#having suddenly gotten very into spaghetti lately I am Feeling that one line | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jahayla-parker · 2 years

Text

Golden Arrows: Nathan Drake x Reader

Anonymous Request: “You got home from work, you got voicemail from your friend, you were invited to wedding for tomorrow as a guest. Next day, you put your emerald satin strappy maxi dress, necklace, and short heel sandals and also wavy hair. you get in church, it was so lovely, very crowded, you walks as you bump into someone, who is wearing a suit, you never met him before. You clear your throat as you may have seat as he maybe could be besides you, after that you went to wedding reception, just drink a bit of glass of champagne, just look at view. Suddenly he came in to you, you two talks a lots at each other, you never met someone like him who is funny, charming and optimistic, then he take you home just as you thought it would”

Summary: 6.2k wc, reader attends an event that Nathan Drake (Nate) happens to be at as well but for a very different reason. What happens when the reader finds herself falling for Nate but he is there to steal an item from the reader?

Thank you my lovely little anon for your request! I tried to combine all the aspects you requested and kinda went way over haha.

Warnings: suggestive (but no smut), a few curse words, mentions of alcohol, stealing.

P.s. This is NOT thoroughly proofread as I am about to board my plane but wanted to post it first!

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

y/f/n: your friend’s name

y/f/e: your friend’s ex’s name

y/n/n: your nickname

and as always y/n: your name

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Dropping my keys into the coffee table, I slump into the leather couch and sigh. It’s been a long week, but at least tomorrow is the weekend and I’ll have time off. I sluggishly pull my phone out of my pocket and notice a missed call and voicemail from y/f/n. As exhausted as I am, I know I should listen as she doesn’t call unless it’s serious.

“Y/n! You’re going to y/f/e’s wedding with me tomorrow! I ran into him today and was invited with a plus one. I can’t show up alone but don’t have time for a date! Plus I’ll need emotional support, no arguments! I’ll pick you up at 3!” Y/f/n screams over voicemail. I sigh and run my hands through my hair.

Y/f/n has gotten me out of many uncomfortable situations before, at least now I can finally return the favor. That’s not to say I’m excited, I’d much rather stay home and rest. Accepting my fate, I get up and prepare my outfit for tomorrow.

I settle on the best, yet also most revealing dress in my closet, a pair of 1 inch heels, and a set of golden accessories including my late mother’s golden arrow necklace. After setting the outfit out on my bed in front of me, I smile approvingly. I might as well make the most of the night, and maybe get some free drinks.

The lighting in the restroom is reflecting mesmerizingly off my spaghetti-strapped, vibrant silk dress that is dyed a deep emerald color. I take a moment to look at myself in the mirror. My dress has a plunging neckline, a bodycon-like waist, and an elegant yet sultry cut up the right leg. The whole dress stops a few inches off the ground, just short enough to show off my gold 1 inch open heel sandals, and freshly painted emerald toenails. I smirk to myself. I may not be an overly confident woman often, but today I’m feeling great about myself.

After finishing my final makeup touches, I carefully put on my mother’s necklace and the rest of my gold accessories. I smile at myself once again, loving the confidence this outfit has given me. I notice my fake lashes and cherry red lipstick make my facial features pop. My wavy hair stopping just above my shoulders.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

I roll my eyes as y/f/n continues to flirt with the older man who requested to buy her a drink when we get to the reception. The man is at least 20 years older than us. It isn’t much of a pickup line given there are free drinks even now as we mingle before taking our seats. Yet, it seems to work. “Go have fun” she says as she catches me watching her. I sigh, I came here for her, only to find myself alone.

The church for the wedding ceremony is beautiful, but it is so crowded it’s hard to even see the stained glass windows sounding the wall. The wooden pews are freshly sealed and shiny. I try to push through the crowd to get to my seat without making a scene, but unfortunately there are too many people. I bump into or rub against person after person as I progress towards my seat.

“Sorry, please -“ I say, beginning to request to pass once again as I bump into yet another attendee. However, I find my words cut short when I look up long enough to take him in. He’s my exact height, actually probably a bit taller given my heels. His gorgeous brown eyes hold a mysterious glimmer. I watch as his eyes meander over my body, slowly glancing down to my short heels and intently scanning back upwards towards my face. I bite the inside of my lip and smirk as I watch his walnut colored eyes return to mine. He instantly flushes crimson but tries to play it off by holding his hand out to me.

“I’m Nathan, but you can call me Nate” he says with this alluring voice. I take my time exploring his body with my eyes, the way he did mine. He is wearing matte black dress shoes, a midnight blue suit with matte black accents and lapels, his jacket buttoned at the bottom of his torso. Under his jacket is a white dress shirt that is firmly pressed against his chest and a black tie. I gingerly bring my eyes up to his again before letting him take my hand in his palm. His flirtatious eyes sparkle as they glance at my lips before he hangs his head to kiss the back of my hand.

“I take it you do this often?” I ask, clearing my throat and raising my eyebrow at him while shaking my head softly. “Do what?” He asks, pretending to be puzzled. I roll my eyes as I let my hand slip from his and back down to rest just above the slit in my dress. “Flirt with women at weddings” I retort, glancing around the crowded room. “Does it look like I’m talking to anyone else?” He asks, his eyes quickly taking in my mother’s necklace. “That’s not what I asked” I point out, placing my left palm against my hip as I adjust my stance.

“Hmm, well no. I don’t normally even attend weddings. After all I don’t really see the point in such a charade” he says, grabbing two glasses of champagne from the waiter walking around trying to keep people calm as we wait to be told to take our seats. “Charade?” I ask, accepting one of the champagne glasses from Nate. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you. I’m not sure your relationship with the couple. It’s just I don’t see the point in marriage, it requires one to rely on another person so strongly and trust that they won’t abandon them or the relationship. In my experience, I don’t see that being common in families or relationships so I fail to see why marriage would change that” he says, throwing back his champagne. “I can understand that perfectly. It definitely makes it harder when your trust and emotions are wrapped up in someone else’s presence in your life” I agree, sipping on my drink as I feel the weight of my mother’s golden necklace weigh down on my neck as if hearing our conversation.

I sense Nate’s eyes examining said necklace as though he knew the connection it has to my statement. Not caring to talk about my mother or her necklace, I finish my champagne in one gulp. “Well, it was nice to meet you, but I should get to my seat” I say, handing him the glass and stepping to his left to pass. “Wait!” He says, turning and delicately grasping my wrist. I don’t turn around but instead turn my neck over my shoulder to look at him. He is biting his lip and staring at me. “Yes?” I ask, turning my body a bit more towards him. “You never told me your name” Nate answers.

I nod twice, “Y/N”. He smiles wide enough to show his snowy white teeth. I can’t help but smile back. He opens his mouth appearing to want to say something before he quickly raises his hand to scratch his right inner ear and sighs. “Well, I’ll see you around” I say, not sure what more there is to do and begin to walk to my seat. “I know… I know” I hear Nate mumble softly. “I couldn’t quite make that out. What was that?” I ask, turning around as he interrupts my approach yet again.

“Oh, uh.. I was just talking to myself about how I shouldn’t let you sit by yourself. Especially when you don’t care for weddings either” he says, striding closer. Not fully believing him, I anxiously take hold of my mother’s necklace and run my finger absentmindedly over the intricate carvings along the arrow charm. She never told me where she got it, always saying I was too young to hear the story, but I know it was her favorite necklace.

When she went on another work trip to some other country, she decided I was old enough to keep it safe until she returned. Granted I still wasn’t old enough to be told anything about the necklace, but at least she had begun to trust me with it. She had placed it cautiously around my neck when we said our goodbyes 7 years ago. That was the last time I saw or heard from her, or even about her until her coworker showed up and told me she died on the work trip. Once again, I was not told anything more about what happened, where the trip was, or even what it is my mom does for work.

“Umm thank you, but I’m actually sitting wi-“ I begin as I come back to my senses and face y/f/n but she has her eyes locked on me and is signaling behind Nate’s back to sit with him. “Actually, sure” I say, rubbing the engravings once more before letting go of the necklace and letting it lay against my chest once again. He smiles and holds his hand out for me. I feel my cheeks flush and politely accept his direction and assistance even though I don’t need it.

“See, told you” Nate snickers, his arm draped over my shoulder as he points to the aisle next to me. Just as he predicted, the bridesmaids are wearing horrendously vibrant pink dresses with cheap chunky jewels and sequins. I bite my lip to not laugh loudly, instead letting a small giggle escape. I turn to face him and we hold eye contact for awhile as he smiles at me, his arm still behind my neck.

“Woah she looks beautiful!” I hear the young girl on the other side of me say just as the music changes to a different song and the bride enters the room. “She’s not the only one” Nate whispers, dragging his hand a bit back towards him but still on me; just more center on the back of my neck this time. I smirk “you really shouldn’t hype yourself up like that ya know. Girls like confidence but that’s just cocky” I joke. His eyes widen before realizing I’m joking. He laughs and shakes his head, “I was talking about you”. I feel his fingers dance over the back of my neck playfully but his gaze never leaves mine.

Nate looks down at his lap as his free hand goes back up to his right ear again, “I can’t do this” he says quietly. “I know, we already discussed that” I tease. “What?!” He asks, his head instantly raising to look at me. “Getting married, we already said how neither of us understands the point of it. That is what you’re talking about right?” I ask in a hushed tone as the ceremony progresses before us. “Oh, yeah, right” he laughs timidly. “Well, relax Nate, it isn’t like anyone here is forced to go home with someone other than him” I say, pointing to y/f/e. He remains silent so I glance over at him and see him smirking as he watched me closely, “forced, no”.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

“He’s cute, who is he?!” Y/f/n asks gleefully as she sips on the drink the man she snuck away from bought her. “His name is Nate” I laugh, not divulging any more information. She winks, “are you thinking of going home with him?”. I play coy and shrug, knowing she’ll cause a scene if I outright tell her I’m tempted. “Well, better go get cozy again” she says, tipping her glass in his direction.

I finish my champagne as I round the buffet tables, headed towards the hall where Nate is leaning up against a wall. Setting my glass down on the table nearest to me, I take a deep breath and touch my necklace for good luck. “You don’t get it Sully! It isn’t that I logistically can’t do it. It is that I don’t want to, it clearly means something to her. Plus, she m-“ Nate says, and only now do I notice the phone in his hand. I pause behind him, as I am not wanting to interrupt and also out of curiosity.

“I know, but we need to figure something else out, I’m not pick pocketing Y/N’s necklace Sully. I won’t do it” Nate says angrily. I feel a tightness in my chest and take a shaky breath as I clutch my mother’s arrow charm even tighter in my left hand. Nate seems to hear me as he quickly turns around and gives me a remorseful look. I clench my teeth and use my empty hand to smack his irritatingly enchanting face. “Fuck you Nate” I say, spinning on my heels so fast I’m surprised I don’t fall. However, the anger and betrayal I feel keeps me upright as I stalk out of the hall and back into the reception center.

Y/f/n is still chatting with the guy from before. I guess I need to just wait it out. However, the pain in my chest won’t leave and tears begin to form at the idea of something happening to the last piece of my mother I have left. When she died, her coworker scavenged the apartment and took most of the things from her locked office. Whereas the social workers who picked me up refused to let me take anything more than a weeks worth of clothes from my bedroom. I found out later that week that the bank took possession of the house thereafter and sold everything. This unique yet unimportant necklace is all I have left of her, and Nate, some random man I met at a random person’s wedding hit on me and was kind just to steal it?! Anger and more sadness bubbles up inside of me and I decide I need to do something about it.

I stomp over to the bar and quickly ask for the strongest drink they have. The man behind the bar nods and promptly starts to make the drink. “You’re not even going to check her ID?” I hear a firm, yet somehow annoyingly warm voice asks. My brain instantly connects the voice to the man; Nate. I refuse to turn around and acknowledge his presence. The bartender glances up, “are you under 21?” He asks me. “No, ignore him” I groan, reaching into my clutch to pull out my ID. “Says she’s over 21” the bartender says, handing it back.

“You don’t think she’d have a fake ID? Rookie mistake. Don’t lose your license over her wanting to prematurely drink” Nate says, placing his hand on my lower back in an attempt to lead me away from the bar. The bartender gives me a look that tells me Nate won. I glare at Nate and pick up the pace to get away from him. “Y/N, wait, please “ he calls out after me.

“What the hell was that?!” I ask pointing aggressively towards the bar. Nate shrugs, “he doesn’t make it right anyways, it wouldn’t have tasted good”. I narrow my eyes at him even more, “that wasn’t the point! I don’t care what it tastes like”. He sighs, “because the intent was to get intoxicated”. I give him a look that causes him to straighten his back more, “you’re the reason behind that and yet you ruined that too”. Nate frowns, “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you, but can’t we just talk about this? I can explain-“.

“Explain?! Fine Nate, explain to me why you thought I wouldn’t be hurt by you attempting to steal my mother’s necklace from me. The one thing I have left of the dead woman I used to rely on 7 years ago!” I scream. Nate’s eyes widen and his expression looks even more ashamed and remorseful than he did in the hall when I caught him. Before he can attempt to respond, I’m speaking again, “Explain why is this random necklace so important that you would go through the whole charade this evening!?”

This time, Nate responds before I can continue yelling at him, “charade?!”. “Yes Nate, the charade of you acting like you were interested in me, like you wanted to get to know me, and like you gave a damn about me!” I glare, really resenting not being able to have had a drink before this. “Y/N, that wasn’t a damn charade!” He argues, reaching out to grab my hand. I step back, still glaring at him. If I keep this up, I’m definitely going to have a headache tomorrow from the tension above my eyes. He sighs and closes his eyes. “No?! You really expect me to believe it wasn’t a ploy to get my necklace?!” I argue. His eyes quickly open and he meets my eyes.

“If you recall, you bumped into me! I didn’t even notice you had the collier reine des flèches until after I was enthralled by you” Nate says, refusing to break eye contact. I open my mouth to object but he continues. “Look Y/N, I get it, I do. I didn’t know what the collier reine des flèches meant to you. But even before that I stopped even considering trying to take it because I knew it was wrong and I couldn’t do that to you. And I promise I’m not going to change my mind on that, regardless on if you forgive me or not” he rambles on.

“What is that?” I ask, noticing he’s mentioned it twice. “What is what?” He asks, seemingly surprised that that is what I focused on from his statement. “The French sounding thing you said” I say, relaxing my eyes. “You knew it was French but not what it means?” He asks intrigued. “My mom taught me clue to pick up on what language someone is speaking even without an accent. Now your turn” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest.

He laughs softly and nods, “It is the name of that there necklace” he says, pointing at my mother’s gold necklace and intricate arrow charm dangling off of it. I try to think if there are any words in the name that sound familiar. I learned a little French since my mom was always speaking it in her office. But, I never knew enough to understand full sentences nor learn what she was talking about. “It’s rough translation is ‘queen of arrows necklace’. It dates back centuries and used to belong, as its name suggests, to Queen Marceline Kybele” Nate explains after noticing my confusion.

“How do you know all of this?” I ask, cautious of his motivations still. He may have decided not to take it earlier but this could be another ploy to get me to lower my guard. “I guess you could say I am a treasure hunter and the collier reine des flèches is a crucial relic said to unlock the path to Queen Kybele’s hidden gem chest” he says slowly. “Why is she called the queen of arrows if her chest is full of gems?” I ask aloud before I can stop myself. Nate smirks a bit before smiling, “her army only ever used arrows to defend the kingdom and the shovels her gem seekers used to dig up said gems were shaped as arrows both in regards to the blade, which was a downwards arrow, and the handle which was a dull upwards facing arrow”.

While I get the sense Nate is saying all of this to show off, I can’t help but be intrigued. I never knew exactly what my mom did, but I knew it had to do with artifacts from other countries; hence the language lessons. “Why would my mom have this?” I question, asking my more important question this time. “Why, I’m not sure. How, has an easier answer” Nate says. I raise my eyebrow, “are you suggesting she stole it?”. “Y/N, I wish I could tell you no, but from now on I’m not going to lie or hide anything from you” he says kindly.

I’m still hesitant to trust him but something in his eyes is so assuring. Regardless of whether I can trust him or not, I need to try and understand as much as I can about the necklace and my mother. It seems he may know more about her than I do. “And that means it is okay to steal it back?” I ask, taking a seat at one of the decorated tables surrounding the ballroom floor.

“It was an excuse I gave myself. You’re telling me you’ve never done something just to get by?” Nate asks, sitting next to me. “I’m not saying that in the slightest,” this causes Nate to smirk, “I’ve done plenty I didn’t care for in order to keep a roof over my head and feed myself after I aged out of the system”. Nate’s hands stop tapping the table as he watches me even more scrutinizingly. “You were in the system?” He asks. I nod, “and don’t you dare give me that look of pity everyone gives when they find out”. He shakes his head with a chuckle, “no, I get it. I was too, so no pity from me”. I give him a nod, “okay, good, no pity. I’m still trying to decide if I like you or not, the last thing I need is you feeling sorry for me”.

