#what did michael bublé ever do to you
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How come Harry Styles and all of these modern pop stars can do whatever they want, but if Chris Pratt or Michael Bublé even fart (you know, like being accused of homophobia when there is no physical evidence other than a bad church), the Internet will mercilessly attack them?
Really would like to understand this logic.
Also, can we also leave Brie Larson and Tatiana Maslany alone too while we’re at it?
@impulse-cake @raven-eyed-wanderer
#anti harry styles#music#anti modern pop music#anti anti chris pratt#anti anti michael bublé#leave michael bublé alone#leave chris pratt alone#leave them alone#just trying to understand#hypocrisy#pro chris pratt#pro michael bublé#chris pratt#what did michael bublé ever do to you#michael buble#i don’t understand#if i see another post insulting chris pratt i am going to block them.#brie larson#tatiana maslany#fuck harry styles
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SWAY WITH ME…
— a date with alastor didn’t go as he had planned… but, it wasn’t that bad after all…
hi!!! i saw this idea from @callmechito and, i didnt make the idea exactly the way specified. but, i really wanted to try :)!! it is late at night though, so i did not make it as long as i wanted it to be (sorry if it’s rushed!!)
acid rain. perhaps it would’ve been wiser to check the 666 news weather report before scheduling your date…
you stood by the window of your hotel room, wearing what you’d call your sunday’s bests. thousands of sinners’ skins burning on impact from the acidic rain pouring outside.
knock!
“s/o, are you decent? may i come in?” a static voice came from the other side of the door. “uuh, yeah! come in” you called back to him as he gently opened the door.
and on the other side of the door, you saw a different side of alastor that had never been seen before; a smitten yet small smile drawn on his face, wearing a red coat, as per usual (though this time, his coat is not tattered), and his big doe eyes shyly looking at the outfit you’d chosen for your proposed date.
alastor let out a quiet sigh, an overwhelming feeling filling his chest, making it hard to breath. “my dear! well, aren’t you stunning? i might just drop dead right now, haha!” alastor laughed, a laugh track joining along. “haha… it’s a shame that we have to cancel our date…” you smiled bittersweetly, quite honestly looking forward to the date. it must have been a millennia since your last date, not to mention how it is with alastor, hell’s most eligible bachelors if i do say so myself…
“well, who said we had to cancel our date?” he tilted his head. “i’d think the rain outside would speak for itself…” you muttered out. “we could just have our date here at the hotel! we could simply move the date to my hotel room, would you like that?” his fingers tapped against his staff.
“su-“”brilliant! let’s make haste now!” he smiled gleefully, taking his hand in yours and shadow teleporting you to his hotel room— the warm red tones of the hotel harshly contrasting with the cool blue and green tones of the forest on the other side.
alastor took your fingers in his hand and gently guided you to a table with two seats. he pulled one out and helped you into the chair. “just sit tight now, darling. i’ll have niffty whip something up for us.” he smiled before leaving the room.
minutes later, alastor came back— two delectable dishes in hand. he placed one in front of you before sitting down himself and digging in.
the two of you had spent your dinner getting to know each other better (more like just him getting to know you better…), talking about whatever came to mind.
not for one second had you ever doubted alastor tonight. everything coming from his beautifully thin lips had sounded as genuine as ever.
after dinner had ended, you wiped your mouth with the napkin on your lap. “alastor, i had a really good time…” you grinned awkwardly, blood rushing to your face. “i think i must go now, i have a busy day tomorrow…” you frowned slightly before standing up to leave.
“nonsense! come, dance with me for a while, would you?” he teasingly pleaded, placing a hand on your shoulder. you hesitated for a while, considering the consequences of staying up an extra few minutes. “ahh… i guess it couldn’t hurt..” you smiled as alastor walked to his vinyl record played, placing the needle onto the grooves of the CD.
as alastor placed a hand on your shoulder and hip, sway by michael bublé began playing. you copied his actions, placing your own hands on his hip and shoulder as the two of you began dancing to the soft music, alastor’s soft voice singing along to the tune.
you soaked in the soft sight of the scary radio demon, as docile as a doe. you rested the side of your head against alastor’s chest, feeling every vibration as he sang. alastor sighed softly, all of this simply being too much for him to act calmly.
all of these emotions were too much, alastor needed a way to release them… he took his hand off of your shoulder before gently gripping your chin. he leaned down a bit before kissing you.
his lips smiled into the kiss, the hand on your hip snaking up to cup your cheek.
the kiss lasted quite long before he finally pulled away, a proud yet mischievous grin decorating his handsome face.
alastor leaned down, his mouth hovering over your ear. “would you like to know something, gorgeous?” he whispered, the hand on your chin resting once more on your shoulder. “i’d say i’m the luckiest man in hell right now, on a date with a treasure like you. i might just die, again!” he laughed. though, despite his joke— when he had said that, the radio filter on his voice was gone, letting you hear his true voice.
you looked up to meet his careful gaze as you grinned lovingly “i had a marvelous time with you… you make me happy that… im in hell.” you laughed.
as the song stopped, alastor paused, thinking to himself quietly. he dropped your hand before cupping your back. “you said you must leave, didn’t you? i wouldn’t want to be the reason you’re groggy in the morning!” he smiled, walking you over to your hotel room, just a few ways down.
“i did have an amazing night with you, my dear. i hope we could do this again, perhaps again during an acid rain shower?” he teased while laughing. a calm composure remaining on his face.
and despite that poker face, he was in the best terms; burning on the inside out. his longing for you filling all of his senses. he must stay gentlemanly though… so, for now, he’ll cherish the beautiful date he had with you tonight.
#i added so many fandom references in here lol…#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#hasbin alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor
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OMG HI MY FAVORITE TUMBLR CREATOR I have an idea >>:D WHAT IFF Your favorite Genshin Men (Diluc) come home extremely late ((2:00 am late)) and you are MAD. So- after you express how you feel (NICELY OFCCC❤️❤️) they feel so bad that they spoil you ROTTEN. Anddd if you doo— then uhh I'll sing... SWAY BY MICHAEL BUBLÉ!!!
(Honestly— Micheal Bublé reminds me so much of Diluc idk why) ALSO TYY FOR TGD WRIOTHESLEY ALPHABET!!!
——🎵🎶🎼Anon ( ◜‿◝ )♡
aaaaaaaa i'm sorry this took so long to get out (つ﹏⊂) i hope you like it!! i put my whole pussy into this one just for you <33
(also i've never thought about it but now that you mention it...yeah diluc does give michael bublé vibes ._. and now i'll never un-notice it)
Warnings: SMUT, includes use of 'pussy' and 'cunt', light hurt/comfort, crying, insecurities, oral (f!receiving), p in v, missionary, mating press, breeding kink (if you squint), biting, squirting
(fem!reader, NSFW so no minors!!)
Wc: 2.6k
The Dawn Winery was always quiet at this time of night, though you weren't usually awake to notice it. With the maids asleep and all other business concluded for the day, the only sounds in the manor's entrance hall were the crackling of the fire and the rush of blood in your ears.
Diluc was out again, fulfilling his self-imposed duties as he did every night.
Not once had you ever complained, knowing that the Darknight Hero was something of a coping mechanism for Diluc, but tonight, something about the quiet of the manor caused all of that repressed loneliness to well up from deep within your bones, streaming out in sorrowful trickles from where it had been locked away for so long.
You sat at one end of the sofa, staring into the fire. It reminded you so much of him, not only for the obvious reason of his pyro vision, but because of the burning intensity of it. Once, he would have been beside you, red eyes crackling with that same passion that few others recognised in him, hands exploring your skin like a new world made just for him.
But now, you were alone. All you wanted was for him to come home and take up the other seat, to take his place beside you and stay for a while. There were no doubts in your mind as to his adoration for you, you saw it anytime he spent so much as a few moments by your side. It was his dedication to protecting the city that drew him away from you, forcing more and more distance between the both of you.
If only his feelings of guilt weren't so much stronger than his love for you.
When the door to the Winery suddenly swung open, you were startled out of your reverie. Shooting a glance over your shoulder to watch him enter, you read the exhaustion written in every movement he made like a story you had read a million times before. His claymore was propped against the wall and his coat hung on the rack before he noticed you sitting there.
As soon as he did, his eyebrows furrowed. Even with such a look of concern, it felt good to have his eyes on you once again.
"Love?" He called out to you, consternation tinging his low voice. "What are you still doing up?"
How could you answer that? The truth, that you had been aching for him to return and spare you even a single glance, would only weigh him down further. The worst thing you felt you could possibly be in this moment was a burden to him; that would only push him further away.
"Just couldn't sleep." You lied easily, giving him what you hoped was a convincingly relaxed smile.
However, Diluc's frown only grew deeper.
"Love…you're crying." He pointed out gently, not yet moving from his spot in front of the sturdy wooden doors.
With a swipe of your fingers across your cheek, you found that he was right. They came away wet, glistening in the warm firelight.
"Oh…" You hadn't even noticed them until now, but suddenly, your lip trembled with the emotions just barely being held back. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."
But your placating words only seemed to make him worry more. In an instant, he had crossed the room, kneeling before you and cupping your damp cheeks in his hands with a troubled look in his eyes.
"Please don't lie to me." He requested quietly. His thumbs swiped delicate lines beneath your eyes, clearing the tears that collected there.
His intense gaze was filled with such deep concern, such apparent care, it felt impossible to hide your feelings from him any longer, despite not wanting to cause him any more strain.
With a light sniffle, you dropped your gaze from his to your lap, staring down at your fidgeting fingers as they twisted around each other fretfully.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trouble you, I just…"
Your words faltered, and tears clouded your vision once again, streaming down your cheeks in hot rivulets. Diluc stroked your skin soothingly, waiting patiently for your words.
"I miss you, Luc." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "You've been so busy recently, and I don't want to take up your time when you've got so much on your plate already, but I just feel so…lonely."
The air was still for a few seconds after your admission, until you chanced a look up at his face. His expression was stormy, clouded with irritation, causing your stomach to drop. Of course, you were demanding too much of the man who already had so many people depending on him. With a shake of your head, you pulled away from his gentle touch.
"I'm sorry, I don't want to be a burden. I'll be fi-."
"No." Diluc cut you off with a firm shake of his head, taking your hands into his with the utmost conviction. "Don't apologise. Never apologise for taking up my time."
Your lip quivered once again, the vehement tone of his voice only making your guilt feel that much stronger. Of course, Diluc would be understanding. Why had you even tried to hide your feelings in the first place?
"No matter how busy I am, you are always my priority. I apologise for failing to show you that, my love." He spoke in a low voice.
One hand released yours as he wiped the tears from your eyes again, tilting your gaze up to meet his fiercely passionate one.
"Allow me to make it up to you, love." He murmured in a voice so gentle the steady crackle of the fireplace almost drowned it out.
His gaze was heavy on your rapidly easing expression as he approached slowly and grazed his lips over yours faintly. The aching tenderness of his mouth, the smoky scent clinging to his clothes, the warmth of his body so close yet so far, everything about the moment was so overwhelming. A soft whimper escaped you as he coaxed you into a careful kiss, easing your sadness with every reassuring brush of his lips against yours.
In your desperation to prolong the feeling, your hands gripped his shirt tightly, wrinkling the fine material in your fists. With his gloved hand cradling your jaw, he tipped your head back just slightly, providing him a better angle to glide his hot tongue against your lips as he deepened the kiss.
His free hand came down to rest on your thigh, skimming over the shape of your leg beneath your dress in a way that made you tremble with barely repressed want. Diluc noticed the shiver that ran up your spine at that slightest touch, and with a low rumble from deep within his chest, his wandering hand groped more firmly at the plushness of your thighs and his tongue tangled with yours in a display of his own growing need.
Your heart was racing faster than you thought was possible, the sound of blood rushing in your ears all you could hear. No thoughts made their way past the overwhelming feelings he caused to blossom within you. Eager fingers found their way to his nape, tugging the hair tie from his hair and threading through the fiery red locks. Diluc let out a groan at the feeling, and in an instant, his arms were looping under your thighs, scooping you off the sofa easily.
"Apologies, my love, I had not realised just how long it had been." He murmured, pressing one last kiss to your lips before heading towards the stairs with you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist tightly.
"Allow me to make this right, yes?"
The heat in the bedroom was sweltering, radiating from where the both of you laid together for the first time in several days. Your clothes had been long since discarded, and your shivering body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat.
