it feels meaningless to even keep up the pretence she thinks the boys are coming back.

What has happened to them is almost immaterial. The nightmare scenarios are so numerous that eventually they blur together into one long snuff film that leaves her numb. Like Sparda, they were there and then they were not. Like Sparda, she will never know what exactly happened.

Devil May Cry becomes part tomb, part cocoon. She has saved enough money to keep Morrison at bay for a while even after Dante’s funds run out, and she continues to take work for the sake of it, though she doesn’t keep track of her income versus expenditures. If or when the money runs out, she’s not sure. It’s pointless to think so far ahead. Perhaps she’ll just die, like she should have before.

A wife without a husband. A mother without sons. Once, she would have vomited at the thought of a woman identifying herself by the men in her life, but somehow it crept up on her over the years and now she’s left with gaping, bloody holes that gung-ho feminist rhetoric does nothing to paste over.

Nobody seems to notice the change in her philosophy. Though, she gets precious few visitors anyway. Trish and Lady leave her to her own devices, having apparently satisfied their curiosity about her. Morrison has tapered off their tete-a-tetes and only shows up when he wants money. Nero is a busy boy these days.

One night she dreams about them. The dream is very similar to the ones she used to have about Sparda; lifelike, almost lucid dreaming, where everything was the same - she is in bed, having just awoken - except he is there, smiling gently, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

Sleeping in, Eva?

Dreaming about the boys is very similar. She dreams she awakens in the night to a sound downstairs. There is no panic of a break-in; nobody bothers her these days. Voices, muffled, from the floor below. Eva calmly gets out of bed, registering even the rustle of the sheets and the cold, bare wooden boards under her feet. She pads slowly out of the bedroom to the top of the stairs.

There they are, standing in the centre of the office, illuminated perfectly by a strip of moonlight through the window. It is like a picture. It is too perfect and too easy. This is how she knows she is dreaming.

Still, for the first time in months, her heart eases.

They are talking softly to each other, too softly for her to catch the words (there is a limit, she concedes, to just how much even her vivid imagination can conjure). Eva doesn’t mind. She stands at the mezzanine and soaks them in.

Dante gestures to the stairs and looks up. He freezes as their eyes meet. Vergil, a half-heartbeat behind his twin, mirrors him.

“...Hey,” Dante croaks, the gesturing hand that had fallen still now awkwardly waving. “We’re home!”

This is more than she expected. Eva’s throat constricts. Even her dreams of Sparda were not so vivid or so long.

“You’re late, boys,” she manages after a moment. “Dinner was hours ago.”

She is trying for levity, trying to play her part in this scene, trying to piece together something happy for when she wakes up, but her voice cracks halfway through the sentence and she finds herself choking on a sob.

Dante is halfway up the stairs in a moment, hand outstretched to her. Eva, too, is reaching out to her little boy and she cries out when she finally has her arms around him again.

She does not get even a heartbeat of joy before the world collapses into shadows and flames. Dante dissolves, her arms closing around thin air, and the staircase morphs into an endless corridor to hell. Her boys are nowhere to be seen, but she can hear them screaming.

Or maybe she just hears her own voice, screaming herself awake.

There are more dreams, afterwards; more recognisable for what they are. Her life runs before her eyes in reverse. Searching for the boys. Watching Sparda walk away for the last time. The face of every person she never saved. Then, at last, the denouement: Elijah, torn open. Her father and uncle staring sightless into an abyss. Her mother reduced to so many scattered chunks of meat.

Eventually, because Eva is someone who makes things happen, not someone things simply happen to, she makes the decision to go back. She has faced Red Grave; faced the ruined manor. It is time to face much older ghosts.

It is a private matter, and so Eva tells nobody of her intentions. She lets Morrison know she will be out of town on personal business, timeline uncertain; she will give him a call when she’s back. He is free, in the interim, to pass her usual work on to other sources.

For anyone else (because she still hopes, deep down, that her boys will one day come home), she leaves a note on her desk.

Out of town for a while.

Eva re-reads the brief scribble and wonders what else to add before realising there really is nothing more to add. No forwarding address or contact number, because she does not want anyone to find her. Anyone who wants her, can wait until she comes back.

She makes it ten minutes out from the city before she turns back to scribble an address at the bottom of her note.

Just in case.

----

Plane tickets are cheap these days, and she has a passport courtesy of Morrison, but Eva elects to drive. Call her old-fashioned, or even just plain curmudgeonly in her old age (ha), but Eva likes the hum of a good motor much better than the press of noisy crowds.

Besides, she’d need a car at the other end of the flight anyway, where she’s going. She can even call it a vacation if she finds a motel to spend each night in. If not -- she’s slept in a car before and it won’t kill her to do it again, especially when the rental is much more comfortable than any old banger she’s passed a night in before.

Highways turn to country lanes as she veers further and further off the beaten track. The temperature drops, too; winter in the shadow of the Appalachian mountains is nothing to sneeze at. Eva has forgotten a lot of things over the years (too many things), but she remembers that. Funny how events and people slide slowly but surely from her mind but sensory impressions remain: the icy, pinesap-tinged tang of morning air in winter; the crackle of a fire; the warm doughy smell and pillowy softness of homemade dinner rolls.

Become someone else, she’d told her younger son as their world burned around them. Change your name, change yourself, and hide. Not easy, no, nothing like easy -- but possible, for the right price. For the price of giving up who you were before.

Except no bargain is ever so neat and no transaction ever so complete.

#devil may cry #dmc #eva #dante #vergil #nero #nico #trish #lady #i have a whole headcanon backstory for eva #shocking revelation: she did not have a good time before meeting sparda!#fragments from the google docs

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tropes-and-tales-archives · 22 days

Text

More Precious Than Rubies: Part 5a

This is an alternate timeline story that has a Rafael Barba track and a Sonny Carisi track. The two paths split off in part 3.

WC: 5223

TW: Idiots in love; smut (drinking but not impaired; PiV, unprotected). 18+ only.

AN: The prompt was "How about you make me?"

If Barba had been irritated by how much space you were taking up in his head before, he was doubly maddened now. You weren’t just taking up space at this point – you were moved in and living rent free.

Your case load with SVU waxed and waned. Sometimes you had a whole slate of cases against him, and other times he went for stretches without facing off against you. Still, he saw you all the time at the courthouse, and you were usually arguing with some other ADA. Barba usually felt a sting of jealousy when he did. He wondered if you called Niles “Yale Law” or if you smirked at Cox.

He was still nettled by your comment about O’Dwyer being a better ADA than him, even if he was mostly certain that you were just teasing him.

At least you shook his hand after trials now. He had hated it when you’d pointedly ignore him, but it was his own fault for taking a shot at your age by calling you “Girl Wonder.” He knew how hard it could be to be a lawyer fresh off the bar exam, and he assumed it was twice as hard for a baby-faced young woman.

You didn’t seem to mind being called “Fordham Law,” and you always responded with a grin and rejoinder of calling him “Harvard Law.” And you never said it with a sneer – usually, Barba’s opponents used his Ivy League education against him, implying that he was some sort of out-of-touch elite.

----

The New York City Law Association was holding its annual charity event. Barba could think of a million things he’d rather do on a Saturday night other than socialize with other lawyers, but networking was part of his unofficial job duties, and McCoy made it clear that he expected all of his ADAs to attend. Barba put on his tuxedo and got a taxi to Brooklyn.

The only thing that the NYCLA had going for it was its commitment to out-of-the-way and unique venues. The District Attorney’s office stuck with the usual hotel ballrooms for their events, but the NYCLA always found some new place. This year was the New York Transit Museum.

He made his way to the bar and snagged a scotch, then made a quick sweep of the room. He saw some familiar faces but no one he wanted to talk to, so he wandered off to look at some of the exhibits.

There were people milling around and looking at the offerings – the old subway cars, the old maps and photos of the subway construction. Then Barba saw you. You were in a deep oxblood cocktail dress, so dark is was almost black, and your hair was down and loose. You had your back to him, but (he was ashamed to admit), he’d know your ass anywhere.

He strolled over and pretended to look at the same exhibit that you were engrossed by – old fare boxes through the years. You turned and looked at him, and smiled when you recognized him.

“Barba,” you said, and you looked him over. “You clean up nice. A far cry from your usual off-the-rack sackcloth.”

“Counselor,” he replied. “I’m surprised to see you here. Shouldn’t you be off visiting some serial masturbating client in prison?”

You pouted at this, and Barba tried to ignore how kissable you looked in your deep red lipstick. “My serial masturbating client isn’t in prison, Barba. Remember? I won him a ‘not guilty’ verdict, from you, if I recall correctly.”

“One of your rare victories.”

You took a sip of your drink; it looked like cola and something, in a rock glass with a twist of lime. “Ah, but those rare victories against you are so sweet. The sound of you grinding your teeth when I win…it sustains me through the lean times.”

Barba scoffed. “I don’t grind my teeth. Besides, get ready for another lean period. The Alexi case…I’ll have a guilty verdict within an hour of the jury retiring.”

You polished off your drink and turned to walk to the bar, and Barba followed. “We’ll see,” you said as you strolled beside him. “I think Judge Catalano will have some thoughts about the integrity of the lab once I talk with him.”

At the bar, you made eye contact with a bartender and tapped on your glass, and the woman nodded at you in understanding. You turned to face Barba, leaning back against the bar. “We all know that the medical examiner’s office is compromised after the Rudnick disaster.”

Barba groaned. “Oh, don’t start with that.” He reached across the bar to hand you your drink, and you both settled at a nearby table. “You know damned well that Rudnick was an anomaly…”

“How can I know that? How can anyone? Any single case he oversaw could be compromised…”

“…but you know that’s not the case….”

“All I know is that a crucial link in the chain of custody was being overseen by an actual serial killer, Barba, and…”

He sat his scotch down specifically so that he could throw up his hands. “You’re impossible! You’ll only be happy when the prisons are empty and every bad guy in the world is released with a hug and an apology!”

This made you burst into a gale of laughter, so loud and unexpected that you placed a hand over your mouth. He watched you laugh for a long moment, smiling a bit at the sight of it. Once you calmed down, your laughs trailed to the occasional hiccupped giggle, you took a deep swallow of your drink and grinned. “That’s what you think of me, Harvard Law?”

He polished off his own scotch and flagged down a wandering server to order another. “I think you’ve got a good head for law and a soft heart. I think the world hasn’t worn you down yet, but in public defense, it seems inevitable.”

Your wide grin faltered a bit, but before you could refute his claim, two women made their way over to your table, waving and calling you. You looked over at them and your smile returned.

“Who let you in?” you teased. “This exclusive organization has clearly lowered its standards.”

The taller woman scoffed and leaned in to hug you, but the shorter red-head looked hard at Barba before turning to hug you too.

“Barba, these are my friends from Fordham,” you introduced. “Chauncy and Sarah. Guys, this is ADA Rafael Barba.”

There was a flurry of handshakes, and Chauncy’s seemed especially firm. “You handled the Jackie Walker disaster,” she said. Barba winced to remember the flubbed case against the innocent man, and the red-head saw his discomfort. “Don’t sweat it,” she continued. “I’m representing his civil case against the NYPD. I’ll get him a nice payday to soothe the fact that his career and reputation was destroyed.”

The tall woman laid a gentle hand on Chauncy. “Play nice,” she warned.

You had just watched the interaction, then offered to go get drinks for everyone. Before anyone could object, you were off to the bar, and the remaining three exchanged wary looks.

You returned laden down with an armful of glasses and a wide grin that he recognized. “Open bar, guys,” you said. You plunked down another scotch for Barba and then everyone else’s drinks. “Drink up. I got shots.” He watched you place an electric pink shot glass in front of everyone, him included.

Sarah laughed at you. “What’s this shot called?” she asked.

You shook your head at her. “You know what it is.”

“Say it.” Sarah said. She and Chauncy started chanting “say it, say it” until you were ducking your head in embarrassment.

Chauncy looked at Barba and explained it to him: “She tried to order a certain drink when she turned twenty-one and we took her out to celebrate.”

“It’s the only alcoholic drink she knew,” Sarah added.

“But she was too embarrassed to say ‘sex,’ so she called it ‘Love on the Beach,’” Chauncy finished.

“And these jackals picked up on it immediately,” you said with a rueful shake of your head, but you refused to quite meet his gaze. “And they spent the next four years – and apparently this evening – making me order drinks and shots based on how filthy the name was.”

Barba picked up the shot glass with its nuclear pink liquid, playing along. He’d never seen you look so discomfited, and he loved it. “So what’s this one called?”

“It’s got peach schnapps, coconut rum, cherry vodka….”

“He didn’t ask what was in it, Sparky,” Sarah teased, and Barba gave a bark of laughter at your apparent nickname.

“Sparky?” he asked incredulous.

You heaved a heavy, beleaguered sigh. “They called me ‘Sparky’ because a professor called me a sparkplug once when I got worked up and argued a case in class.” You picked up the shot and regarded it for a moment, then mumbled in a rush, “and this is called a Killer Pussy.” You stuttered on the last word, scrunched your face in embarrassment, then threw back the shot. Then turned on your heel and marched off for more booze, the laughter from your table at your back.

-----

This is how the evening progressed: you got everyone drinks, socializing as you came and went to the bar with people you passed. Your friends ordered different shots and tried to make you say what they were. Sometimes you muttered it in passing, other times you dug your heels in and refused to say it, making your friends howl with laughter. It wasn’t mean spirited though – you laughed and relaxed with each drink you threw back. You only did about half of the shots, preferring your mixed cola and whatever.

Every time you wandered off, Barba asked general questions about you to your friends, and they (lawyers in their own right) saw right through him.

“Why do you care?” asked Sarah. “You like her?”

“I just face off against her a lot in court,” he offered. “Might help to know her weak spots.”

Chauncy scoffed at this, like she didn’t believe him. “Sure. We wouldn’t help you beat her in court.” A sly look crossed her face as she looked Barba over like a butcher appraising a cow. “Maybe if you had more…personal reasons though…”

He felt his face grow warm, but you came back just then with another round (you wouldn’t name the shot, so Sarah said it and Barba heard you audibly wince when she did). Then dinner was served.

A relative silence descended over the table as everyone ate, and Chauncy took the opportunity to ask you, rather pointedly, if you were seeing anyone.

“No,” you replied with a shake of your head. You sawed off another piece of steak, happy to leave it at that.