“I can’t believe it” I say, pushing my chair back from the table by extending my arms and sliding back. “Y/N,” Nate says, standing up. “No.. I… I’m not mad at you. Well, still irritated, but after all of this” I say, waving my hand around in the air as if one could point to the long conversation we just had. “I’m not mad and I’m starting to trust you. Well, at least what you say. I just…. I can’t… you know more about my mom than I do or ever did” I say shaking my head to myself. “Hey, come here” he says, inching closer and taking me into a hug, “I’m sure that’s not true”.

“Nate?” I ask, stepping out of his arms as the song ends and I notice hardly anyone else was dancing. It was Nate’s suggestion to take my mind off my mom. “Yes?” He inquires, squeezing my hand. “How did you know the necklace would be here?” I ask. “Oh, Sully got a tip from someone who mentioned it would likely be present tonight. Granted, we didn’t know it would be on someone, and if it was we’d assumed it would’ve been the bride” he says, softly tugging on my hand to bring me closer to him again.

I smile as I rest my head on his shoulder as his hands adjust until one is holding mine and the other is around my lower back. I drape my my free arm under his and rest the palm of my hand on his shoulder as we sway back and forth. “Are you feeling any better?” He asks quietly and I can feel his breath against my exposed neck. “A little” I say, smirking as I press my face further into his shoulder. He chuckles lightly before I feel his lips press against my bare shoulder, “good”.

“The newlyweds want to remind everyone to sign the guest book in the back corner of the room” the DJ says, ending the peace I found with Nate. My attention is brought back to my surroundings as I lift my head off his shoulder and loosen my grip on him. “You’re wanting to sign the book?” Nate asks surprised. “No.. I just….” I mutter, trying to compose my thoughts on the task at hand and not on Nate or funny and optimistic he is.

You’d think a man cynical of marriage to be pessimistic, but he’s not. Nathan tried his best to be optimistic for me when it came to my mom and the mysteries that suddenly seem to surround my life now. He is also endearing and charming, going so far as to assure me that he’d help me find the answers to all those mysteries and questions I now have.

“Y/N?” Nate asks, stroking my face tenderly. I snap out of my distracting thoughts only to look up at his equally if not more distractingly handsome features. “What seems to be on your mind presently?” he asks, “maybe I can help”. “Do you know who the tip came from?” I ask, glancing across the hotel ballroom we’re in at my only suspect.

I feel guilt rise in me as I even consider the possibility it could be her, but no one else knew I had this necklace or paid any mind to it if they did. “Ummm… one sec” Nate says, fishing in his jacket pocket for his phone. “Ahh here it is, someone named y/f/n” he says, “and here is their photo” he adds holding up his phone. Upon hearing his confirmation and seeing her face on his screen, the guilt I felt immediately dissipates and turns into anger instead. “I’m going to kill her” I growl, stepping back from Nathan.

“Y/N, you know her?” He asks and before I can tell him how stupid I think that question is, I remember he didn’t know the necklace would be on anyone, just that it would be in the building. Meaning he had no way of knowing the tip would be someone I’d know. When I don’t respond Nate follows my gaze as I stare across the room in fumes at her betrayal. Nathan didn’t know what the necklace meant to me, and even before then he changed his mind and didn’t actually take it. Y/f/n on the other hand knew full well the value I placed on the necklace and willingly went behind my back. “Oh shit” Nate mumbles, grabbing my hand, “come on, let’s just go”.

I shake my head, staring over at her even as I feel Nate’s eyes focused on me and his breath against my skin. “I have something I need to do” I say, slipping my hand from his and heading towards y/f/n. “Y/n/n, you know you can’t actually kill her right?” Nate asks, speed walking to keep up with my prowl. “I know” I respond sharply, irritated he’s trying to limit what I’m doing once again. I may not have actually been on my way to kill her, but between the drinks and this, it’s getting frustrating. “I’m just trying to make sure because I care about you and don’t want you to make a rash decision you’ll regret” he says, slipping his hand into mine as he catches up. His words cause me to slow but not stop. I nod in appreciation as we finally close in on y/f/n.

“Nate, how have you been?” the older man from earlier asks as he and y/f/n take notice of our arrival. My eyes quickly dash over to Nate who just squeezes my hand while glaring at the older man. “Nate? Who is this?” I ask, trying to trust the Nate I feel I’ve come to know, but the intensity of the situation makes it difficult. “Y/N, meet Sully” he says, his eyes never leaving Sully. Nate told me about his business/treasure hunting partner -Sully- during our conversation earlier this evening. “It’s a pleasure Y/N” Sully says, holding his hand out towards me. Nate tugs on my hand but after everything Nate told me, I already know better than to trust Sully. “That’s a beautiful necklace you have there” Sully says.

Nate tugs backwards on my hand again before dropping it and standing slightly in front of me. Shielding me, and the necklace, from Sully. “Nate, it’s fine, I’m just admiring it” Sully says, looking between the two of us; likely trying to figure out if I know what he and Nate had planned. “Sully, stop. You need to leave her alone. I’m serious. Plus, she already-“ Nate protests, inching over to cover more of me.

“No Nate, like Sully said, it’s fine” I say, placing my hand on Nate’s back in between his shoulder blades. Nate gives me a sideways glance, confused and silently pleading for me to step back. Ignoring him and feeling all of my emotions from today rise up, I remove my hand from his back and reach behind my neck. “Y/N, what are you-“ Nate questions, reaching for my hand.

I unclasp my mother’s necklace and ball it up into the palm of my hand, feeling the point of the arrow pierce my skin. “This clearly means more to you guys than it does to me. I couldn’t care less about the damn thing anymore. I’m tired of the secrecy and lies that have been plaguing my life longer than I even could have imagined. So here, do with it as you please. It, “ I say, grabbing Sully’s hand and dropping the necklace into it. “And you,” I add, facing y/f/n “are both dead to me. Enjoy” I say, walking off.

I take yet another shaky breath this evening as I slip out onto the terrace. Part of me feels missing and empty without the necklace, but part of me feels relieved. It was the last thing I had of my mother, but it also was the thing that caused so much insanity and lies; even from my mother. I decide to settle on the belief it is better off with Sully, and Nate, should he choose to return to their original plan to use it to find the gems.

I let my eyes lazily wander across the landscape before me. The dark sky being lit up only through the lights of the party and the stars in the sky. It is oddly calming and certainly romantic, I can see why they chose this venue. I cross my arms and lean forward to rest them on the terrace railing. “You really should be careful doing that” I hear Nate’s voice call out. He says it in a whisper, but it is so silent out here that it sounds normal. “And you, should really stop trying to make decisions for me” I respond, leaning against the railing more in retaliation.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s clear you are capable of taking care of yourself. As I said earlier, I care for you. Which means I don’t want to see you get hurt, even through your own choices” Nate states, standing next to me. I nod as I stare into the twinkled abyss before us. “But, I realize I need to step back a bit and let you make your own decisions” he says, handing me a drink. I glance over at him and thank him as I take notice of the champagne.

“It was truly the best option they had left” he says as I take the glass from him. I laugh and smile at him before sipping on my drink. “Unless you want my beer” he offers, holding it out to me. “I’m good, thanks” I say, scooting closer to him. “I hope you don’t mind me doing this one last thing” he says as he sets his beer down on the patio table. Before I can turn to face him, he is behind me with his arms over my shoulders as he grabs something from his left hand with his right as they connect above my chest. I can feel his breath warming up my neck as his fingers slowly pull in their respective directions and around to the back of my neck.

The dark makes it impossible to see, but the weight and feeling is so similar I know in an instant it is my mother’s necklace he is holding. “Nate?” I ask barely audibly as I reach up with my free hand to rub the carvings. “Hmmm?” he asks as his fingers and breath tickle the back of my neck while he fastens the clasp. “What’re you doing?” I ask, shocked to have the necklace back, let alone from Nate. “Returning it to where it belongs” he whispers, placing a soft kiss to the backside of my neck.

I feel my breath catch in my throat as I turn to face him. I quickly place my drink down next to his. Presumably with tears in my eyes, I smile at him and wrap my arms around his neck. “What happened to finding the gems?” I ask curiously. He gives me a smile, the left of his lips curling upwards more than the right, “some things are more important”. I mentally thank the universe for it being so dark out here as I’m sure my cheeks are neon red.

I lean forwards and connect my lips with his, causing Nate to smile as he kisses me back. “Thank you. I’m sorry about your adventure though” I admit. He shakes his head and wraps his arms around the small of my back, “this one seems better. Besides, we could always look for it together”. I hum, drawing shapes on his back with my finger, “you know you could have just kept the necklace and then you wouldn’t need me to go with you”.

“I realize. But you seemed really interested in the history of it, most people zone out when I ramble like that” he laughs, moving one hand up to trace my jawline. “Besides, if I’m stuck looking for Queen Kybele’s treasure with Sully, I’d like you to keep me company” he says, and I swear despite the darkness he is blushing. I smile and pull him in for another kiss.

Nate uses his arm on my lower back to pull me to him as his tongue dances over my bottom lip. I open my mouth enough to let it enter as I raise my hands to his hair. He moans as I softly tug on the back of his head. I smirk and remove my mouth from his before lowering my lips to his neck. He instinctively holds me even tighter as he backs up into the brick wall behind him. I have just begun to place teasing kisses on his neck when he abruptly pulls back to create distance.

“Nate?” I ask, my hand trailing down his chest. He takes a deep breath and stares deeply into my eyes, “is this just because of everything that happened tonight?”. I shake my head no. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you mom or y/f/n or how much you’ve had to drink?” He checks, holding my hand. Once again I shake my head no, smiling at how sweet and considerate he’s being. I elect to ignore the fact that I have hardly had anything to drink; in part thanks to him.

“Okay, so you’re not just in need of a distraction? Because you don’t have to do this,” he says softly. “I’m sure Nate. But if you don’t want me to-“ I begin, but he cuts me off “no! I want you to, I want us to, I just want to make sure there aren’t any issues with why you changed your mind” he responds. “Who said I changed my mind? Last I recall, I said I was trying to decide if I liked you” I tell him, my fingers hooking onto his tie as I form a grip around it.

“And... I’ve reached my decision” I tell him, using his tie to pull his head forward until our lips meet. He smirks into the kiss and quickly swipes his tongue back over my mouth. I as open my mouth in response, I keep one hand gripped on his tie and the other moves back to his hair again.

“So, does this mean you’d like to go with us to find Queen Kybele’s treasure” Nate asks as we part for air. “I’ll think about it, how about you show me why I should” I smirk causing the taunting glimmer in his eyes to flicker as he smiles and pulls me against his body. “Okay, but Sully isn’t joining this adventure” he laughs. “Nate!” I yell, smacking his chest playfully.

He grabs my wrist from his chest and holds it over my head as he presses me against the wall, his lips coming down to meet mine. “You have a deal, why don’t we take this somewhere more private where I can show you” he says, his lips against my jaw. “Every” his lips move to my chin, “single” lips moving to the skin below my ear, “reason” lips on my neck. I let out a low moan as he sucks on the skin of my neck. “You have yourself a deal” I paraphrase him as I take advantage of our position to wrap my legs around his waist.

#tom holland x reader #Nathan drake #nathan drake x reader #nathan drake fanfiction #tom holland nathan drake #nate drake x reader #uncharted #tom holland uncharted #tom holland uncharted fanfiction #requests #my writing #little lovely anons

156 notes · View notes

watchyourbluesturngolden · 3 years

Note

hi! i love your blog! i was wondering if maybe you could write something where y/n and harry just had their first baby and they finally get some time to themselves and she's a little insecure about their first time after the post partum and nervous about her body or how it gonna feels like? thank uu💖

omg thank you 🥺🥺 I'm so sorry this took so long! i hope you like it :)

a very romantic bath for two

warnings: body insecurity, body image issues

word count: 2.8k

You sighed as you inspected your body in the mirror, running your fingers over the raised lines on your tummy and hips. Many of them were new; they had popped up sometime during your second trimester. At the time, you had been too busy worrying about the new life growing inside you and preparing to bring her home to focus too much on what was happening to your body. Even during the last few weeks of your pregnancy when you felt huge most of the time, Harry made sure to remind you constantly how much he loved you and your new body. He would rub your belly all the time, leaning down to kiss it and talk to your baby. He insisted it would help them develop faster once they were born, but you weren't quite sure where he got this "fact". You both knew he just liked being close to you and your baby.

He really hadn't left any room for you to be insecure during your pregnancy. He reassured you every day that you were more beautiful than ever, and he was always showing you how much he liked your new body. He could never keep his hands off you, always wanting to touch and hold you. It even got annoying at times, but mostly you appreciated it, and you were glad he never let your hormones get the best of you. Then, after Stevie was born, you were too busy and exhausted to even think about your appearance. You and harry were barely getting any sleep, and all of your time was devoted to caring for the newest member of your family. It wasn't until now, when Stevie was a little over 3 months old, that things started calming down a bit. She slept through the night most of the time, and you were finally coming out of that sleep deprived haze you had been in. Unfortunately, this gave you time to really look at yourself in the mirror. You had just gotten out of the shower, and Harry was with Stevie in the living room. You tilted to the side, looking at how much bigger your stomach was than before you had Stevie. The skin there was dimpled and soft, much more squishy than it used to be. And the stretch marks. They were everywhere, and much more prominent than they had ever been. You weren't sure if you would ever be able to get back to normal. Your negative thoughts were interrupted by a short knock on the door. You quickly wrapped a towel around yourself before you called, "You can come in!" Harry peaked his head into the room, smiling softly. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm out of wipes. I think there's another pack under the sink?" "No, it's okay, i was done," you smiled, reaching under the sink to grab the package. "Is she okay?" "She's fine, lovie," he smiled softly. "You don't have to feel bad being away for her for half an hour." "I know," you sighed. "But i still do. I hate not being next to her all the time." "Me too, i just want to hold her and never put her down." You nodded, sighing internally at how much you already missed your baby. "Why don't you finish up in here and then we'll make some lunch?" "Sounds good," you said, smiling at him in the mirror. Once the door was closed, you dropped the towel again. You really tried not to be too upset about how you looked, but it was hard. You knew if you told Harry he would just say the same thing, that it was normal and he thought you were beautiful. You didn't think that would help much. So you pulled on your old t-shirt and sweatpants, running a brush through your wet hair before making your way out to the kitchen. "Hi, baby," you smiled, picking Stevie up from the play mat on the floor. "I missed you." She snuggled against your chest, her head leaning on your shoulder as she let out a content little sigh. You leaned down, grabbing Stevie's rattle and putting it back in the toy box before you made your way into the kitchen. "How does spaghetti sound?" Harry asked. "Sounds good," you nodded, settling into one of the chairs at the dining table. you were about to pull off your shirt to feed Stevie, but the image of your prominent stretch marks made you reconsider. "Can you grab me one of the blankets?" You asked, but kept your eyes on Stevie. You knew if you looked up, you would see that sad and confused look on his face as he wondered why you suddenly wanted to cover yourself around him, and you really didn't feel like explaining your newfound insecurities right now. Thankfully, he didn't press for answers. "Sure, love. It's in the nursery?" You nodded, fiddling with the collar of Stevie's onesie to look busy. "Okay, I'll be right back," He gave a small smile before he left the kitchen. "What am i gonna do, hm?" You asked Stevie. She just blinked in response. Harry came back with the blanket, draping it over your shoulders from the front. "Thank you," you said quietly, adjusting the cover so you could pull your shirt up. "Of course, love," he replied, going back to the stove. "I wanted to ask you something, actually." You

hummed questioningly, eyes fixed on Stevie under the blanket. "Well, we just haven't had any time alone since Stevie was born, and my mum is dying to spend some more time with her, so do you think... I mean, only if it's okay with you, maybe we could have my mum take her for the weekend?" You hesitated, your heart suddenly beating much faster. Being away from Stevie for more than a day... of course you knew she would be safe and happy with Anne, but still... the thought made anxiety spike in your chest. Then there was the matter of being alone with Harry. You probably should feel guilty for not wanting to spend time with him, but with the way you had been feeling about yourself lately, you couldn't bring yourself to care. But you also knew refusing this would cause all sorts of problems. It would make both Harry and Anne feel bad, and you really didn't want to upset anyone. So, taking a shaky breath in, you nodded. "We can do that. I just... i don't think I can do more than a day or two." "That's totally fine," Harry reassured you. "I don't want to be away from her for that long either. I was thinking we could drop her off Friday after lunch, then pick her up Saturday evening. Or sometime Sunday if they're really having a good time," he laughed. "They'll have all sorts of fun together, mum might not want to let her go so soon." You smiled at the thought of the pictures you knew Anne would send you. Stevie and her in the garden, Stevie in the stroller as they went for a walk, Stevie in the high chair while Anne baked cookies. "Okay. After supper we can get her stuff together." Harry beamed, coming over to kiss your forehead. "Thank you, baby. And if it gets to be too much, we can pick her up early. We can do whatever you need, okay?" Despite Harry's constant reassurance, you felt no less anxious the next day. You checked and re-checked Stevie's bag, making sure she had enough clothes to last her a week. "Lovie, she's only gonna be there for two days," Harry reminded you gently. "No, I know, but what if she spits up a lot? Sometimes she spits up a whole bunch and then she'll need to be changed, and what if-" "Hey, hey," he cut you off, placing his hands on your shoulders and speaking in a soothing tone. "It'll be alright. She's gonna be fine. She has enough clothes, and everything is gonna be okay." You nodded, taking a deep breath as you looked into his eyes. "Right. She's gonna be fine."