Diluc laid between your legs, sweat gluing a few red strands to his forehead in a way that was almost lewd on its own from your vantage point among the luscious pillows of his bed. Strong hands pinned your quivering thighs to the bed insistently, preventing you from closing them whilst his tongue explored your folds as though it were the first time he had ever done it.
Archons knows how many orgasms he had pulled from you so far; your throat ached with every keen and whimper you let out, and dull heat throbbed in your stomach with every dip of his tongue into your wet entrance as yet another high approached steadily.
Diluc's eyes were clouded with a lustful haze as he paid attention to every reaction you made and the lower portion of his face glimmered wetly with your slick, but he showed no signs of stopping yet. Even by tugging on his loose hair, you were unable to draw his lips away from your aching cunt- in fact, the action only spurred him on, drawing deep rumbles from his chest in response to the sharp sensation in his scalp.
"Luc, please…" you whined, though you weren't certain what it was that you were pleading for. The stimulation was too much, the thought of another orgasm overwhelming, but the idea of him retracting his tongue was even worse.
"Shhh…just one more, love." He mumbled huskily, his eyes slipping shut in contentment.
His lips lowered to your entrance, lapping up the essence of your arousal whilst his nose nudged against your clit, sending electric waves up your spine. Wetness soaked the sheets beneath your hips, and the fine silk was rumpled messily from your writhing.
Wet sounds filled the room as Diluc slurped obscenely on your pussy, every action he made undignified and animalistic with his need to taste you, to feel the way your walls clamped around his tongue as though desperate to keep him there forever.
He dragged the hot muscle of his tongue against your core slowly, swirling around your clit once, twice, then fusing his lips around the bud and sucking. Your back arched and your eyes clenched shut, a clamorous wail tearing through you at the same time as your pleasure peaked, every muscle in your body spasming in euphoria as another orgasm crashed over you. The whole room seemed to fade away, until all that was left was Diluc's mouth, working you determinedly through the peak of your pleasure.
The sensation was so intense, it took several seconds for you to come down. His lips withdrew, peppering light kisses along your inner thighs until your eyes had fluttered open again, searching for him blearily in the darkness.
He appeared almost smug, smiling contentedly as he kissed his way back up your body, lathing his tongue over marks that he had left on his way down. He worked slowly, his hands sliding up your sides and coming to fondle your breasts greedily, rolling your nipples between his fingers whilst he ran his sinful tongue over your damp skin.
By the time he reached your lips, you were whining and bucking against the mattress once again, still not quite satiated after all of the pleasure he had given you. Lying atop you like this, his cock pulsed with need between your bodies, and the slight twitch of him was all it took to get you going again.
"Do you think you can handle one more?" He murmured against your lips, his hips rocking against your stomach, staining your skin with pearls of precum.
"Yes, gods, yes. Please, Luc, need to feel you." Your words came out as desperate sobs, and he breathed a shaky exhale as he leaned his weight onto his elbows above your shaking body.
"Archons…" Diluc whispered, his head dipping into the crook of your neck to nibble softly at the skin there. "You are simply irresistible."
Quickly, he aligned himself with your entrance, running the warm head of his cock through your folds to collect the combination of your juices and his saliva, before pressing it against your tight hole with a groan.
The stretch of him, so thick and hard as he pushed his way into your cunt, was almost more than you could handle this soon after such an intense orgasm. His pelvis ground up against your clit when he bottomed out, stuffing you full with his aching cock whilst you cried out for him.
He held himself there for a few moments, short, gasping breaths leaving his parted lips as he steadied himself. The lushness of your walls wrapped around him was too delicious to be over so soon.
"I promise, I'll never leave you alone again." He whispered, fixing his gaze on your cock-drunk expression as he delivered one slow thrust into your heat.
"I'll keep you satisfied from now on, my love. Never going to let you go without my touch again. I'll dedicate my whole life to you, okay? You'll never be lonely again, I swear."
Diluc was babbling unconsciously with every thrust he gave, all sweet words and promises in a deep, velvety voice that pushed you further into those blissful feelings.
All you could do was moan and sob incoherently in response, tears of ecstasy wetting your lashes as the shivers running up and down your spine grew more and more violent, wracking through your body in tremorous waves in time with every wet slap of his hips against yours.
Strong hands found their way under your hips, lifting them off the mattress slightly so that he could press your thighs upwards and practically fold you in half against the mattress. The tip of his cock reached even deeper inside you in this new position, and your walls pulsed around him in response to the intense sensations.
"Archons, you feel too good…" He moaned, leaning down to lathe the sensitive skin of your neck in hot, sloppy kisses that were so unlike the tender way he usually kissed you. "Gonna cum for me again, love?"
Frantically, you nodded. The invisible string in your stomach tightened until your entire body felt like a piece of elastic ready to snap as his pace only grew more animalistic. White blind spots began to grow in your vision with every invasion of his thick length into your aching hole, and your symphony of moans were surely waking up the maids on the other side of the mansion by now.
"Gonna fill you up, my love. Gonna cum so deep, you'll always have me in you." Diluc growled. His pace was faltering, each drag of his cock inside you losing their rhythm but gaining strength in his wild desperation.
Your responding whine was music to his ears, and he panted hot breaths against the sweat-slick skin of your throat.
"Luc, 'm gonna cum-" Your words came out slurred, as though drunk on the pleasure. Even your eyes could hardly stay open, so overwhelmed with extraordinary pleasure that every muscle inn your body seemed to be clenched tight.
"Me too, fuck- cum for me, darling. Let me feel you, need to feel you." He groaned, sinking his teeth into the column of your throat. "Cum for me, and I'll give you everything."
That was all it took to send you crashing over the edge into impossible pleasure. Your back arched and a loud scream of ecstasy tore out of your throat. Wetness coated his stomach as you squirted with the force of it, finally pushing him over the edge until he was crashing down to his own climax. Diluc let out a loud moan at the same time as yours, and your synchronised cries of pleasure filled the once silent Winery with the sound of your devotion.
#diluc x reader#diluc x reader smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x reader smut#diluc ragnvindr x reader
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Hi! alright? could you do a fanfic where the reader (or y/n) is Emmett and Rosalie's adopted daughter and they just LOVE the fact that she's a redhead? they love her freckles all over her cheeks and fiery red hair, not only them, but the entire Cullen family, they love it!! And maybe one imagines where someone at school admires her for her fiery hair and vampires don't like it! Idk ❤️.
Forever now(Emmett Cullen and Rosalie Hale)
Paring: Daughter!Reader X Emmett Cullen x Rosalie Hale.
Summary: normally when a child in need crosses the path of the Cullens carlisle is always willing to find a spot in his family for them but when a small red-head crosses their path its Rosalie's turn to start the family she's always wanted.
A/n: I love this request so much. I love purness in it and I'm excited to write my first Twilight request.
A/n #2: request are currently closed so I can work on my Emmett Cullen series.
MasterList
The little girl with firey hair story starts a little while back. The little girl was no less than two when she we welcomed into the Cullen family. The little girl's mother had died while giving birth to her and her father was unfit to take care of her.
The soul residents of small town in Alaska became concerned for the red-head child which led her in the hands of the chief of police. This was Beyond the cop's knowledge, so of course he called Carlisle Cullen who was head of the hospital he worked at the time. He had brought the small red-head girl to the hospital and Carlisle was in aw as the small girl stared at him with big doe eyes, almost too shy for her own good.
Carlisle knelt down to her hight and offered his hand. He smiled softly as the little girl approached him carefully. She was clueless to the situation but she knew she could trust the blonde doctor with gold eyes.
Alice had a vision of the red-head girl with freckles but the version she saw, Carlisle and Esme adopted her. Alice's visions had never been so wrong...
Not even the 300 year old vampire could explain what happened that day. As the little girl wondered around the bright house she curiously walked up to Emmett. He was setting in the living room playing video games when the small girl poked his knee a mumbled a small word...
“giant”
It was the first time they heard her talk and they were not disappointed. Emmett chuckled at the smell girl as she hugged on his giant leg. She didn't shy away from him. She did the same with Rosalie.
The family have never seen her this happy. She had gotten home from late from a shopping trip that same night and she was in love as soon as she saw the little girl's fuzzy red hair and beautiful freckles setting on Emmett's lap.
“who's this?” she smiled. The little girl waved at Rosalie and had a big cheesey smile. Rose loved every part of the little girl. In her eyes she's was perfect, from her red hair to her freckles.
The little girl stayed for about a week before the family made the decision of what would the future would be. As that week passed Rosalie grew more and More attached. She would always make sure she ate well and would do her hair everyday. Just like a mother would.
As for Emmett he was slightly afraid to be around the small human. With his bone crushing strength and everything else that came with being a vampire he would never forgive himself if he hurt her.
Of course that didn't stop the little girl. She would giggle and follow him around where ever he went. If he was working on his jeep she would laugh and crawl under it with him. If he was playing video games she would crawl into his lap begging him to read her a story.
All that two year old understood was, this was her home and the people around her was family. She was so young her brain told her Emmett and Rosalie was Mommy and Daddy. Which led Rosalie to life aultering decision after that one single word that fell out of Little red's mouth.
'mama'
Edward nor Jasper could even put into words how happy she was. When she heard that she was glowing with happiness as she held the little girl.
“mama loves you darling” she mumbled. After that the family knew she had a home there and they also knew Rosalie would fight tooth and nail for that little girl.
That night Rosalie layed on the couch as the little girl slept soundly in her arms. Emmett quietly joined her with a huge grien. “okay” he simply replied.
“okay?” she chuckled not really catching on.
“she's ours Rose” his smile only got bigger as he watched his mate hold the little girl with nothing but pure happiness.
“your mommy and daddy love you so much little y/n” Rosalie said kissing her sleeping head.
And that's how the little girl with red hair and freckles became y/n Hale-Cullen. The little girl brought so much joy into the family and each family member ment so much too her.
Emmett and Rosalie of course were #1 in her eyes but as she made herself comfortable in the family she also made meaningful relationships.
She was a listener and an observer so she quickly caught on that carlisle and Esme were her parents 'parents'. She would often call carlisle, Car or pops. When she was little she couldn't properly say his name which lead to Car and pops. Carlisle became close with the small child as well, he loved her personality and loved it when she'd ask about being a doctor. Then Esme. Y/n grew close with Esme immediately, if she wasn't with rose then she was with Esme.
Her Aunts and Uncles were the same. She'd never say it out loud but Jasper was her favorite uncle. Jasper would say y/n was the only thing pure in his life, but that was true for all of them.
Then there's the who vampire thing. Y/n wasn't stupid and of course she wanted to know why mom and dad never ate gold fish crackers like she did and she wanted to know why when ever she had a bad dreams mom and dad weren't in bed asleep when she ran in for comfort.
She was about six years old when she found out. She knew she had to keep it a secret and she was very good at it. This also led to Rosalie's fear of her becoming a vampire. Of course she wanted her daughter to be around Forever, but her heart broke eveytime she thought about the opportunities that would be tooken away from her. Which is why she's now 16 and looked the same age as her uncle Edward.
Y/n would never say it out loud but she was sick of it. She wanted to be like her family and it was hard for her grow up while everyone else in her family remained the same ages. She wanted her mom's gold eyes and her father's strength... She just wanted to feel normal in what she felt was a normal family but here she was, now 16 going to High school with her parents and her Aunts and Uncles.
Just livin' the dream...
--------( ....... )--------
So far Forks was y/n favorite palce to live. She's been just about everywhere, that came with being a Cullen. But something about this town was special to her. But the down fall was all the curious eyes. She didn't like the attention her family received. She hated how people would watch them... She hated how people watched her and that made her have second thoughts about the thing everyone loved about her.
She's was going through a 'phase' at least Emmett and Rosalie hoped it was. Her phase was she didn't like how her hair looked, no matter how many times Rosalie or Esme would tell her how beautiful she was. But no matter what she did with it everyone still seemed to be in aw about it.
Especially the boys at Forks High...
As I said before she hated how people watched her. Her beautiful hair is the reason why people watched her. She started to resent it no matter how many different ways Rosalie or Alice styled it or how many times Carlisle would say how beautiful it was. She just hated the attention. She hated the attention the high school boys gave her.
“Hey, y/n” Mike Newton said one day as she was leaving her English class.
Y/n wasn't a socializing type, hell she was shy. She would just mumbled a small hello with a smile. Mike continued to walk with her and eye her up and down.
“your hair is pretty today” Mike smiled. It was a nice thing to say, yes but as he said it y/n passed her uncle Jasper.