But your friend persisted. “Maybe you could find someone here,” she tried, and Barba shot her a glare across the table that she only batted her eyes at.

“Doubtful,” you said around a bite of steak. You glanced around the room. “Though I see the Bronx ADA that I went on a date with once. Not my type.”

Barba glanced over to where you were looking – he knew the Bronx ADA you were looking at. ADA Williams and Barba had started in New York together. He cleared his throat when you casually brushed off his colleague. Likely you had an upper age limit on potential suitors. “Why isn’t he your type?” he asked.

You shrugged and moved onto your mashed potatoes. “He’s a jerk, and I found out after the fact that he’s still married. He obviously struggles with the fidelity thing. It’s a deal-breaker.” Then you wiped your mouth with your napkin and excused yourself to use the restroom.

Your friends clucked in sympathy and filled him in. “Her first boyfriend, Jason, cheated on her for a year before she found out. And her last boyfriend, Dom…well, the working theory is that he cheated too,” said Sarah.

“He’s a cop. He had a cute little blonde partner that apparently came between them,” Chauncy added. “Missed their anniversary dinner.”

Sarah sighed. “I remember that. She called me, crying.” She glanced over at Barba and pointed at him. “This is top secret. You’re in the inner circle now, so don’t repeat it.”

Chauncy pointed too. “Inner circle. You drink the Killer Pussy, you’re in the club. The only way out of the club is death.”

He held up his hands in surrender. You eventually returned to your seat, and Barba looked you over. If your eyes looked a little watery and red-rimmed, he couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or if you’d been crying.

You were a fierce competitor in the courtroom and an irritating presence besides, but he felt a sympathetic comradery with you. He’d been cheated on when he was around your age, and he had thrown himself into his work. Like you seemed to be doing. He pretended to be uninterested in romance, as you seemed to be now. And he knew where that sort of life would lead: you nearing forty, alone and bitter and convinced that you’d never find anyone. Caught in a terrible limbo of being lonely and wanting love, but too terrified of being hurt again.

Suddenly your reaction at the 16th precinct made more sense. He also knew that if he ever got the chance, he’d kick Carisi’s skinny ass down the courthouse steps.

-----

After dinner, there were the usual speeches about it being another great year. There was a slideshow of all the conferences and opportunities they’d created, how membership grew, how so many law articles had been published and legislation drafted. Then the lights were turned down a fraction and the music was turned up. Sarah and Chauncy drifted off to dance and mingle with other people, but Barba was perfectly content to pick up the dropped thread of your earlier conversation. You both stood and went to the bar, got fresh drinks, then lingered by the edge of the dance floor.

Arguing with him seemed to revive you – you’d been unusually quiet ever since dinner, but as soon as Barba brought up the Alexi case again, you got that glint in your eye again.

“Forget the tainted lab results then,” you said. “I have serious doubts that the rest of the evidence was even legally attained.”

Barba rolled his eye elaborately, which made you roll your eyes at him. You continued, “there’s a lot of established case law regarding non-English speaking suspects being Mirandized in English only….”

“Your client speaks English, Sparky.”

You narrowed your eyes at him until they were slits, and your scrunched your face up again. It was probably supposed to look mean, but you looked charming. Barba wanted to kiss your frowning mouth until your lipstick was smeared and you were smiling at him.

“Don’t scowl at me,” he continued. “It’s a great nickname. It suits you.” Your eyes narrowed even further, so he plucked your empty glass from you hand and pulled you onto the dance floor before you could protest.

Your dress was off-the-shoulder, and it revealed an expanse of your soft-looking skin – far more than you ever revealed with your courtroom suits. But Barba was a gentleman, so he laid a hand lightly on your waist and led you in a simple box step around the floor.

“Kadyrbayev versus the Commonwealth of Massachusetts,” you continued. “Knowing some English isn’t the same as having a competency of English.”

He snorted. “Everyone knows the Miranda rights,” he started, but you cut him off before he could continue his train of thought.

“Solid argument,” you agreed sarcastically. “You write about how ‘everyone knows stuff’ for your law review article?”

Barba gritted his teeth, caught himself when you smirked at him knowingly, and felt his irritation rise. You were closer to him than you’d ever been; you were close enough that he could smell your bright perfume and feel the stormy electric front he always felt when you were near him and fighting. But the irritation was stronger than any desire he might feel for you.

“You’re so annoying,” he bit back lamely.

“Solid,” you repeated. You tilted your head at him and smiled. “You’re just mad that I win against you.”

“Rarely. You rarely win against me.”

“But it stings, doesn’t it? You’re used to public defenders who barely try, and here comes this girl wonder…”

“Girl pain in the ass,” he grumbled, and you gave another loud laugh at this that startled him into a smile.

“If you would just be willing to compromise on plea deals, it’d go easier for you.”

“It’s not my job to get plea deals,” he retorted. “It’s my deal to deliver justice.”

You looked at him, staring straight into his eyes and giving him a jolt at how close your face was to his. “Define justice, Barba.”

He twisted his mouth into a smirk and stared back at you. “You need me to give you an introduction to justice? Plato and Nicomachean ethics? You skip that at Fordham so that you could go comfort people in jail and tell them it wasn’t their fault because a study once said that people who didn’t get hugged three times a day are more likely to…”

“God, you’re the worst.” You dropped your hand from his shoulder and pulled your other hand from his grasp, and you marched off the dance floor. You were slightly unsteady in your high heels, and Barba was at your elbow, following you. You turned and glanced back at him. “I meant utilitarianism versus retributivism, and you bring up hugs again. What’s your deal with hugs, Barba? You sound like every crusty old white guy ranting about how kids today are too soft….”

“That’s completely unfair,” he barked back, stung at the insinuation. He wasn’t a monster; he was completely sympathetic to the challenges that poor people faced in the justice system. You likely didn’t know that he grew up poor in the Bronx, and he was insulted that you thought he didn’t care about the people from his neighborhood…and all the other disenfranchised in the city and beyond.

“I’d slap you,” you replied, and you stopped and turned to look at him. “But you’d try to twist the simple assault charge into attempted murder, probably.” You paused, then added, “for justice’s sake.”

“It’d get you off the street at least,” he snapped. “You could stop menacing the city with your fucking irritating mouth.”

Your eyes widened at his sudden use of profanity. “Are we actually fighting now, Barba? Is this us having a fight?” You pointed between the two of you in disbelief.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before he looked at you again. “You just never stop. You always have some convoluted study or obscure case from some 1930’s backwater jurisdiction…”

“Like you ever stop!” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “You find the most tenuous ways to link a date-rape case back to Constitutional law, practically.” You went on, made some claim that Barba would eventually cite the Articles of Confederation in a cyber-stalking case, but he was barely paying attention. He couldn’t tell if you were really mad or not. He’d never spent so much time with you arguing, so he wasn’t sure if this was its logical outcome. You were ranting but punctuating your words with light laughs. You were gesturing wildly but gifting him with half-smiles.

He wanted to kiss you desperately, but he wasn’t sure if it was because you looked like the sexiest woman he’d ever seen or if because he just wanted you to shut up for a minute.

You were winding down now, and like in court, you linked your conclusion back to your opening statement. “You never stop either, Barba,” you finished, and you squared off in front of him like you were expecting to actually fight him at this point.

He waited a moment, then simply said, “The Articles of Confederation didn’t outline the court system, so your analogy is very weak.”

You replied by growling at him, “just stop!” and he swore he saw actual murder in your glaring eyes. He never got to see you thrown off your game like you seemed to be now.

“How about your make me?” he teased.

You reached up, and for a split second he thought you actually were going to slap him. Instead, you clasped a palm over his mouth, silencing him. But he ducked his head out of your grasp with a chuckle, and the next thing he knew, your mouth was on his, cutting off his laugh as you pressed the length of your body against him. All he could do was groan against you and snake his arms around you. And then kiss you back.

The rest of the reception fell away, like the world always did when Barba was with you. He felt you wrap your own hands around the back of his neck, tugging him closer to you. You parted your lips and ran the tip of your tongue against the seam of his mouth, and he opened himself to you.

You slid your tongue into his mouth, and he groaned again to taste you. He could feel his blood – already heated from dancing with you and teasing you – start to pool in his groin, and he pushed you away gently, breaking the kiss and looking at you.

Your pupils were huge, and your lipstick was blurred around the edges in that just-kissed look that drove him crazy. Otherwise, you seemed sober – or sober enough to consent, or at least he convinced himself that you were. To your credit, you weren’t slurring your words or stumbling or acting drunk. Aside from kissing him out of nowhere. That was unexpected, and possibly the result of impaired judgement.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, and you drew your brows in confusion before you nodded.

“I’m fine.”

“Do you…do you want to get out of here?” He could barely look at you; he wanted you so badly but wasn’t sure you were sober enough, but you seemed in your right mind. But you had to be intoxicated to kiss him…maybe?

You cut off his circuitous thinking by reaching down and grabbing his wrist, and you tugged him towards the nearest exit, and Barba was too far gone himself, drunk on the sexual tension and/or murderous rage (Liv could never, ever find out), to do much higher thinking after that.

-----

You were silent as you led him to the street, then you muttered that you lived a few blocks away. Barba just nodded, but he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him as the two of you walked to your place. When you had to stop and wait for a light at a crosswalk, he pulled you back to him. He kept waiting for you to push him away, to stop the whole chain-reaction that you’d started when you kissed him at the reception, but you didn’t. You leaned into him and kissed him back just as fervently.

Your apartment looked like a Victorian rowhouse, chopped into units, and as you led him up two floors, you informed him that Sarah and Chauncy lived on the second floor. At the third landing, you pulled a bundle of keys from your clutch. Your hands shook a bit as you tried to unlock the door, and Barba took the opportunity to sweep your hair away from the back of your neck and kiss you there, drawing the tip of his tongue along your heated skin and making your breath hitch.

Once inside, he practically kicked the door shut. You knelt down to undo the narrow ankle straps of your shoes, and once out of them, you were much steadier on your feet. When you turned to face him, he felt suddenly nervous.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

You nodded and reached for him, but he held you at arms’ length. “Did you have too much to drink?” he asked.

You pulled a face at this, then took a step backwards to balance on one foot in a semblance of a field sobriety test. “I do solemnly swear that I am well within the legal limit of alcohol intake, and am furthermore consenting to the activities about to occur in this apartment.”

He smiled weakly. “It’s just that you’re not my biggest fan usually….”. You took a swift few steps over to him and placed your hand over his mouth again.

“You’re a pain,” you said softly. “You constantly fight me at work, you smirk at me, you called me Girl Wonder. But I very much want you right now, if you want me.”

He did. Very much.

He kissed the palm that covered his mouth, and when you pulled it away, he dipped his head and kissed your crimson lips, parted them to plunge his tongue and slide it against your own. And from there, you both got increasingly desperate, pawing at each other and tugging at clothes and gasping each other’s names until it felt like you were both drowning and you were each the only chance of salvation for the other.

Barba shucked his own tuxedo as fast as he could as you shimmied out of your dress, revealing a sweetly sexy strapless black bra and panties. He pulled you back to him, savoring the feel of your nearly naked frame pressed against him, and you buried your face in the sensitive juncture of his neck and kissed him while he fumbled with the clasp of your bra. Once undone, he tossed it aside and then cupped your breasts in his big hands, and you arched yourself into him with a moan.

You pulled away from him with a sultry smile, then took his hand and led him into your bedroom. He lifted you up with a grunt – you were deceptively heavy – and tossed you onto the bed, and you laughed until he joined you and latched onto first your left nipple and then your right, suckling them and then nipping at them with his teeth, and then swirling his tongue around them to soothe the sting of his light bites. You tangled your hands in his hair, sometimes tugging him upward, sometimes pushing him into the valley of your breasts, and he grinned against your warm skin that smelled faintly of vanilla. He worked your panties off of you as far as he could reach, and then he felt you kick them off into some shadowy corner of the room.

He wanted to take his time with you, but it was all too much, and he let you tug his head back up to yours. You kissed again, nipping at his lower lip and sucking on it. He slid his tongue into your mouth and felt your sharp intake of breath and then your groaning sigh as he reached down to the junction between your legs and slid one of his fingers into you. He muttered a curse at how wet you were, how unbearably hot, and he wondered if it was all because of him.

You wriggled under him until he was completely on top of you. And when you opened your legs to him, he removed his hand and replaced it with his cock – so hard that he could practically feel his heartbeat in it. But despite the spinning room and the heady unreality of having you naked underneath him, he managed to pause and ask you if this is what you really wanted.

“Oh, yes,” you whispered, and your eyes had that same gleam in them as they did when you argued with him at work, so he gazed into them as he slid into your depths in one even motion. Your eyelids fluttered and you moaned something unintelligible, so he paused again when was buried to the hilt and asked if you were okay.

To answer him, you wrapped first one leg and then the other around the small of his back, granting him an extra inch to sink into you as you pulled him closer. He dropped his head beside yours with a growl, and he let your small heels dig into his ass and guide his thrusts until he found his own rhythm. It wasn’t long before you were gasping his name, and then arching hard underneath him, so hard that you nearly bucked him off of you, and then squeezing his cock as you came against him. And then he followed, unable to hold back, spilling himself deep inside of you.

And from there, the alcohol and sex and maybe the exhaustion from your evening of bickering put you both to sleep before any awkwardness could descend. You were both sprawled out at first but then drifted in sleep towards each other until you were curled against him, and his arm held you there.

Hours later, before sunrise, you both stirred and came awake in degrees. Barba’s erection pressed against your hip, and he tried to pull away from you, embarrassed. But you pressed a finger against his mouth to silence him before he could talk. When he kissed it, you tilted your head at him and leaned down to press your own lips to his, and without a word exchanged, you straddled him, running your slick parts against him.

“Is this really what you want?” you whispered, echoing his own question to you earlier. He could only reply as you had.

“Oh, yes.”

You lowered yourself onto him, but it was less frenzied this time. In the dim light, he could make out your outline as you rode him gently, sliding yourself off of him nearly all the way before impaling yourself. Over and over and over, until he had to reach out and grab your hips to guide you in a faster pace, bouncing you onto him until you came. You gasped his name again, and he felt his own orgasm coil up and then snap, and he came too.