-----

"And the milk is here-" you held up several plastic bags- "I'll put this in the fridge. And to heat it up- wait, you already know how to heat up milk," you laughed nervously. "Um, and her onesies are all in the backpack. I have extras in there- a lot of extras, because sometimes she spits up a lot. And then her diffuser is in there too- we usually put a few drops of lavender oil in there, it helps her sleep. And diapers and wipes and diaper cream are all in the bag, and... oh! Her stuffed bunny. It helps her calm down if she's fussy. And I think... that should be everything," You exhaled, trying to smile at Anne. Harry put his arm around your waist. "Y/N, she knows how to take care of a baby. Look how well i turned out!" Despite how nervous you were, you managed to laugh. "Right. I'm just... I'm sorry, I've never been away from her." "It's alright," Anne smiled reassuringly. "I understand how scary it is to be away from her for the first time. But you can call or FaceTime, or if it's too much you can come pick her up." "Thank you," you sighed. "We should probably get going before i change my mind." Harry nodded, unbuckling Stevie from her carrier. He hugged her to his chest, kissing the top of her head. "I'll miss you so much," he said. "But you'll have so much fun with your grandma. And we'll see you soon, okay?" he kissed her one more time before handing her over to you. "Be good for your grandma, okay? I love you," you kissed her just like Harry had. "I love you so much." Before you could start crying, you handed her to Anne. "Thank you so much for this, Anne," you said. "We really appreciate it." "You're a godsend," harry agreed. "Thank you." "Of course, I'm happy to have her," Anne smiled. "Now shoo, so i can spend some time with her!"

-----

"It's so quiet," Harry said as you walked into the house. "I'm not used to it." "I know," You laughed. "There's no cartoons or baby shark, it's crazy." "Can't say I miss baby shark, though," he shook his head. "I think we need to find a new song for her." You nodded. "It got old really fast." "It did," he laughed. "And now... we can enjoy some peace... and quiet." He stepped closer to you, smiling as he heard your breath hitch. "I was thinking maybe we could have a bath together?" Your heart started thudding faster in your chest, and not for a good reason. "No," you said quickly. Too quickly. Hurt and confusion flashed across his face, and you immediately wanted to take back your words. "I just- I can't," you said quietly, stepping back. "Is there... did something happen?" he asked gently, eyes softening when he realized how close to tears you were. "What's the matter, love?" "Harry, I just can't," you shook your head as tears welled up in your eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm trying but I just can't get back to normal. I look terrible and I have all these stretch marks and everything is just wrong," you cried, bringing up your hands to cover your face. "Baby..." he whispered, moving closer and opening his arms. "Come here." You did as he asked, walking into his arms and leaning against him as you cried. "I just don't want you to see me," you sniffled. "Your body isn't wrong," he shook his head. "Not at all. It might look different than it did before, but that's because it went through something amazing. It gave us Stevie! It- you are perfect. Alright?" You nodded against his chest. "I just... i really don't like the way i look anymore and i don't think you will either." Since your face was pressed against his shirt, you didn't see the way his face dropped. You didn't see how much it hurt him to hear you talk about yourself this way. You felt him inhale a shaky breath before he hugged you tighter. "I'm so sorry you feel this way. I had no idea how much it was bothering you. I want- I want to show you how much I love you. Will you let me show you?" "How?" you said quietly. "Do you trust me?" You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He smiled, pulling back and taking your hand. He lead you into your bedroom, closing the door behind the two of you. He crossed the room to stand in front of you again, his fingers gripping the hem of your shirt. "Can i take this off?" he asked quietly, keeping his eyes on yours. He must have sensed your hesitancy, because he dropped his hands down to his sides. "It's just me," he reminded you. "We don't have to if you don't want to, though." "No, it's... it's okay," You decided, raising your arms. He smiled gently, tugging the soft material up and over your head. You kept your eyes on him as soon as the shirt was off your head, too apprehensive to look down at your body. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. He hooked his fingers in the elastic of your sweatpants, looking at you again for confirmation. You nodded, allowing him to pull the rest of the clothing off your body and taking his hand to step out of them. He lead you over to the bed, keeping his eyes on yours the whole way. "Lay back," he instructed quietly, watching as you did what he said. He climbed into the bed behind you, settling himself between your legs to meet your eyes. "You're amazing," he smiled. "The most beautiful woman I've ever seen." he brought his hand down to your stomach, and you cringed immediately when he brushed over one of the marks. "It's okay," he soothed. "There's nothing wrong with these. You know what they are?" You shook your head. "They're little marks that remind us of Stevie. They show how strong you are for carrying her, and keeping her safe until she was ready to come out and meet us. And they show how someday, you'll be able to have another baby, and keep him or her safe just like Stevie. Right? That's all they are." He moved down, leaning his head closer so he could press a soft kiss to one of the marks near your hip. "I don't want you to change anything

about yourself," he said, moving his lips over the lines on your tummy. "I love you just the way you are." Tears were welling up in your eyes again, but this time they weren't from anxiety or fear. This time, they were because you felt overwhelmed by your love for him. "Harry..." He looked up, his face falling when he noticed the tears in your eyes. "No, please don't cry," he said, moving back up to hover over you again. "I'm sorry, please don't be upset," he frowned, wiping one of the tears away with his thumb. You shook your head. "That's not why- i just love you so much," you said, trying your best to smile. "I love you too," he smiled back, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your nose, then your cheeks, and finally, your lips. "I love you so, so much, and I will show you every day if you'll let me," he sighed, moving off you to lay on his side. He kept one hand on your hip, helping you turn over to look at him. "I want you to tell me if you're ever feeling like this again, okay? I want to know so I can help you." "Okay," you nodded, still sniffling a bit. "Thank you." You leaned against him, tucking your head in his neck. "Thank you." "Of course, lovie." He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. "I want you to always know how loved you are. It doesn't matter how many times I have to remind you; i don't ever want you to feel like this and not tell me. I love you way too much to let you be this sad." "I will," you promised. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." "it's okay," he soothed, running his hand up and down your back. "Do you think... it's okay if you're not ready yet, but do you think we could try taking a bath?" This time, you barely even hesitated before answering. "I think we can try," you nodded. "We can even turn off the lights if you want, just light a few candles," he mused, his face pressed gently against your hair. "It's more romantic that way anyways." "That sounds good," you laughed. "Come on then," he said, sitting up. "One very romantic bath for two, coming right up."

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harry styles x you fanfiction #harrystylesxyou #harrystylesxreader #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles x you #harry fanfiction #dad!harry

223 notes · View notes

sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years

Text

Booty Shorts

Pairing: BNHA Boys x fem!reader

Warnings: Groping and lots of making out. No-no language in Bakugou's. Idk just general vulgarity, I guess.

Author's Note:

I don't really know what I was thinking when I came up with this, but, uh, here it is. I made this.

Anyway, my idea behind this was something along the lines of an insecure and/or modest reader who normally dresses kinda conservatively around other people but one day she decides that she's comfortable and puts on some booty shorts and a tank top (spicy spicy) more or less for her boyfriend. That's literally it. They're all a bit different, though.

I am throwing my dignity out the window here, okie? It's all for you guys, so enjoy (ya horny fricks).

Enjoy some more BNHA trash from me!

-Sugar (from prolly four months ago. This one is kind of old and I was debating whether or not I should post it, but I’m starting to get really tired of letting it sit in my drafts and I edited it so it wasn’t quite as atrocious as the original on Wattpad)

Jesus forgive me <( ‘-////-)>

↞┉┉┉↠

Characters: Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari

Bakugou:

● You made your way up to Katsuki's dorm, cautiously making sure no one saw you

● You were wearing shorts that left little to the imagination and a hoodie, which you planned to discard soon after reaching your destination

● You knocked on Bakugou's door, which he quickly answered

● At first, he didn't even notice anything different, until his eyes slipped down and fell upon your bare legs

● He sucked in a breath and pulled you into his room, quickly shutting his door

● He pressed your back against his chest, his hands moving from their grip on your hips down to stroke your exposed thighs, then back up to squeeze your butt

● You knew he had a slight fascination with it, since you were constantly catching him watching you while you were turned away from him

● You had finally decided to give him exactly what he wanted, and you could tell he wasn't complaining

● "Did anyone see you?" he whispered in your ear, a possessive tone creeping into his voice

● "No," you breathed

● "Good." He gave you a light slap, enjoying watching the resulting jiggle

● He started guiding you towards his bed, where he pushed you down onto his mattress

● "What made you decide to tease me like this today?" he asked, bending over you, his hands going back to caressing your legs

● You shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the flush that had made itself present across your cheeks

● He smirked and met his lips to yours in a searing kiss, his tongue quickly entering your mouth

● You sucked on it, pulling him closer as his lips moved to press against yours

● You halted your makeout session to pull your hoodie over your head, revealing a spaghetti strap tank top and no bra

● Katsuki kinda lost it; it being too early in your relationship to have been very intimate, so it wasn't like he'd seen your skin so much before

● His hands don't know where to go, wanting to be everywhere at once, touching and feeling every inch of your skin beneath him

● He palms one of your breasts, causing you to whimper into the kiss he had given you

● He decides to take his shirt off too, repaying your gesture

● The sight of his toned body causes your breath to catch in your throat and he grins at your reaction to him as you reach up your hands to touch him

● You make out for a long time on his bed, hands brushing over anywhere they could reach

● After several minutes, it comes to an end, the two of you pausing to catch your breaths

● "Why did I come over here again?" you ask no one in particular, your voice still breathless as you lay against Katsuki's pillow

● "To see me, dumbass." He settles himself beside you, his eyes occasionally dropping back down to your rising and falling chest

● "Well, yeah, but weren't we going to do something?"

● "You checked out of that when you showed up to my door in those shorts."

● "Like what you see?" You smirk

● "Of course, you stupid nerd. What did you think?"

● You chuckle and ruffle his hair, making him scowl. "Come on, weren't we going to watch a movie or something?"

● "I don't know."

● "Well we can't exactly make out all night—"

● "Says who?" Katsuki's eyes take on a familiar dangerous gleam

● If there's one thing you'd learned from your relationship, it was to never challenge Bakugou

● He straddled you once more, bending down to kiss your nearly bare chest, then worked his way back up to your collarbone, nibbling at your neck

● "Tonight," he said, his face still pressed into your skin, "I don't want to do anything that doesn't involve you up against me. And I'm not taking my hands off you until tomorrow morning."

● You swallowed and nodded, allowing him to plant more kisses against your body, worshiping your skin below him

● After another long round of making out, he finally got up and turned off his lights, sliding back into bed with you

● "You stopped touching me."

● "Fuck off." He laid his head on your boobs, tangling his legs around yours. "Good night, Princess."

● You smiled. "Good night, baby."

_______________

Kirishima:

● You and Kirishima had just come back from a late-night walk and decided to go up to your room for the night

● Kirishima had left to go get ready for bed while you did the same; brushing your teeth, washing your face, etc

● When it came to putting on your pajamas, you looked over to your tank top and shorts

● You shrugged, deciding to go through with wearing them for the night, knowing you would be more than warm enough with Kirishima pressed against you

● When you came out of the bathroom, Kirishima had already let himself in, and was now waiting for you on the bed; his hair down, in gray sweatpants and a loose t-shirt

● He turned when he heard the door open. "Hey, babe. Are you ready for—Woah."

● He stops when he catches sight of your exposed body, a dopey grin lighting up his features as his eyes slowly rove over you, taking everything in

● You're still standing by the door, a little bit shy

● He gets up and strides over to you, running his hands from your shoulders all the way down your arms, finally taking your hands in his

● He leads you to your bed, turning off the overhead light on the way, leaving your room lit only by the warm glow of your bedside lamp

● He sits back down on the edge of your bed, pulling you onto his lap

● He presses a few sweet kisses against your lips, eventually moving down to your jawline and then onto your neck

● His hands feel up the outer sides of your thighs, exploring the uncovered skin until he reaches your butt, experimentally giving it a gentle squeeze

● He finally picks you up and turns, laying you down onto your bed so he can kiss your collarbone, trailing more kisses all the way down to the exposed tops of your breasts

● You inhale deeply at the sensation and he notices, nuzzling his nose into you like an affectionate puppy

● You finally shiver and let out a little whine. The shock of if made the two of you pause and giggle

● Eijirou sighs and settles his head on your chest, reveling in the feeling of your soft skin against his face

● "What's with the wardrobe change?" he mumbles against you

● You shrug, threading your fingers through his soft red hair. "Just felt like it."

● He chuckled, the sound traveling into his chest and ending as a bit of a growl. You shivered again at the sound, your body barely held still by the weight of Kirishima

● "I like it." He kisses you again

● "I feel comfortable around you now," you say. "I don't have to hide."

● Eijirou turns his head and opens his eyes to meet yours. "You're beautiful, (Y/N). You really are. You have nothing to be insecure about, especially around me."

● You smile softly, caressing his cheek with your fingers and pulling him back up to your face for a kiss

● He grins and pulls away from you. "I'm glad you are, though. Comfortable, that is." He reached up to flick off the lamp

● Now plunged in total darkness, he goes back to hugging you, pulling your chest flush against his while you let him rest his chin on the top of your head

● The warmth you share is heavenly; limbs comfortably wrapped around one another

● You cuddle each other asleep, the soothing rhythms of each others' bodies lulling you both into a state of tranquility

_______________

Kaminari:

● You slide on a pair of short shorts, frowning at yourself as you study the way they make your legs look

● Finally you give up on them, turning around and jutting out your hips to check your posterior

● At least they make my butt look nice

● You were trying on some clothes you had just gotten from your recent outing with the girls to the mall; glad to finally be alone in the solace of your room so you could look ever what you’d purchased.

● Your door suddenly flew open, catching you by surprise and making you jump

● "Hey, (Y/N), do you want to—woah."

● Denki had just barged into your room, totally catching you checking yourself out in the mirror

● He hastily shuts the door, making sure no one saw you

● You bite your lip, completely aware that you were only in a tank top and shorts

● "You look great," Kaminari says, coming up to wrap his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your bare shoulder as he gazed at the two of you in the mirror

● Of course he'd fantasized about you in outfits like this before, but dang, you most certainly did not disappoint.

● "I don't know . . . ."

● The grin he had been sporting faltered. "What do you mean?"

● You squinted at your reflection as though it had done you a great personal wrong

● "Don't you think this is a little . . . much?"

● "No," he answers truthfully. "I like it." His hands start to move before he catches himself. "I'm allowed to touch you, right?"

● Your eyes widen at the idea, excitement flickering in the pit of your stomach at the thought of his hands on you. "Sure. It's fine."

● His grin returns in full force as he begins to slide his hands up your sides, wasting no time to seize your chest with both hands, feeling the weight of your breasts as he lightly bounced them in his palms

● After kneading and massaging them to his temporary content, he ran his hands back down your sides to cup your ass, moving himself back a step so he could see, giving you a light smack

● He hummed in satisfaction and spun you around, pulling you into him so your body could lay flush against his

● He guided your face to his own, pressing his lips against yours while his hands made their rounds again; rubbing your back, squeezing and caressing your butt, even trying to dip down enough to feel the smooth skin of your exposed thighs without breaking your connection

● He pulls back, his eyes shut as he whispers against your lips, "You really are beautiful, (Y/N). You should show it off a little more."

● You chuckle at his suggestion, his hands never ceasing their quest to memorize and explore every curve and angle of your body

● "Maybe not this much though, you have a point," he admitted, pausing to meet your eyes. "This is just for me, right?"

● You smirk and ruffle his hair. "It's for me too, ya dork. These are actually hella comfortable."

● Denki smirked, pressing a quick close-mouthed kiss to your lips. "Perfect," was all he said.

↞┉┉┉↠

A/N: If you want more characters (Shinsou, Midoriya, and Amajiki), feel free to check out my Wattpad (linked on my navi post), but only at your own risk (＞д＜)

Taglist: @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @sendhelpimstupid @xoxopam4

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima imagine #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #denki imagine #kaminari imagine #denki x reader #kaminari x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #sugar fics

934 notes · View notes

octothorpetopus · 5 years

Text

I Forgot That You Existed (Part 2)

Link to part 1

"Wow, Eds, you've really come a long way from wine coolers in high school." Eddie cracked a smile and looked down into his glass.