“Hey I was wondering if-”
Jasper slammed his locker shut in anger as he felt impure feelings the teen felt for his niece. In Mike's defense he truly liked her but he would never be her type. Jasper took on the role of the big brother he played at school and walked up to the two.
“hi y/n” he said glaring at Mike. Y/n rolled her eyes as milk gulped.
Jasper continued to walk down the hallway with the two as he intimidated Mike. Y/n sighed and looked down in embarrassment but at the same time thankfull it wasn't her father. Emmett would have made it ten times worse.
“Hey Mike, weren't you gonna say something?” y/n asked softly as they walked to their next class with Jasper.
He shrugged. “I honestly don't remember” he said staying silent in fear of what Jasper would do. They then walked passed Alice and Rosalie in the hallway he recoiled even further as he felt Rosalie's percing eyes. Rose didn't say anything though, she knew her daughter was safe with Jasper. She also knew Emmett would have a cow if he found out.
Despite the angry eyes of the Cullen family, Mike couldn't stop looking at her beautiful red hair. He loved the way the curls perfectly framed her face and bounced as she moved gracefully. But you just don't look at y/n Cullen like that. No matter if you have good intentions or not.
So Mike failed and so did a handful of others at school. Jasper of course kept it a secret like y/n asked but his mind would wonder and if it wondered to that one faithful day Edward would find out. And Edward refused to lie to Emmett or Rosalie when it came y/n.
This would lead to Emmett putting the fear of God in Mike dispite his daughter's pleas. Yes she found him annoying but the kindness Esme and Carlisle had tougher made her fear for Mike.
Tyler was the only one who was close to even getting a date with her. She actually liked him at one point but then he moved away. But after that y/n stopped showing interest in the boys of her school. She stopped even if they still loved her and her red hair.
Those human boys never mattered to her. There was no possible future due to her life style and family. They especially stopped mattering after she found her mate Benjamin...
The first thing Benjamin noticed about her was her freckled covered cheeks as she smile. He couldn't help but smile with her. He was in love with her firey red hair and couldn't stop staring at how it perfectly layed on her shoulders or how it reminded him of the sunsets at his home.
All the things she grew tired of because of the boys at Forks High, she grew to love because of Benjamin's genuine compliments and love he had for the things that made her stand out.
#Emmett cullen#Emmett cullen x reader#Emmett cullen imagines#Rosalie Hale#Rosalie Hale x reader#Rosalie Hale imagines#daughter!reader#Twilight#New moon#Eclipse#Breaking dawn#Twilight imagines#Cullen x reader#Cullen family#Carlisle cullen#Esme cullen#Alice cullen#Edward cullen#Jasper Hale#Benjamin x reader#Twilight benjamin#Twilight benjamin x reader
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Hold On
Summary: When a case hits a little too close to home, it’s time for Aaron to face the music and be honest about his feelings after the breakup
Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n), Hotch x Beth mentioned, Emily Prentiss x mentioned oc (aka @leftoverenvy)
Word count: ~12k (the girl cannot shut up) (it’s closer to 13 but it’s worth it I swear to god it is)
Warnings: hotch pov, case-compliant violence/injuries, mentions of suicide, mentions of pregnancy & pregnancy scares, domestic actions without fluff, relationship talk/references to relationship, angst angst angst, deep delving into their feelings, this is basically a case study, I once again leaned way too heavily on song lyrics so pls listen to it
A/N: As Taylor Swift said…. Dear reader, if it feels like a trap, you’re already in one. Mwahaha. Anyways I hope you enjoy this. Massive shoutout to @munsons-curls and @doctorstethoscope for fixing my many mistakes and validating me, and to everyone who has let me take them on this little ride. I can’t express how much I’ve enjoyed writing this fic, or how excited I am to write the epilogue
Find it on ao3 here and as always, happy reading <3
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—————
There's so many dreams that we have given up
Take a look at all we've got
And with this kind of love what we've got here is enough
So hold on to me tight, hold on, I promise it'll be alright
'Cause we are stronger here together than we could ever be alone
Just hold on to me, don't you ever let me go
Once upon a time, Aaron had considered himself lucky. He had a steady job, as dangerous as it was fulfilling, with the BAU. He had a son, energetic and joyous despite all he’d been through. He had you, beautiful and strong and endlessly supportive of him. He had a version of the life he had always wanted, the normalcy of family game night and someone else making Jack eat his veggies. It had been perfect.
But then, he’d screwed up. Hadn’t he? He had opened up, just a bit too much, and told you something you didn’t want to hear. Scared you off.
Instead of spending the rest of his life with you, as he’d planned, Aaron found himself alone. He tried not to blame you, tried not to feel bitter about the inevitable result of finally opening up to someone so wholly.
He bit back every thought of how conditional your love turned out to be, every scathing remark about how Biometrics was one of the most useless departments in the Bureau. He pretended not to care when he overheard that you were dating again, courtesy of JJ and Prentiss’ water cooler gossip.
He’d done what Aaron Hotchner always did; he’d buckled up, lifted his chin, and done what was expected of him. He’d found a nice girl, one that fell for him quickly, and he wished he could return the depths of her affection. He’d continued to work, putting away bad guys with Morgan and Reid while missing the easy way you’d always been able to read his mind in the field.
He moved apartments as soon as it became apparent that the ghost of you would never leave; he just wished that it hadn’t followed him, haunting him with thoughts of you dancing around the new stainless steel kitchen, or flopping onto the brand new suede couch.
He’d done what you asked him to, two years ago when you’d walked away from him and left him to pick up the pieces of his son’s broken heart and ignore his own.
Everyone has a breaking point, though. Aaron, to his credit, hadn’t reached it many times in his life.
There was the first time his father hit his little brother; the first time Aaron fought back. Open-handed slaps, broken noses, Sean screaming. He had never regretted it, not even when he wound up in the hospital that night.
There was George Foyet, dead on the blood-soaked carpet after a blur of a fight. Bloody knuckles, blurry vision, Haley’s blood flecked on her killer’s face. He’d do it a hundred times over if he had the chance.
There was the breakup, the one that simultaneously snuck up on him and had been inevitable. Crumpled flowers, Aaron yelling, you packing your desk. If he hadn’t snapped, would you have stayed?
And then there were the breaking points Aaron never expected to reach.
Leaving for a case the day you broke up with him, only to return to a half-empty apartment. Empty closet, the ‘hers’ sink from the his-and-hers themed bathroom scrubbed clean, your favourite mug left in the dishwasher. He had shattered the mug, thrown it off the balcony where you liked to drink your coffee in the mornings.
The first time you’d come along on a team outing after the breakup. Laughter, avoiding glances, ignoring how good you looked. He had taken home the first woman who caught his eye that night, learned her name- Beth- and given her a place in his life, like that would solve anything.
No matter how many breaking points he experienced, Aaron could never be sure about when the next one would occur. His saving grace through it all was that at least he could keep his composure at work.
Where Aaron failed, Hotch wasn’t allowed to.
Maybe that’s why it’s such a shock when the team gets news of a bombing in New York, just days after Emily’s wedding, and Hotch nearly keels over at his desk.
You’re in New York.
— — —
The drive to the airstrip is a blur; the whole team is worried, of course, but Aaron can hardly see straight until he’s on the plane with a file in his hand and Emily is squeezing his arm.
He remembers giving a quick and quiet order to Garcia, to call you and find out if you’re okay, and it doesn’t help his nerves that all she could tell him was, “Her phone is off.”
“She’s okay, you know,” Emily murmurs, discreet enough that no one else can hear. “It’s a big city. She’s just fine. We’ll catch this guy, and then you can see her. We just need to work the case first.”
Aaron- Hotch, now- takes a deep breath and does his best to hide that those words are exactly what he needs to hear right now, even if he doesn’t plan on seeing you. She’s right; they just need to work the case. “Alright. Okay,” he says a little louder, “What do we know?”
“Not much,” Morgan frowns at the file in his hand. “A bomb went off at The Vessel. It was a structure, I guess, but no one was allowed inside and that’s where the bomb was. Makes sense with the casualty numbers- Seven wounded, two dead.”
“Probably nearby tourists, taking pictures with it,” Prentiss says thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s sending a message to outsiders, but didn’t want a high body count.”
“That could be it,” Rossi agrees. “‘Stay out of my city’.”
“There’s been no communication to any news outlets so far,” JJ chimes in. “I don’t think we’ll learn much more until we get there and have a chance to check out the scene.”
Reid adjusts a few papers so they align, most of his attention focused on the task. “You know, most seemingly random bombings have a high chance of being followed up with a string of serial bombings, for a number of reasons. Sometimes the unsub gets addicted to the attention, or the feeling of killing, or the initial bomb doesn’t impact the intended target,” he continues, not noticing the look Rossi is shooting him.
Hotch takes a deep breath and tries to push back the feeling in his chest that resembles a brick being crushed into his sternum. “Alright. JJ is right. There’s not much more we can do with no signature and no other bombings. Everyone, just try to relax; I have a feeling we won’t be getting much rest in New York.”
He watches as the team follows his instruction. The tension is palpable but they know there’s nothing they can do; the waiting is everyone’s least favourite part of the job. Still, they try to relax. Morgan pulls on his headphones and closes his eyes, JJ and Reid start to play cards, and Prentiss and Rossi re-open their file folders to review case details.
As much as he’d like to do the same, Aaron can’t bring himself to move. He sits there, head against the window, and he wonders if you’re okay. Were you caught in the blast? Did you become one of Reid’s bombing statistic numbers? Or are you perfectly fine, content somewhere in the city with no idea that Aaron is on his way there?
He wonders, briefly, against his will in a moment dripping with guilt, which potential is worse.
———
Aaron Hotchner is something of a practiced master at hiding his agony. Maybe that’s why his voice is so level when the plane starts to descend, and he finally speaks to do the one thing he knows how; direct his team.
“Morgan and Rossi, go to the bombing site. See what you can find. Prentiss, head to the hospital with Reid and start talking to victims, and JJ, see if any news outlets have been contacted yet. We’ll meet at the station later.”
As though on cue, Garcia’s computer screen against the wall of the jet lights up. The tech analyst looks a bit paler than usual, and Hotch crosses his fingers and chalks it up to bad lighting until she speaks.
“Sir, there was another bombing. Three minutes ago, in a grocery store near the Village. There’s no casualty numbers yet.” She looks like she might cry now, and it’s not hard to figure out why.
“A grocery store is a serious escalation,” Rossi says, opening the file folder he’d just closed. “There’s locals, long-stay tourists, families shopping. Big jump from a tourist trap.”
“So we know he’s not possessive of the city. At least, he isn’t just trying to get rid of perceived outsiders,” JJ offers, and Morgan shakes his head.
“If this guy is looking for the homey-cozy ‘love thy neighbour’ deal, he’s not about to get it in New York no matter what he bombs,” he points out.
When the plane jostles them all a little, Hotch takes the moment of silence to re-assess assignments. “Garcia, is search and rescue at the second bombing site?”
“Yes. Well, sort of. The team is split between doing recovery at both locations,” she says, and one nod from Rossi means Hotch doesn’t hesitate to reassign.
“Morgan, you’re with me at the new site. We’ll be assisting with search and rescue before anything else. Rossi can handle the first scene by himself. Everyone else, stay as assigned.”
“Hotch, are you sure about that? I might be able to…” On what was probably going to be an offer of how he can assist at the original scene, Morgan falters. Of course he does. There’s nothing to be done when the bomb’s already gone off.
“I’m sure. There are people out there, and they deserve to be saved.”
———
When the plane hits the tarmac, his team is ready. It’s like watching a well-oiled machine, the way they pair off and head off to their assigned zones. The only pause is between Aaron and Rossi, when he grabs his friend’s arm on the way off the plane. “Dave…”
“I’ll tell you if she’s there,” Rossi promises, and then he’s gone in a black SUV while Hotch climbs into one with Morgan and heads to the Village bombsite.
“So, search and rescue,” Morgan says, raising his voice to speak over the sirens that Hotch has turned on. “Are we heading in, or assisting from the sidelines?”
“According to Garcia, the ambulances aren’t able to make it out to the grocery store. There’s too much rubble blocking the roads that aren’t under construction, and it’s New York traffic in addition to the media outlets swarming the place.” Hotch lets out a concentrated breath. “It’s going to be all hands on deck. Look for survivors, get them to an ambulance.”
“Got it.” The second Hotch throws the car into park, Morgan is sliding out of his seat and onto the sidewalk. Both men make their way through the media storm, past the ambulances that managed to park closer than they did, and into the store.