And then another few hours of sleep. When Barba woke up, fully sober and a little hungover, and the soft grey-pink light of dawn creeping through the blinds, he felt a sudden horror at what he’d done. You were dead asleep: your lips were parted as you snored lightly, and your hand was laid across his arm. He moved it carefully to not wake you.

He should have never come to Brooklyn, he should have never drank at all, and he certainly should have never come back to your place. And to have sex with you twice, when he wasn’t sure if you could really consent? A terrible dread filled him, and he did the only thing he could do: he slid out of bed, got dressed as quickly as he could, and fled.

He was halfway back across the Brooklyn Bridge when he second-guessed himself, but by now you’d be awake and realizing that he’d left you. And fleeing was useless anyway: your respective work heavily overlapped, and he’d have to face you sooner or later.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #tro

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penroseparticle · 5 months

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Curation 2024: Flesh and Marble

Hey! You got an hour?

I love curation. I like taking the unending deluge of information, of sensations, of stuff that the world throws at us, and I just. I think one of the kindest, most gentle things you can do for another person is say "look at this. Decision paralysis is banished, information overload is dead, check out this story I've created. Look at these specific rocks out of the infinite combinations of rocks there are. Not just these rocks, but this order. See the narrative? There's a through line, if you look. Trust Me. Take my hand."

I love making playlists for that exact reason. You almost have to make them like throwing pots, with a reckless abandon that allows for a stroke of inspiration. But also, you kind of have to be allowed to let a few off the wheel lumpy and potential but not fully realized. You gotta Get Down with the concept of failure. To burn through them until you find just the right combination of songs that captures a feeling, a time, a memory. A museum of music.

I like museums because they are, more than anything, a signpost for what we find important. A landmark. The public art of city streets given form in an art museum, sometimes even through that same public art, often divorced of context, because museums don't let themselves be weird enough. To commit to the bit enough.Too few museums truly curate, truly immerse in the story. Give you a reason to follow the threads they lay. You start to almost resent it. Get in your feelings. Feel Sum Kinda Way. But once you learn to speak museum, you realize that they can only meet you halfway, and you are your own curator as you wander hallowed halls and learn about building materials, about Rothko, about postage stamps. You pick your own adventure. And you fall in love with museums all over again.

So when I find a museum or something that I enjoy, I just. Lose It. I want to share it. I want to take you along and say "LOOK AT THIS. How Does It Make You Feel." I want you to share in the wonder, and the marvel. So sometimes I even write. Sometimes I say, I can enchant you, ensnare you. I can bring you along the line, into the fold, I can capture a sunray for the length of a paragraph. Time frozen in amber, in service of you seeing just a touch of the magic.

I almost died again this year. Maybe more than once. There's Comedy in death. Even near death. We have to let ourselves laugh at it. We stay silly right? You can't greet death as an old friend if you're scared of him. But you can't chase after him either. He's coy. He's shy. He'll come when he's ready. And I'm not ready now either.

I don't think I'm as scared anymore though. I wouldn't say You're My Best Friend, Death. But you're certainly no stranger. You're not someone I would turn away, and I would share a drink with you. I would be tender, I think. You have it rough too.

I think this year of all things I'm falling in love again. I fell out of love with life, a while back. It was rough and it was scary and I didn't feel like myself. And I still don't, but we all know time pulls us forward, yadda yadda, you can't step into the same river twice, you are a construct and all constructs are ever changing, time stole my front porch; can't have shit in ship of theseus. I Want To Know Your Plans, time, but the future is that quote from Nightvale, always flinching first, leaving me only a present.

So I'm different now. In the present. In some ways worse. in some better. I think I'm gentler, at least I hope so. I want to be kinder. I want to treat people with care. And I want to share an idea to cap off this year, because I want to have curated my own experience, and maybe I can help you fall in love with life again too. Next year is going up, because I am on the Up and Up.

I can't get past the idea of choice. What makes the gardener pick flowers or weeds? The tastes of the gardener. What they cultivate, what they choose. They curate their garden and all of living is just. This same action again and again, on larger or smaller scales. When I was little I tried to get into Rollerblades. I thought they were super cool, I thought I'd be a cool kid in rollerblades. But I was drawn to biking. I still bike now. You can stand, if you dare, with the wind blowing through you, wheels turning all on their own, you king of the world on your personal palantir. You can pump your legs and get your heart singing and I can't imagine my life if I'd picked rollerblades. You know?

I started chasing an idea halfway through this, but to loop back to what I wanted to explain is- I want to curate my experience of this year. I want to be able to point to this year down the line and show just why it mattered- not for the time everyone will think, but the time that happened after. I looked at my life and said, I can Make It Better. I can rebuild it, different this time. I can be me, but a little further down the river. A few more boards replaced.

Can I do it? Can I Be Him? The me I want to be, the one who took this year and kindled something bright? I miss my surety. I miss my certainty. Everything feels like a big muddy middle right now, and I don't think I can ever reach as high or as low as I once did. But I think I can be steadily climbing up. Boot up bitch, the stairs are slippery but it turns out you have nothing but time.

My mom wants me to move home. She's scared, for me, out here "alone". She doesn't think my friends took good care of me, given what happened in March. I can't blame her. I wasn't taken good care of. I wouldn't let people, I hid it all. I was ashamed. I was embarassed. It's Hard To Live In The City, but not for the reasons my mom thinks- there's so much going on here. There's so much information and so many things to know and see and do, you can hide in plain sight. You can craft a narrative. You can shape the experience so that what you are, what you need, who you have become is hidden.

I know now that I need to be seen, to be known. I need other people to get who I am. But I'm not Fred Astaire- I can't be someone to everyone, even just a name. I have to curate (sick of me yet?) my own experience. My own image. I have to choose who my audience is now. It's tougher to decide who is worth your attention (And it is attention- that's all an audience is). It feels like gardening. Who's a flower and who's a weed. I don't like it. But you have to, to live. And I'm tired of not living.

And so I walk forward from my own Easter rebirth. Shaky legged, on stilts like Bambi, just becoming a new man. I hate it but you make yourself every day, don't you? Why would now be any different. I'm just more aware of it. It'll fade, with time. Like the scar it is. But I don't want to forget this feeling. I want to remember it. To have a story to tell that circles around it, gives it edges and definition. And so I wrote this.

It's part playlist. It's part poetry. It's prose, but it's prosaically just a list of songs as well. I sat down to write and my hands started moving, and I got here, with you. Are you still with me? I'm glad. I'm glad I'm still here, and I'm glad you're here with me. I'm even glad I'm still awake,writing this instead of sleeping. What's The Time Where You Are? Here it's late-about 1AM. And I have to finish this, I'm almost done. I wanted to leave you somewhere better than we started. This story is going up, remember?

I've picked a better audience, actually. That's a good first step. They're not the King Of My Heart, but they might be as close as it gets. I feel sweet. I feel simple. I feel at ease. But more importantly I feel like I can do. I can accomplish. I can rest. I can recover. I can just. Be.

Maybe this music isn't to your liking. But that's ok, I Don't Mind. I didn't make it for you to fall in love with. I made it to make you fall in love with the idea. I want you to curate your own life. You have to. Or you're not living. I want you to love the life that you've made. I don't love mine yet. But I want to, and I'm going to. And that's that on that.

I guess the elephant in the room is, why Flesh and Marble? Why not Clay, like old man Ozymandius? It ties better to the throwing pots above. Of getting muddy biking, of being down in the dirt before rising three days later. Even now I'm thinking that Feet of Clay is a much better title. But I like Flesh and Marble. The first song I put on here was a similar title structure. But I didn't want to give the concept air time, actually- too close to March for my liking, although the song was great. It just wasn't the vibe. But the name was close. And the artist. Armani Caesar. What a name! So I guess. The title is an oblique reference. A circumnavigation of the problem. A polite, detached nod to the impetus whilst giving it no credit.

But yeah. I hope you've listened, as you've gone. The songs matter a great deal to me this year, and they almost always do. I'm sappy and I stick to a song once I love it. I'll love it for 10 years. 20 years. 100 years. I attach so fast, and sometimes forever, if indelibly.

Curate your life. Build something of value. And by god find beauty or you'll die.

Peace.

#Yearly Curation #Deeply Personal Bullshit in here #also some writing. Most of it bad but I feel better having done it.#Curation 2024

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olsenmyolsen · 1 year

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Goodbye

Part 19 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: ~8.9K

masterlist

Y/N POV

My mom stayed for four more days.

That first day with my mom in the city consisted of getting lunch in said city because my mother demanded it. So Liz took us to a place called Marc Forgine. It was basically overpriced and deconstructed foods. We enjoyed what we got but catch me missing it next time. I know Liz took us there to try and woo my mother, and it worked. Like a charm.

Next, we walked. Yes walked. To the 9/11 Museum and the memorial pools. Which my mom was grateful for. It was eerily silent while walking around. It's like there was a bubble around us at all time with how quiet it became. Liz talked about how she only came here twice. Once while she was at NYU and again when the museum opened up, that led to a line of questioning from my mother about Liz's time at NYU. Luckily the conversation steered away from the typical "Y/N, when are you going back to school?" Bs that I got.

After that, we decided to make our way back up towards Soho. Like the true tourist my mom was being, she stopped at almost every little bodega and mom-and-pop shop. She claimed they were "cute" and "historic." While she's not wrong, she sure knew how to waste time. But it made me happy to see my mom dawn a smile I hadn't seen in a while.

Even though this was the first day of many we spent with my mom, this day had an excellent memory tied to it. My mom found out about my very famous girlfriend and seemed to deal with it very well. Not that should wouldn't have. I mean, she knows I'm gay. And she loves that Liz got us into some exclusive places for dinner. But it's just nice not to hide someone special to me. I only bring that up because later that Tuesday night, when it was just Liz and I before Max came over for Avengers, Liz shyly told me she'd be speaking to her mom about us soon.

At first, I didn't know what to say. But when the words came to me, I told her I'd be there to support her no matter what.

By the way. Yes, I enjoyed Avengers. I would've enjoyed it more, but from the moment Natasha Romanoff came on screen, Liz's eyes were on me. It didn't help that her first scene is what it is!

Don't worry once Max went home after the movie, Liz made sure to let me know who I should have eyes for.

I have marks to prove it!

Anyways! Every day after the first day played out very similarly. We'd get up early, and either have breakfast at my apartment or join up with my mom and have brunch somewhere in the city. Then we'd visit museums, parks, and other touristy things my mom wanted to do. Times Square and Katz Deli were two bucket list items for my mom, so we made sure to do that as soon as possible.

Without a doubt, this whole thing was a blast, and despite Liz only getting recognized a handful of times, these days were some of the happiest I've had in a while.

And yes, I got the time off for all of this from Max; however, this time, it costed more than a phone call with Chris Evans.

Max: Dude, come on!

Y/N: You can't be serious!

M: Says the employee who has days off like that's her job! Plus, I know you'll be asking for more in the future.

I groaned into the phone, knowingly how frustratingly accurate my best friend can be.

Y: Fine!!!

M: You'll do it?

Y: Yes, I'll ask her.

M: Ask her what?

Y: I'll ask my girlfriend. Elizabeth Chase Olsen. If you, my best friend Max, could get tickets to the premier of Multiverse of Madness.

M: It won't be that hard.

Y: You're insufferable.

M: And yet you love me.

Y: I'm starting to question why.

After a couple more minutes of banter, I end the call promising the whiny redhead that yes, I'll ask Liz and try and convince her to give Max a ticket. How that will happen? I have zero idea.

Anyways it's now Saturday. I still haven't asked Liz, and we just got done saying goodbye to my mom after dropping her off at the airport when Liz received a call. I turned the volume for the AUX down and let Liz peacefully take the call as I continue the drive.

Even though I couldn't determine what was happening, it sounded good. My thoughts were only confirmed when I saw my Lizard start smiling. That smile could do wonders. I manage to pull my eyes away since I'm the one driving. I would hate for Liz to end up in an accident and forget who I am.

Could you imagine?

After a few minutes of inching closer to home, Liz ends her call and looks towards me. I glance at her and smile at the sight before me. Liz has her bottom lip pulled into her mouth as she beams a big toothy grin at me.

"Yes, my love?" "I have news!" She squeals. "I can see that! Do you want to tell me now or not when I'm behind the wheel?" I ask that jokingly but Liz takes careful thought of my question before turning back to me. "Now!" She shoots out before kissing me on the cheek. That has to be some news! I reach my hand over and give her thigh a little squeeze. "Good ahead!"

"That was my agent-" "Marla?" Liz lets out a little huff. "No, she's my publicist! Rhonda is my agent." I roll my eyes. It's all the same thing. "Okay, sorry." I sarcastically reply, earning a slap on the arm before she continues. "She told me that HBO is wondering if I'd be interested in being a lead in their new show! Isn't that exciting!"

Oh.

I mean, yes. That's so exciting! But that means the real world is coming back, and Liz will have to be apart. I can feel myself getting worked up, and I'm too busy letting my own thoughts clog my brain that I forgot to even reply to Liz.

"If you don't want me to take it, just say so," Liz says, hurt pulling me from my mind. I turn towards her with panicked eyes. "No, Liz, I'm sorry, I jus-" She doesn't bother listening; instead, she turns up the volume drowning me out. Feeling defeated, I turn and focus on the road letting my dumb brain try to think of ways to explain myself and how to apologize.

When we pulled up to my apartment, the tension in the car only got worse.

Liz was quick to unbuckle herself, but I was faster to lock the doors from my side of the car trapping Liz in so we could talk.

"Y/N, let me out." She sternly tells me while not bothering to look at me. "Liz." I reach my hand out to her and calmly place it on her high. I watch her body relax to my touch, but she refuses to turn to me. "I-" Shit. I really should've thought about what to say.

"I- I think this is a great opportunity! It's exciting, Lizard. I meant to respond to you earlier, but I just got so wrapped up in my own head. I love to see you succeed! I love knowing that people want to work with you and have you as the face of their projects. But.. I-" Liz finally turns to face me. She can look into my eyes and see I'm telling her the truth, not just something she wants to hear. "I'm enjoying what we have now. I just don't want you to go back to your life and realize that I can't keep up or.. or worse. You realize that I don't deserve you..." Those last couple of words have been dancing around my mind for a while. I didn't mean to let them slip out. But it's too late now. I open my mouth to say more, but the words I want to say are stumbling over one another.