"Rich, can I ask you a... weird question?"

"Shoot."

"I mean, I guess I just... like..." Eddie trailed off, looking for the words. "I didn't know you liked guys."

"Is that a question, or...?"

"Come on, Rich." Eddie sighed exasperatedly. "You know what I mean."

"Well, I didn't know you were gay either, Eds. That is, if you are gay, 'cause..." They both took a long, long sip of their drinks in awkward silence.

"I am. Gay." Eddie nodded with an odd half-smile.

"Oh. Me too."

"It's a hell of a funny coincidence, you know?"

"How's that?" Eddie laughed brightly.

"On the one day I happen to be in LA, we get matched on the one dating app I have, and you just happen to be one of my best friends from high school. How's that for batshit?"

"I'd say we're three for three on the batshit scale." Eddie held up his glass, and Richie knocked his against it. "Cheers, to a night of crazy coincidences."

"Cheers."

"Hey, uh, Eds?"

"Yeah?" Richie bounced his leg on the leg of his stool.

"Is this a date? I mean, it's cool if you just want to catch up, but-"

"It's like I said, Rich. It's a hell of a coincidence, and I think it'd be a shame to pass that up, don't you?" There was a twinkle in Eddie's eyes that Richie wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. He quite liked it.

"Agreed."

The rest of the night passed in a curious sort of way. In some ways, it didn't feel any different than when they'd used their fake IDs to sneak into a college bar in Bangor in their junior year of high school. But in other ways, in all the important ways, it was different. Because this time, there was a chance of something. What, exactly, neither of them could have said. But it was something.

”Shit,” Eddie muttered as he checked his watch. It was quiet, but Richie still turned to look at him.

”What?”

”Nothing, just...” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I have a meeting in the morning. And it’s getting kind of late.”

”Say no more, Eds.” Richie set a thin stack of bills down on the bar and tossed back the last of his drink (he had switched to club soda an hour ago when Eddie reminded him he had to drive.) “I’ll walk you back.”

”What about your car?”

”Eh.” Richie waved a hand. “It’ll still be here when I come back.”

They walked along the busy sidewalk shoulder-to-shoulder, Richie’s hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hunched in a familiar posture. Eddie studied him carefully ask they walked, wondering how it was possible that up until tonight, he had forgotten Richie. Forgotten how wonderful he was, how he could make you laugh with just a twitch of his voice.

At the same time, Richie was wondering how it was possible to have forgotten Eddie. The way he ran his hands through his hair when he was on a roll. The way he laughed when Richie interrupted with a stupid joke. In all his years without him, he’d never met anyone quite like Eds.

”Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie asked, his voice rough and clear and deeper than it had been the last time they had seen each other, but still somehow the same.

“Nothing. Just... I missed you, Eds.”

”Yeah. I missed you too, Rich.” Richie let his hands fall out of his pockets and swing by his sides. They were walking shoulder-to-shoulder, and they were so close that their knuckles brushed every time Richie took a step. His face grew hot and he worried he was blushing, but when he looked over, Eddie was blushing too.

”Isn’t this you?” Richie stopped suddenly and pointed at the building in front of them. Eddie shook himself, as if in a stupor, and nodded.

”Thanks for coming with me, Richie. It was... it was nice to see you again.”

“You’re welcome.” Eddie slipped into Richie’s arms for a last hug (he was surprised at how well they fit together) and stepped back. “I should go.” Richie took two steps backward and smiled. “Take care, Eddie Spaghetti.” Eddie didn’t know if it was the childhood nickname that convinced him to do what he did next, or the coolly smoky Los Angeles air, or the hand of god himself, but whatever it was, Eddie was swept away by his feelings for Richie, letting the warmth and excitement overtake the nervous electricity running through him.

”Richie, wait.”

“Hm?” Richie hummed, and before he had even turned all the way back around to face Eddie, Eddie had his hands wrapped around the collar of Richie’s shirt. He had to stand on his tiptoes in order to reach, but he tugged Richie down just far enough that he could meet Richie’s lips in a kiss, their first kiss since a brief and forgotten moment in a game of truth or dare when they were twelve.

Richie, quite frankly, was not expecting the kiss, but didn’t stumble back or push Eddie away in a moment of panic. Instead, something in him steeled him, and he leaned into Eddie until he was almost falling into him.

”Holy shit,” Eddie said for the second time that night.

”Holy shit,” Richie replied.

“I can’t believe I just did that.”

”I can’t believe you didn’t do it earlier.” Eddie looked deep into Richie’s eyes... and then burst out laughing.

“You’re something else, Trashmouth.”

”I could say the same for you, Eds.” Eddie mellowed and took one of Richie’s hands.

”Hey, if... if you’re not too worried about your car... do you want to come upstairs?” Richie arched his eyebrows, but nodded.

”Yeah. I do.” And he did.

Eddie woke up to the sound of his alarm (the first of many to keep him on his strict schedule) and found himself unable to sit up. For a moment, he found himself thinking of sleep paralysis and the horrific nightmares that plagued him throughout his college years. And then he realized that there was just a heavy, hairy arm draped over him, the attached hand just barely brushing one of the two star tattoos Eddie had gotten during his very brief rebellious phase.

"Would you shut that shit off?" Richie's voice came from behind Eddie, clouded with sleep and a hangover. Eddie reached over and hit the snooze button before rolling onto his other side so he was facing Richie, bare chest to bare chest.

"Good morning."

"What time is it?"

"Seven." Richie groaned. "What? I have meetings today."

"Right." Richie rolled his half-open eyes and flopped onto his back. "Or... you could play hooky with me." Eddie smiled and nudged Richie's side with his knee.

"I wish I could, but if I ever want this company off the ground, I need investors. And in order to get investors, I have to go to meetings." Smiling, Richie considered.

"Eh, I don't know. I mean, a limo company? Eds, I get that you've always been practical, but it's just not... sexy." Eddie laughed. "I'm serious." And when Eddie turned to look at him, he was. "Look, you could do anything you wanted. Anything at all. And yet, you chose to start a business you're not passionate about in the dirtiest city in America. That's not the Eddie I know."

"And who's the Eddie you know?"

"The Eddie I know wanted to pick up and move to Italy after high school. And he wanted to be an interior designer, or maybe a city planner. New York's not your home, Eddie, and neither is Royal Crest Limos."

"So what do you think I should do?"

"Move here. To LA." Eddie laughed again, more out of shock than humor.

"Yeah, right. Beep-beep, Richie."

"I'm serious." Richie propped himself up on his elbows and looked into Eddie's eyes. Or maybe his forehead. To be fair, he didn't have his glasses on so he couldn't really see. "What's stopping you? You told me last night you don't have time for friends because you're too busy trying to start a business that you're not even excited about. If you came out here, you could do what you want to do. And..." Richie sat up now and looked at Eddie in a way Eddie hadn't been looked at since they were just two kids in an underground clubhouse. "And then we could be together. All the time." Almost unconsciously, Eddie took his hand and squeezed it.

"Okay."

"Eddie, really, I- wait, what?"

"Okay. I'll move."

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Yeah, were you not?"

"No, I was, I just-" Richie seized Eddie's face in his hands and kissed him, long and hard. "I didn't think you'd actually say yes."

"Think again, then. I'd hate to be predictable."

Six years later, Richie Tozier wakes up in the bedroom of his Santa Monica condo to the mid-morning sun streaming in through the window. He sits up and rolls his shoulders, wincing at the sharp cracking of his spine. He fumbles blindly for the bedside table, puts on his glasses, and looks at the empty left side of the bed. He yawns and then goes quiet, hearing the soft sprinkle of the shower coming from the bathroom.

"Morning!" He calls through a yawn. He is still not a morning person, even after living with one for the last six years (Eddie stayed with him during the move from New York, and never moved out).

"Morning, Rich," Eddie responds over the water. Richie feels as though his heart is going to explode. He is, for the first time in his forty-year existence on this earth, totally and completely happy. And then the phone lying facedown on the left nightstand starts ringing.

"It's yours, babe!" Richie reaches over and checks the screen. "Someone from... holy shit, it's someone from Derry!"

"Can you get it?" Feeling unsettled, somehow, Richie hits the Accept Call button and holds the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Eddie Kaspbrak?"

"No, he's, uh... indisposed at the moment." From behind him, Richie hears the water shut off and the shower curtain slide aside. "Can I get your name so he knows who to call back?"

"Yeah, I guess. Tell him Mike Hanlon called, from Derry. He'll know-" But Mike doesn't have the chance to finish. Richie feels a wave of nausea slide over him.

"Mike?" There is a pause on the other end of the line. Then:

"...Richie?"

"Holy shit, Mike."

"Who is it?" Richie jumps and turns around to see Eddie, who has come up behind him. Richie swallows hard and covers the receiver with one hand.

"It's Mike. Hanlon." Eddie looks confused for a moment, and then shock and horror register on his face.

"Holy- Mike?" Richie holds the phone up to his ear.

"Uh, Mike, Eddie's back, I'm gonna put you on speaker." He does, and holds the phone out between them. Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, water still dripping out of his hair and landing in dark dots on the bedspread.

"Hey, Mike." Eddie's voice is startled, but not scared. Not yet.

"Hi, Eddie. I'm glad to see that some of us stayed friends after we left." Richie and Eddie look knowingly at one another.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Anyway, I bet you're wondering why I'm calling."

"Yeah," Eddie responded. He does sound scared now. In fact, he sounds exactly like he had 27 years ago. And that's when Richie remembers. 27 years.

"It's back, isn't It?" He asks, interrupting whatever Mike had been saying.

"...yeah. It is." Eddie makes a strangled noise and lunges for the nightstand drawer, where he keeps his inhaler. He hasn't used it in 21 years, but he still keeps it there in case of emergency. He takes two quick gasps off of it and exhales slowly. Richie reaches over and slips his hand into Eddie's.

"And we need to come back."

"Yeah."

"Fuck," Richie mutters under his breath. "How soon?" He asks, wishing he had just hung up the phone when he heard who it was.

"Tomorrow. Everyone needs to come back, guys. Everyone." Richie rubbs the bridge of his nose and looks over at Eddie, who is staring, wide-eyed, right back at him. They both nod and look back at the phone.

"We'll be there," Eddie says, sounding only a little less muffled than before. Before Mike can get another word in, Richie hangs up the phone and stands, pacing the room, his hair standing up in frantic spikes.

"This is stupid. We shouldn't go. We should just take off, go to Buenos Aires or Madagascar or Iceland- Iceland's nice this time of year, right?"

"Richie." Eddie's voice is even now, and calm. "We have to go." He speaks haltingly as he rises to his feet and takes both of Richie's hands in his.

"I know." Richie smiles bitterly. "I know." He laughs, a caustic, harsh sound. "I guess I'll cancel our dinner reservations, then."

"I'll start packing."

"Don't worry about that. I've got it. Get dressed and then we'll make a plan. Okay?" Eddie smiles gratefully at him and kisses him gently before standing up and returning to the bathroom. Richie is hit with the same wave of vertigo and barely manages to stumble out onto the terrace before vomiting over the railing. He wipes his mouth and stares out at the crashing ocean in front of him. They will go to Derry and their life together will never be the same. Of that, he's sure. But he's also sure of one other thing, and that's that he loves Eddie Kaspbrak like he's never loved anyone else ever before. He goes back inside and pulls two suitcases out of the closet. He begins packing, and when Eddie comes out of the bathroom, he joins him.

They load the suitcases into Richie's Mustang and get in the car, not looking at each other. Then Richie gasps and opens the door. "I forgot my, uh, my toothbrush. Give me just a minute." Eddie smiles and nods, but it's a sad smile. Richie races back inside and up the stairs, not bothering with the elevator. He digs through the nightstand, still open from Eddie's mad scramble for his inhaler, and finds what he's looking for under a stack of self-help books (a sarcastic Christmas gift). He slips the tiny wooden box into his pocket and silently thanks God that Eddie didn't see it.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah," Richie says, and smiles. He leans across the console to kiss Eddie again, then starts the car. "Let's go home." Eddie looks out the window thoughtfully as the city fades into wilderness and back again a dozen times. Derry isn't their home anymore, he thinks. But neither is Los Angeles or New York. Their home is with each other now. And it always will be.

Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading. I’ll be posting the sequel to this, probably in three parts, pretty soon, but both are also posted on my AO3, minnesotamemelord, along with all of my other reddie fics, and I’d be super appreciative if you guys checked it out! Thanks!

136 notes · View notes

a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years

Text

A Word For You

Another short Sanders Sides drabble! This one is Prinxiety with a dash of pining, featuring a very flustered Roman

______________________________________________________________________

“Come on, Panic-at-the-everywhere, it’s like two in the afternoon. At this point you’re not even fashionably late!” Roman knocked more insistently on the blotchy black and indigo door with his free hand, frowning at the flakes of paint that stuck to his fist. Sure, Virgil had his aesthetic, but his room really needed a makeover. Maybe some magenta to go with his purple theme, and oooh, plate glass windows! And of course he needed to re-vamp his movie nest. The circle of blankets and pillows were comfortable enough for the two to watch Disney on Roman’s phone, but Roman was thinking a pillow fort, obviously stocked with books and stuffed animals and maybe a coffee machine…

He’d been standing here in thought for five minutes.

Roman shook his head to clear it and knocked again. “Virgil! Patton made you pasta and by god you are going to enjoy it while it’s warm!” He waved the steaming plate, balanced haphazardly in one hand. “Virgil, if you don’t open the door I’m coming in.”

At his threat there was a mumble from the other side of the door, too indistinct to make out. Well, a prince could only have so much patience. Roman opened the door and stepped inside with a flourish.

“Your pasta comes to you, then!”

“Princey!” Virgil shrieked, and Roman could only stare.

Virgil cringed, with a hairbrush stuck in his bird nest of hair. His skinny frame was draped in an old band t-shirt and sweatpants, skin lightly dusted with freckles and flushed without its usual coating of foundation. And most noticeably, a pair of black-rimmed glasses rested on his nose.

“You wear glasses?”

“Why are you in my room?” Virgil demanded shrilly. He tried to yank the brush out of his hair and grunted when it remained firmly lodged in his bedhead. “What have I told you about knocking?”

“I knocked!” Roman defended himself. “But more importantly, why didn’t you tell me you wear glasses?”

Red crawled up Virgil’s cheeks and tinted his ears as he scowled. “It’s not a big deal. They’re embarrassing. I just wear contact lenses most of the time.”

“Embarrassing? They’re adorable!”

Virgil jumped. In the nick of time Roman remembered to place down the plate of spaghetti on a desk before rushing forward to grab Virgil’s shoulders.

“Oh, there’s so much potential for aesthetic! And why do you cover up those freckles Stormcloud, they’re marvelous!”

Virgil flushed even darker, and Roman suddenly became very aware of his hands on Virgil’s shoulders and how close their faces were – he could taste mint toothpaste in the air between them.

Shit.

Roman turned away with a flourish to hide his dry swallow. “You look lovely Virgil, it’s a good look on you.”

“Really? I woke up ten minutes ago.” Virgil grumbled. He tried to tug out the hairbrush again only to yelp in pain, and Roman turned back quickly, tutting. He was going to pull out his gorgeous locks at this rate!

“Here, let me.” He sat Virgil down on the bed and crawled behind him to grab the hairbrush and start wheedling it free. Virgil hunched in front of him. Oh no, Roman wasn’t making him nervous, was he? Oh bother. He’d been trying to make Virgil feel more comfortable around him, but it seemed he’d screwed it up again. It was bad enough that time Roman took Virgil into the Mindscape for some de-stress, and was two seconds away from blurting out his feelings when Remus appeared. And what a mess that trash goblin had caused. Virgil had looked so unhappy when Roman dropped him quickly back in the common room and gone to clean up his brother’s mess.

Roman wanted to be a comfortable friend, gosh darn it! It was the least Virgil deserved after working so hard for Thomas’s sake. He did go slightly overboard, but didn’t they all from time to time?

Roman opened his mouth to apologize for crossing any boundaries, but Virgil beat him to it. “The glasses and stuff… don’t exactly add to my aesthetic, y’know?”

Oh, so that was the issue. Now he felt silly for worrying. “There’s more than one way to pull off a good aesthetic.” Roman finally got the brush free, with some hair tugging and wincing on Virgil’s part, and started gently teasing out the knots. “I personally think those glasses, with some eyeliner of course, would really accentuate the emo theme. They make your eyes seem much more mournful and dark. And as for the freckles, they make your skin seem paler and more colourless in comparison! Oh – or you could make them little spiders! I have a perfect makeover idea. Do you have a makeup set? What am I saying, of course you do. Wait, where was I again? Oh yes.” The knots were gone and Roman ran the brush through short, silky hair. “As I was saying, I happen to think you look lovely.”