Search and rescue is there already, along with the SWAT team. They’re moving debris, lifting fallen shelves, and occasionally carrying people out to the ambulances waiting for them.
Hotch sets into motion instantly. He breaks off for the frozen food aisle where he doesn’t see anyone searching. “Is anyone over here?” He calls out, but there’s no answer.
The bomb must have come from across the store; there’s less debris here, but the shelves are twisted and collapsed all the same. Shattered glass from the freezer doors covers the ground, and he tries to avoid it as best he can as he walks down what once was an aisle.
He steps around stray items- a warped metal freezer door frame, a pile of frozen pizza boxes, pints of melting ice cream- while keeping his eyes trained for any sign of another person anywhere.
When he finally does see something, it makes his adrenaline spike. It’s a leg, poking out from under a freezer shelf. If he has to venture a guess, he’d say that someone is pinned under the bent freezer frame, but whether they’re merely unconscious or dead remains to be determined.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” Hotch raises his voice a little and gets closer to the figure. He can see the leg a bit more clearly now, and a hand poking out from under the side of the freezer. The fingers twitch slightly. Thank god.
The sweatpants the person is wearing look vaguely familiar, and Hotch can’t place them until he sees the image of Nemo on them, and it clicks. As soon as he realizes, his stomach drops. His hands go clammy, the blood rushes from his face, and it’s all he can do to stay on his feet.
When the dizziness hits him, he wants to throw something and scream and maybe sink down onto the floor and cry, but he can’t.
He can’t, because he remembers when Penelope made sweatpants out of quilts for everyone on the team four Christmases ago. He can’t, because she’d had more than enough Disney quilt for two pairs, and had given you and him matching pants.
He can’t, because he recognizes those pants because they’re in his closet at home, but the only other person who owns a pair like this, obviously handmade, from a quilt covered in Disney characters, is…
It’s you.
Aaron can’t help himself, couldn’t stop it if he wanted to; he turns his head, bends over, and throws up on the grocery store floor, on layers of glass and rubble and thawed boxes of Pizza Pops. Right there, staring at your leg and hand, Aaron almost breaks.
But where Aaron has chinks in his armour, Hotch has none. Hotch is the one who takes a deep breath and wipes his mouth and straightens up, the one who uses every bit of strength to lift a warped freezer shelf up and reveal you, with a mangled wrist but looking generally otherwise unharmed.
You look terrified.
Not that Hotch can blame you, of course.
“It’s alright. You’ll be okay,” he says, and he doesn’t know if it’s Hotch or Aaron talking, because he sounds calm but he has no idea what happened or how hurt you are. “Were your neck or back hurt? You need to answer me.”
You’re looking up at him, gaze half-lidded, and he doesn’t know if he should be scared or relieved when you shake your head and croak out, “They’re fine.”
He knows it’s risky, knows he should call for Morgan or a member of SWAT or anyone with a gurney to transport you safely. But you’re in front of him, dazed, grimy and half-conscious with your wrist bent at an angle, and all he can do is pick you up and hold you close to him. “Hold on,” he instructs, and he feels your arm wrap around his neck.
“Aaron…” you whisper, and he strains to hear you as he makes his way towards the doors with you in his arms. No words follow, though, and he looks down to see you crying against him, silent with tears slicing through the coat of dust on your face. Your arm starts to slip, and he squeezes you a little.
“We’re going to get you out of here,” he promises, “But you need to stay with me. You’ve probably got a concussion, so don’t close your eyes. Hold onto me, tight. I’ve got you.”
When your grasp tightens again, he resumes moving towards the exit. The first breath of fresh air must invigorate you, because he feels you tighten your grip even more. “Aaron,” you repeat, less feeble than before, but he doesn’t want you wasting an ounce of energy.
“I know, but it’s going to be alright,” he shushes you as gently as he can until you arrive at the ambulance, and he passes you off to two paramedics who slide you onto a gurney.
He tries to step back but your hand shoots out and grips his dirtied suit with more strength than he thought you had. “Will you visit? At the hospital?”
The correct answer is no. No, there’s a case to work. No, you’ll be fine. No, we broke up and that’s weird. “We all will,” he promises instead without a hint of regret. “Just let them take care of you, and we’ll be by when we can.”
Relief shines in your eyes, and it’s the last thing he notes before your grip loosens on him and you’re wheeled up into the ambulance.
A minute or so passes before Aaron senses someone behind him and turns to see Derek, who’s watching the road the ambulance disappeared down. “She’s gonna be okay,” he says to Aaron, offering him a nod of support.
Hotch doesn’t know who he’s trying to reassure.
— — —
They reconvene at the station a few hours later, and Aaron sits mostly silent while his team discusses victimology, motives, and the chemical makeup of each bomb. He tries to contribute once or twice, but he falls quiet every time he recalls the way you’d looked up at him.
There had been fear in your eyes, of course. You’d been in a bombing, and he knows how natural fear is after traumatic events. But there had been recognition there too, a solemn kind. He wonders to himself if you wish anyone other than him had found you and brought you to safety, or if he’s worrying about nothing.
You’re safe now, and that’s what’s important. Even if you recover and stay in New York and Aaron never sees you again, at least you’re safe.
Who is he kidding? He can’t go along with never seeing you again, safety be damned. And yet…. He clenches a fist, ignoring Morgan and Reid’s discussion about chemical compounds. And yet, you’d been so close to dead. An aisle or a footstep away, and you could have been ripped away forever.
It makes him sick to think about.
He’s thinking so hard about it that he’s got no idea how long he’s had his gaze fixed on the table before JJ’s sharp “Hotch!” breaks through and gets his attention.
He clears his throat, embarrassed to be caught off guard. “I’m sorry. I was… elsewhere.”
“Did you hear what Emily said?” She asks, and he shakes his head. When he makes eye contact, JJ’s features soften. “You should go see her.”
“No. No, that’s unnecessary. We have a case to work,” he says, and Morgan scoffs at that. “We need to work it like any other case.”
“Any other case? Hotch, you carried her to the ambulance! It’s first aid 101. She could have had a broken spine, and you threw protocol out the window,” Morgan says, staring his boss down. “This isn’t any other case. You guys were in love, man. Go see her.”
Hotch sighs, wishes that the floor could open up and swallow him. Of course he wants to see you, buthe needs to catch the person who did this, first. “It’s not my priority. There are people dying, and we need to stay focused on that. I told her that we would all come visit her after the case is closed.”
“We are focused,” Emily points out. “You aren’t. You’re not helping anyone like this. Just go talk to her, see how she’s doing.” When Aaron opens his mouth to protest again, she cuts him off. “I’m not saying you should live at her bedside or propose to her, but just go say hi. It’s going to help both of you.”
When he looks to his right, Rossi has one eyebrow up. “You know you aren’t winning this one, right?” he asks, and Hotch sighs again. “Bring the girl some flowers, too.”
Aaron closes his file and stands up. “I’m not bringing her flowers,” he mutters. “I’ll be back in forty-five minutes. If anything else happens, keep me updated.”
——
When he gets to the hospital, flowers in hand, Aaron finds your room almost immediately. He knocks twice on the door, is greeted with a soft, “Come in.”
“Hi,” he says gently, leaving the door open. He watches, waits while you do a double-take like you can’t trust your own vision when Aaron Hotchner is standing at the door.
“You came,” is your response, and he can’t decide if your voice is coloured by exhaustion or disbelief. Maybe it’s both, but he doesn’t like the idea of not being seen as dependable to you, even now.
Encouraged slightly, Aaron takes a further step into the room. Maybe you do want him here, and you weren’t delirious when you asked him to visit. “You asked me to; of course I came. How do you feel?”
While he waits for an answer, he observes you. You’re in a fresh pair of clothes, and before he can enquire about it you’re speaking.
“I’ve been better.” You hold up one arm in a cast. “But I’ve just got this and a concussion, so it could be worse. Remember that case in Kansas where I broke my leg? That was way worse.”
Aaron shakes his head, wanting to scold you for speaking so lightly of an event that had very genuinely terrified him, but he stops himself. It’s not his place. In lieu of conversation, he raises the vase of flowers slightly.
“I, uh, brought you these.”
In the two long years that you’ve been gone, Aaron has never stopped reading human behaviour. More than anything, he has experience with your body language, and he looks over you with a familiar eye.
He sees the tension in your shoulders, your eyes narrowing slightly in the direction of the arrangement, and he knows that you’re remembering the last time he brought you flowers. “Thank you,” you say after a pause that’s almost too long. “What kind are they?”
“They’re Gladioli,” he says, and the words are fully out of his mouth before he remembers that he should have lied.
When you were dating, he had always brought you flowers. On your birthday, when you solved a case, when you just felt down; Aaron was there with a bouquet, one that always meant something. Celebration, or supportive love, or some other flower language message that he knew you would understand even when he couldn’t say it out loud.
He’s pretty sure that by the time you broke up, you had memorized the whole flower dictionary. But it’s possible, he hopes, that you never came across the Gladiolus flower. Hope. Love. Remembrance.
Why he bought them, he can’t say for sure. Maybe old habits die hard. Maybe he wants to know what you’d do if you recognized the flowers.
When you finally speak, it’s with an indecipherable voice. He’s got no idea whether or not you know what these flowers mean. “They’re beautiful. Can you just put them there?” You point one finger at the windowsill, and he follows your directions to place the vase down.
“Of course.” He sets the flowers down in a beam of sunlight, adjusts them this way and that until he’s satisfied. Once he stops moving, a heavy silence falls over the room.
What is there for you to discuss?
He’s racking his brain looking for something, anything, to talk about, until you speak bluntly.
“What do you know about the bomb?”
“What?” He hadn’t even considered that you might want to talk about the case. You’re a former agent of his unit, so ethically, it’s fine to discuss this with you. Still, he’s concerned about the trauma to your body and mind. Before he can speak again, or protest, you’re already talking.
“The bomb,” you repeat. “Do we know who it was placed by? Is it connected to any other bombs? What was it made with?”
This is familiar. This is okay. This is something Hotch knows how to talk about, even when you’re laid up in a hospital bed and he’s only talked to you a handful of times since you broke up two years ago.
At least it’s not awkward anymore. He can read it in the way you sink back into the bed, and how his own shoulders release a bundle of tension that’s been there since he initially heard that there was a bombing in New York this morning.
“We’re still trying to figure that out,” he admits. “It was made with the same chemical compound as the one that blew up The Vessel this morning. It was a homemade compound, nothing that could have been acquired naturally without extensive knowledge of bombs.”
“The Vessel? That’s a tourist attraction.” You sit up, but Hotch shakes his head.
“A closed one,” he corrects. “People just go there to take pictures outside the structure, now. That’s why there’s such a low body count.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s not just closed. The Vessel is the attraction that closed after a string of suicides,” you say, and Hotch’s head snaps up in attention. “It was a big thing on the news. Have you looked into anyone related to any of those suicides?”
“No, we haven’t.” He’s already fumbling for his phone. “I’m going back to the station. Just… keep us updated on your condition, okay? We would all like to know how you’re doing.”
“Absolutely not.” Hotch can’t decide if he’s more annoyed, impressed, or concerned when you stand up. “I’m coming with you.”
“You aren’t a part of the BAU anymore,” he reminds you. “You made that choice.”
“Yeah, well, there weren’t any lives at stake. He went after a grocery store, Aaron! What’s next, the Empire State Building? Times Square?” You grab your bag of possessions collected from the bombing and rustle through for your purse. “Did you drive here?”
“You can’t come with me. You’re in the hospital for a reason.”
“For a concussion! People are dead.” You stride towards the door, holding your purse and jacket in the hand that doesn’t have a cast around the wrist. “Can you bring the Gladioli, please?”
Is he caught? Do you want to bring them because you know what they mean, or just because they’re nice flowers? With a sigh, Aaron picks them up and pulls his car keys out, knowing that you’ve won this one. “We aren’t putting your name on any reports,” he warns, taking your jacket and bag of possessions in his other hand. “Strauss would kill us both if she thinks I’m borrowing agents from other units.”
“I don’t need credit. But we need to find this guy, before he hurts anyone else.”
———
When Aaron gets back to the station, he thinks that his agents probably expected him to come back with something like Thai food, or information about a new bombing.
They likely weren’t expecting him to bring you with him. Or maybe they were, because the response of greeting waves and murmured ‘hello’s are less surprised than he had expected.
“How are you feeling?” Prentiss asks casually, but Hotch can see the flicker of panic in her eyes when she glances at your cast.