I didn't notice that I went quiet and was staring at my cup holders until Liz placed a hand under my chin and lifted it so I could see her face. Correction. So I can see her eyes. Her kind green eyes that make me melt. Liz doesn't say anything. Instead, she wraps herself around me and lets our embrace do the talking for now.

I don't know how long we sat like that, but eventually, Liz pulls back and cups her hands around my face. "Why do you think I told you about the gig in the first place?" She asks me in almost a whisper like she's afraid I'll break from loud noises. Silly but caring.

I don't know why Liz asked me, so I answer with a shrug earning a tight-lipped smile from her. "I told you about it because I wanted to talk to you first. I wanted to know what you thought. How you felt? What you think I should do." Okay? Liz knows I'm a little slow today, so she leans in and kisses my nose. "You're my girlfriend, Y/N. I wanted to talk about this opportunity with my girlfriend. I want to know what my girlfriend thinks." I put my hands on top of her hands, which are still resting on my face. "I'm sorry. I just got scared for a second and-" "We're both over-thinkers." I smile. Liz and I get each other. But we're also like Liz said. Over-thinkers. We let ourselves get trapped in our heads. So conversation like this needs to happen.

Liz pulls me in for a soft kiss on the lips. I still smile into her lips from time to time because it's so outrageous who I'm kissing.

After a couple of seconds of silence pass, Liz breaks the air.

"Y/N. I enjoy what we have." I look up at her; her eyes, but to my surprise, their shut. "I don't want you ever to feel or think that I wouldn't. I also never want you to feel or think that you don't deserve what we have. What we're building too." She opens her glossy eyes. "I love you. I feel you. You deserve this happiness that you feel. You deserve to be loved. I am willing to give that love to the stars in the sky and back. You deserve us. You're more than enough. Okay?" I don't trust myself to speak because I know my voice will crack and the tears will start. So instead, I just nod and let my head fall against Liz. She begins to shower me with kisses. "We're in this together."

"I love you, Lizard." I look up to see Liz wipe away some of her tears and chuckle at the nickname she still receives.

It takes a bit more time, but I eventually unlock the car door, and before Liz steps out, I stop her one more time. "Take the job. I'm serious. I don't care where it takes you. I'll be there. We're in this together, my love." I step out of the car before seeing Liz's reaction, but I still catch a glimpse of it when she hops out of the vehicle. She scrunches her nose up and shines a big smile. Yep, this is the woman of my future.

The rest of the morning is spent relaxing and movie-watching in cozy clothes. Liz has slowly been educating me on the things I should've seen years ago. It's been fun! But we've concluded that she's more artsy and old school than I am in our movie choices. We're both still a little tired from earlier, so it wasn't long before we ended up crashing on the couch.

When I open my eyes, the sun is still out and shining on us, so I know it's still Saturday. Or I hope it is. I go to lift myself, but my body reminds me of the weight on my chest. I dart my eyes down and see the dirty blonde hair of a certain sleeping beauty. She has her arms on each side of my body and her mouth slightly open. She looks so cute that I take this opportunity for a little "payback." I manage to grab my phone from my pocket and take a picture of her sleeping.

After cooing over the photo, I set it as her contact photo for me and sent it to the Y/N & Twins group chat. Since I'm awake but can't move, I decide to spend some time on my phone catching up on things I've missed since Liz and my mom visited.

Not surprisingly, the news being tailored to me is now full of Marvel news and lifestyle updates.

I didn't even know they were releasing a Black Widow movie! I remember Max crying about Natasha for weeks, but I don't remember why... I bet she's happy she's getting her own movie.

I keep my volume low as I watch the latest trailer for Black Widow. I keep the volume low for two reasons. One, I don't want to wake Liz. Two, I'm not only afraid of what would happen if I woke her but what would happen if she woke up because I was watching a thing about Natasha. However, the question remains Should I since I just watched The Avengers? Probably not. But I'm bored at the moment, and this is here.

However, as soon as I start this New Trailer, it starts showing me scenes from movies I haven't seen. So maybe this isn't a good idea. I watch it cut to multiple movies before it's a scene of her and arrow guy. I quickly close out the video before anything else could happen. Or get spoiled for me.

I open the Y/N & Twins group chat, and before I can even think about what to stupidly do next, I get a call from the MK. Without thinking, I answer it, and before I can even share a greeting, MK interrupts.

MK: Where are you??

Does she sound stressed?

Y/N: At home?

M: With Liz? Why are you whispering?

Y: Yeah, who else would that be? And she's sleeping.

M: Wait, so she's back in the city, and neither of you told me?! Bitches.

I stifle a laugh as I squeeze myself out from under Liz. I make sure she is unbothered and comfortable before heading into my room.

Y: She surprised me earlier this week. We've just been enjoying our time.

M: Wait, did she meet your mom?

Y: Yes, and before you ask, everything is good. It all went well.

I hear MK let out a sigh of relief.

M: How long is she in town?

Y: My mom left this morning

M: Not your mom Y/N.

Y: Oh. Uhhh, it's kind of TBD.

I hear MK let out a small squeal.

M: Okay, the three of us are going out tonight! Wear something nice!

I go to try and argue, but I hear shuffling coming from MK's phone before she comes back.

M: Gotta go! Bye Y/N!

She draws out my name before she hangs up.

The call ends, and my phone returns to my group chat with the twins. They're both awwing over the photo, and MK thanks me for the new piece of blackmail.

"Babe?" I hear a groggy Liz call out. I put my phone away and walk back into the living room. Liz is now sat up. Her hair covering half of her tired pouty face. "Hi, love," I whisper to her as I kneel in front of her.

"Where'd you go?" She asks with a frown. "Your sister called-"

"Which one?"

"MK."

"Why?"

She seems more awake and slightly worried. "She wants us to hang out tonight?" Confusion forms onto my girlfriends face. "Just you two?" I shake my head and sit next to her on the couch. "No. Us three." I pull Liz close to me so she can lean her body onto mine.

Liz thinks about it for a moment before she nods to herself. "Okay." She buries her head into my side, causing me to lift my arm and gently place it down her body. I lean my head back and close my eyes, just enjoying this relaxing aftern-

"Wait.. she knows I'm here?" Liz looks up with wide eyes. I look down at her in a duh-like fashion before the dots connect.

"Oh. Yeah... I might have sent them a pic of you without thinking about it." "Them?" Liz leans up, so she's sitting next to me. "Your sisters?" "How? What pic?" I pull my phone out and show Liz the group chat with the pics. I watch as her eyes scan the words in front of her before she hits the pictures. I see a quick smile appear on her face before she looks at me and tosses my phone at me. The second I catch my phone, a pair of lips are on my own, along with a body straddling me. What starts as a quick kiss turns into a steamy minute make-out session.

Once we pull apart for air, Liz scrunches her face up at me. "Payback, huh?" I smile at her, and without saying anything, I show her that the pic is indeed her new contact photo. Her eyes peer over to my phone, and I watch her face drop. She slowly moves her eyes back to my own and gives me a vicious smile that is happy and shocked. I don't have to wait too much longer until once again I'm being showered in kisses.

Once Liz gives me mercy, she stops and pulls back. "I love it."

"Good, because I love you." I boop Liz's nose earning a laugh from her. "What time did my sister say to meet her?" I tilt my head in thought. "Uhh, I'm pretty sure she didn't give me a time or place." Liz rolls her eyes and slides off me and onto the couch. "Great. That means it's going to be somewhere fancy." "Are you sure?" Liz moves her head to face me. "Positive. But I'll double-check with her."

Liz reaches in her pocket for her phone, but I guess she remembered that she had left it in the kitchen when we returned from the airport. "Need me to call it?" Liz shakes her head. "No, I'll find it." I watch Liz huff before getting off the couch looking for her phone.

Liz POV

I find my phone, and thankfully I only have a couple of texts and none of them urgent.

I click on the texts from Robbie I find myself smiling down at them.

"Got this earlier this week! (picture attached) Thank you for being my worry detective all these years. Your support still means the world.

Now go enjoy your time with Y/N."

I can feel myself getting a little teary-eyed, and I know Y/N felt the air in the room change because, soon enough, I have a pair of arms wrapped around me with a body pressed up against my back.

"Hey, baby, what's wrong?" I turn around to face Y/N. "Nothings wrong." I shove my phone into her left hand so she can see what I see. I bring her right hand into my own and pull myself closer to her.

"Wow." My ears catch Y/N's whisper. "That's amazing." I feel Y/N kiss the top of my head. "I'm proud of him, Liz." I look at my girlfriend. "Me too."

She positions my phone back in front of me. I grab it and look back down at the picture.

Robbie's One Month Sobriety Chip.

I feel Y/N squeeze me, pulling me from my phone. She has her jaw clenched, and I notice she does that when she is holding in a question or a concern.

"What's up?" I put my phone in my pocket and focus my attention on Y/N. "How often do you and Robbie talk?" She asks in a calming tone. We've talked about Robbie still being in my life, but I guess we never did talk about how much he's still in my life. Does that make sense?

"Once or twice a week?" I think about it. "But It's mainly check-up texts on one another. Does that bother you?"

Y/N takes a moment to think about her following words. Which is something I've come to respect about her. She never wants to be rash or rude. Although sometimes she gets trapped in her own mind.

I grab her by her hands and lead her into her bedroom. I bring her to her bed and playfully push her onto it, with me following suit and sitting down next to her. I hope she doesn't think I am cheating or would cheat on her.

"Talk to me, Y/N/N." I poke her forehead. "What's going on up there?" She gives to a small laugh and grabs my hands. "Is he really okay with us?" That wasn't the question I was expecting.

I nod at her. "Of course. He's made it very clear multiple times. Y/N, as long as I'm happy, he's happy. And trust me." I break free of her and put my hands onto her shoulders. "I'm happy. I'm grounded. I'm safe. I'm loved. I'm happy." I look into her eyes, and there isn't a hint of sadness. "Than I am too." She leans forward and places a kiss on my lips that just means more.

When we break apart, I let my hands drop from her and grab my phone. I hold it up to her, causing her to look at me, confused. "You can look if you want."

That look of confusion I got was even worse than the one before. "Liz." She grabs my phone and sets it on her desk beside her bed. "I trust you. I trust your words. I don't need to look through your phone to prove that. All I need is you. Seriously Lizard. Just you. Got it?" I nod my head and let the smile I have hurt my cheeks. "I got it, my Coffee Girl." Y/N grabs my phone and hands it to me. "Text him back. Tell him you're proud of him, and you'll be there for him. And if you want to let him know that I'm there for him too, then that's fine. But no pressure or anything, my love."

I can get over how perfect my Y/N is. Who does this kind of thing for their partners ex? I smile and do what Y/N tells me to. In addition to that, I decide to call MK. I put her on speaker so Y/N and I could both ask questions. It warms my heart how comfortable my sisters are with Y/N. I know MK is closer to her, and I had suspicions for a while, but after this week with Y/N, it all went away. I'll never tell Y/N that, though.

The call went just how I suspected. MK wants us to have a high-end dinner at 7. So that means we have to wear something nice and fancy. Y/N visibly gets concerned when she realizes that as well. I give her a look, but she ignores it. But I know the reason.

Once I'm off the phone, Y/N immediately gets up and starts searching her closet. I instantly follow her into her closet and turn her around, so she's facing me.

"Stop." "But-" "No buts. Step out of the closet." She gives me a cheeky smile making me roll my eyes. "Come on." I stick my hand out to her, and she grabs on. I pull her into the living room, making sure to grab a tote placing our wallets, phones, and whatever else for tonight in it.

"Where are you going?"

"We are going to my place!" I give her a cheery smile while placing her Dodgers hat on her. I admire her and give her a quick peck before she asks, "What for?"

"You were about to spend countless time in that closet going over everything you own. I know what we can wear tonight. But it's at my place, so we're going there. Plus, it'll be good to be there, and who knows, maybe we can stay there tonight."

Y/N POV

Liz gives me a wink and another quick kiss on the lips. "Now come on. Get your shoes on, and let's go." Liz turns her back to me to put on her pair of chacos while I slip on a pair of my vans. Once Liz is done, I scoop her up and spin her around, listing to her squeal and yelling at me to put her down.

Once her feet hit the floor, she tries her best to look upset, but she only ends up looking cuter, earning a shower of kisses from me, causing us both to laugh.

Before I know it, Liz has my keys in her hand as we walk out of my apartment building hand in hand.

It hit me while we were on the road that I had never been in a car with just Liz. Like no one else with us. This was also the first time Liz or I had driven each other around.

She's very safe behind the wheel, but I see why she usually has drivers. NY can be hectic, and that's why she prefers LA. Speaking of that, when is she going back?

I quickly get that thought out of my head and keep a hold of Liz's right hand whenever it's not on the wheel. I rub my thumb along her knuckles and catch myself staring at her side profile. She's so beautiful, and I can't believe I get to call her mine.

But the world still doesn't know...

Ugh, why do these thoughts keep invading my head today?

"Y/N." I lift my eyes to Liz's before she shifts them back to the road. Apparently, I was just caught staring at her neck. "You okay?" She asks with a smile. I nod and kiss her hand. "Just thinking."

"About?"

I don't want to bring it up, but I guess I should.

Just as I'm about to open my mouth, Liz curses and yanks her hand out of my own, grabbing hold of the wheel, shifting it quickly to the left, and slamming on the brakes, causing me to make that "hgghhh" noise.

I didn't have time to register what had happened before Liz was out of the car and running towards a kid that had fallen onto the road.

Once I got out of the car, Liz already had the kid sitting on the curb. I got a good look. I can see that it was a young boy, maybe six or so. He was holding onto Liz's side crying. I was about to rush over, but the number of people yelling and honking at me to get my car "out of the fucking way" was too much to ignore. Luckily I recognized we were near Liz's building, about two blocks down. Liz looked up and nodded to me that I could go. She mouthed a quick "I love you," warming my heart and making me do the same.

After I parked the car at Liz's building with help from Mr. Madison, I made my way back to Liz. By the time I made it, the boy was standing next to another woman talking to Liz. I assume this is the boys mother, but I have no clue. I'm just going to guess it's his mother.

The closer I got, the more I could see Liz peering her eyes. She was looking for me. I didn't quite get why until I saw her fidgeting with her rings and fingers. I quickened my short walk and made it to Liz's side before she knew it. Liz grabbed onto one of my hands and gave it a big squeeze.