In all honestly he had finished with brushing, but Virgil’s hair was so soft, like feathery down, when it wasn’t combed down over his face. He just wanted to play with it. It seemed like such a short time ago that Virgil was just a Dark Side to him, who would prickle at his presence – Virgil would never have let him this close. Back then Roman hadn’t realized how soft Virgil’s hair was, or how easily he got flustered, how his voice broke when he was embarrassed and how extraordinarily beautiful he was when that happened.

No, beautiful wasn’t quite the right word. Neither was just ‘cute’ – adorable? – no, something deeper than that. Extraordinary, breathtaking, exhilarating, sublime, pulchritudinous. Was there even a word? How could he describe the wonder of a storm with deep brown eyes and a quick wit and a cocky smirk that made Roman’s heart melt?

“Uh, Princey?” Virgil said, and Roman realized he’d stopped moving again. ABORT, ABORT. Time to leave before he made things worse. But he was already moving. Before he knew what he was doing, Roman leaned down and kissed the top of Virgil’s head. “What are you-”

“OKAY BYE SEE YOU LATER!” Roman dropped the brush and bolted for the door, leaving a rather stunned Virgil in his wake. The door slammed shut and a few stray shards of paint showered down.

Roman leaned against the door and buried his burning face in his hands. Uuuugh, what had he been thinking? He’d totally overstepped the line, and now Virgil would think he was weird and not want to hang out anymore and he would be alone forever-

A creak of hinges. Roman tumbled backwards with a shriek as the door he was leaning against suddenly wasn’t there any more. He found himself groaning and rubbing his back.

“Ow.”

A shuffle. Roman squinted up as Virgil crouched next to him and offered a small grimace. He moved his hand towards Roman’s face and Roman sat there, transfixed.

Virgil cupped his hand around Roman’s cheek and wiped his thumb under his eye to remove the streak of eyeshadow that had taken hold. Oh. Benefits of being in Anxiety’s room.

“Black’s not a good look on you, Princey. That’s my aesthetic.” He mumbled.

Virgil removed the second streak and the anxiety Roman hadn’t recognised as anxiety stopped gripping his chest. His normal confidence bubbled through, only to shrink again at Virgil’s smile. He smiled with his eyes more than his mouth – they crinkled at the sides into little brown crescents that made Roman melt.

Oops, and now Virgil was staring. Say something. Say something!

“Uhhhhh. Thank you.” Roman blurted out. Wow, real eloquent. Virgil snorted and stood, offering a hand which Roman reverently took and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, back smarting in pain. “Um. Pasta.” He pointed past Virgil to where the plate sat on his desk.

“I know.” Virgil looked mildly confused. “Thanks for bringing it.” He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t really feel like being around people right now…”

“Oh.” Roman tried not to look crushed.

“…So do you wanna hang out and watch Parks and Rec with me for a couple hours?”

“Yes. I would absolutely love to.” Roman blurted. He resisted the urge to slap his forehead – what was wrong with him today? He blamed a lack of sleep – he’d been up most of the night planning out the perfect date and had gotten a little too excited, and ended up designing a series of masquerade outfits.

“I’d like that.” Roman finally managed to say in a normal voice, like normal people did. Virgil’s eyes crinkled in that smile again, and he nodded.

“Okay. Your room in ten?”

“Sure.”

Virgil ducked back into his room to get changed, and when the door closed on a beaming Roman he slid to the floor and buried his face in his arms, groaning. Why did that prince have to be so goddamn adorable???

#sanders sides #my writing #fic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety

12 notes · View notes

puckinghell · 5 years

Text

A Drunk Tongue | Tyler Sguin

Requested: nope Word count: 1882 Note: I kinda have an idea for a part 2 to this so if you’d like...Edit: Part two is up now

When Tyler’s phone lights up at 3am, his first thought is that there must be something very, awfully, deadly wrong with you.

After all, in 2 years of being friends with you, he’s never gotten a nightly phone call from you. You’re always soundly asleep by midnight, more responsible than he ever has been, and whenever you’re not, it’s because he’s keeping you awake.

“Hello?” he grumbles into the phone, sleep still lacing his words, his eyes barely opening. He hears a lot of noise in the background, people talking, music.

“Tyyyyy!” you squeal, giggling, and he realizes right away that you’re drunk.

Then it comes back to him. You told him you’d be going out to celebrate your roommate’s birthday tonight, despite not really wanting to. You told him how much you hated that he wasn’t there.

You didn’t really ever go out; it just wasn’t really your scene, and you were a bit of a lightweight. Tyler had dragged you out a few times, and you did have fun when you went, but it was mostly because you knew he was always right there to carry you home.

Tyler knew you were a lightweight too, and whenever he brought you out, he made sure to stay clearheaded. You were very touchy and loving when you had a drink, and he liked being able to wrap his arm around you and pull you close to him. Just to keep you safe, of course. Not at all because he’d been in love with you for over a year.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiles into his phone. “What are you up to?”

“Give me the phone!” he hears another familiar voice speak, and then there’s some rustling in his ear and suddenly it’s your roommate, on the phone.

“Tyler, hi, sorry for calling you. Y/N is a bit drunk, and she keeps muttering about how much she wants to cuddle your dogs, and we wanna go to another club but I’m worried she’s going to crash. I was going to just put her in a cab but I was wondering if I could give the driver your address? She really won’t shut up about you, dude.”

His heart flutters at the words and instantly, he feels awake. “Don’t put her in a cab, just let me pick her up.” He’s already out of bed, pulling some sweatpants on and a hoodie, a baseball cap covering his hair. Your roommate tells him what club you’re at - one he frequents often, too - and he’s in his car within half a minute.

He might have driven a bit fast, but even if a speeding ticket would fall on the mat the next day, he wouldn’t regret it.

“Just coming to pick up my girl” he tells the bouncer, who simply nods. He wonders if the guy recognized him, or simply didn’t care. Or maybe he really did look like the boyfriend who just got called out of bed to pick up his drunk girlfriend.

Not that you are his girlfriend. But, you know, that’s what it would look like. To a stranger.

“Tyler!” You spot him quicker than he sees you, and suddenly he feels something heavy draped around his shoulders and you’re stumbling against him, smelling like alcohol and smoke and your perfume, and he can’t help but laugh as you nearly fall over and grab onto him to steady yourself. “That’s crazy! I wished you were here and now you are!”

“Cause you called me,” he tells you, amused, and your face scrunches up in confusion.

“Did I?”

He thanks your roommate for calling him, and your friends wave you a quick goodbye before disappearing into the crowd. You barely seem to notice that they’re gone, your attention squarely on the guy in front of you.

“You wanna go home?” Tyler mumbles in your ear, as he starts pushing you upright and wraps an arm around your waist to stop you from toppling over.

“Your home?” you slur, and when he nods, you break out into a smile.

He manages to guide you into his car, but it takes a while; you keeps stumbling over your own feet and bursting out into fits of giggles. He can’t even bring himself to be annoyed, because he finds you adorable, carefree like this. It’s a side of yourself you normally keep hidden away.

“How much did you drink?” he asks, but all you can do is shrug.

“A few.” You lost count long ago.

Tyler starts the car and puts on the radio, knowing you like the background noise. You rest your head against the window, staring out of it while Tyler drives. Suddenly, you turn to him.

“I don’t like when you’re sad.” You say it like realization has only just hit you, and he frowns.

“I’m not sad.”

“Not now. But lately, you’ve been sad more than usual. And I don’t like it. What can I do to make it better?”

He sighs, ignoring the tug on his heartstrings. It’s true that he’s been stressed; the team hasn’t been performing well and it’s a weight on his shoulders, knowing he’s not carrying them like he used to. But he honestly thought he was hiding it well from you. He knew you’d worry, didn’t want you to. You had your own stuff going on.

“Make me some spaghetti, maybe?” he offers, because let’s be honest, you’re a great cook and he can barely scramble an egg.

“I’ll make you all the spaghetti in the world if it makes you happy,” you declare, and then you lean towards him and rest your head on his shoulder. It can’t be comfortable like that, not with the distance between the seats and your seatbelt cutting into your skin, but he doesn’t dare even move an inch, afraid you might move away.

“I’m never sad when you’re around,” he says softly, the knowledge that you probably won’t remember any of this tomorrow making him brave.

“Then I’ll make spaghetti first and then just stay with you forever,” you tell him, as if it’s the obvious solution to all of his problems. And who knows, maybe it is.

You’re both silent for the rest of the drive but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s a silence between two people who know each other inside out, for who just being near each other is enough. When he finally parks the car in his driveway, you leap out of the car, and you’re surprisingly steady on your feet as you walk towards his front door.

He chuckles as he opens the door, knowing what’s got you so excited all of a sudden, and indeed, as soon as the door opens you’re met with three hyperactive Labradors, tails wagging and wet noses pressed against your legs.

“Puppies!” you exclaim, and you basically throw yourself onto the floor in an attempt to pet them all at the same time. “Hello puppies,” you whisper, “did you miss mommy?”

He pretends it doesn’t mean anything to him, to hear you call yourself his dogs’ mommy, and he pretends it doesn’t feel exactly right when you act like it’s your own home you walked into, throwing your coat over a chair and stumbling to the couch, where you drop yourself unceremoniously.

“Sleepy?” he asks you, expecting you to say yes, but you shake your head.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p, “it’s not bedtime.”

“It’s 3 am.”

You frown. “Oh. I woke you up, didn’t I?” You looked upset with yourself, and he sits down next to you on the couch.

“I’m glad you did,” he hums. “I missed you.” Another sentence he would probably not be brave enough to say out loud if he thought you’d remember this in a few hours.

“You saw me yesterday,” you giggle, and then you reach out and brush your fingers through his curls. “But I missed you too. Missed the dogs more, though.” You call Gerry up the couch, who obliges happily, curling up against your stomach. You wrap your arms around the warm, fuzzy animal. “Goodnight.”

“You said you weren’t tired,” Tyler teases, and then he starts pulling down the zipper of your boots, taking them off one by one.

“Thanks,” you mumble. “You’re a good guy, you know.”

“Well, thanks, I’m glad you’ve come to that conclusion after two years,” he jokes.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend, Ty? I know girls would literally line up to date you. And you’d be such a great boyfriend.”

His heart sinks. Because I’m waiting on you. But those are words he’s not brave enough to say, and he swallows them away, deflects the question, instead.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend? I know guys ask you out all the time. Why do you always say no?”

“Cause they’re not you.” You say it so simply, like it’s a mere fact, like it’s not enough reason for his stomach to make these kinds of somersaults.

It hurts. It hurts like hell, and that’s why he has to remind himself of the situation. “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe.” Your eyes open again, your face moving away from Gerry’s fur. “But haven’t you heard? The drunk mind speaks the sober heart, a drunk tongue never lies, etcetera, etcetera.”

He allows himself, then, to wonder, just for a minute, if there’s any way, any way at all…

“I…”

“Goodnight,” you say again, the words barely audible on your lips.

I love you. The words die on his lips as he watches you close your eyes, resting your head against his dog, and he can almost see the light go out behind your closed eyelids. You look so peaceful, curled up against Gerry, asleep on his couch, and it brings a warmth to his veins.

He kicks your boots away from the couch, and goes to get some painkillers and water to put on the coffee table. He also takes a trash can and puts it next to his couch. Just in case. He has a pretty expensive rug.

Then, he gets a blanket and covers you, carefully placing it so that every part of you up to your shoulders is covered with it. Gerry looks up at him with lazy eyes, and it’s almost like there’s a knowingness in them, like even he knows what Tyler was trying to say. The words he’s not brave enough to say sober.

He traces your cheekbone with his finger, and when you don’t wake up, don’t even stir, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. To his surprise, you react to that, but all you do is hum and smile, and then you’re completely out again.

He smiles back, even though you can’t see it, and turns off the lights before heading upstairs, leaving you there with Gerry as your guard dog.

One day, one day he’ll tell you how he feels. One day soon, maybe. Because you’re right, a drunk tongue never lies. He knows, deep in his heart, that you feel it too.

He just needs to throw it all out there, put his heart in your hands and wait for you to decide whether or not you’ll crush it to pieces.

He might need a little liquid courage for that.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin one shot #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars one shot #hockey imagine #hockey one shot #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #nhl imagines #nhl one shots #hockey imagines #hockey one shots #hockey writing #nhl writing

960 notes · View notes

sillyxkittyy · 5 years

Text

I’m With You All The Way

Note: Inspired by a post by @theobligatedklutz. Thank you Hilow for all your ideas!

Summary: When Cyrus decides to stay with TJ during his lunch detention, TJ realizes that maybe getting punished isn’t so bad after all.