“I’ve been worse. Listen, Aaron told me about The Vessel…” you start talking to the team as Hotch calls Garcia to loop her in, and suddenly everything feels more normal than it has in two years.
When you’ve finished filling the team in, Hotch starts to speak. “Garcia, we’re going to need history on the deaths that occurred there before it was closed down. Rossi and Prentiss, go through medical reports. Reid, I want you going through any written notes or other evidence found with the bodies.”
While he talks, he notices you slipping out of the room out of the corner of his eye. Morgan grabs his phone and calls Garcia, trying to help her comb through articles for a list of suicides that occurred at The Vessel.
Hotch sits down with Reid, paging through suicide notes and crime scene photos sent by Garcia until he feels like his head is spinning.
That’s right around when you come back, your presence subtly announced with a cup of tea placed in front of Hotch and a gentle squeeze of his shoulder as you pass.
When he brings the cup to his lips, he smiles. It’s English Breakfast tea with a dash of sugar in it; his beverage of choice when it’s too late in the day for coffee. “Thank you,” he says, and you just give him a grin before going to assist Rossi and Prentiss.
After a few minutes of idle work and murmured discussion, Derek shushes everyone and puts his phone on speaker. “Okay, baby girl, tell us something good.”
“None of that, crime fighters. After a truly depressing deep dive through news articles, I’ve got 37 names belonging to people who… you know, died at The Vessel.”
“That’s not workable,” JJ remarks, “We need to narrow it down.”
“We said he has a protective, low body count style. Could be the family member of a suicide victim. One who doesn’t have the guts to cause the maximum amount of carnage,” Rossi suggests.
“That’s good,” Hotch hears himself say, like he’s hearing it from a distance. “A parent would show aggression. Garcia, look for suicide victims with surviving siblings in the area. Focus on the ones with older siblings.”
The click-clack of her keys is the only audible sound before she reports, “16 left. Still too many names.”
“Do any of them work in auto mechanics, or in proximity to cars?” Reid asks. “There’s a specific compound in the bomb that’s almost impossible to come by unless you have access to garage-grade chemicals or a specialized lab, and the lab is unlikely for him.”
“Two names. Anything else?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Hotch sees you perk up. “Did any of the victims work at that grocery store?”
“Uhh…. One! He wasn’t on our list of two, but his name was Jackson Moyer.”
“Wait, I’ve got something here.” Reid sorts through papers- suicide notes and similar images sent from Garcia, and Hotch doesn’t know when he had time to get them printed out- until he pulls out a sheet of paper. “Jackson Moyer. It says in the note that his girlfriend broke up with him on the same day he got fired.”
Emily leans over to look at the note. “It’s dated nine months ago.”
Nine months. “She was pregnant,” Hotch blurts out, and a heavy silence falls over the group.
Moments later, Garcia gives the confirmation. “Nora Carr, Jackson’s girlfriend, had the baby…. Three days ago, but she gave it up for adoption,” she reports.
“Right before the bombings started.” Rossi’s observation sits heavy for a second until you speak again.
“Back to the victim. Does he have a surviving family member matching the description?” You hold the end of a pen in your mouth, worrying it between your lips while you look at your files. “A sibling or close cousin, maybe.”
There’s a moment of typing before Garcia says, “Bingo. His older brother, Jeremy. It looks like they were really close growing up; same sports teams, friend group, classes, you name it. He doesn’t work at any kind of auto shop, though. He works in retail.”
“He felt betrayed when his brother killed himself,” Hotch starts.
He’s caught off guard when you continue his train of thought for the first time in two years. The ease with which you take over his idea is one that he’s missed; sometimes, when he’s having difficulty going somewhere with a profile, he misses working with you. It’s like you hold the other piece of the puzzle.
But now, even if just temporarily, you’re here and you’re fitting the puzzle piece into place
“And he saw giving away Jackson’s child as the ultimate betrayal. Does he have a boyfriend or girlfriend with access to the chemicals used?” You ask.
“Yep. Her name is Erica Harmon and she’s a grad student at Columbia. She’s a TA in a load of undergrad chem classes, too.”
“He’s got access to the chemicals through her,” JJ says, frowning at her list of materials found in the bombs. “Almost all of this is lab-grade, and the rest of it wouldn’t be hard to find at a supermarket.”
“And he’s probably going after Jackson’s ex-girlfriend next,” Morgan says, already grabbing his gun as the rest of the group stands up.
Prentiss looks at her boss. “Where do you want us?”
“You and Reid, head to Jeremy’s house. Rossi, Morgan, JJ, I want you at the ex-girlfriend’s apartment.”
“Where am I going?” You ask, using one hand on the table to steady yourself when you stand up and wobble slightly. “I need a gun.”
“No, you don’t. You need to stay here, and I’ll stay with you.” Aaron sits back down, pulls you into your own chair with both hands on yours while he ignores the team’s stares.
“Hotch, are you sure?” Morgan asks, but Aaron doesn’t even look over.
“Go.”
He hears the sounds of rustling to his side, his team leaving as fast as they can while Garcia says something about sending them the addresses, but he can hardly focus. “Are you okay?”
“A little…” You bring a hand to the centre of your forehead. “A little dizzy, that’s all. Are they going to be okay?”
“They’ll be just fine. We profiled that he targets the buildings themselves, not the people in them. He won’t be able to take a hostage successfully.” Aaron promises.
He hopes he’s right.
He hopes he hasn’t lied to you yet again, especially when you give him a hopeful smile.
“I missed this,” you say, so casually that his heartbeat falters before you continue to speak, giving him clarification that he doesn’t want. “Working with everyone, being on cases. Biometrics isn’t nearly as interesting.”
The confession cracks his face into something resembling a smile. “Never a dull moment here,” he agrees before the two of you fall into a silence that he can’t decipher.
Should he have said something else? We missed working with you, or I missed having you around, or Biometrics is practically an entry-level unit. Maybe even, Are you thinking of rejoining the team?
He still doesn’t know why he lied to you on the day of the breakup, why the words ‘it’s not reversible’ had ever left his lips. You could have come back to the BAU at any time, Strauss be damned. Of course, it would be his head on the chopping block, but still. You deserved to know.
He doesn’t say anything.
“How’s Beth?” You blurt out, and he wonders how long you’ve been holding onto that question before you asked it.
He wishes you hadn’t asked. He has a moment of panic, gives you a reaction he already hates himself for before he does it. Instead of answering, he stands up and picks up his now-empty mug of tea. “I’m going to get another. Do you need anything? Some water?” He suggests, brushing the back of his hand on your forehead the way he does when Jack is sick.
The look in your eyes is unreadable when you slump down into your seat further, staring at the table. “I’m okay,” you mumble, and Aaron hates himself even more for the familiar way he caresses your hair before he walks off.
His return a few minutes later finds you curled up in one of the large office chairs, your head leaned back while you speak into your cell phone. “… not sure when I’ll be back,” you’re saying, and you glance up when he enters the room. “I’ll call you back later, okay?”
You hang up and tuck the phone under your leg before you look up at him. You don’t say anything.
He doesn’t say anything.
You don’t say anything.
“I brought you tea,” he blurts out.
Aaron Hotchner, ex-prosecutor, Unit Chief of the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, well-known in more than one elite circle for his nuanced understanding of the human mind and what makes it tick. That’s him.
Or maybe it’s not, because after two seconds of awkward silence he’s offering you the mug of tea he made for himself.
“I thought you went to get yourself one,” you say, but a barely-trembling hand reaches forward to accept the mug nonetheless. Thank god he’d grabbed a clean one.
“You need it more. How’s your arm doing?” He asks, and you shrug.
“It’s been better, but it’s been worse. Hurts less when I don’t think about it.”
Aaron has always prided himself on giving you what you need. If you’re telling him that you don’t want to think about it, he can work with that. He can distract you. “Who were you on the phone with?”
It’s excruciating, the length of time that he sits in silence before you answer. It feels like he’s waiting for a signed murder confession. He sits there and waits for what feels like days, weeks, maybe a month or two to hear you say, “My friend.”
“Garcia said you were visiting a friend. That’s why you bought the onesie, isn’t it?” He guesses, remembering that awkward run-in with Beth and Ella at the museum gift shop.
He can’t believe he brought it up. Can you see the shame for it on his face, or the tips of his ears red with embarrassment?
It had been a great day. He had had a rare day off, and he and Beth had taken the kids to the park. They’d gone out for ice cream afterwards, and finally for a tour of Jack’s favourite museum that ended with the museum gift shop. It’s almost a perfect memory, a day that he would fit into a snow globe to preserve if he could.
He knows that if he did that, somehow preserved the day in a sphere full of glycol, he would just remember the look on your face in that gift shop. He still can’t put a name to the emotion other than ‘torn’.
Aaron Hotchner; the master of understanding every human mind except yours.
“She just had a baby,” you respond, and he blinks twice before he remembers that you aren’t in the gift shop anymore and that he asked you a question.
You’re here in front of him now with a broken wrist and a concussion and you finally seem to be opening up to him, and he doesn’t want to risk missing it by staying in his own head.
“Boy or girl?” He asks while you sip the tea. It's an English Breakfast with nothing but a bit of sugar, but you don’t seem to mind.
“He’s a boy. His name is Tristan and he’s cute, too. Do you want to see a picture?” You’re already eagerly reaching for your phone, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you now whether he wants to see the pictures or not.
When you show him the screen, a part of him wishes he had stopped you.
The baby is tiny. Tristan is swaddled in a blanket, the top half of his head poking out just for tiny eyes to squint at the camera. Aaron can see the top of a scrunched nose, maybe the beginning of a cry or a yawn. He examines the details, the obviously-plush blanket with grey-blue floral detailing.
Aaron does his best to fixate his attention on Tristan and ignore the fact that the photo is of you holding the baby, looking almost maternal and definitely happy and…
He looks away.
He can’t help it; he hardly stops himself to consider whether it’s rude of him to actively dodge the photo. Instead, he clears his throat. “Very cute,” he agrees, “You’re right about that.”
“Yeah. He was born a little premature, so I thought I’d take some time off of work, come up and help her out for a little while.” You look down at your cast and let out half a scornful laugh. “Some help I am. I don’t even think I could hold him now.”
“I’m sure you’ve been plenty helpful,” he assures you without a thought. After all, for years you had as much of a hand in raising Jack as Aaron did. “It just might have been cut short a little.”
“Yeah, a little. I’m probably going to have to head home after this. It doesn’t make sense to stay when I can’t do anything.” You look glum at the prospect, and without a thought Aaron reaches a foot out to bump against the roller wheels of your chair. It’s a gentle tap, one that just serves to get your attention.
“Talk to your friend,” he advises. “Maybe you can still cook, or help her clean up around the house. There’s no need to cut your time off short just because you can’t hold a baby.”
Your head tilts just a bit, and your eyes narrow as though you’re looking at an equation in the air that Aaron can’t see, let alone guess the factors of. He hopes you can solve it, whatever it is. “Maybe,” you say, and that’s when he hears the conference room door open.
“Hey, double trouble.” Morgan has a trademark grin from ear to ear as he sits down at the table, and Hotch swivels in his seat to face the team as they file into the room.
How did it appear to them? Him close to your chair, you tucked into it with one leg under you and the other hanging off the side. Did it seem uncomfortable, like you didn’t want to be there? He wishes he could have taken a picture of the two of you, somehow, something he could study and examine and hope to understand.
You’ve been alone in a room for… well, he’s lost track of time, but it’s been a while and he still can’t tell if you’re comfortable or not. He’s got no clue until you pipe up and wheel your chair closer to the table.
“Dibs on being ‘double’. You can be ‘trouble’.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, and Hotch does his best not to smile. There’s no use in encouraging you, after all. Still, he can feel some of the tension drain from his shoulders at the light tone; you’re happy to be here, happy to work on this case and to talk to him.
“Actually, you can’t assign nicknames based off of a group nickname when the name itself is a play on how many members there are,” Reid corrects as he sits down with his case file in hand. “You can only do that if each nickname is a separate title.”
Morgan groans out loud at that and reaches over to swat Reid’s arm. “C’mon, man, you’re taking all the fun out of it,” he complains, leaving Reid with a mildly perplexed look on his face.
“We can try again,” Prentiss offers, slipping out of her bulletproof vest. “Hey, sugar and spice.”
Aaron can feel your reaction before you can even open your mouth, and he beats you to it by a half second by warning, “Don’t say that I’m spice.”