The little boy seemed frightened by my sudden appearance causing him to grab hold of his mom's legs. My heart broke at that sight. Liz saw this while the mother was completely oblivious. Or maybe she was used to it?

Liz made sure to position herself in front of me while maintaining eye contact with the mom. As the conversation between the two grown-ups was coming to an end, I watched as Liz shined the boy a smile. The boys face instantly lit up before he looked away. I went to move, but Liz stopped me as she crouched in front of the boy.

"Jack, can you look at me?" Liz quietly asked the boy, who I can guess is named Jack. Jack looked up to his mom, who nodded at her son. He turns his gaze to Liz. "Are you feeling better?" The boy shook his head yes while looking away from her. It was then that I noticed that this kid did take a nasty spill. He has a scrap up one of his arms and on his knee. They aren't bleeding at the moment, but I know they probably sting hence why he was bawling earlier. "Now, I know you got scared earlier, but that doesn't mean you should just run away. Okay?" Liz keeps her voice and tone calm and gentle as she talks to Jack. "Jack?" The boy lets go of his mother's leg and hugs Liz. Something the mother and Liz weren't expecting but being the perfect person she is, my Lizard allows the hug to happen.

"I promise I won't run away again," Jack says as Liz pulls him out of the hug. "Thank you, Jack." The boys mother quickly scoops him up and places him on her hips. Liz gets up from her crouched stance and gets in front of me once again. I try to listen to the goodbye between Liz and the boys mother, but Jack is looking at me like he's studying me. I'm not sure what to do in this moment. Clearly, there's something going on behind the scenes with this kid, and I don't want to do or say anything that will be wrong. But something must've gone right because as Jack and his mom start walking away, I get a little wave from Jack. I go to wave back, but Jack has already looked away.

Liz POV

I watch the smile on Y/N's grow as Jack gives her a wave. She raises her hand up to wave, but Jack got bored of her and looks away, making me laugh.

"What?" Y/N looks at me, confused. I shake my head. "Nothing. You're just cute." "Pretty sure that's you." I feel Y/N's arms wrap around me and pull me into a quick hug. "You were amazing." I give Y/N a look. "With the boy. You were amazing." I don't exactly know what to say. "You okay?" Y/N now looks at me with concern.

I nod. Because yes, I am okay. I mean, I was scared that I did hit that kid, but the relief that came over me when I saw how far he was from Y/N's car was astronomical. Before I thought about what to do, my mind took over. I quickly scanned over Jacks body and assessed what was hurt. I knew he was going to cry no matter what I did, so I took him over to the curb as quickly as I could. We couldn't just hang out in the middle of the road. Thankfully he latched onto me. Maybe it was because he thought I was safe, or perhaps he just needed to hold something or someone.

Giving Y/N that nod to tell her to move the car was the scariest part of the whole thing. I didn't want her to leave, but I knew she had to. I also didn't know who this boy was or where his parents were. And selfishly, I was worried about myself. I didn't want anyone to recognize me and for pictures to be taken of this moment.

So eventually, when a worried woman came around the corner calling for her son, I felt better.

I nod to Y/N and pull her into a kiss. "Shall we get going?" I ask as I feel her lips form a smile. "Lead the way."

The walk to my place was quiet, and I think Y/N knew I just needed to destress because the whole walk, she let me play with her hands and fingers as she held me close. Every once in a while, I'd feel a quick peck on the top of my hat. Every time it happened, I'd smile and let a quiet giggle slip out. I didn't even care that we were in public.

Speaking of which, that's a conversation for another time.

As I close the door to my apartment, I hear Y/N let out a "wow." She turns to me, embarrassed knowing I heard, but I walk up next to her and rub her back. "It's okay to let an inside thought out." I tease her earning an eye roll. "I'm just saying I forgot how beautiful your place is. It's perfect." Y/N smiles at me, and the look in her eyes is pure. She loves this place, and so do I. "Come on." I smack her ass and set my hat and tote down on the kitchen counter before pulling her into the bedroom.

"I thought we were here for clothes, not this." My mouth drops a bit at Y/N's sassy tone. "Don't be naughty! We are here for clothes! That, however." I point to her and the bed that she is sitting on. "Is for later. Now stay there!" I watch Y/N blush as I walk into my closet, which I haven't seen in a month.

After a few minutes of searching and going through every possible fit for Y/N and I, I believe I have found something suitable. But just to be sure. "Dress or suit?" I yell out from the closet. I get no response. So I ask the question one more time, once again earning silence.

"Y/N!" I walk out of the closet, and my girlfriend is gone. I then try my best to hunt for her. She's not in the living room, kitchen, guest room, or either bathroom. There's only one other place.

I open the door at the top of the steps, and it's like the outside world stops existing. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful sight. I'm watching the woman I love talking to my plants. It's adorable, and damn I'm so happy I asked Scarlett to come by and take of my garden. She's so unique and tender with my plants. It's probably because last year, when she was over, I scared her half to death when she started picking my fruits too early. How and why? I don't know.

I continue watching Y/N. I don't want to disturb her because she looks so happy. She says she has a grey thumb, but I know I will change that.

"It's rude to stare. You, of all people, know that." Y/N turns to me with a wide-ass smile on her. "How'd you know?" Y/N walks to me, extending her arm to pull me up. "I heard you coming up." I place her lips on top of mine. "So, were you just checking on the garden?" I ask with kid-like glee. Y/N wraps her arm around my waist, turning me around so we both face my garden. "I remember that this jungle was up here and you hadn't asked me once to go and check on it, so I was worried that it'd all be dead, but it's thriving more than ever! How?" Y/N turns to me. "I have friends Y/N! But I never asked because you told me they'd die under your care. So that kinda warns me off!" She opens her mouth to argue, but she knows I'm right. "I can learn!" Her saying that makes me happier than she realizes. "I know you will, my Coffee Girl!" I pull her into a long passionate kiss.

"So, did your friend leave this?" Y/N holds up a Black Widow action figure. I grumble at seeing it. "Yes, my friend's kid left it." "Is the friend who I think it is?" Y/N shyly asks. I know Y/N loves me, but there is something that lights a fire in me whenever we've seen Scarlett on screen. And I know Y/N once commented about Natasha Romanoff, but I can't help it. "Yes, it is." I pull away from Y/N, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible, but Y/N catches my wrist. "Lizard, my love, you know I have eyes for you!" I sigh. "I know. I know. I'm trying." I kiss her cheek before running up to the plant I was talking to the first time she came here.

"Did you name her yet!?" Y/N asks excitedly. "Umm, yes, I did." I'd forgotten the name until just this moment, but yes, I did name it. I named it that day she was last here. "Do you want to guess?" "Planty?" Y/N asks in all seriousness. "Nope." I reply, popping the P. "Leigh?" I smile at the thought that she thought I named a plant after one of my characters. "Nu-uh. Last guess." "Murray?" I shake my head, confused at that last guess. "Noah," I reply. "I think it's a cute name for a boy or girl, so why not give it to a plant." Y/N's face lit up hearing me. "I agree. It's beautiful." Y/N then reaches her hand out to Noah and shakes its leaves. "Nice to meet you, Noah." I laugh and look over at my Coffee Girl, realizing how goofy she is and how lucky I am.

Y/N POV

"Are you sure this about this?" I ask Liz for probably the millionth time since exiting the car. I know she's getting annoyed, but she looks back at me, smiles, and reassures me that I look flawless as we leave the elevator onto the restaurant floor. She's fast walking because we may have had a bit of a hiccup getting her, and by hiccup, I mean Liz and I couldn't keep our hands off each other once we both saw each other in our first.

(Y/N's fit)

(Liz's fit)

But anyways, it's that kind of fancy tonight. And the restaurant is at the top of a New York skyscraper. What is my life?

I look over Liz as we get closer to the opening of the restaurant, and she takes my breath away again. She must've felt my gaze on her because the next thing I know, I'm getting scolded as she hooks her arm around me and pulls me to a table with an already waiting MK.

"Nice of you two to make it!" MK stands up from the table and sprints to me first. "Y/N!" I can practically feel Liz burning a hole into MK. I politely hug MK back before she moves on to her sister. Liz lets MK wrap her up into a tight squeeze as MK gushes about how much she's missed her. "Okay, let's sit!"

We're sitting at a typical-sized square table. MK is in the middle with Liz and I across from one another. I notice that all the seats have water waiting for them, including the fourth unoccupied seat. Weird.

"So tell me everything! What have you two been up to? How was Y/N's mom, and what is up with your guys' look tonight? Black and White? Bride and Groom?!" Liz chokes on her water at the sound of that. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. It has to be good, right? Meanwhile, MK is nothing but smiles as she looks between the two of us.

"Babe, you wanna take this one?" I wink over to Liz as MK gags at the sound of "babe."

"This is going to be a long dinner, isn't it, Mary-Kate?" Liz bluntly asks her older sister. MK gives a teasing smile and grabs Liz's hand "what are sisters for!"

Liz POV

We're now halfway through our appetizer, and everything is going smoothly. The waiter just left with our orders. MK and I have been hitting it off while catching up. Y/N has been keeping it light and fun. We have also brought up Y/N's mom, and MK was delighted at how much she loved New York City and me. However, that led to this: "So when is Y/N meeting Mom and Dad?"

I physically watched Y/N fix all her attention on me. "Soon," I replied. "I've already texted mom about Y/N, so she knows-" "But not Dad?" I see Y/N shift in her seat as she goes to stop my sister.

"MK-"

"No, it's alright." I hold out my left hand to Y/N. "Dad will find out when I feel comfortable." I calmly let MK know. But I can feel my adrenaline spike. She nods at me, but we both know what might happen when Y/N and my Dad meet. I hope it doesn't. I close my eyes briefly to try and ca-

"What about the world?" "What?" I look at my sister, confused. "When will the world find out about this one?" She points her thumb at Y/N like she can't speak for herself. "I mean, everyone thinks you and Robbie are still together. Don't you think that's a little unfair?"

I glance over to Y/N, who looks just as shocked as I feel. "Where is this coming from?"

"It's not coming from anywhere, Lizzie. I'm just saying tha-"

"That what?! That everyone should know my fucking business all the time?"

I'm getting louder, and I don't mean to. I can feel the lid about to pop off.

"Liz, I-" I once again stop my Y/N. "You hated everyone knowing all your shit all the time. Why would you want that for me?" I spit back to MK, who is surprisingly being calm about this. Or maybe she's doing it for Y/N.

"Lizzie. I understand that, and I'm sorry. You know I don't want the media in your life like that. I just think." She looks from me to Y/N and back to me. "I just think that it's kind of unfair for Y/N to be... hidden? I don't know if that is the right word or not."

What is she talking about? Y/N isn't being hidden from the world. She's just-

"MK." Y/N stops my sister, who turns and looks at my girlfriend. "I appreciate you for always looking out for me. For us. Liz and I. But her and I have somewhat talked about this. Think about it like this." Y/N leans forward in her seat to be closer to the table. "Does the world know about me? No, they just assume. Now, does the world know that Liz is bisexual? Once again, people assume." Y/N takes a pause. "Now would I love to be out and have people know that I'm dating THE Elizabeth Olsen and that she is my girlfriend, yeah to a certain extent, but the bottom line is, is that this is all new for Liz. I'd wait a thousand lifetimes until she was ready to let people know about her, Robbie, us, whatever" I watch Y/N smile as she says that, but she doesn't look at me; instead, she looks down and at her lap almost as if that realization hurts her...

"Plus." Y/N looks up to MK. "She's there for Robbie right now. And I am too. We'd just hate for the news of their separation to happen for him at a time like this. I mean, imagine-"

"The media would tear him apart," MK says as she gets it. Y/N nods and gives her a short smile before darting my eyes to me and then away.

"Fuck. I'm sorry, Lizzie. I wasn't trying to worry you or stress you out or anything. You too, Y/N." My sister looks between the two of us, and we know she means it. She has this twinkle in her eyes right now that she only gets when she's either really drunk or sincere. Wait, maybe that's both at the same time?

The tension has simmered down a bit by the time the waiter comes around and tops our waters and wine off, allowing Y/N to excuse herself.

Y/N POV

I'm happy. I'm happy. Don't cry. Don't cry.

I keep repeating this inside of my head the whole trek to the granite-coated bathroom.

It's so stupid. I don't know why I'm letting myself get so worked up about this. Of course, Liz wants to share me with the world someday. No, this isn't just a phase. She made that clear earlier today, so why am I being an idiot about it now? I said what I said at the table, so why do I feel like that is a lie? Why does my brain do this to me?

It's not too long until I'm standing in the middle of a stall with my head resting on my arm, holding in my tears.

"Y/N?" I lift my head. I didn't even hear the door open up. "Y/N? Please tell me you're here." I stand up straight and wipe whatever water I had surrounding my eyes away before taking a deep breath in and unlocking the stall door.

"Y/N?" Liz appears in front of me, and her smile quickly shrinks when she sees my face. I guess I didn't do a good job at hiding my emotions. "What's wrong?" Liz cups her hands around my face as she pushes us back into the stall.

I bite my lip and look into the worried green eyes of my Liz. "I'm sorry." Liz shakes her head, confused at me. "Sorry, what are you sorry for?" I watch her eyes slowly begin to scan my body, and I didn't know why until I remembered what had happened with Robbie. "For leaving." I clarify so she doesn't have to look for cuts or anything.

"I just thought you really had to pee, but minutes upon minutes went by, and we got a little worried." Liz chuckles to try and lighten the mood.

Minutes? I swore I just got here.

"I'm sorry." Liz grabs hold of my face, so I have to look directly at her. "Stop apologizing and tell me what's going on, my Coffee Girl."

Where do I start?

"Everything I said at the dinner table, I believe. It's just..." I take a deep breath in because I need it, and I'm still holding my tears. "I think what MK said got to me a little. Because I'd be lying if I said that I don't feel hidden." Liz is intently listening, and her eyes tell me what's going through her head. She blames herself.

"But Liz, listen to me. I would wait a thousand lifetimes. Hell, I'd wait a thousand of a thousand lifetimes because I'd be with you. At the end of the day, it's you and I. You got that? I love you. And I won't stop." I chuckle a little bit, making Liz look at me. "What's funny?" She quietly whispers to me.