Words: 2.5K

~~~~~~

The ticking of the clock, the silence of the room, the noise of his own fingers drumming on the desk... lunch detention was definitely not something that TJ had been looking forward to. He knew that his punishment could have been far worse than what he actually got, but he still believed that he shouldn’t have gotten punished in the first place. Still, he had made sure to show up, just to avoid getting in more trouble. He glanced around the choir room, silently wondering what was the point of this.

The room was almost empty, apart from a few other students, who had arrived late, probably on purpose. TJ didn’t interact with them though, as they were sitting on the complete opposite side of the room- not that he cared, since they slightly frightened him, if he ever allowed himself to admit it out loud. From where he was, he could hear people screaming, and the contact of their shoes on the floor as they most likely ran in the halls. He took a bite out of his sandwich, sighing deeply as he glanced over at the clock once more. TJ was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a loud sound coming from outside. It sounded like someone had just walked into the door. He couldn’t quite place who was on the other side, nor what was happening, but it seemed like someone was messing with the doorknob. He could hear the rest of the students whispering behind him, but he still maintained his gaze on the door, unsure whether he should go see what’s going on or not. He didn’t have to ponder on it any longer though, because the door finally opened. A brown haired boy barged in the room with two trays of food in his hands. He looked like he was losing his balance, though TJ wasn’t paying that much attention to that, and more on who that boy was.

“Cyrus?” TJ called out as he watched as the other boy clumsily walked into the room, and closed the door behind him with his foot. Cyrus made his way to TJ’s table and was quick to set the trays on the desk.

“Hi TJ!” he simply greeted with a grin on his face. TJ gazed at him, both amused and confused. A small smile grew on his face, although he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing here? You... do know I’m in detention, right?”

“I am aware, but I came to bring you lunch! I uh- wasn’t sure what you’d like so I bought you spaghetti.” Cyrus pushed the tray closer to him, a smile on his face. TJ observed his plate before meeting Cyrus’ gaze.

“Oh... you didn’t have to do that” TJ started, but Cyrus just shook his head, the smile never leaving his face.

“I know, but I wanted to. As your lawyer, I felt like it was my duty to make sure you at least had good food.” The soft look in Cyrus’ eyes was enough to make TJ melt on the spot. He definitely couldn’t resist to that.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you. But... I think you’re overestimating my stomach capacity” he remarked with a slight chuckle. Cyrus shook his head, giggling.

“Not all that food is for you, silly. The other tray is for me because I’m staying. I also came to keep you company” he replied, taking a chair and putting it on the opposite side of the table, and sitting down. TJ found himself smiling when he saw how the chair was backwards. It was always the small details that made Cyrus even more attaching.

“Are you even allowed to do that? You’re not even in detention” he questioned, pursing his lips. Cyrus shrugged.

“I... actually have no idea. But I also don’t want to let you sit here alone in this large room, when I can be here with you. I’m your lawyer, I’m not letting you down” TJ noticed the look in Cyrus’ eyes, the same look he got whenever he was determined about something. It was subtle, a slight flicker in his eyes, but it didn’t escape him. At that moment, he knew he wouldn’t be able to change his mind.

“What if you get caught, though?”

“I try not to think too much about that” Cyrus admitted with a sheepish smile. For a few seconds, TJ didn’t reply as he watched the other boy eating. If he was completely honest with himself, he didn’t mind to have Cyrus with him in detention. In fact, he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t secretly happy about it. Things were always better with him around. The fact that Cyrus was willing to maybe get in trouble just to keep him company made him feel warm inside. The smile on his face simply widened.

“Well, look at you, living on the edge” he teased, which only made Cyrus laugh. TJ tried to ignore the loud beating of his own heart at that moment. “Seriously though, I appreciate it. I had a feeling that hour was going go be long and painful”

“Aw, it’s no problem at all. Anything to make your detention better” TJ simply chuckled and slowly started eating. He was eternally grateful that Cyrus had brought him food. He had packed his own lunch, but in the morning rush, he had accidentally taken the wrong sandwich. It wasn’t the worst thing ever, but he and his sister definitely had different taste in food. He suddenly glanced up when he felt Cyrus shake his arm.

“TJ? Why are those people over there staring at us?” Cyrus whispered, a slight look of fear in his eyes. TJ looked over at the group of students, who were actually looking at them. The look in their eyes showed no sign of mean intention, just of pure curiosity.

“Oh, don’t worry about them, they won’t hurt you. I think they just know you’re not supposed to be there” TJ simply guessed, shrugging slightly.

“How would they know that? Is it that obvious?”

“It’s probably because of everything you’ve said and done so far. That and you look like an angel” ‘literally’, TJ thought to himself, but he kept that last part to himself. Cyrus giggled.

“Well, it’s true that I don’t look like bad guy.” He admitted with a smile.

“No, you don’t. You’re probably like the sweetest person I know” the compliment seemed to touch Cyrus because TJ saw a small smile discreetly creeping on his face.

“Aww, TJ. That’s kind of you” TJ could’ve sworn that Cyrus’ cheeks were redder, but it was probably his own imagination. Cyrus cleared his throat and glanced back at the other group of students.

“Why are they sitting so far away, though? Was it their choice or yours?” Cyrus inquired, turning his gaze back at TJ before gasping. “Oh my god, wait... are they like... those people in the movies who are always in detention? That are there so often they spend their lunch times here? That just don’t care about the rules? Because that’s the vibe that they’re giving. This guy is literally engraving his name on the desk” TJ couldn’t help but chuckle as Cyrus was rambling. It was one of his favourite things in the world, listening to him talk. He could sit there and listen to him ramble all day.

“Honestly? Probably. They arrived 10 minutes late, and I’m, like, 99.9% sure it was on purpose”

“So I was right! I can’t believe I’m sitting in a room, in detention, filled with rebels. This is so exhilarating!” Looking at Cyrus' soft little smile across the table from him, TJ realized something startling. This was the first time in his life that he didn't want detention to end. It didn’t matter if there was another group of students in the room, he felt like there was only him and Cyrus. The other boy really knew how to make everything else disappear. Their gazes met and TJ felt like he could melt on the spot.

“Am I one of the rebels?” TJ asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Well, you did steal a golf cart twice, so yes.” This made TJ laugh, and Cyrus was quick to join him. The others were probably looking at them weird, but TJ didn’t care. He never thought he’d be laughing at all in lunch detention, but it seemed like Cyrus had that effect on people. On him, more specifically. “Do you know what rebels usually have? Tattoos!”

“You want me to get a tattoo?” TJ raised an eyebrow. Cyrus shook his head.

“Not exactly. I want to draw something on your arm.“

“Oooooh! Well in that case, go right ahead.” TJ stretched his arm and raised his sleeve. Cyrus cautiously took his arm and pressed his pen on his chin.

“I’m gonna draw you a skull. Because that’s a classic” Cyrus pursed his lips in concentration as he started sketching. “Just saying, I’m not an artist, so it might not be that good.”

“Aw, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll like it anyways” He sat back in his chair and observed Cyrus as a few lines started appearing in his arm. The way the other boy’s nose crinkled in concentration, or the way his tongue stuck out were enough to drive him mad. Such little details and yet they seemed so important to TJ. Every time he thought he couldn’t like the boy even more, he did something like this and proved him wrong. Cyrus’ hand shifted on TJ’s arm, brushing against his skin and making him shiver.

“Okay, I think I’m done! Does it look good?” Cyrus asked, finally letting go of TJ’s arm. He looked so unsure of his work, TJ could guess by the look in his eyes.

“It looks great! Very rebellious too.” TJ complimented, looking down at it and smiling softly. It seemed to be what Cyrus wanted to hear because he smiled as well!

“Thank you! I wasn’t so sure because I don’t normally draw skulls.” Cyrus admitted, putting the pen away.

“Did something inspire you for it? Or was it just random?”

“Oh... well, I drew it like that because it reminded me of you. See, it looks tough on the outside, but on the inside...” he puts his hand on TJ’s chest. “... it’s soft.” TJ wondered if Cyrus could feel how fast his heart was pounding. Was this really the way he saw him? Either way, it was probably one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to him.

“Awwww, Cyrus.” There was no way he could hide his blush after that. He started nervously playing with his sleeve, feeling like his heart was going to pop out of his chest. He took a deep breath. “You’re really too kind. First you making yourself my lawyer, and now this... I really don’t deserve any of this” TJ grimaced, sighing. “I’m grateful for it, but you... really don’t have to” the look in Cyrus’ eyes softened at that, and he shook his head, taking TJ’s hand. At that moment, TJ felt like his heart had skipped a few beats.

“TJ, don’t think like that! You do deserve all of it. You’re my friend, I’ll do anything to help you, okay? This is literally no trouble at all, and I’d do it again if I had to. Don’t worry about that.” Cyrus assured, smiling. “You always deserve the best. Speaking of which, I have one last thing for you.” Cyrus announced, bending down to his bag to take out a small box. “Open it!” TJ glanced down down at the box, and up at Cyrus before taking it and opening it. If there were moments where TJ thought that his heart would pop up, this time it literally stopped.

“Cyrus... you didn’t.” His eyes widened as Cyrus grinned. Inside was a cake, a small white cake that look like it had been meticulously hand made by Cyrus himself. He glanced up at Cyrus, dumbfounded.

“Yup! I baked you a cake. Like I told you I would, right?”

“I didn’t... I didn’t think you were serious.” ‘I’ll bake you a cake with a hall pass in it’ he was so sure Cyrus was just playing along, but he actually meant every word of what he said. “Oh my god, I swear to God if you actually put a hall pass in the cake-“

“Unfortunately no. The cake was kind of fragile, and time was short.” Cyrus sighed but TJ just shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. I still really appreciate. Thank you. Seriously.”

“Taste it!” Cyrus clapped his hands excitedly, patiently waiting. TJ took his fork, ready to eat.

“Wait, you don’t want a piece?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I have dance class after, I’d rather not” TJ chuckled a bit and cut a part of the cake, before putting it to the side.

“Take it for later. You deserve it.” Cyrus smiled at him at that, taking the small piece with him.

“Thank you. I will eat it later.” TJ nodded his head before eating the cake. It didn’t take him time to finish it because it was so good. He really had a talent in cooking, TJ could tell.

“It was really good. Thank you so much for this. I’m... really lucky to have you.” Their gazes met and TJ instantly knew he would remember Cyrus’ smile at that exact moment forever.

“I’m the lucky one here.” The bell suddenly rang, cutting right through their little moment. TJ had almost forgotten that this wasn’t going to last forever. He let out a sigh, and found himself almost feeling disappointed that detention was over. Cyrus bent down and took his bag before standing up and putting the chair back its place. He walked back to TJ’s desk.

“Hey uh- thanks. For everything. It means the world to me, you know. You’re definitely the best lawyer ever.”

“Anytime. You’re my best client” Cyrus grinned. “Now, I’d stay longer, but my dance teacher hates when people are late. Best not to provoke her on purpose.” TJ chuckled and nodded.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the trays. You go to your class, okay?”

“Thank you! I appreciate it.” Cyrus seemed to hesitate before giving TJ a small hug. “I’ll see you later, okay?” He flashed him one last smile before running to the exit. TJ watched him leave as most of the other people left as well. He just stayed in his seat, letting out a long sigh of content.

“Yeah... see you” he watched him run off, a small smile on his face. Most of the remaining people passed by him with a smile on their faces, but he just shrugged them off. I’m the lucky one here. If this was how detentions we’re going to be from now on, maybe he should get in trouble more often. He raised his sleeve to look at the skull drawing, only to smile softly. Maybe lunch detention wasn’t so bad after all.

#andi mack #tyrus #my writing #my fics #finally finished that detention fic!#you’re welcome hilow

66 notes · View notes

chromecutie · 5 years

Text

Not A Ghost - part 20

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Taglist: @emma-frxst @ra-ra-rasputiin @holamor @empressme-bitch @marvel-is-perfection @hazilyimagine @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash @whitewitchdown @master-sass-blast @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

-------------------------------------

Piotr figured if he waited long enough, Rhonda would get hungry enough to come to the kitchen for some dinner. His patience was rewarded when she came in with an all too familiar satisfied smile and heavy breathing. She only smiled like that after dancing to some music she was really excited about.

Rhonda filled a glass of water from the dispenser in the fridge, drank almost the whole thing right away, and refilled it before turning and smiling at Piotr over the glass. She leaned against the counter by the fridge, a certain ease in her relaxed slouch.

“Had some fun?” he still couldn’t stop smiling at her green and yellow hair.

She nodded and hummed her affirmative as she drank another half glass of water.

“Are you going to eat tonight?” Piotr crossed the kitchen, leaving the big granite island between them.

Blowing some hair out of her face, she huffed, “Yes, I’m starving.” She angled toward the fridge, but Piotr was already opening it to pull out a few casserole dishes.

“Good answer,” he chided. Holding up two options, he asked, “Spaghetti or stir fry?” She made a face like he had just asked her if she would rather visit London or Paris. He let her struggle with her indecision for all of three seconds before he said, “Some of both, then.” With a little snicker and a wink, he plated almost twice what should be considered a normal portion of food.

“Oh my god,” Rhonda laughed, “You know I can’t eat all that!”

Piotr knew better, but he played along and shrugged, “I will finish whatever you don’t eat, but I don’t want to put all this away just to have you--” he imitated a whiny voice, “Ooh, I’m still hungry, I need more!”

The microwave dinged and they sat at the table for Rhonda to eat -- with her third full glass of water. She ate a few bites of stir fry, then switched to the spaghetti, back and forth. Her husband’s cooking had always been good, but it was even better lately. Maybe he had found better recipes, maybe she had gotten so used to prison food, or maybe she was just ravenous from a few solid hours of dancing.

As she ate, Piotr teased, “So, how was Mr. Hozier?”

Sipping at her water, Rhonda answered between bites, “He made me forget how out of practice I am.” After handling a particularly big bite of spaghetti, she elaborated, “I tried to do some certain jetés, not thinking about it, but I can’t jump as high as I used to, my timing was off, stuff like that.” She sounded mildly disappointed, but mostly analytical.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Piotr barely resisted the urge to glance at her ankles, remembering all the times she had downplayed injuries like broken toes, bruised knees, or twisted ankles.

She shrugged it off, “Nah, no worse than I ever have.” For the look Piotr shot at her, she insisted, “I’m fine, really. What about you? How’s your evening been?”

Piotr held out his hand for her fork, and he stole a bite or two of stir fry before giving it back. “A lot of paperwork. I’m not on field duty, but I’m curating files, coordinating some things.”

“You miss it?” Rhonda asked softly. “Field work?” She wiped a stray spot of sauce off her mouth.

He hesitated, searching her face. Her shoulders had gone rigid when she asked. It had been a couple months since she had returned home, and he had barely left the house in that time. Of course he missed working on missions -- going out and handling young mutants losing control or adult mutants who had lost their way and turned criminal. Finally, he replied, “Not as much as I missed you.” Piotr took her almost empty glass and got her more water. “There will be more time in the field later. For now, what I want most is to know you are doing well.”

His cheerful smile melted the tension in her shoulders, and she resumed eating, but he could tell she had something she wasn’t saying.

Rhonda looked down at her plate and realized there was only one bite of stir fry left and maybe two bites of spaghetti. Except for the bites Piotr had stolen, however, she’d had a huge dinner. Leaning back in her chair, she nudged her plate away from her. “I told you I couldn’t eat all that, babe.”

He slapped his thigh with a clank as he laughed, “I knew you would eat most of it!” His hearty laugh faded to a chuckle as he finished off the last few bites and pushed the plate aside to take her hand. Piotr let out a soft exhale as he studied her dark eyes and the fine lines around them when she smiled. His own expression faded as he schooled his features to something more neutral. “Sladkaya,” he began delicately, “Earlier today, with Russell.” Rhonda’s smile faltered and her brows started to furrow. “What did he...did he call you...Guestbook?”

She instinctively pulled away from his hand, just a fraction of an inch, but just before she fully broke contact with his steel fingers, Rhonda leaned closer to him and held her husband’s hand with both of hers. “It was,” her voice came out in a raspy whisper before she cleared her throat and started again. “It’s what they called me in the Icebox.” When she raised her eyes to meet his, they had that haunted look she got whenever she shared any details about what happened there. “I don’t want to ever hear or say that name again, if I can help it.”

The chair screeched on the floor as Rhonda suddenly pushed her chair back and made to leave the kitchen, but Piotr gently caught her around the waist. “Of course, sladkaya.” His long fingers spread over her ribs. He eyed the green sleeve that covered her right arm. “If there is anything I can do to help you, please tell me.”

Her throat too tight to speak, Rhonda nodded, and before the tears welling up could fall, she slipped her arms around her husband’s neck. He shifted in the chair to give her space to stand between his legs. Rhonda gave him a few kisses on the cheek before fully pressing herself against him in a tight embrace. He held her as tight as he could without risking some bruised ribs; his steel armor didn’t have the same give as his unarmored form. “[My sweet wife, I love you,]” he murmured in Russian against her ear. When she took a deep breath, he loosened his hold slightly.

“I think I could go for a shower,” she kissed her way from his cheek to his lips again. “I know it’s kinda early, but I’m ready for bed. Would you come sit with me for a while?”

Piotr took another taste of her lips before saying, “Of course,” and following her upstairs.

The next day, Rhonda was so sore she could hardly move. Piotr teased her about getting older and said she couldn’t roll around like the was twenty anymore. All the same, he brought her a protein shake in bed and massaged her feet and calves until she felt good enough to get up and start her day.

Piotr went about his day of handling paperwork and compiling case files while Rhonda continued working with the light bulbs and relearning how to stretch her abilities. To try to ease her soreness, she also did very light dance work, and stretched as much as she could. The sleeve cut from Yukio’s tights stayed in place pretty well while dancing, and Rhonda decided she would have to ask where she could get more. It definitely made it easier to walk around in tank tops without pulling on hoodies or cardigans.