The look on your face tells him that that’s exactly what you meant to say. He pushes away thoughts of Look how well I know you in favour of We’re at work.
“How did takedown go?” He asks. The debrief usually happens on the jet, but it feels wrong to discuss the case without you now. Debriefing is an essential part of each case for everyone who works on it, and he does his best to make sure that each member of his team- past or present- can leave each city with a sense of closure.
If anyone needs closure on this case, it’s the woman wearing a cast who hasn’t had to face the horrors of the BAU in two years.
And maybe Aaron, because it’s just as important to him that you feel okay after the events of the last day. Maybe you need to know that the unsub is behind bars, but Aaron needs to know that you know.
Dave, who has been smirking ever since he saw Hotch quickly wheel his chair away from yours upon the team's arrival, speaks first. “Nice and easy. We caught him while he was assembling a bomb in the apartment complex's boiler room. Taking a hostage never crossed his mind.”
“He didn’t even go to Nora’s apartment. She had no idea what we were talking about when we tried to interview her,” JJ says. She hasn’t sat down yet, and is already working to gather up the metric ton of paper covering the conference room table.
Maybe Hotch should have thought to do that.
“Good. And Erica, the girlfriend?”
“She had no idea about any of it. Morgan found a copy of her keys on the unsub’s keyring, and her best guess was that he copied them right out of her purse.” Prentiss passes JJ a stack of papers and sighs. “I feel bad for that girl. She had no idea what was happening right under her nose.”
“She had no way of knowing that her boyfriend would be pushed over the edge like he was. She’s gonna need help after this, for sure,” Morgan says thoughtfully, and the group mumbles out a collective agreement.
“Either way, mi bellos,” Rossi stands up to clasp his hands together, “The case is closed and we’ve got someone in cuffs. All’s well that ends… well, you know.”
It catches Hotch off guard when his stomach pangs at the thought of leaving. Boarding the jet and heading home. Leaving New York, leaving Jackson and Jeremy and their girlfriends in the past, leaving you to deal with the aftereffects of being injured on your own.
He can’t stop himself from speaking, even if just to re-think his words before they become law. “We can stay the night.”
There’s no subtlety to the rise of Morgan’s eyebrows, or the glance that Prentiss and JJ exchange. But there’s nothing he can do about it now. The words are out there. It’s already done.
“Why would we do that?” Reid asks, always one to voice the question no one wants to vocalize. Hotch has always loved his curious mind and his need to understand every aspect of something.
Even if he kind of wants to throttle the kid right now, because how the hell is he supposed to answer that?
“Because you all did some good work today,” he answers after a painfully long minute, “and deserve a night off. We can all go out for dinner and be on the jet early in the morning.”
That answer seems to satisfy the room, and Aaron ignores the look Rossi is giving him as he glances over at you and drops his voice. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” you promise. “Do you, you know, maybe have an extra seat at that table?” You look nervous; he can read that clear as day. The idea that this could put you on edge almost makes a laugh bubble up in his stomach but he shoves it down in favour of a smile.
“I’m sure we can pull one up,” he assures you in a murmur. “We’d love to see you a bit more before we leave.”
“Oh.” You sound almost surprised, and he’s glad that he thought to hide behind the royal ‘we’. “Okay. Can I ride there with one of you?”
“Of course.” Aaron stands up and pulls your chair away from the table so you’ve got room to stand. Unnecessary chivalry; he has to remind himself to cut it out. “We can take a taxi.”
—
That’s how, fifteen minutes later, he finds himself in the passenger seat of a cab with you, JJ, and Garcia squished together in the backseat.
He wonders what you’re talking about back there behind the partition in low whispers, the occasional giggle, and one or two sharp “Shh”’s. The taxi stops too soon for him to find out, and your little group finds the rest of the team at a table already.
You slide into a seat and Hotch unconsciously moves to take the seat farthest from you- a habit he’s built in the last two years- only to find Morgan already sitting in it. “Sorry, Hotch. You snooze, you lose,” he defends with a wide smile.
By the time he turns to see what other seats are free, the only one left is right next to you. “Aaron, over here,” you say, and with all eyes on him there’s nothing to do but come around the table and sink into the stiff chair.
The waitress comes by to take drink orders a minute later, and Hotch orders himself a water. He’s here on official business, and he refuses to get drunk. It’s what his father did, and that always ended up in violence or big scenes made in public. Hotch does everything he can to avoid that side of himself, especially when he’s representing the government.
“What kind of wines do you have?” He hears you ask, and he turns his head to see the waitress produce a menu from what must have been thin air.
“She can’t drink,” he says loudly, putting out a hand like he can stop the menu from making its way to you. “She has a concussion.”
Speaking around you, to you, for you, is a dance, as Aaron is slowly learning.
You frown, and he hopes he hasn’t overstepped. You don’t say anything, and he holds his breath. You finally look up at the waitress and order a water, and he sighs in relief.
“Thanks, it slipped my mind,” you murmur once she’s walked away, and he gives you a tight smile before getting dragged into an argument between Morgan and Reid.
Dinner, for the most part, passes in a blur of quiet conversation and polite laughter. It isn’t until everyone is eating dessert, half the team feeling the effects of the wines they’ve been indulging in, that everything goes to hell.
He really shouldn’t be so surprised. The evening has gone without a hitch so far- Aaron’s left arm occasionally bumping your right when you try to eat at the same time has really been the only obstacle- so he figures that you’re about due for something to go wrong. Some event to stir up the peaceful bubble he’s stumbled across.
It happens, as many things do, in the form of Emily Prentiss opening her mouth. She leans over you to speak to Aaron, and it’s like he’s watching the train crash in slow motion when she says to him, “So, how’s the single life?”
He can feel the way you stiffen up next to him, white knuckles on your fork, peering out of the corner of your eye. Do you want to hear the answer? “Prentiss, please. That’s hardly appropriate.” His voice is being held together like it’s wrapped in duct tape, but it comes out steady enough.
Emily sighs at the scolding. “I just wanted to know,” she grumbles, pushing a piece of cheesecake around on her plate. “You and Beth broke up a week ago; I’m just curious.”
“Good question,” JJ says. “Have you talked to her since? Wait, is that why she wasn’t at the wedding?”
“You told us she was sick, but statistically this is the least likely time of year for someone to experience cold or flu related symptoms.” Spencer frowns down at his rootbeer. “Did you lie? You could have told us that you broke up. We could have helped.”
“Same way I got over the second Mrs. Rossi,” Dave jokes, lifting his glass in a salute. “I don’t think I left the strip club for a month.”
“Please,” Aaron repeats, raising his voice slightly. “This isn’t appropriate.” He directs it primarily to Emily, who started this whole thing, and he notices the shell-shocked look on your face out of the corner of his eye.
“I just wanted to know,” Emily repeats, as petulant as a stubborn child.
She wanted you to know, more likely. Aaron has been careful about not talking about his relationship- Emily only knows because he developed a case of drunkenly loose lips the night of the wedding and overshared to her wife, Katie- and now you know the one thing he didn’t want to become widespread. There’s no way that wasn’t intentional.
“I should…” You push your chair back with a ‘screech’ and stand up, hurrying out of the restaurant in the direction of the lobby without further excuse.
Hotch watches you go, lets out a groaned “God.” while he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need to- I’ll be back.” He tosses down his napkin and takes off in the direction you exited.
“Now, that wasn’t too nice,” Derek points out, and Emily shrugs.
“I didn’t like the tension. At least now they’ll talk.”
Meanwhile, Aaron finds himself rounding the large fountain display in the lobby to talk to you. “Are you leaving?”
When you look up, there’s vague surprise on your face. Did you think he wouldn’t follow you? If there’s one thing Aaron knows about himself by now, it’s that he would follow you to hell and back.
“I think I should. I think that would be best.” Instead of looking at him, you fiddle with your keys and look everywhere else. The chandelier, fountain, reception desk; everywhere except at Aaron himself.
“Just… just hold on, a couple of minutes. I didn’t mean to upset you, by not saying something. I thought it would be… easier.”
That gets a reaction. Your eyes snap to his, and he can see something like hurt swimming in them. “Easier?”
“Yes. You didn’t have anything to do with it; why should I have to tell you?” He challenges, even though it’s half a lie. You weren’t faultless in the breakup, but he’s not going to be sharing that fact.
“You don’t think I would want to know?” You take a small step towards him. “Even just so I could be there for you?”
“That’s not a good idea,” he counters. “I have friends I can speak to about breakups.” He regrets his words the second that he sees the pain in your eyes. Oh, because you’re supposed to be friends now. That’s right; his last breakup was with you.
Three feet away, perched on the edge of the fountain, an older woman is watching the two of you intensely. She’s obviously listening, and that’s something that Aaron doesn’t want to deal with. “Look,” he says, his voice low and quiet, “Will you come up to my room? We can talk there, but I’m not doing this in public.”
The conflicting emotions on your face seem to be going to war until you take a deep breath and take Aaron’s hand, your fingers wrapping around his as you board the elevator.
He hopes you don’t notice David Rossi standing near the elevators. He hopes you don’t notice the thumbs up that the older man gives him, or the middle finger he gives in return.
The elevator ride is silent and long, almost excruciatingly so, and he’s half relieved once you get into the hotel room and take a seat on separate beds facing each other. His suitcase is against the wall, zipped up, and the desk is covered in various writings and readings that he doesn’t even know when Spencer had time to unpack.
You break the silence first, your face expressionless like it’s an interrogation. It feels like he’s on the wrong side of the interrogation table for once when you speak. “You and Beth broke up.”
“We did,” he agrees, and that’s when he wonders if he made a mistake bringing you up here. He doesn’t want you to hear the whole story; why not just confirm the breakup in the lobby and send you on your way?
Well, he couldn’t have done that, and he knows why. It’s still a half-decent alternative to this, though.
“Why?”
“Why… did we break up?” He clarifies, and you nod. “We wanted different things.”
Finally, emotion crosses your face; a flicker of anger. He doesn’t blame you, especially when he remembers the sacrifice you made. “Different things? So, she didn’t want more kids? Or was it work-related?”
He isn’t going to get through this without telling you the whole story; he can see that now. As hard as it is, he knows you aren’t letting this rest until you get a comprehensive answer.
“She had a pregnancy scare.”
Your sudden bark of laughter is hardly a surprise, but it makes him wince all the same. “You broke up because you don’t want to have another kid? Are you serious?”
He tries to answer. Instead, memory hits him like a brick wall, wraps its arms around him and drags him down into it.
“Aaron? Honey, where are you?” Beth’s cheery voice entered the room before she did, and Aaron looked up at her with a smile.
“Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?” He asked. He hated this domestic part, the part where he had to pretend to be just as in love as she was.
But love grows, he knew. Just as flowers could blossom from cracks in the pavement, love could develop with time and affection. It wouldn’t be fair to her, to not return the open affection she gave him.
He always wondered why it never felt easy or effortless, why he often felt like he was just a young boy playing at being in a relationship, instead of an adult who was actually in one.
“My day was good,” she said, a barely-contained smile on her face. “So, you know how I’ve been under the weather lately?”
That was an understatement. She’d thrown up more than once in the last couple of days. Love or not, Aaron cared enough that he was on the verge of taking her to the emergency room himself. “Of course. Are you feeling any better?”
“Not really. But my period was late yesterday, so I thought, why not?” Why not, what? She wasn’t making any sense, and it wasn’t until Aaron saw the little stick in her hand that the pieces flew together for him, like a puzzle begging to be solved. “And, well…”
He stared down at tanned hands presenting him the stick, two tiny lines deciding his future for him. “You’re pregnant.”
“I’m pregnant,” she confirmed, throwing her arms around his neck. He slowly brought both arms up to hug her- a facade of excitement, even though his face would certainly betray him if she were to look at it. “Isn’t that great?”
“That’s… wow.” It was as honest of an answer as he could give. “Are you going to see a doctor to make sure?”
“Of course I am.” She pulled away just enough to kiss him, but he broke away soon enough. “Aaron? This is great, isn’t it? Aren’t you excited?” There was an edge in her voice, one that told him that his face- expressions of shock, uncertainty, certainly no joy- was giving him away.
He couldn’t dodge the direct question, the look in her eye. She already knew the answer before she asked the question, and they both knew that this was his chance for redemption.
He didn’t take it.
A week later, the doctor confirmed the false positive. Aaron couldn’t have brought himself to be upset if he tried.
The same afternoon, Beth packed up hers and Ella’s things, and they were gone.