"I think that's another reason why I needed air or to calm down or to do whatever the hell I'm doing in here." I look around the stall as I say that. "It made me realize how much I do love you." I smile at Liz, who looks like she is about to break. "Does that scare you?" I wrap my arms around her and pull her close to me, kissing the top of her head before moving out of the big, so I'm face to face with her.

"Not at all." Liz crashes her body onto mine to avoid the tears slipping out because we both know that the last thing we want to do is look like a mess when we return to the table, whenever that is.

MK POV

Okay so they've been gone for like fifteen minutes. So either they both fucked off and left me with the bill or Liz couldn't control herself and is having her way with Y/N.

Could you blame her?

Sorry is that inappropriate?

Anyways the waiter is finally placing with our meals and the girls have yet to be seen. I swear if they left.

I'm about to say screw it and dig in when I notice the fourth meal across from me. I know Liz whispered something to the waiter. Did this bitch really order a second meal? This place ain't cheap.

I'm so caught up that I almost don't notice a short haired blonde walking up to my table.

"Seat taken?"

Liz POV

I'm not quite sure what I was expecting to happen when Y/N opened up her bathroom stall but this conversation wasn't one of them. Hearing what she had to say hurt but I completely get it.

Not only is it hard to date a celebrity but it's hard to date one that isn't out and is technically still in a relationship with someone else. It's tricky and hard but hearing her say all the things she said just made one thing clear.

I love this woman with all my heart, and I'll do my hardest to let her know that. She's my rock. My supporter. She's my soulmate.

Which is going to make this next part a little fun.

Before we step out of the bathroom door Y/N and I give ourselves a look over. We definitely don't look the same as when we entered but we look close enough. As long as we don't have make up running down our face and spilled wine on our outfits I think we're okay.

"Okay so." I take a look at my phone to double check the time. Yep. She's here. "Liz what-"

"When we get back to our table there's going to be an additional person there. I called someone when you got dressed earlier and decided to surprise you. This was before how the last twenty minutes have gone but honestly you might need this right. And watching you will make me feel loads better. Just don't be nervous."

"You do realize that makes me even more nervous right?"

I give Y/N a cheeky smile before pulling her into a kiss. A kiss that starts of innocent before my lips leave hers and trail down to her neck. "Liz." Y/N moans out as I start sucking on the skin of her collarbone. "What are you doing?" That's the question I was waiting for. I stop and give Y/N a devious smile.

Y/N POV

"Just making sure she knows what's mine."

I went to pull my shirt closed but Liz slapped my hands away and opened it back up. "Let her see."

What the hell did Liz mean by that. Who is this other person? The fast walk back to the table was filled with questions like these and with the memories of the conversation prior forgotten.

As we got closer I could see MK talking to short haired blonde but that's all I could see the back of this blondes head.

It wasn't until I sat Liz down at her seat and moved to my own that I saw who it was.

"Are you going to introduce yourself?" The raspy blonde spoke to me. She spoke to me!

"Oh uh Y/N." I extended my hand out and try my best to keep my nerves inside.

"Scarlett." The Black Widow herself shook my hand.

I darted my eyes to Liz who just so happens to be in the middle of a conversation with MK.

Once Scarlett and I got done with our pleasantries I made sure Liz had her attention on me when I mouthed the words "you're dead." To which only got an eye roll and a heart she formed with her hands making sure no one saw.

"So Y/N." Oh God Scarlett's talking to me again. "Liz says you're watching the Marvel movies for the first time." I nod. "That's correct."

"So I was wondering if you had a favorite character yet? And don't say Wanda because I'd know you'd lying." Scarlett smirks at me while I look from her to Liz and back.

"You want me to be honest?"

"I'd want nothing more."

Scarlett's going to get me killed.

Part 20

24 notes · View notes

jake-g-lockley · 2 years

Text

The Light of My Knight | Moon Knight x Desi!Reader | Chapter 8: Ladoos and Jasmines

Warnings: Slightly NSFW (the beginning is a little hot and heavy), swearing, mention of weapons, Indian parents (iykyk :”) )

Word Count: 3.8 k

A/N: Special thanks to @paymeinkash for a little idea that is in this chapter <3

Taglist: @brekkers-desigirl @wordacadabra @paymeinkash @ahookedheroespureheart @sodonuthideout @obsessedwadonis @local-mr-frog @swiggy-needs-mental-help @pakhiya

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

Steven groaned into your mouth as you grind your clothed core into him. You kissed him with enough needy ferocity that made him buck his own hips against you. Your legs were on either of his sides and his heavy hands were carelessly grasping your hips, maneuvering you with his movements while your nails dug tiny crescent shapes into his bare shoulders.

Your lips left his, leaving a trail of kisses down his neck and you eventually found a sweet spot that made him whine your name and throw his head back. One of his hands left the sanctuary of your hips and traveled over your curves, up his shirt that you were wearing when suddenly you both heard knocking on the door.

“Package for Ms. Y/N!!” came the voice behind the door.

“Fuck, not again! Maybe if we ignored him, he’d go away?” you say, your breath heavy in your words, chest heaving right in Steven’s face.

“I highly doubt it, darling.” Steven chuckles, trying to regain his sense of balance.

You groan as you get up from Steven and slide off the bed. You see Steven diving for his sweater that you forcefully tossed away into the far corner of the room a few minutes ago and you stifle a giggle.

The past month and a half with the boys has been sort of a dream. Dates twice a week, spending the weekends together, shopping together, cooking together, the stolen kisses in the empty corners of the museum. You were on cloud nine. You had slight anxiety about going back to work at first and it made it a little hard to adjust on the first few days back, but eventually you got back on your game. You also somehow knew things were going too well for your sorry self.

One thing that has been bothering you for a while now is the number of times you’ve been cockblocked. One time it was the neighbor asking for sugar, another time it was your landlord and the dozens of other times it had been Amazon delivery.

Cockblocked by Amazon should be the title of your (not) sex tape.

You slip on the pair of sweats that were tossed onto the couch and open the door revealing a small man carrying a very big and shiny package. Signing his paper, you take the box from him, trying not to fold with the weight of it.

“Let me help you with that, angel.” Steven said, swooping in to save your poor arms from torture and closing the door.

“Very shiny.” Steven says, grunting a little as he placed it onto the dining table.

You swore that you caught a whiff of something very close to home and you bit your lip, realizing what the shiny wrapping could mean.

“Ughhh, noooo.” you groan.

“What, what is it, darling?” Steven says, looking at you, concerned.

“I think that's a wedding invitation. How the fuck did they get my address?” you say as you cut the wrapping paper gingerly as if you were diffusing a bomb.

Steven watched, amused, as you gave up with the scissors and tore the wrapping open with your bare hands. A beautiful ruby red invitation box with gold details stared back at you. You open the latch of the box and pick up the invitation envelope which was encircled with ladoos and other sweet goodies.

“Pallavi weds Thirumaaran, great, my cousin is getting married.” You groan again. “Even better, she's getting married here. Couldn't you have chosen another city to have your big fat Indian wedding?” You hear rustling and you look up at Marc who had fronted and popped a ladoo in his mouth, eyes round.

“Was I not supposed to eat that?” he mumbled, cheeks bulging like a very confused hamster.

Instantly, your bad mood dissipated and you burst into laughter and reassured him that it was alright.

“Maybe you should go, baby. I mean, unless you really, really don’t want to.” he says after defeating the large ladoo.

“I don’t think I have a choice, she’s my first cousin and I don’t have any grudges against her.” you say reading the invitation again. “But, it's been, like, ten years since I’ve seen any of them and I know for a fact that some of them there would not like seeing me there, after my ficaso of leaving home.”

“We’ll come with you.” Marc immediately says, shocking you.

“You’ll really be my plus one?” you say, looking over the invitation at him.

“Yea, the boys are ok with it too.” he shrugged.

“Ugh, you guys are angels sent for me.” you said getting up and giving Marc a big kiss.

“We have to go shopping, though.” you frown.

Your bank account is going to hate you.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

And that's how you ended up saree shopping a few days later with Jake Lockley. You had chosen two sarees and were now bargaining the prices. When the retailer refused to go down on the prices, Jake shot him a look that would have made him shit himself and instantly, the prices went down a notch. Jake refused to show you what he got for himself and told you that it would be a surprise.

“The blouses would be ready in a week's time, I guess.” you say, sighing. You were so exhausted. The whole wedding situation was stressing you out and you found yourself not being able to sleep at the thought that you had to see your parents. You would often find yourself laying in bed staring at the ceiling, especially on days where you weren’t in your boyfriends’ arms.

“You sure you're ok with going, love?” Steven could always see right through you as if he had x-ray vision. “A big birdy told me you aren’t sleeping.” he continued sheepishly.

“Khonshu is stalking me?” you gape at Steven.

“Well, not stalking, sometimes we get him to check on you, especially now when you look so stressed out. Don’t worry he isn't doing anything weird.” he quickly says.

Your heart swooned at the sweetness of your boyfriends. They are definitely one weird bunch and the giant bird god just added to the chaos. You had asked Jake to draw Khonshu out because you wanted to know what he looked like and you surely didn’t expect a mummified body with a giant bird skull and a staff.

You sigh, going back to your little ice cream. “You’re right, this is really stressing me out, but it's ok, I’m an adult, I can do this.” you said, smiling at Steven, who beamed back.

On the day of the wedding ceremony, you were rushing around your apartment to get ready. You wore your hair in a half up, half down style with bouncy curls that took you ten thousand days to curl. Your kanchipuram cotton saree was a beautiful sunset shade with gold detailing and you accessorized it with a gold choker, jimmikkis and bangles.

“Rosa?” you hear Jake at the door.

“Come in, I’m almost ready.” you shout.

Tugging at the loose strands of your curls that frame your face, you carefully step out of your bathroom and your mouth dropped at the sight in front of you. Jake was standing in your living room in a white jippa with gold trimmings. His curls sat perfectly on his head and he was wearing a hungry smirk that flipped your stomach, his eyes scanning you.

Adengappa…

You stood there and stared for a good while wondering whether you were dreaming. If you stood there staring any longer you would start drooling like a Saint Bernard on crack.

“Amor, are you done ogling?” Jake’s voice cuts through your little rendezvous.

“I wasn’t ogling, dummy, I was admiring my handsome boyfriend, who apparently exceeded all my expectations for today.” you smile.

“Ooo, do we get a gold star?” Jake said with fake innocence, batting his long eyelashes at you.

“Shut up.” you say, trying not to blush.

“Steven made us buy something for you to top off your look.” Jake said, revealing something in his hands.

You gasp when you process what he had been holding.

“You got me jasmine flowers for my hair! Where did you get this?”

“Took us a while, but I have my sources,” Jake says, winking.

A few minutes later and a whole lot of bobby pins, the jasmines were secured to your hair with the assistance of Steven’s nimble fingers.

“You look absolutely ethereal, my darling sun.” Steven says, leaving a light kiss on your forehead.

You give him a small kiss on his cheek and go to grab your heels and the present you got for your cousin. They agreed to have Marc be the one to be introduced to the family, mainly because Steven could do a killer American accent while Marc and Jake sounded like they were mocking the English accent. It made you laugh but it certainly would add to a whole list of confusion.

In the car ride to the wedding hall you were uncharacteristically quiet and still which made Jake ask you whether you were ok several times.

“Amor, it's ok, we’re here with you, remember?” he says softly, grabbing your hand and kissing it.

You turn to him and smile. His presence did really put you at ease. He pulled up to the hall that was next to the temple and found a parking spot in an instant. Marc fronts and gets out of the car, going to your side and holding his hand out for you. You smile and take his hand, letting him pull you out. He really is your rajakumaran.

“Are you going to be on your best behavior?” He asks.

“Are you?” you counter with a smirk.

Marc mirrors your smirk and you feel yourself flush.

“Alright, let's step into the lion's den.” You say tightly gripping Marc’s hand.

“Y/N, come in ma! ” You see your auntie gesturing at you.

“Periamma! Long time no see.” you smile and watch as she registers the man beside you.

“You look absolutely beautiful! Who’s this handsome man, Y/N?”

Before you could say anything Marc puts his hands together and says “Vanakam, ma’am, I’m Marc Spector, Y/N’s boyfriend.”

Yep, your heart was going to explode and you were slowly turning into mush.

“Aiyo, please call me Jothi, kanna.” She said, offering Marc her hand which he brought to his lips for a kiss.

“Periamma, eva enodu aalu, unakku already oru aalu irukku, please leave some for the rest of us.” You say before your auntie can steal your boyfriend, trying not to laugh.

“Seri, seri, go inside.” She says, still eyeing Marc.

“I think my auntie’s got a little crush on you.” you whisper to Marc who laughed as you both stepped into the wedding hall that was buzzing with activity.

Moon Boys’ POV

Y/N let go of his hand to go chat to some of her cousins that she had spotted at the center of the hall. Marc smiled and watched her as her hair that was decorated with the beautiful flowers bounced around her and how she swayed her hips when she walked.

He leaned against the wall behind him and continued to stare at his girl, when suddenly he heard something skid across the floor and hit his foot. He bent down and picked it up, realizing it was a purse.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, thambi!” He turned to the source of the voice and saw a tall, skinny woman walking towards him with a slightly plump and balding man trailing after her. They looked intensely familiar to Marc.

“Here you go, ma’am.” He smiled, handing the woman her purse.

“Thank you, thambi. What’s your name?” the woman asked.

“Marc Spector, ma’am.”

“Nice to meet you, Marc thambi. I’m Malar and this is my husband Sivanathan.” She said as Marc realized that he had landed right into the grasp of Y/N’s parents. He quickly shook their hands, covering his shock with a tight smile.

“Who’s side are you from, mappillai? Bride or groom?” Y/N’s dad asked.

“Bride, sir.” He says.

“Are you a military man, mappillai?” He asks, taking Marc by surprise.

“Yes, sir, ex-military, how did you notice?” Marc didn’t expect to be playing quick fire questions so early in the day.

“Your posture is impeccable, and your short answers reminded me of when I was in the military!” The man laughed, making Marc relax slightly.

Y/N’s parents continued to ask him a few more questions until they were satisfied and then started to introduce him to other people. They stirred him to the direction of Y/N and her cousins, who had her back turned towards them.

“Marc, you see that girl over there? She’ll definitely suit you.” Y/N’s mother says pointing to who Marc assumes is one of Y/N’s cousins and suddenly everything clicks. She has trapped him into matchmaking him with someone. Before he could say anything, Y/N turned around and her eyes widened at the sight she had to behold.