In the afternoon, Rhonda checked in with Hank, who was developing ways to test the strength and control of her electrical charges, and it seemed like she was making a decent recovery, if still slow. “I think you’re ready to start practicing in the Danger Room, if you want to try a low-level simulation,” Hank suggested.

A cold feeling flitted over her as she remembered the echoing emptiness. “No, I can’t go back in there.”

Rhonda’s routine became less predictable over the next week or so. Ororo, Ellie, and Yukio had started insisting Rhonda join them for breakfasts, lunches, and afternoon coffee. Rhonda loosened up a bit and started to enjoy these low-pressure, small setting hangouts, but it was hard to shake off an underlying discomfort. Yukio had been right - maybe Rhonda was spending too much time on her own. Despite this, the feeling nagged at her that an hour for coffee was an hour lost that she should have been practicing dance or rehabilitating her electrical abilities.

Piotr grew worried when he started seeing dark circles return under his wife’s eyes. She was eating enough, she wasn’t waking up from nightmares as often anymore, and she was in bed at a reasonable hour. Despite looking tired, she also looked focused and happy. To his surprise, he realized she also wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder and actually held her head high when she walked. “You walk like yourself again,” he noted, “Shoulders back, toes turned out, like the dancer I’ve always known.” She smiled at the comment, but the dark circles worried him. While she was busy at lunch or something else Yukio and Ellie had talked her into, he checked the sedatives on her nightstand. It looked like she had stopped taking them, because there were a lot more pills than he expected.

At bedtime, Piotr stayed awake, pretending to sleep. He waited, and after an hour or two, he heard Rhonda stir beside him. He kept still, listening to the sheets rustling as she got up and tiptoed around the room. She hardly made a sound, even taking care to miss the one creaky floorboard near the closet. When the bedroom door clicked shut, Piotr waited another few minutes before sitting up and turning on his bedside lamp.

Rhonda had taken her phone and the speaker from her nightstand, and her pajama shorts were laid out on her side of the bed. Piotr guessed she changed into some leggings, and also noted her old hoodie was gone from its spot on a chair.

After careful consideration, Piotr decided not to get up and go look for her. Instead, he would wait to see how long she was gone. He thought it was possible that she stopped taking the sedatives, but still had trouble sleeping, so maybe she was taking walks in the middle of the night to help her sleep. He turned off his lamp and waited some more. It took a solid three hours before he heard the door open and softly click shut again, and the barely audible sound of her feet ghosting over the floor. There was a rustling of fabric, and Piotr guessed she was changing back into her pajama shorts or putting her hoodie back on the chair where she liked to keep it.

In the morning, he noticed a little dirt caked around her fingers and toes, but said nothing. He let them go about their day, following their respective routines. At night, Rhonda got up again, and again Piotr waited in silence, pretending to sleep. After a waiting a while, bored, he turned on his side toward the window, and saw bright flashes of lightning through the shades. He frowned, thinking it was weird he didn’t hear any rain or thunder. Then he realized there was something rhythmic about the flashes of lightning.

Piotr got out of bed and pulled back the drapes to look out the window, and saw the flashes weren’t coming from the sky, but somewhere on the ground. Another bright flash drew his eye and he saw Rhonda, near the old lamp post and bench.

She was cartwheeling and turning wildly on the grass, the same patch of lawn where she had sprawled after the Danger Room, and arcing brilliant pale green electrical charges from her hands and feet. Piotr watched for a minute, stunned, before noticing she was playing Hozier on her speaker.

The music layered earthy, deep drums and a twangy guitar that sounded like it had wandered in from an old blues song. Piotr was too far away to place the song or the lyrics as he watched Rhonda dance. She dove into a handstand, strong legs waving and wheeling around before throwing them past her head, which arched her back and carried her back to her feet. She leaped high in the air -- and tumbled to the ground, feet over shoulders. For a nerve wracking second, Piotr gasped, and relaxed once he saw her roll smoothly back to her feet, as if it were all one motion. The dramatic fake-fall-and-tumble was one of Rhonda’s signature moves that she loved incorporating into her performances. Piotr shook his head at himself, feeling ridiculous for having forgotten. All the while, Rhonda flashed lightning from all her limbs in time with the claps in the beat, streaking over the grass and high in the air.

As quietly as he could, Piotr climbed down from the balcony and crept closer. She was so beautiful, the way she moved, hair flying and no regard for how much grass and dew and dirt she got on herself. Rhonda didn’t move with the same flexibility and fluidity that she used to; there was something rougher, more raw than Piotr remembered. This was new, and he loved it.

One song ended and another began. Closer, Piotr could finally hear the vocals more clearly, and he was utterly transfixed. He was able to recognize part of the chorus:

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I’ll crawl home to her

A weight settled in Piotr’s heart. He remembered their picnic on her grave and how she had been so quiet, staring at her headstone with a stern brow. It wasn’t just that Rhonda was dancing, she was processing something.

He dared get just a little closer -- an arc of lightning snaked through the grass and Piotr stifled a grunt when it hit his bare feet. The sound was enough to draw her attention.

Rhonda paused and locked eyes with him. Her green hair was a tangled, sweaty mess, and torn pieces of grass were stuck all over her bare arms. Just when Piotr was afraid she would be angry, she smiled. It was an impish grin, like he had come across an actual mythical creature who was about to enthral him with her dance until twenty years went by without his notice.

She went to her phone and tapped a few times, glancing at Piotr as she restarted “Work Song.” For a moment, she stood still, except for the heaving of her chest as she panted. Then she moved. She closed her eyes and let her limbs make slow, lazy lines. Her head rolled, the yellow tips of hair caught the lamp light.

There’s nothing sweeter than my baby

I’d never want once from a cherry tree

Cause my baby’s sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin’ me

Piotr let out a soft gasp when he realized he’d been holding his breath. Every time her eyes found his, her lips pulled in a smile that was sweet and wistful. She still flashed her lightning in a way that artfully meshed with the music, but she was careful to send the bolts upward so they wouldn’t hit her husband, just a few feet away from her with his bare metal feet on the grass.

Weak in the knees, Piotr beamed until the elation and love he felt was overwhelming. He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Rhonda seemed to melt until she was a fluid mess of shoulders and spine and hips on the grass. She rolled and twisted on the ground, adding a sensual edge that made Piotr desperately want to put his hands on her and feel every inch of her curves. He knew better than to interrupt his wife when she was dancing, but the desire was there.

The song ended, and Rhonda sat up on her knees, showing her teeth in an exhausted grin. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” she said just loud enough to be heard over the beginning of the next song.

Piotr rushed to pull her up into his arms and spin around, burying his face in her hair. “You are amazing,” he chuffed breathlessly.

Rhonda circled her arms around his neck, bracing her toes against his legs. She pressed her cheek against his, and with the steel of his back under her fingers, realized he was out on the front lawn in just his underwear. “Did you jump off the balcony?”

He chuckled sheepishly, “I was afraid I would miss it if I took time to use the stairs.” He supported her weight with an arm around her waist, and pulled back to brush her hair away from her face with his free hand. “I have been wondering when you would let me see you dance again!” Piotr’s brows twitched together with concern, “Why sneak out in the middle of the night like this?”

Rhonda pressed a soft kiss to his steel cheek and rested her face against it. “It’s just…” she sighed, “It’s been hard to be around people, and...it feels so good to be outside and moving and touching something that’s not concrete and rebar.” She gave him an extra squeeze. “Does that make sense?”

With a sigh, he returned her warm squeeze and she felt his voice rumble through his chest. “You are not in the Icebox, sladkaya. Do you feel like you must hide from your friends?"

Rhonda tapped his shoulder and he let her slide back down to her feet. She went to turn off the music and grab her phone and speaker. In the quiet dark, she answered softly, "It's not that simple." She took a seat on a little garden bench next to some shrubs. "I'm not in that place anymore, but I still can't dance like I used to, talk to people like I used to... being there has changed how I do everything in my life now."

Shuffling his feet through the damp grass, Piotr came to sit beside her on the bench, listening.

"I'm different now, and I know everyone can tell, but they either ignore it or treat me like glass," she huffed, then added with an edge of surprise as she realized for the first time, "Except Michelle." Resting her head against her husband's shoulder, she continued, "I just think if everyone was paying attention, you'd all treat me with some reservation, like Michelle does."

He slipped an arm around her, as much to pull her closer as to keep her bare arms warm in the night air. "Has it occurred to you," he asked, "that we know you're different, and we love you just as we always have?"

"I am marked as a murderer," her jaw grew tight, clenching her teeth to keep her emotions from spilling too much. "How can anyone trust me in a house full of children?"

The answer was so obvious to him, he was baffled that she didn't see it herself. "The things you did, you haven’t told me much, but from what you have said -- you acted against your values, your nature. And it bothers you.” He shook his head, "If those things bother you, then deep down, you are still the same person we love. I love.” Glancing up at the stars, Piotr rubbed her arm, took a breath and said, “I think it’s important for you to forgive yourself and move forward.”

Nestled against him, she took a minute to let his answer sink in, mull it over. “I’ll try,” she said, “I mean, I’ve been trying, but...it’s hard. Sometimes the only thing that makes sense is music and moving.” Rhonda looked up at her husband, with his square jaw and chiseled cheeks. It had always been easy to talk to him, pour her heart out, but the Icebox had changed that too. She was afraid he just couldn’t understand, and that if he ever did, she wouldn’t be able to handle his disappointment. “And all this?” she flicked a little shot of lightning off into the grass. “This is all flash. Hank read me the volts and amperage and they aren’t anything useful. Not like when I could power an abandoned warehouse or overload the circuit breakers.” She chewed her lip, trying in vain to stave off tears, dreading saying it aloud: “I’m barely even a mutant anymore.” She concluded scornfully, “I’m a human party trick.”

“Rhonda!” he gasped incredulously. Piotr left the bench to kneel in front of her, and made sure she was looking at his face. His brows met in a hard, angry line. For a moment, he just stared into her face as her teardrop tattoos were slicked with actual tears. Her four-fingered right hand clutched her phone and speaker. His furrow softened as he exhaled. Smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks, he said firmly, “Being a mutant has never been about whatever special thing you can do. Being a mutant is about adapting in order to survive.” Piotr paused, then continued slowly, “You were in dire circumstances that you would not have survived, but you adapted. And for that, you are every bit as mutant as the rest of us, even if you never light another spark again. Do you understand?”

Rhonda sniffled. Her face scrunched as she fought to control her tears, deliberately taking the slowest breaths she could manage so they wouldn’t come out as sobs. Eventually, she nodded.

“Okay,” Piotr said in a soft whisper, “okay.” He laid his hands on hers and rubbed them. “[Rhonda, I love you. You deserve better than hurting all the time.]” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “[You must be exhausted. Ready to go back to bed?]”

Smearing away some tears with her knuckles, she replied, “[Yeah...one more dance first?]” Under the lamp and the stars, he saw her muster the slightest smile.

“[Of course, my love. I’ll watch from the bench here.]”

#colossus x oc #piotr rasputin x oc #angst #fluff #longfic #multipart fic #xmen #marvel #colossus #deadpool 2 #im baaaaack y'all

15 notes · View notes

bookenders · 5 years

Text

11/11/11 Tag Game: 16/17/18?

Back again to spill the tea about myself for all you lovely people.Thanks @cataclysmic-writer, @maybeillwriteit and @aurisadventure for the tags!

My answers are under the cut. 😊

Rules: Answer the 11 questions of the person who tagged you, make up 11 questions, then tag 11 people to answer them.

Bilbo Taggins: @brittanyisart, @quilloftheclouds, @brittanyisart, @brynwrites, @creatvrae, @elisabethrosewrites, @elizabethsyson, @ren-c-leyn, @yetmorestories, @pinespittinink, @timefire25

My Questions:

What are your thoughts on throw pillows?

Do you have any podcast recommendations? How about TV shows?

What month would you be on a calendar, and what would the picture be?

What is one book that you absolutely love, no matter what anyone else has to say about it?

What’s your favorite kind of scented candle?

What’s your favorite urban legend?

Would you ever go on an arctic expedition?

What’s the furthest from home you’ve ever been?

What is the best snack?

How purple do you allow your prose to be/get? What’s your purple limit? Is there one?

What’s one word/line/scene/character that you want to put in a story, but you haven’t found the right place for yet?

@cataclysmic-writer‘s questions:

What do you eat or drink while writing? It varies depending on how I’m feelin’. Usually a big giant glass of water. I used to have coffee and/or tea, but it always got cold because I forgot about it. That’s actually how I used to measure my progress, by how cold the drink was. And coffee got me too jazzed to sit still, so I stopped drinking while writing. Good for academic papers, though.

Best piece of advice you ever received? Like... ever? Okay. People are more interested in themselves/absorbed with themselves to really care what you’re doing. Very empowering for someone with real bad social anxiety (like myself heyooo).

Which book inspired you to write the most? I’ve talked about Laurie Halse Anderson’s Wintergirls before, and I’m gonna mention it again. And that I went to a signing for her new book Shout and I got to thank her and my life has been enriched a thousand-fold.

Which author do you try to emulate when you write? Oh, man, I do not do this at all. Okay, well, not at all, because I find it to be a valuable writing exercise to practice with. But I super don’t. I’ve done projects where I’ve emulated Walt Whitman, Philip Levine, Tolkien, Dostoevsky, Poe (eugh), and Anne Valente. Those were super fun. I like imitating styles and I’ve gotten pretty darn good at it. Sometimes I tell myself to put a Gaiman-like twist on a section, though, or describe something like another author if it fits the tone for funsies. But I like writing like me!

Where did you get the idea for your current wip? I’ve already talked about Heart to Heart, so I’ll talk about “Fish Food!” This one happened when I was pondering superheroes, James Bond, tropes, evil monologues, and the like. I had the image of a hero tied up and dangling over a pit of piranhas while the villain detailed his evil plan. But the hero didn’t follow the script. And then, like every one of my short stories, it spun way out of control. I started to think of what heroes would inhabit this world that erupted from the fertile soil of my brain and suddenly I had a big complicated story that I was excited about. And it was funny, which is a change for me.

Do you have a go-to beta reader/writing buddy you bounce ideas off of? I do! One of my goodest friends is a fellow writer and she’s my spaghetti wall if I need assistance. We went through the same creative writing program one year apart and had different teachers, so we offer each other pretty different advice, and it’s great. She’s super into fae lore, too, which is ridiculously helpful for me, a nerd who is writing a light fantasy story with fae in it. We operate in different styles and genres, though, so sometimes idea-bouncing is a little tricky.

Which of your WIPs is your favorite? Of the ones I’m working on right now? Probably “Incarnate.” Partly because it’s closer to my usual writing fare, partly because it’s weird and disturbing in my favorite ways, partly because the ending is really cool and surprising in a way that hits you long after you finish it. I also like it because it’s hard for me to write. Yay, challenges!

Tea, coffee, or soda? Tea for chillin’, coffee for workin’, soda for pizza times.

If you could have any fantasy creature as a pet, which would you have? A brownie to clean my house, or a domovoi to act as a weird home security system would be neat. For non-practical purposes, I’d also say a pegasus. I can ride pretty well and it’d be so convenient to just fly everywhere on my awesome horse buddy.

Do you like creepy/scary movies? NOPE. I am a big chicken shit when it comes to spooky things. As a kid, I was terrified of E.T. That’s how bad it was.

What genre do you have yet to write in, but want to write soon? Hm. Maybe historical fiction? I already play with it a little bit without actually going into the history part of it too deeply. Maybe I’ll give it a shot in the future. I’ve always wanted to give magical realism a good try, though. It’s always been hard for me to write.

________________________________________

@aurisadventure‘s questions:

1. Who is your favorite oc? Why?

Right now, it’s Lithium from “Fish Food.” She’s just so fun. I also just figured out a big part of Jill’s character that I’m excited to add to H2H!

2. What is your favorite thing to do when you’re not writing?

I got into cooking a while ago, and that’s pretty fun. I do yoga sometimes. I read a bunch. I also like putting things together. Honestly, I’m a big giant nerd who likes learning in their spare time.

3. What is your least favoured genre?

Hard sci-fi is really hard for me to get into. And some contemporary stuff, but it’s not as bad as hard sci-fi.

4. Top three favorite video games? (Any console)

DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS (with Awakening DLC, obvs) (except for the goddamn Mage Circle Fade part I hate it and it deserves to burn in hell)

Ori and the Blind Forest (I’m stuck on the last stupid fire volcano level and I’m so mad because it’s hard but this game is beautiful)

To The Moon (so many tears, such good story)

Honorable mention to Assassin’s Creed 2.

(I love RPGs.)

5. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done for inspiration?

Hm. I don’t really go out and seek inspiration like this. I just consume a whole lot of art in varying mediums.

I went to a poetry slam one time. Does that count?

6. Buggy or Cart?

Horses, buggy. Oxen, cart. As much as I’d like to be Gandalf...

7. Have you finished any of your wips?

I am so goddamn close to finishing “When Your Song is Over and Done” I can taste it. I’m hoping to write that last stupid scene this week. It’s been the one WIP that’s been kicking my ass lately. How rude.

I’m a short story writer, so I finish a lot of my WIPs. It’s kinda nice. That’s also why longer projects scare me.

8. But like… can I read it?

😉

In the meantime, you can read these!

9. What is your favorite animal? Why?

Highland Cows! Just look at them.

I’m sure I have a more interesting answer for this, but honestly, cows are all I can think of. I love cows.

10. Name one place you want to visit more than anything.

Norway! Not sure why. Seems like a really cool place to be.

(I lied I love space and want to go to the observatories.)

11. What is your most cherished childhood memory?

Saturday mornings curled up in my grandfather’s armchair watching TV and eating Burger King before we go visit the animals at the farm.

________________________________________

@maybeillwriteit‘s questions:

1. Which oc would you most like to go for a drink with?

I don’t drink, but I think Treena would be an excellent conversation partner.

2. Where do you like to write? Bed? Desk? Cafe? etc etc

I have a desk in my room. Not that I usually write at it. I’m good anywhere I can sit up straight and rest my arms.