He wanted to feel sad. He wanted to feel heartbroken. He wanted to punish himself, for knowing that he had missed out on the closest chance he had had to a real family in years.
It was the reason you left; your sacrifice, the heartache you’d both been left with, everything you’d both gone through was deemed useless in the deciding moment. It was his one chance, and he hadn’t taken it.
He just felt numb.
“Aaron.” Your voice, pitched sharp, manages to pull him out of his trance. “Are you okay?”
He doesn’t know why you’re asking. He wants to know if you’re okay. He wants to apologize, to fall to his knees and hold onto you the way he should have two years ago.
“I’m fine.”
“So, Beth had a pregnancy scare,” you prompt. “And that’s why you broke up?”
He hesitates. “Yes.”
He hesitated too long.
“Why?” You ask.
He knows that you’re only pushing it because you know him.
You know him better than anyone; you know that he doesn’t walk away from things that he wants, not when he has a choice.
And wasn’t that what he wanted? Didn’t he want Beth, more children, a family of his own?
“Don’t do this.” It’s a plea, and it goes unanswered.
“Why did you break up? Aaron… come on.” The desperation in your voice kisses his ears. It reminds him that you’ve been hurt at least as badly as he’s been. It tells him that you aren’t there as a concerned friend; you’re there as someone who deserves the answer to the question you asked. Someone who’s a part of the twisted equation, who fits into the formula of the last two years. Someone who’s been hurt by him, for him, only for him to throw that sacrifice away.
He replies by just saying your name, the name he’s spoken so many times. He’s said it before with love, playful annoyance and affection. After the breakup he said it less often, and it was often delivered with spite or tears of proportions that he didn’t know he would, or could, shed.
This time, when he says your name, he thinks he sounds… broken. His voice cracks, his face flushes, and he looks down at his feet. He’s still got his dress shoes on, and he counts the eyelets- 3, 4, 5 pairs of them, black laces looped neatly through- without saying another word.
Your name, as broken as it is between his lips, is an admission of guilt. It’s a confession, an entreaty for you to stop pushing, and it contains unspoken defeat.
“Aaron.” Your voice is firm when you repeat his name, and his eyes snap up from his shoes- 3, 4, 5, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5- to meet yours. “Don’t I deserve to know?”
You do. He knows you do. The ‘don’t I deserve?’ angle is never something you’ve used, and he knows this is a last ditch effort to get the truth out of him.
You do deserve to know.
How can he say it? How can he tell you the truth? How can he possibly look into your earnest eyes and pretend that he can defend himself and the decisions that he’s made?
He can tell you that more kids doesn’t make sense; he knows that, in a factual sense. He wasn’t around enough when Jack was little, is hardly better at being around now. The job is priority; he could get hurt or worse, and leave behind a widow with more mouths to feed than she can handle. He could become a twisted version of his father, pitting his children against each other. He’s too old to run around with toddlers for the next ten years.
He can tell you any number of things that make sense, but you won’t accept anything less than the truth. That, at least, is written plain as day on your face.
“She isn’t you.”
His words hit you like a bucket of ice water. They slap you so hard that you have half a mind to bring a hand up to your cheek and check for sore spots. “Aaron-”
“It’s true. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear, but you wanted the truth and that’s it.” His breathing sounds more ragged now, like he’s fighting to stay collected.
He doesn’t know what he was thinking, telling you. He isn’t trying to get you back. You made your choice, you walked away, and that’s that.
“Aaron. You want a family,” you remind him, your voice cracking. How can he not remember? How can he throw away the last two years, disregard your sacrifice like this?
Hadn’t that always been his dream? A positive pregnancy test with a woman who loved him? And yet, in the final hour, he’d walked away. He’d made a choice, one that he has to face now, with you.
“I know. God, I know, but it just… it couldn’t happen.”
“Because she’s not me? Are you serious?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, fraught with disbelief and maybe a hint of fear at the potential weight of his answer, and you wish that Aaron were speaking even quieter when he responds. You wish you couldn’t hear him at all.
“Because there’s no family without you.”
The dry scoff that escapes you is answer enough, especially once it’s paired with your head dropping into your hands. “Then what the hell have we been doing?”
“I tried,” he defends. Desperation is poured into every syllable, filling in the spaces of the things he can’t say like resin on wood. “I gave it a chance, she was happy. But when I saw that test…”
Neither of you knows if he’s stopped to figure out what he should say, or if it’s because he can’t say it. He looks small, appears defenceless in a way that he never lets himself.
“I couldn’t do it,” he finishes. He spreads his hands out, a placating gesture. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want a family with her. When I saw that test, I was scared. Terrified. A baby is a commitment, and I don’t- I can’t- see myself making that commitment with anyone but you.”
“You know how I feel about kids.” For a moment his eyes flicker down, to where your phone sits on the bed, and you have half a mind to wonder if he’s going to bring Tristan into this.
Maybe he’s settled more into this conversation. Maybe he’s realized that he doesn’t have much to lose here. For whatever reason, his rebuttal to you, perched facing him on the opposite bed- worlds away, yet only mere feet- is more of a challenge than a question. “When did I ask you to have any?”
“What?” You tilt your head the slightest bit, stray hairs illuminated in the yellow-grey light, and he thinks his heart skips a beat when you blink.
“I didn’t ask you to have kids. I never asked for that.” He knows it for a fact; that simple thought has been his port at sea more than once, on the nights where he wondered exactly how things had gone so wrong.
You blink again. ‘I want us to get married, have as many kids as we can, I want all of that and I want it with you.’ Those were his words, spoken so passionately two years ago.
But there were other words, too, and they fly back into your mind like they’re trying to haunt you. Words that circle you, remind you that you were the reason he couldn’t have that life.
‘I’ve been thinking, and you’re more important to me than having more kids.’
‘Just say the word, and I’ll never bring it up again.’
‘I’m not going to sit here and tell you what I want, because I’m not forcing you into that. You don’t want it, fine. We don’t do it.’
You remember him confessing what he wanted, so earnest and unexpecting of you to go along with it.
Phrases swirl your head, sentences that haven't done so since the breakup.
Sentences that you hadn’t let yourself understand until now.
‘I would be happier knowing that I’m in a relationship with someone who wants the same things I do. I want that with you, I want you to want it, but that isn’t happening.’
‘I want us to go back to normal. How we were.’
‘You’re all I need. I mean it.’
“You want a family. That’s what you want.” Your protest is weak, and you don’t know if it’s a protest for your self-protection or his feelings.
Maybe it’s both.
“You were my family. You and Jack. I was so happy with you.”
“Not as happy as you could have been,” you counter. Aaron visibly hesitates, a moment of back-and-forth sway before he crosses the room to sit next to you on the other bed.
“You…” the breath he takes is deep and rattling. “You made me happier than I could ask for.”
You move back and he does too, kicking off his shoes to mirror your crossed legs. The two of you sit and face each other. The headboard sets the scenery behind him, cheap hotel wall art behind you. When you take a breath, so does he.
“You walked away,” you remind him. It isn’t a show of blame; it’s a reminder, pure and simple, that he wasn’t happy with you.
“No, I didn’t.” He reaches out, one of his hands trembling as it grasps yours. “I wouldn’t have.”
He doesn’t say anything for a minute. Instead, he watches as his hand wraps around yours, squeezes it once.
He’s just about to let go when you squeeze back.
“You told me to go,” he whispers, staring down at those linked hands. If he looks you in the eye now, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. “It’s what you wanted.”
You laugh, and the sound is humourless and dry. “What I wanted? Aaron, you only stayed past that first day for me, to make me feel like I wasn’t ruining your life. I didn’t kick you out; I let you go.”
“I didn’t get a choice. I chose to stay, I chose you above a bigger family, and you didn’t let me,” Aaron says, and your hand tightens on his. “I tried, okay? I- I found Beth, we moved in together. For God’s- Ella called me ‘dad’. I did my best to have that life. I tried. It didn’t work.”
“I don’t know what you want,” you confess, and he hates himself a little more when he sees the heartbreak in your eyes. “I just want you to be happy. I thought I was giving you that.”
Aaron shifts himself, moves a little closer to you. He thinks he might be about to say the wrong thing, the thing that destroys whatever tentative relationship the two of you have built.
He doesn’t care.
This relationship, this dance of overdoing and understepping and caring too much without saying enough? He doesn’t want it.
He doesn’t care about throwing it away.
“Nothing,” he vows, extending one hand to raise your chin when you look down, “Nothing has ever made me as happy as you did. That’s all I wanted. You.”
You avert your gaze, and you feel your face grow warm. It’s been a long time since he looked at you like this, with all of the care and attention in the world somehow pouring from the gaze of warm hazel eyes locked on yours.
“What do you want me to say?” You ask after a stretch of silence. Not even the sound of breathing dares to disrupt the quiet; neither of you want to make the wrong move right now, not when you can see the crossroads ahead.
“Whatever you want to say. Just not what you think I want to hear.”
That’s what it’s come down to, at the root. Both of you lying, sneaking, saying and doing whatever you can to protect the other’s feelings and do what you think is best. He’s tired of it.
You did what you thought was the right thing, and let him go. He did what he thought was the right thing, and chased the life you made possible by leaving. But neither of you are happy, and he can admit that now.
“I still don’t want kids.”
“I’m still not asking you to have any.” He waits two beats, unsure if he can even bring himself to ask what he knows he has to.
“Does Jack count?” He’s breathless as he waits for the answer. You could have found freedom in the last two years, after several spent living a mother’s schedule. Maybe you don’t want a hand in any child’s life, and he won’t begrudge you that.
“He’s… no,” you say, and Aaron exhales in what might be relief. “But that doesn’t mean I want more. You want more.”
“I want you,” he corrects, the same way he did two years ago. Maybe this time you’ll listen, and accept his words for the truth that they are. “I had more. I didn’t want it, not without you.”
Your breathing, shallow and timid, hitches at his words. He notices the slip-up in a heartbeat, wants to trip over himself and correct it. Before he can, you say, “But the future-”
“The future,” he interrupts, clasping one of your hands in both of his, “My future, it only matters if it’s you.If you’re happy with Jack, I’m happy. You’re what I need. You’re all I need.”
“Aaron, please.” Your voice is small, and that’s when he realizes that he’s been trailblazing this conversation with hardly a thought about what you want. Maybe you’ve moved on, or fallen out of love.
He doesn’t think you have, though. Between your conversation at the wedding and the fact that you’re still here, both hands now holding onto his, wide eyes peering into his own, he thinks he’s made a safe bet.
“Please, what?” He murmurs. He can defer to you now, let you approach this at your pace. He’s said his piece.
It’s not until he sees your eyes squeeze shut that he remembers your concussion, and he’s sure that this conversation isn’t helping what must be a painful headache.
“I… it’s getting late. And I really should sleep. My head...”
Every instinct in Aaron’s body is well-honed, trained to take opportunities that might pass him by otherwise. It’s what got him Haley, what got him into the BAU, and now it’s what might get you back.
Every instinct is screaming not to let you leave.
“Do you want to talk more about this later?” He offers, his right hand releasing your left. The other two stay linked, his fingers brushing the cast, and you make no move to loosen them as you nod.
He waits. He isn’t sure what he’s waiting for, but he waits.
You close your eyes, already on the verge of rethinking before you speak. But you’ve got instincts, too, and they’re all telling you to stay in this room. Your future is in this room, and you aren’t about to close the door on that. Even if the conversation can wait, you know exactly how it will end.
It’s clear to you now that Aaron only left because he did the same thing you did, tried to protect your feelings. He never would have left if you hadn’t forced his hand and left first, and the thought of the time that you lost makes your chest seize unpleasantly.
It’s not too late to undo old mistakes, though.
“Can I sleep here? It’s not really safe, getting a taxi this late.”
Aaron lets go of your other hand first. “Of course, you can.” He’s half situated to go to sleep already, just has to take off his tie and loosen his shirt. He doesn’t get off the bed, and that’s why it surprises him when you lay down in the same bed, on your side.
“So you don’t have to share with Spencer when he gets here,” you explain through a yawn, and his heart hurts when he sees the way your nose crinkles. He’s missed it, missed you.
Sleep comes quickly, somehow. The exhaustion of the day, of the conversation, overtakes you both in what feels like mere moments.
-
When Aaron wakes up, it’s with his arms around you and his nose pressing into your neck. He holds on for a moment before he has to let go; you’ll have time later, and the team is waiting.
Getting out of bed, Aaron finds the other queen bed- Spencer’s- empty, untouched.