Your POV

“Amma? Appa?” you said, looking past Marc.

“Oh! Y/N, didn’t expect to see you here.” Your mother blandly says.

“Pallavi invited me.” you say, already feeling small.

“How are you? Still unmarried and jobless?” She said, letting go of Marc’s arm.

“Ma, we haven’t seen each other or spoken to each other for 10 years and this is what you have to say?” You hiss. “Yes, I’m unmarried but I do have a job, for your information.”

“A lousy job, no doubt. Look at the state of your hair, couldn’t you have straightened it or braided it like your cousins? You’ve put on some weight, I see.” Your mother sniffed and pinched your exposed stomach. “Who did your make up for you, it's so plain. You know when I was your age, I already had a child on my hip, not rolls like you. ”

“Ma, what is going to make you happy?” You say, shaking your head, pushing her hand away from you.

“Maybe if you got married? You see this nice mappillai over here? Marc Spector, ex-military. Maybe he’ll teach you some discipline.” your father says, slapping Marc square in the back. “Marc thambi, this is my daughter, Y/N, the family rebel.”

“Hello there.” Marc says with a bemused smile and a small wink.

Your brows curved in confusion as you looked between Marc, your mother and your father and then you realized what had been going on when you were talking to your cousins.

“So, you’re telling me, if I get married to this particular man, both of you will finally be happy with me?” you say innocently, blinking at your parents.

“Of course, you’d finally be listening to us.” your father says.

Interesting.

“Ok, sure.” you said, shrugging. “Mr. Spector, would you like to hijack this wedding and get married?”

“Don’t be rude, Y/N.” your mother says and you roll your eyes.

Just then, the music started to become louder, signifying that the ceremony was about to start. You, Marc, your mother and father took your places in a row of chairs.

“Saved by the priest.” you whisper to Marc, who chuckled. “You're gonna teach me some discipline, sir?”

“That can be arranged.” He whispered back, a smirk evident in his voice.

You administer a little punch into Marc’s arm and he recoils in mock horror and you take the chance to slip your hand into his.

You quickly find out after the ceremony that your parents were as infuriating as the last time you saw them. But they seemed to be content with you and Steven talking to each other over the food that you were having.

“When should we tell them, darling?” Steven whispers, concealing his accent.

“Shh, I want to play with them a little longer.” you say, smiling at your parents.

You were still seething in anger with your parents behavior and were finally glad that you had the higher ground. You thank the universe for its unlikely assistance.

“So, I see you two are getting along very well?” your father pipes up suddenly.

“Mmm, yea, we have a lot of similarities, pa. Oh and differences that he has offered to correct.” you say, sarcasm leaking into your words like poison.

“Ah, good, good.” your father says, approvingly.

Suddenly, you spot your periamma coming towards your table and you sit back in your seat with a satisfied smile. Your plan was falling together perfectly.

“Malar! Sivanathan anne! I see you’ve found your daughter.” your auntie says, patting your shoulder.

“Yea, and she’s still a little rascal.” your mother says, laughing.

“And I see you’ve met Marc? Her charming boyfriend?” your auntie says eliciting the most beautiful reaction you’ve ever seen.

Your mother’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened significantly to the point where her eyeballs looked like they were going to pop out of her head while your father choked on the orange juice that he was sipping. Ugh, you just wanted to take a picture of what you were witnessing, frame it and hang it in your living room. You burst into laughter and almost started to tear up.

“Momma, I’m glad that you finally like one of my life choices.” You say in between laughs as your auntie notices the apparent shift in tension between your family and moves to the next table.

“I need you both to realize that I am no longer a child. I am a fully functioning adult who doesn’t need your opinion.” You say standing up and grabbing Steven’s hand. “I’m happy that I finally get to see you after so long. But now I’m going to leave, with someone who definitely makes me happier. Bye!”

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You only let out a sigh of relief after you were in the car with your seatbelt strapped to you after rushing to thank and congratulate your cousin, apologizing for leaving so early into the night.

“I'm sorry.” you say, turning to Jake.

“What's up, rosa?” he looked at you confused.

“We shouldn’t have come here. It was a waste of time. We are definitely not going for the dinner tomorrow, I can’t stand being in the same room as my parents. I really thought they would have changed by now, after all these years.” you say, playing with your bangles.

“Amor, if there is one thing I can tell you, it's that sometimes, some parents don’t deserve to have children. You’re an amazing capable woman and you don’t need your parents to acknowledge that. Besides, I’m glad that we came. I definitely enjoyed watching your parents squirm, they really looked like they deserved it.” Jake said, cupping your face with his big hands.

You giggle and turn your head to kiss his hand.

Suddenly, Jake drops his hands and turns to the back of the car. His face twisted into a menacing scowl that distorted your thoughts and he looked like he was listening to someone.

Khonshu.

“What? Now?” Jake questions. “I can’t bring her with me, Khonshu, it's too dangerous, I’m pretty sure you of all beings know that. Well yes, I know that it's not far from here but can’t I drop her off first?”

Whatever conversation Jake was having with Khonshu certainly pushed him over the edge because he gripped onto the steering wheel as if he wanted to tear it out of the car’s dashboard.

You didn’t want to ask what had just happened, but you assume that Khonshu wants Jake to do something that involves Moon Knight. The one thing you’ve noticed about Jake Lockley over the past few weeks is the fact that he can get very serious and withdrawn very quickly. It's a sharp contrast between the times when he is more relaxed. You sink into the seat as Jake silently drives and not too long later, stops at an abandoned factory.

“If I lock the door, will you stay here?” Jake says to you, his voice low.

“Yes, of course.” you say, watching him as he pulls something from under his seat.

“This will keep you safe.” Jake says, handing you something metallic.

You gasp as you take hold of a gun. You blink at it and look up at Jake.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know how to use a gun, Lockley?” you say, your heart speeding up.

Jake gives you a quick rundown and you hang on to every single one of the words that comes out of his mouth.

“I won’t be long, amor, but whatever you do, do not leave this car.” he says, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and stepping out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

You watch in horror and bewilderment through the car window as Jake flexes his body and tips his head back allowing the cloth wrappings to envelop him until the ceremonial Moon Knight armor covers his entire being. You’ve never seen the armor up close before and it looks absolutely magnificent. His eyes glowed and he grabbed a crescent dart magically out of his chest piece.

“Khonshu definitely has the flair for the dramatic.” you say to yourself as you watch Jake take long strides into the shadows, cape billowing in the wind. You look up to the beautiful full moon that graced the skies and sighed.

This is going to be a long night.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Translations:

Ladoo: Laddu or ladoo is a spherical sweet originating from India and spread through the Indian subcontinent. Laddus are primarily made from flour, fat (ghee/butter/oil) and sugar.

Saree: A sari or saree is a women's garment from the Indian subcontinent that consists of an un-stitched stretch of woven fabric arranged over the body as a robe, with one end tied to the waist, while the other end rests over one shoulder as a pallu, baring a part of the midriff.

Kanchipuram cotton: Purely handwoven by master weavers from the city of Kanchipuram, Tamil Nadu, these sarees carry elegance yet being simple.

Jimmikkis: A style of earring worn by women of the Indian subcontinent

Rosa: rose

Jippa: Traditional wear for Indian men

Adengappa: Exclamation (like holy shit or OMGEIII)

Amor: Love

Rajakumaran: Prince charming

Periamma: mother’s older sister

Vanakam: Traditional tamil greeting

Kanna: Darling, sweetie

Eva enodu aalu, unnaku already oru aalu irukku: This is my man, you've already gotten your own man

Seri: OK

Thambi: Little brother / boy

Mappillai: groom/ son-in-law (also just randomly thrown around, not meaning what it actually means)

Amma: Mother

Appa: Father

Anne: Brother

Reblogs are appreciated <3 love you all so so much *muah*

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

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bokkerijder · 13 days

Note

7: Have tattoos? 8: Want any tattoos? 9: Got any piercings? 10: Want any piercings? 13: Biggest turn ons 14: Biggest turn offs 15: Favorite movie 21: What I love most about myself 25: My idea of a perfect date 26: My biggest pet peeves 29: A reason I’ve lied to a friend 33: What words make me feel the best about myself 34: What I find attractive in women 35: What I find attractive in men 39: My favorite ice cream flavor 43: Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediately 44: A random fact about anything

SO MANY QUESTIONS <3

7: Have tattoos?

I do not

8: Want any tattoos?

I do! however, my disability affects my nervous system so idk how something like that would feel...? so I'm.... extremely torn because like.... if I get a tattoo it would have to be big enough that, if this would be my only tattoo ever, I won't regret the size. but it also has to be small and simple enough that, if my nerves don't react good to the stabbing, I won't have to sit there for 6 hours. but since it might just be the Only Tattoo I'd Ever Get, it also has to be the "perfect design" and that's a lot of pressure man!

9: Got any piercings?

just my earrings

10: Want any piercings?

I tried a septum piercing twice. it healed incredibly well but. The Nerves did not agree and I ended up getting overstimulated so much that I had to take it out. and I also tried a regular nose piercing, but the cartilage didn't want to cooperate. so I've given up on piercings, unfortunately. I did love them

13: Biggest turn ons

oof. um. thinking real hard right now..... I mean there is the physical stuff, like neck touches and things like that. when it comes to other people visually; I'm somewhere on the ace spectrum so that stuff often doesn't genuinely turn me on? however I do love looking at hands, arms, backs, shoulders, necks etc. and when it comes to actions or personality traits... a good sense of humor is definitely a turn on. in more intimate settings: when someone shows they trust me and gives over control. and phone sex

14: Biggest turn offs

okay so I've encountered a few guys who automatically thought I'm a sub because I talked about being in the mood to Receive Stuff and lmao gtfo

15: Favorite movie

I have multiple movies that I love, but recently The Fall has been on my mind a lot

21: What I love most about myself

my ability to experience joy in the smallest things

25: My idea of a perfect date

I'm pretty laid back, so probably just... going to a museum, or the zoo, or idk. take me to a botanical garden. let's have coffee and sit and talk for hours. let's sit on a bench somewhere. we can hang out at your place or mine and just chill. anything can be a date, and the company is what makes it perfect

26: My biggest pet peeves

people being rude or loud in public

29: A reason I’ve lied to a friend

so I've had a few friendships where I couldn't be honest with them about my needs, or confront them about their behavior without them getting angry, turning themselves into the victim and putting all the blame on me, so sometimes I would say I didn't have enough spoons for them to come over. which, in a sense, wasn't even a complete lie

33: What words make me feel the best about myself

not sure about any particular words? but when someone has taken their time to truly get to know me, and then compliment something I do or my personality

34: What I find attractive in women, 35: What I find attractive in men

so I already said that I love a good sense of humor. I go absolutely weak when someone can make me laugh. masculinity in any gender is something I find really attractive. nerdy women. androgynous or feminine men. body hair (loooove love love love arm and chest hair). when men are soft. I could go on and on but jfhsjfjs there are more questions!

39: My favorite ice cream flavor

there's this Italian ice cream parlor one city over that has this AMAZING homemade cinnamon ice cream, and that's my ultimate favorite

43: Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediately

.....listen. I. hm. it's always gonna be Dan Avidan. altho.... Vito Coppola. my god. he's an incredibly talented dancer and has the ability to be so sexy that I have to get up and leave the room

44: A random fact about anything

Sleipnir has eight legs because Icelandic horses have a very specific trot that's very fast that makes them look like they have more than four legs!

#answered #anoniem #tumblr games #there i've done it i've named my biggest and truest celeb crush after all these years

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autocrats-in-love · 2 years

Note

Hi!! First of all, i love ur writing, everything's just so cool!!

So, about pride month, could you do two awqward Hero/villain lesbians who are like, real close and fluff and stuff but don't wanna overstep because neither of them knows the other likes girls too? (Until they find out?)

Thanks anyways and Happy pride month everyone!

The hero had tripped in front of her crush. An embarrassing mistake amplified by the fact that her crush was the villain of the city, and she had tripped in the middle of a battle because she had been distracted by the villain's lips. She stumbled over a pebble and fell onto the street.

It was night time, and most civilians had long fled the general area, but the villain watched it play out in its full form.

"Oh, crap, are you okay?" She said, kneeling down and offering out her hand to help the hero up.

"I'm fine. . ." The hero struggled, trying to keep down her blush as her skin touched the villain's.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Just another silly girl crush on the worst person possible.

"You've got to be careful. The agency doesn't train for the big threats, like loose stones on the ground." The villain chuckled.

The hero got to her feet and let go her archnemesis. What had she been doing? All she could focus on was the villain's concerned smile and the fact that she was probably straight. With a boyfriend. A cool, evil boyfriend who didn't stumble over pencil marks.

"Oh, yeah. Um, put down the bag of diamonds, scum." The hero said, conjuring a circle of burning magic around her wrist and trying to stop her knees from wobbling.

The villain seemed a bit surprised, but shrugged and returned to a fighting stance, swinging the bag of gems over her shoulder.

"Come and get them."

The hero flung the burning trapping spell at the villain. The villain conjured a shield and blocked it. She then pushed the shield to the hero, who ducked beneath it, and swung her leg just above the villain's ankles. The villain nearly fell backwards, but grabbed the hero's shoulder to steady herself. She then hit the hero with the bag of gems, who let out a muffled cry.

"Rude." The hero said, moving backwards to get out of the villain's swinging range.

"Let me go, and you'll save yourself so much pain, dear nemesis." The villain said, backing up.

Tell me about it, the hero thought. She got to her feet and began chasing the villain, who had begun running away. The streetlights gave her a clear view of the villain, which she was grateful for. She told herself it was only because she had a suspect to apprehend, and unrelated to any feelings ready to bubble over.

"As much as I would love to go home," The hero replied, taking a grab for the diamonds and just missing them. "I have a duty to the public. And the museum you just robbed."

The villain hopped to the side of the hero, taking a left and running down another street. The hero flung an entrapping circle as they ran. It was a destructive move, but she had already let the villain escape twice in the last month. The agency couldn't get suspicious.

"Ach!" The villain shouted as the enchantment descended upon her.

She fell to the ground--the diamonds dropped as the circle wrapped around her body like a vine. The hero walked up to her.

"Oh, come on. I know I'm your favourite criminal." She said, struggling to free herself.