3. Which of your ocs do you think people are most likely to make fanart for?

Eventually, I hope Mel. I love her character design. Or the superheroes and villains from “Fish Food.” They all have really distinct appearances and cool costumes/uniforms.

4. Favourite piece of writing advice you’ve received?

Probably the time my mentor also admitted he hated writing dialogue, but that sometimes you just gotta.

5. Which place in your stories would you like to live? (i’ve read this sentence ten times and i ain’t convinced it’s grammatically correct lol)

(maybe: In which place/where in your stories would you most like to live? I dunno this one’s freaking my brain.)

Linsay would be the best place to live, I think. A very chill small town that has everything you need, very supportive soon-to-be friends, an apothecary on stand-by, and lovely weather. Its residents are fiercely protective and are very willing to look the other way where the law is concerned if it helps someone.

6. Do any authors/books influence your writing? Which ones?

Oh, tons. Jim Butcher, Laurie Halse Anderson, George Saunders, Anne Valente, Tolkien, Gaiman, Matt Bell, Aimee Bender, and a whole bunch more authors. And, if you wanna get all heartfelt about it, every single book I’ve read has influenced my writing, whether it’s learning how to do something, learning how not to do something, or finding a new technique that jives with my style.

7. Pick one song that represents your wip.

I’ve done a bunch of song stuff with H2H, so this is for “Fish Food:”

Honestly, my first instinct is “Superboy and the Invisible Girl” from Next to Normal. But it’s not quite right.

I also wanna say “Super Friends” from Holy Musical B@man.

But in my heart, I know the true answer is “Under Pressure.” How could it not be?

8. Favourite thing about being a writer?

The feels! I love writing things and getting my own feels out, then making other people feel things. It’s so satisfying.

9. Characters or plot, what came first?

Characters! Oh my God, always characters. And before characters, concept and theme(s). Sometimes a scene just pops into my head and I have to figure out who these people are and why they’re there.

10. Do you like writing prompts?

I do indeedy. They’re pretty helpful when I’m stuck. I only write for the ones that instantly spark an idea in my brain, though. All the ones I’m getting for my 800 followers celebration are insanely good.

11. Part of your wip that you’re most excited to write?

Oh, man! So many!

H2H: The climax! Well, one of them. The one of the magic incidents and Mel and Gemma’s relationship, to be specific.

Fish Food: When my main two dudes meet Lithium! And figure out what’s going on with her. Or anything about Lithium’s real life. Her story is wild.

WYSiOaD: The goddamn rooftop scene that’s been kicking my ass for a month. It’s gonna be so emotional and poignant and great and I can’t wait for it to be over.

#writeblr #amwriting #about me #tag game #writer tag #11/11/11 tag game #my process #my writing process #tunes

8 notes · View notes

0vv0b · 7 years

Text

I say con report but things about the con is barely mentioned in this...this is just a roller coaster of events that happened to me in the span of 2 days.

Day 1 (SAT)

I was so ready for this con right like I drew the prints a month before printing and printed them 3 days before the con so I can prepare for any last-minute thing that might happen like I was SO ready!! But then just as I was about to leave for the con my dog suddenly peed on my shoe;;; I was meeting my tablemates that morning but I was the last to get there because I had to wash and dry my shoe first.

Our table!!

I HAD TO COVER HIM UP BECAUSE THERE WERE CHILDREN

Everything was calm in the morning but around noon people started to come in lots. The MC in the back was very loud and I was getting worried because I couldn’t tend to people fast enough (can’t hear clearly), I also ran out of change so I started to panic big time it was really embarrassing… (lol why am I like this)

I was supposed to leave around 3:30 pm for class but I kept delaying because it still wasn’t confirmed if the prof was going to teach or not lmao. We have a group chat and most my classmates didn’t really want to have classes because it was raining really bad. The prof cancelled around 30 mins before classes start so I was able to stay til end of day 1! (would’ve been better if it was cancelled early because my nerves were killing me hhhhhhhhhh)

There were lots of BNHA cosplayers!! There was a cheer squad group cosplay and people were swooning all over them! They wanted to buy my BNHA prints but hnnnggs already sold out, except my Kirishima print, which the Kirishima cosplayer bought!!

It looked like kiri was his fave (if the cosplay wasn’t obvious enough lol kou) because he was so happy buying the kiri print!! it was like seeing irl kiri!!! HE SMILE SO PURE!! SO BRIGHT!!!

I remember there was a Dabi, Toga, and Shiragaki group that bought our stuffs!

The Shiragaki cosplayer was so cute they were pointing at which prints they wanted to buy because they couldn’t speak properly wwwwww

sorry I couldn’t take pics I was a dead tired granpa with a hurting back who slept under our table

Day 2 (SUN)

Day 2 was a lot stressful so buckle up. Note that I was carrying that grid thingy THE WHOLE TIME from house til i got to the con.

I was supposed to wake up early to reprint stuffs but I overslept I rushed out of the house with nothing but coffee for breakfast (big mistake). Sunday traffic was super light though! Very different from a weekday!

Anyways, en route to print shop I had to take transit I was making time but I was still rushing I didn’t notice I went into the driver’s car, which I didn’t know was half reserved for senior citizens and there was a chain border thingy that’s kind of a hassle to step over so I just stayed put.

It was really awkward the granma and granpas were looking at me and then the granpa beside me farted that lasted 2 stations.

I had to keep a poker face and take shallow breathes I didn’t want to hurt his feelings because I know he can’t help it and I was in the wrong car anyways so I had to face The Consequences lmao

When I got to the print shop the guard there told me they were closed on Sundays but there was a branch nearby that’s supposedly walking distance. It wasn’t though… I’ve walked 3?? 5?? km before decided to take a cab ToT . The area was a super windy too because i think there was still a low pressure area in the country so I was like

I got to the print shop but I was running a bit late and I’m starting to get tired and hungry my arms spaghetti but when the guy opened my prints folder I foRGOT MY PRINTS WERE KINDA… HONKA HONKA I didn’t think they minded tho bUT I KINDA DID AND WHEN ONE GUY WAS ABOUT TO CUT OUT THE CRAIG PRINTS I HEARD HIM GO—

lmao I was half tired half embarrassed I just didn’t care that much. I thought their reactions were funny.

I was already running because it was past lunch and my tablemate was texting me that there were people waiting for like an hour to buy my prints I WAS LIKE HOLY SHIT WHAT IM SO SORRY I zoomed through the station all sweaty like a mad man and rode the transit again (got in the correct car this time) and ppl were looking at me funny;;;;

After transit, I had to commute via jeep then walk for a bit to get to the venue. But when I stepped off the jeep it started raining like hell I thought my prints would get wet so I

AGGRESSIVELY RUNS THROUGH A STORM

I went up an overpass soaked all over ( lol and the security guard looked so sorry for me he didn’t even check my bag he just let me in. T-thank you........ ) and when I went down it had already stopped raining…

By this time, I was power walking and I see the venue but my joints are hurting because light breakfast and almost no lunch I was thinking “I’m finally here!! Yay!” When I got inside though the escalators were dead.

The con was held at the 5th floor :)

I DIDN’T GIVE UP I MANAGED TO DRAG MY ASS AND THANKFULLY ESCALATORS FROM 3RD TO 5TH FLOOR WERE WORKING

Day 2 Table set up!!

When I got to our table there really were lots of people waiting in line I FELT SO WARM AND TENDER AND SOFT BC AWWWW (also the things that happened prior already butchered me) BUT ALSO FELT GUILTY BECAUSE IF I DIDN’T OVERSLEEP I COULD’VE GOTTEN HERE EARLY IM REALLY SORRY!!

Day 2 went by so fast for me because I got to the con late and I stayed under the table most of the time to dry myself off and rest T_T (I didnt wanna walk around with wet clothes gjkdshdgd gross) One of our table mates was sleeping under here too and I was like yea dude same.

By the time I was dry and able to roam around it was already closing time but managed to grab a few loots because they were price dropped last-minute (Oshawott and Snivy plushies). Lucky!!

Closing time was WILD: everyone was (aggressively) trading merch to each other and it was extremely sweet, fun, and cute!! lots of screaming!

ALSO?!???? Kami (@kittlekrattle) delivered my copy of the suits zine herself i met up w her outside the con???? I also kinda met her mom too gjkhfdsdjghdfg THANKS KAMI!!!

Then we had post con dinner at this Japanese food place called Yabu! They refill your side dishes and drinks for free!!! Everything was so delicious!! (except the wasabi... don’t ask...)

We kept dropping our chopsticks so much we had to ask for spoon and fork lmao

If I learned something important from this experience its to NOT. SKIP. BREAKFAST

ALSO I CARRIED THAT LARGE GRID THINGY ALL DAY RIGHT BUT WE DIDNT ACTUALLY NEED IT FOR OUR DISPLAY HAHAH ok thats it i think ill sleep some more bc im still so tired

#con report #ACX 2017 #ALSO IF I DIDNT BUY SO MANY DAMN ORBS FOR SUMMER GAIUS #I WOULDVE HAD ENOUGH FUNDS FOR PRINTING #AND I DIDNT HAVE TO REPRINT SO EARLY DURING DAY 2 #AND EXPERIENCE HELL #anyways thanks for reading lmao im so tired just rereading this over and over good night

185 notes · View notes

thesylvalining · 7 years

Text

Sometimes I feel like my life is like a conversation between myself and Tom Petty.

Me: Man, I’ve got the travel itch.

Tom: Time to move on, time to get going.

Me: But where?

Tom: You belong somewhere you feel free.

Me: Duh! Where would you suggest? Italy?

Tom: You belong on a boat out at sea.

Me: But Tom, you know my track record with seasickness…

Tom: Let me get to the point, let’s roll another joint…

Me: Okay, now we’re getting somewhere!

It’s all my dad’s fault: he listened to Tom Petty for ages before I could even say “Tom Petty.” In truth the first complete sentence I said — “Go play on the freeway,” to a cute little old lady at the grocery store — was his fault, too. Supposedly I heard him say it to the dogs… apparently it’s real kids understand more than you think.

Speaking of kids… munchkins actually play into the way things are evolving but first: I want to touch on the way I’ve been feeling lately: like a leaf in the wind. Every day I am blissfully unsure of how things will unfold. It’s the most free and open I’ve possibly ever felt in my silly little life.

So when I read this bit of “Jitterbug Perfume,” by Tom Robbins (borrowed from my Italian friend/queen Lisa) I almost fell off the toilet where I do most of my reading. In this section one of the main characters, an ex-king named Alobar, is having a conversation with the village shaman, who speaks first:

“I encourage you to ride this strange wind that is blowing through you, to ride it to wherever it will carry you.”

“But which way shall I go?”

“That is between you and the wind…”

Lately the wind and I have been having a riveting dialogue, because in the last 72 hours, the “plan” (if anyone can call it that) has changed. It’s worked itself out in the most enchanting of ways, unrolling like pastry dough on the counter, ready to be filled with crema, nutella or marmellata… But the last couple days, my friends, are a story all of their own. Long story short, I am not coming back to the States until September… but the details are still evolving and all of that deserves its own glorious post.

So, while this new direction works itself out like a much, much more pleasant kidney stone, let’s allow the wind to blow us back to Rome, shall we?

We therefore pick up the trail in a hot and humid afternoon breeze outside the train station in Spagna, the Spanish quarter, in search of our quaint hotel. Kelly and Jacob are uncomfortably warm; I — the lizard — am in my happy place.

After ditching our bags at in our cool hotel room and chugging an appropriate amount of water, we burst back into the sun to check off the first item on our tourist list: the ancient Colosseum. And on the way, enjoy horse hats, the stately Altare della Patria and some more really old crap.

Not to be that person (although I’m gonna be that person)… but last I spent time in Rome, it was March of 2005 with my good friend Amy (AP Photo!) and her friend, Sherry. The streets — and the Colosseum — were cold, but deserted. This round it was busier than centro on market day, but nonetheless, the ancient, enchantment of such a structure remained intact.

With throngs of other humans we wandered in awe past old columns the size of Redwood trees and arches that had watched not only gladiators, but now — with an ancient eye roll — modern-day Selfie Stick aficionados battling with their Smartphones. I personally don’t need one because I was born with an arm… actually, two of them…

Boom! The Colosseum 🙂

Frands.

The big picture.

Old crap.

Selfie sticksssss.

More selfie love.

Even people carried from across the globe and deposited there like so many pieces of guanciale in a really good Carbonara (one of Rome’s specialties), the magnificence of so much history was not obscured. To read the Colosseum was regularly flooded for ship battles is incredible; to read people were tossed into the labyrinth of the Colosseum with lions like fish food into a fish tank to be ripped into tiny little fish food-sized pieces is gruesome… but fascinating, to be sure. Ahhhh, history.

Outside the Colosseum, with sweat moving like curious ants through crevices on our bodies which — unlike the Roman ruins we stood among — had somehow until this point avoided excavation, we spotted something incredible: free cold water. Throughout Italy a refreshing army of potable water pours from the frozen metal maws of lions or stoic faces but here, there was a choice between naturale (still) or frizzante (sparkling) water. From that moment on, the fizzy water stop became mandatory on all expeditions.

Post-Colosseum we paused for our daily gelato stop and found an appropriately ugly spot to suck it down…

We took the scenic way home, bypassing the chaotic, clogged but more direct shopping hub on Via Del Corso, stumbling across this lovely courtyard that probably has a story of its own…

After the hot sun went to bed, we decided a trip to Trevi Fountain — featured in Fellini’s “La Dolce Vita,” — would be next. Despite feeling more like a zoo than one of Rome’s most ancient water sources (the Aqua Virgo Aqueduct built 19 B.C. provided water to the Roman baths and Rome’s central fountains), Trevi fountain at night was still magical. We grabbed a bottle of wine from a nearby enoteca and pizza al taglio (pizza baked in large rectangular pans, sliced in squares and re-nuked) and observed people chucking coins in the water. After some wine and some time, we noticed most people tossed over left shoulders, turned backwards. The key to a wish come true, apparently, is not to watch after the coin leaves your hands.

After leaving the zoo, we retreated to our cool, dark room and passed the flip out.

In the morning it was ____. Yep, you guessed it, hot! After an Italian-style caffeine-pastry breaking of the fast, we headed towards the Roman Forum, rented audio guides and proceeded to march around learning about, among so many other things, the 7th century Temple of Vesta, Umbilicus Urbis (the Roman entrance to the Underworld) and Basilica Julia, built by Julius Caesar. Over it all sat a blue sky over which the brilliant sun ruled; Kelly and Jacob sweated to death and soon retreated to a popular shady area to revamp; I continued my wandering, sweating to life 🙂

Listening to some audio…

The remains of the Temple of Castor and Pollux.

Temple of Saturn, in the distance…

The Temple of Saturn.

Sharing grounds with the Forum was Palentine Hill, one of Rome’s Seven Hills and where Romulus first founded the original city in 753 BC. We wandered among the House of the Vestal Virgins, learning those lucky ladies had to keep their virginal, ahem, properties intact or, of course, they were killed. Lovely.

Kelly and Jacob kicked it in the shade while I ran up to the top of Palentine Hill to check out the garden atop it and of course, the view!

Post-Forum we made a pit stop for acqua frizzante with a herd of other thirsty humans, found more pizza al taglio for lunch and made our way to Via Labicana to rent three neon bikes from Wheely Bike. With the wind in our hair, we zipped over to the (free!) and glorious Pantheon. Formerly a Roman Temple, the Pantheon was constructed between 118-128 BC.

Inside, with everyone else, we gazed silently upwards to marvel at the Pantheon’s spectacular oculus. And — equally stunning — to postulate how, almost two thousand years after it was built, the Pantheon is still the world’s largest un-reinforced concrete dome. My mind still struggles to wrap itself around such a feat like a thick spaghetti noodle around a fork in a bowl of cacio e pepe (cheese, pepper sauce — another irresistible Roman culinary masterpiece).

After the Pantheon, we zipped through nearby (crowded) Piazza Navona on our way to the river and our obligatory gelato stop of the day: Gelateria Del Viale, some of the best gelato in Rome, according to a friend of mine. We cooled off along the river and rode the long way back to Wheely Bike to return our neon steeds…

DCIM101GOPRO

Gelateria del Viale.

Looking down from steps near Altare della Patria.

Exiting the bike path by the Tiber River.

Coming around the back of the Forum…

After we ditched bikes, we figured we’d have enough time to trot over to the room, powder our noses and head to dinner at the charmingly-named Guilio Passami l’Olio (Guilio, pass me the olive oil). But suddenly we were the Lemony Snickets amongst a series of Unfortunate events: First, missing the first bus because we were on the wrong side of the street. Second, Sylva — The One Who Has Been to Italy Many Times Before forgot to pop in a Tabacchi and buy tickets before catching the bus. And the third bus (of course) was late enough to push our delayed arrival into the realm of “maybe they’re not actually coming at all…” Eventually, we threw in the cheaper public transportation towel in and hailed a cab.

At Giulio Passami l’Olio we found a hopping scene and our reservation had somehow gotten lost in the shuffle like an olive in a very loud, well-dressed salad. Eventually, however, we sat in sweaty clothes and tennis shoe to eat delectable food and consult the restaurant’s fantastic wine bible, or Wible.

To digest and enjoy the temperate evening, we wandered back along the river, enjoying the play of the lights on the water, the trees swaying in the breeze and the feel of a big city under darkness.

Back at the ranch, we made quick work of falling dead asleep. In the morning, at 8:30 a.m., we had a hot date with the Vatican and the even more infamous Sistine Chapel…

Morning found us squeezing onto la metropolitana with the rest of Rome — the Romans to work and us to Vatican City. Like an open bottle of red wine, we poured out onto the streets, directed this way and that by hawkers and helpful folks associated with the Vatican — problem was, it was impossible to tell the difference. But with such volume of people heading to gawk at the plush, art-full innards of the Vatican, we found ourselves funneled right into the gaping, rope-lined mouth of the museum. Luckily, we bought tickets in advance and soon marched up a long spiral staircase into the Vatican.

A sign presented two options: a short tour and a long tour. Two plus hours, Egyptian heiroglyphics, Roman statues, ancient painted maps and medieval tapestries, several Salvador Dali pictures and a Sistine Chapel later, we couldn’t even imagine what the long tour entailed…

From one of the many Vatican windows, Rome, on and on…

Old ass stuff.

The Hall of Muses.

Some of the coolest maps of Italy and Europe possibly ever.

The Vatican’s dome.

Salvador Dali! One of my favorite artists!

In the Sistine Chapel, I was a very, very bad monkey and — amongst loud, firm admonitions via intercom for “Silenzio, per favore; silence, please!” and “no pictures” I fake sneezed, glanced both ways and pointed my very incognito camera straight up:

Oops…

After the Vatican, we located some grub and had just enough time to sprint up the Spanish Steps for a view before getting sucked back into the cockles of la metropolitana and the expansive Roman stazione for the ride back to Faenza…

On subsequent episodes of The Sylva Lining… there’s Venice and I answer the same question The Clash pondered: Should I stay or should I go now? And furthermore, how? As they say, where there’s a will there’s a way. Or, as this Roman street artist penned:

La Dolce Vita Sometimes I feel like my life is like a conversation between myself and Tom Petty. Me: Man, I've got the travel itch.

0 notes