The hero slung the bag over her shoulder and kneeled down next to the villain. Next to her deep eyes, small lips, and sweet smelling hair. the hero found herself frozen, staring at this picture of a woman who she most certainly couldn't have.

The villain, on the other hand, was trying to wriggle free of the burning light tightening around her limbs. The hero was an excellent spell caster, though she was overly gentle on the villain. The villain found it entrancing to watch the hero say an incantation and throw out magic like it was nothing. But the hero currently had that cute, faraway look on her face. Maybe the villain could distract enough to loosen her hold.

She had an idea. The hero probably didn't like girls--heroic types never seem to--but it would shock her. Plus, the villain couldn't deny she had wanted to do this for quite some time.

The hero was still busy admiring her captured enemy. She noticed that the villain's face was getting closer, but just thought she was leaning in to get a better look.

"Hey."

The hero flinched at the villain speaking. She was brought out of the fish-eyed trance locking her in place. The villain quickly leaned forward and kissed the hero. The hero gasped quietly. She then closed her eyes and put a hand on the villain's cheek. She wasn't supposed to be doing this. She could get in a lot of trouble. It shouldn't feel this right.

The villain's hand was suddenly running through her hair. Wait, she should be tied up a voice told her. She didn't really want to open her eyes. But she had to.

As soon as she broke off, the villain was scrambling to her feet. She grabbed the bag of diamonds and was off before the hero could blink. She shouted something behind her, but the hero didn't hear it. She could only focus on the lingering warmth on her lips. On the thought not leaving her alone.

She does like girls.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writeblr #snippet #not a prompt #kiss #girlsthatlikegirls #lesbian #here they are folks #sapphic

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butternuggets-blog · 1 year

Text

Paw Patrol

Fluff/Humour, SAS Rogue Heroes Werewolf AU

Gender Neutral Reader

Outside, Cairo sweltered through the start of a blisteringly hot morning, but inside the hotel it was deceptively cool. ____ yawned and stretched; after a difficult month of sand, sweat and blood, it was nice to be able to relax and take things slow.

____ looked up as Corporal Heaney came sprinting through the hotel lobby into the dining room, weaving around guests and tables until he came to a stop in front of ____.

'What happened? What's wrong?'

'Noth-nothing's wrong, I just-' Heaney paused for air, 'Could you look after the little guy for us? Just for a short time?'

'What-oooohh!'

Tucked into the crook of Heaney's arm was a fluffy, bright-eyed white puppy. Its long ears perked up at ____'s coo, and it started wagging its tail excitedly.

'His name is David' Heaney handed him over and the puppy immediately launched himself at ____, licking them all over their face.

'I've got to go'

'Heaney, wait, does he have allergies-'

Heaney was already making his way back out the door.

'Who does he belong to?!'

'SAS!' he yelled over his shoulder, and disappeared out of sight.

____ sighed and stared at the puppy. 'What am I going to do with you, huh? What-am-I-gonna-do-with-you?!'

The puppy cocked it's head, and licked ____'s face all over, again.

________________________________________________________________

After breakfast ("No, you cannot eat my food! Noo! ...okay, just the scraps"), ____ waited patiently as the clock ticked on.

After an hour, ____ took their new companion on a trip to the alley outside to go toilet. The hotel clerk had conjured up a leash from somewhere and after distracting David with a belly rub, ____ managed to attach it without much fuss.

____ glanced at their watch, and sighed, as David cocked his leg against the alley wall. 'It's almost been two hours now. I don't think they're coming back for you, are they?'

David yipped quietly, finished peeing, and waddled back to ____.

____ scratched David's chin; the puppy whined and leaned into it, closing his eyes and letting his tongue loll out the side of his mouth.

'I wanted to go sight seeing today... would you like to come sight seeing with me, huh? Huh? Would-ya?'

David yipped again, loudly, and took off towards the street. Before he had gone a handful of steps his paws got tangled up in each other and he face-planted into the dirt.

'Oh no! Oh, baby, are you ok?!' ____ rushed over but David was already staggering to his feet, shaking his head and sneezing the sand and dust out of his nose.

'Oh, poor baby!' ____ laughed and scooped David into their arms, giving him a cuddle and a kiss on the forehead. The puppy's fur really was soft; wispy and thick, with a strong musky scent.

'There you go' ____ set David back down and gave a gentle tug on the leash. 'Off we go!'

________________________________________________________________

David was irregularly unsteady on his feet, so after much slowing down and speeding up it became easier for ____ to simply carry him.

____ stopped a few times to chat with friends, as David bounced around their feet, being adorable. Once or twice ____ had to pull him back before he followed an intriguing scent out into traffic, but on the whole he was very well-behaved.

They wandered around the markets; ____ bought a camera and a roll of film, and a red fez a street vendor had ordered for their pet monkey and had never come back to collect. They drifted through a museum, and an art gallery, and went outside the city limits to squat between the paws of the Great Sphinx, gazing up at the sunset as they ate sandwiches together for dinner.

On their way back to the hotel they passed a group of soldiers who insisted on taking photographs of David posing in front of their jeep. After being swamped beneath a collection of oversized berets, helmets and caps, a thoroughly tired David gave everyone one last lick goodbye before dozing off in ____'s arms.

Muffled shouting rent the evening air as they turned onto the main thoroughfare. Peering across the street into the hotel lobby, ____ could see the rest of their squad - Freeman, Yates, Cunningham, Willoughby, Richards, Kent and Heaney - lined up in front of the reception desk while Captain Anderson loomed over them, screaming himself hoarse.

'-UTTERLY IRRESPONSIBLE!! WHEN SOMEBODY CHARGES YOU WITH LOOKING AFTER THEIR MASCOT, YOU DO NOT PASS THE RESPONSIBILITY ALONG BECAUSE IT IS INCONVENIENT TO YOU!! I OUGHT TO LET MAYNE SORT YOU OUT!!'

Anderson hooked a thumb towards a feral-looking blonde man being held back by four other soldiers. ____ shook their head and walked in.

'WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS THE DOG??!!'

Author's Notes

'Here sir' ____ gently soothed David back to sleep as the puppy stirred from the noise. The soldiers released Mayne, who immediately strode over, arms out.

'We went out sight-seeing; I did leave a note' ____ rocked David into Mayne's arms and unclipped the leash from David's collar.

'He's been very well-behaved all day. He's had plenty of water and lots of food, oh, and this is his-' ____ pushed the tiny fez into Mayne's breast pocket.

'Thanks for taking care of him' Mayne rumbled, calmer now he was cradling the squad mascot.

____ smiled, and gave a sharp salute.

'Any time.'

Thank you Lt_Aldo_Raine for the names 😄

#sas rogue heroes #x reader #gender neutral insert #gender neutral reader #paddy mayne #werewolf au

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pbandjesse · 4 months

Text

Today was a really good day. I am absolutely exhausted. And also very cold! I am excited to go to sleep.

I slept okay last night. I was still in a weird mood and I think if effected my dreams. I slept in and I think that helped a lot. But I still probably could have slept more.

I don't remember James leaving. But I would be okay when I got up. I got dressed and felt really pretty today. My lip hurts but is healing. My hair and makeup were great. I was in a good mood.

I had a snack for breakfast while I waited to hear from my mom. She had picked up Aunt Nadine around 9 and should be to me around 1030. So I had a little time to kill. I picked up a few things. Hung out with sweetp. And watched tiktoks on the couch. And very soon mom called me that they were downstairs.

When I got down there I laughed at them because they had parked out front and the sidewalk was so high next to Mom's car that she couldn't open the door. It got stuck on the sidewalk. Which is something that used to happen when we had the Toyota so it was very funny. I directed her to move the car to the side street and it would be easier.

She brought boxes for me for packing which was very appreciated. Hugs all around and then I took them inside. There were many complaints about the steps but we made it upstairs and I gave a mini tour and sweetp was so chatty at them which I thought was funny. He's such a baby.

We wouldn't stay at the apartment for long. We all piled into my car (after Nadine got stuck in the door and I had to feed her. We were really off to a great start) and I drove us to lunch at the Southside diner.

I have never had to wait before but it's a Saturday and we went st s normal meal time so it wasn't shocking. Just not much space to wait.

It was funny seeing Nadine make friends with other people, complimenting necklaces and stuff. And I was just enjoying being with my mom. I was feeling really happy having her here.

We did eventually get a table and the food would come quick. I loved talked to them both though. About Disney and moving and the house and the feelings I've had and I was just enjoying having them be there. I hope this isn't a one time thing.

After we finished eating and paid, I drove us over to the museum to say hi to James. Seeing my mom give them a big hug was so cute. I went to use the bathroom and had a brand new experience!

There was a huge event at the museum today for school kids doing a city building challenge so there were a bunch of kids. And right outside the bathroom was a group of preteen girls in hijabs. They came in the bathroom after me and almost all immediately took the hijabs off! I was slightly shocked but also. It's an all women's space. So it makes sense. But it was like when someone takes off their bra at the end of the day and go. Whew! They all made that face! They fixed their hair and put some water behind their ears and readjusted. It was just so sweet. We smiled at each other when we were washing out hands.

I went to give James a hug to. Mom was looking at the gift shop. Stanley came through and I introduced him to mom. And he made a fuss about me being great. I told him we would be back at BMI tomorrow but it was just to busy today. He said he knew that was right. We headed out soon after that as more people were coming in.

We drove around the block twice because I was struggling to figure out how to park at AVAM. Which was making me very stressed out but Mom told me I was okay and I ended up finding a spot across the street. I didn't know how long we would be there so I absolutely overpaid the parking but it was $3 so whatever.

I brought my staff id card that I was given when I did the contract work with them last year and I asked if I could get a discount. Mom and Nadine were like we can pay we can pay and I'm like shhh I'm haggling. And I got us all in for free I'm the best.

And I had a really good time. The one exhibit was dozens of large scale quilted embroidery pieces that told all the memories of a Holocaust survivor. Just a wild feat. There was also a really interesting exhibit from a woman with down syndrome that made these wrapped pieces and they x-rayed one to show what was inside and that was really fascinating. I really enjoyed talking about the pieces with mom and Nadine. The interesting thing about the visionary museum is that it's all self taught outside artists and there are some really funky pieces and it's just really cool to see how silly or serious or political different things can be. To see the different influences. I really enjoyed seeing the pieces. I love seeing art and it always leaves me feeling so inspired.

Before we went to the second building we stopped in the gift shop. Where Nadine lost us and thought we left her. But we were just looking at the books. I got one about turquoise jewelry of the southwest and they had a basket of Disney pins so I got a few of those to share with Jess. And after mom talked to the cashier and one of the workers for a while we went to get Nadine and walked to the other building. I climbed up in the one structure and we had some nice conversations about art and the other building is fun because it's the painted screens and the whirligigs and Fifi the giant poodle is there. It was fun.

Mom and Nadine were sitting on a bench while I was turning all the cranks and pushing all the buttons for the whirligigs. Nadine was struggling to get their reservation to confirm for the hotel but got them on the phone and became best friends with the customer service person. I was glad they have a nice room to stay in.

I wanted to show them where the house is. So I drove us all to Patterson Park and parked outside of our new place. Mom was surprised how narrow it is. It's 15 feet across inside. It's a little place for sure but they both grew up in a row house so I don't think they should be very surprised. They both seemed to like the block and the neighborhood. And after I drove us around to the alley which was the first time I've done that and it was neat to see how it was laid out from that side. I am curious if we can park there. We will have to see. It might be helpful for moving. But also it's angle parking instead of parallel so that also might be nice.

Mom had to get out of the car to move a trash can. And then I drove us around the entirety of the park so they could see how nice the park and neighborhood was. I also showed them where it gets slightly rougher but even then neither of them seemed concerned. I felt very supported and was just having fun pointing stuff out and being a tour guide.

After driving around the whole park I pointed out again where the house was. And showed how close things were to what, I took us back to the apartment. We decided we would take a break and they would go lay down and we would meet back up for dinner. This seemed like the best plan. And it worked out beautifully.

Once I parked we had big hugs and they left to go to the hotel. And I went upstairs. I was chilly. But I wanted to get at least something done even if it was small. I pulled out my suitcase and got that a little more ready. With my new little bag that I made sure fits my water bottle and umbrella. And affixed my new pins. Packed the ones for Jess. I spent a few minutes trying to find my clean toiletry airport bag. Which I did finally find in my other suitcase. So I sorted my nonliquids and my liquids and was glad to at least get a little bit accomplished.

I laid in bed with sweetp for the next hour and a half. Until James came home. I was just really cold and it was cozy in bed so why would I leave. I was happy to see James. They had a very long day. And we're pretty tired. But they were ready to leave for dinner whenever we needed to.

Mom called me as James was telling me a story about their day and thought she heard yelling. No my husband just speaks in shouts when they are excited. We decided to meet at their hotel at 6. So me and James would leave the house at 545.

And when we got there we pulled into the valet and told them we were there to get my mom and my aunt and the valet man was very nice. Opening doors for them and such. And then we were off.

Matthews would be very busy. I am not used to going to meals at normal times. But it wasn't a terrible wait. I had brought out wedding book to show Nadine so we had something to pass the time. I talked to the people waiting next to us and recommended the Thai pie to them and after they are they thanked me for the excellent recommendation. Which made me feel really good.

Nadine got tired of standing to wait and went and store a seat and I was very worried the waitress would be mad at us but it would be fine. And that's the table we ended up sat at anyway. And it took a while because they had just had a three table family party that obviously overloaded them a little but I was having fun talking and telling stories about hello kitty and giving a presentation on my wishlist for the year and explaining how the CIA selling weapons to Osama lead to Ellen losing her talk show and it was all very silly and fun.

And the food was great. I love Mathews and I'm really glad it worked out even if it was a little wait. I was happy with my family.

After we finished and paid I had James take out picture outside. And I just felt so much love.

We took them back to the hotel. I got out of the car to give hugs. And confirmed our plan for the morning. And then me and James headed home.

We got back here in one piece. James had music going and was singing and dancing at me. Being a goof. Love my silly husband.

I would take a shower. And got in my jammies and now we are in bed and I am really ready to sleep. I hope my mom and my aunt are resting and having fun being girls together in a hotel. I hope they have a nice view from their room. And I really hope we have fun tomorrow.

I hope you all sleep well tonight. Kiss your cats for me. Love you guys. Goodnight!

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