When the two of you arrive at the jet, late with your suitcase, he says, “I stayed with Morgan and Rossi. We thought you could use some privacy.”
You let go of Aaron’s hand to reach out and ruffle Spencer’s hair, ignoring the look he gives you when you mess up his curls. “Thanks, Spence.”
If the team is anything, it’s ‘respectful when the time calls for it’. No one says a word when you and Aaron sit next to each other. No one blinks when your hand slides home into his.
His fingers lace around yours. He squeezes once, and you squeeze back. As the jet takes off, soaring towards DC and your new future, you hold onto him. It’s going to be alright.
Once upon a time, they always said that you and Aaron were the lucky ones. Maybe they were right.
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Hiii! Can I please request an Adrian Chase x fem!civilian/reader where Adrian is out and about as Vigilante, looking for bad guys to kill, when he sees Y/n being harassed and he saves her life as Vigilante. He thinks she’s the cutest little thing ever and wants to kinda serve as her protector after that… Somewhat tailing her to make sure she’s safe. They meet again when he (as himself, Adrian Chase), starts to frequent the coffeeshop she works at and they have a lot of chemistry, Adrian being his chaotic, flirty self, and Y/n being really shy and flustered. But she also frequently runs into Vigilante, as he has started to walk her home since she gets out of work late at night. She also has a lot of chemistry with Vigilante… Finding herself in what she thinks is a “love triangle”, torn between her feelings for Adrian and her feelings for vigilante, not knowing that Adrian and Vigilante are the same man…😂 Until she finds out in the cutest way, and is like, “Adrian???”
Summary: Since he's now a representative of A.R.G.U.S. and, therefore, the government, Vigilante no longer has to work his shity busboy job.
Yet, that does leave his schedule wide open for the rest of the day and he soon finds himself frequenting a quaint coffee shop, not only because the drinks there are good, but hes grown fond of the woman working there who he happened to save the night before.
She's grown fond of him too - both versions of him - but will she figure out that she won't have to pick between them? Or will Adrian manage to keep his cool and hide his secret?
Tags: Coffee Shops, Fluff, First Meetings, Canon-Typical Violence, Mugging, Double Life, Love Triangle but not really
Music Recommended: Haven't Met You Yet by Michael Bublé
Peacemaker, Adrian Chase Masterlist - here
Evergreen was a boring place to patrol. The most frequent crime was drug dealing and the dealers quickly caught on to the fact that Vigilante was going around killing all their colleagues. So they arranged their deals ten minutes outside the town and hoped that Vigilante decided not to travel outside his usual perimeter - which he did if it got really slow - that night.
Ever since Adrian had managed to get himself in a task force that had actually had missions and things to do, Vigilante rarely had time for patrol. He was busy in Gotham or Midway or Central City so by the time he returned to his hometown, Adrian was in need of rest.
The dealers and all the nefarious criminals that usually resided in Evergreen assumed that their old stomping ground was usable again.
So you wouldn't believe their surprise when Adrian was given four months for holiday. A.R.G.U.S. had intended that he'd use it as vacation time, but as Adrian said, 'being a sick ass Vigilante was his hobby and nothing was going to stop him from shooting a motherfucker'.
Yet, they were going to stop him 'shooting a motherfucker' because he worked for the government now, and it would reflect poorly on them if one of their assets went around shooting random low level criminals in the balls without the proper clearance first. Yes, he was allowed to patrol. No, he was not allowed to use deadly force.
Which sucked, but he'd have to deal with it if he wanted a job. And he really wanted that job. And he needed it since Fennel Fields had fucking fired him because he went awol for a whole week when the whole butterfly business went down then came into work for one shift and left half way through.
In his defence, a suspicious looking man - a man with a moustache and had clearly forgotten to take his sun glasses off when he walked inside - gave him a funny look and Adrian thought, 'Oh shit, is that the fucking vet that patched me up?' even though it was a completely different man.
But still, Adrian's brain automatically 'He's after me' and bolted which caused the stitches from his bullet wound to rip open. That, in his mind, was much better than the inevitable torture he'd go through thanks to the cat doctor who must've taken it to heart when he remarked, "You aren't pretty enough to be a vet. Vets are usually hot."
Back then, the guy just shrugged as if to say 'whatever, doesn't affect me' but maybe it hit too close to home and now he was on a mission to kidnap Vigilante so he can unmask the great hero to the general public.
During his days, Adrian had no idea what to do with himself. He had so much free time. He'd been meaning to finish Succession - which he only watched because people said it was good. He had no idea what they were talking about half the time but he thought Tom was a pretty cool guy, maybe a bit of a loser, but hey, at least he's got a dick the size of a red sequoia and fucks like a bullet train.
Whether he saw himself as Tom was up for debate. In some aspects - the aforementioned 'bullet train' and devotion to a partner that doesn't exactly like having him around - yes. In others - the fancy suits, the money and all that material bullshit - not so much.
Once he finished that TV show, he moved onto the next. Then the next. Then the next. And next. He spent much of his days indoors. So much that he knew he needed to get out more because Chris once asked him "What the actual fuck do you do all day?" and when Adrian answered, he teased "You fucking nerd! Huge loser. Mythic Quest? What is that, another name for your sex life?"
He had to get out more. Just had to. If Peacemaker said it was best for him, it was probably best for him.
That's why he was walking around town scouting for something to do. Someone he knew to say hello to. An exciting knick knack to buy. Or he could get a new gun, like, right now. America, y'know? Or maybe a sword... or maybe a bow. Something cool.
Or maybe just a coffee. That was cheaper. Less hassle. And he'd forgotten his ID so that was a no. Of course he knew there were avenues he could go to find somewhere that was a little more lenient with the whole identification thing but as soon as he bought a pistol he'd have to turn it on the seller because obviously he was a bad guy.
And by killing him, he'd prevent all the sick and twisted criminals out there who had the idea, 'hey, its my day off, why don't I spend my wages on a machine of death but I want to do it illegally because I'm a bad, bad man - or woman, who's to judge - and I love shooting little children and being so comically evil'. In every way, he'd be doing the right thing.
The coffee shop he picked was quaint and inviting. The kind he'd see on Instagram. The kind you'd never expect in Evergreen. There were plants everywhere and cushy couches. It was very relaxing and he found himself enjoying sitting at the corner table by the window sipping the sweetest drink they had on the menu.
"See you, Sylvie!" A voice rang out in a sweet tone behind him, yet before he'd gotten a glimpse of what the origin of the voice looked like, they'd already walked away. He did manage to catch a glimpse of the back of her head though and the way her hair blew in the wind was fascinating.
Then this random stranger was gone and he didn't think about it again until later that night when he was out on patrol.
"I'll give you my wallet, please don't hurt me," that voice pleaded from the alley opposite him.
Vigilante, activated!
With haste, Vigilante ran into action to save the damsel. He sprinted forward, slid over a dumpster and cheered, "Hey asshole! I was going to say pick on someone your own size but that pretty lady is nearer your height than mine soo....I don't know. You've really stumped me with this one, bro."
Economos had added a voice modifier to his mask and Adrian was so thankful. He knew his voice could be considered whiny and altogether not that intimidating, so the booming robotic voice that he'd picked was better. He initially was going to pick Peter Griffin but he found himself laughing more than fighting when he tested it out.
Just as he said, the thief was definitely shorter than him but he was a stocky dude. A chode of a man. A bald chode who was being mean to a lady. An innocent, sweet lady. Who didn't deserve any of this crap.
One glance at Vigilante was all it took for the thief to realise how fucked he was. So, without a second thought, the thief made a break for it. He threw his victim's wallet at her and ran. But not fast enough. He wasn't quick enough.
Quickly, Vigilante picked up the coolest looking rock and threw it directly at the back of his head with all his might causing him to fall to the ground. By the time he'd hit the ground Vigilante was kneeling down beside him and obnoxiously waving in his face.
All the woman could do was watch. Her feet wouldn't move. Curiously, she was far too busy staring at Vigilante to even consider leaving. He moved so freely. So effortlessly. Like he owned the streets and the rooftops and alleyways, and maybe even the world itself.
He moved in such a childish way, yet there was something dangerous about him. Clearly, there was something dangerous about him because he dressed up in a stupid costume to spend his free time killing people. So yeah, dangerous.
"Is it because you're shorter than the average guy that you find scaring women with stupid little pocket knives gets you going?" Vigilante teased as the robber looked at him with total fear in his eyes. "You're fucking lucky, y'know. I'm not allowed to do any fun shit so I won't be killing you."
The robber breathed a sigh of relief at hearing that he wasn't going to die. He opened his mouth, probably to beg for mercy, but then Vigilante added, "I will be breaking every one of your bones and making sure you suffer in excruciating pain for a long, long time instead of the instant bliss of death."
"All of my bones?! All of my bones?!" the robber cried out, horrified. "No! Please! No! -"
Crack. His nose was the first bone to be broken. Crack. Three ribs. Crack. One arm. Crack. The other arm. Vigilante stopped for a moment and took a glance over to the woman. "I'll be there in a second. You might want to look away."
It worked. The woman turned away instantly and Vigilante grabbed hold of the robber by his shirt and kicked him hard in the ankle to make sure he felt the pain.
Adrian got tired. Admittedly, he stopped before all of the bones in the guy's body were broken simply because he was bored. And besides, it wasn't like the guy would be getting back up anyway.
Getting to his feet, Vigilante slipped back into Adrian mode as he put on a goofy smile, despite the fact she couldn't see it due to his mask, and walked towards her with his hands beside his head, palms outstretched.
During all the commotion, he hadn't gotten a chance to really look at her because he'd been distracted by the thief. Now however, as soon as he saw her face, his breath was stolen and he felt like he could collapse to the ground in ecstasy, but he tried to contain it in order to maintain a nonchalant front as he went to pick her wallet up from the floor.
Clumsily, he nearly tripped over himself, but recovered and held the wallet up triumphantly. "Ah, here we are. For you," he smiled, holding it out to her as if it was a rare flower.
"Oh, oh, thank you," the lady said, taking it with an awkward grin that didn't quite meet her eyes and quickly putting it into the purse hanging by her side. She stood a few feet back from him, giving him room to breathe and hopefully gather his thoughts if he needed to do so. She expected he did.
"So uh, sorry about that," Vigilante muttered. He tried to act cool, but she could tell he was a little on the awkward side of things. "A-Are you okay?"
"Yes. Are you?"
Weird. Nobody had ever been concerned for him after he'd saved their life, yet there she stood with worry written all over her face. She was clearly scared and trying to hide it, but still, her concern for him was touching, in a weird way.
"I'm great actually, thanks for asking," he replied casually. "You should get home now though. It's late."
She nodded. Yet, her feet still wouldn't move, nor would her eyes leave his.
"Sorry. I'm trying to move...shock, I guess."
"Would you like me to walk you home?"
"Yeah, that'd help, yeah," she said quietly, her gaze dropping from his face to his waist, where his gun used to rest.
He followed her gaze. "Because of the butterfly thing I did, I'm technically a government agent so no gunfights without orders," Vigilante explained as he fiddled with the popper on his holster.
Frankly, his belt felt empty without his precious guns. Yet, if he had a weapon on him, he'd use it. Because of course he would. His impulse control was absolutely nonexistent and he knew that.
As confidently as he could, he held his hand out for her to take. She stared at it blankly for a mom, but eventually accepted it in hers. He gave it a light squeeze, which made her blush, and began leading her down the street.
Almost like magic, her feet did begin to move, one foot after the other until she was doing it like she always had. As she fell in step with him, she squeezed his hand back, as gently as she possibly could, trying to show him she appreciated the gesture.
"Why are you out by yourself so late?" he asked her suddenly, breaking the silence between them.
"I had a date." She looked down at her shoes shyly. "It didn't go very well. He was quite rude."
"He let you walk home alone?"
"Yep."
"What an asshole," he spat out, surprising himself by sounding genuinely angry.
It came from somewhere deep within him. The mere thought that a guy would leave their date to face the dark alleys of Evergreen alone just pissed him off. It just wasn't right.
But, as she laughed, his anger faded. He realised just how cute it was to hear her laugh. How cute it was to make her smile. It made her face shine brightly against the darkening skies above them. The lightest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lips and a warm, fluttering feeling started to settle in his chest.
Oh no.
Before he could stop himself, he blurted, "He must be a fucking moron. You're a babe, you should be treated as such." The words seemed to come out of their own accord. They were spoken with such conviction that they took her by surprise. Her eyes widened in amazement.
"I mean," he coughed awkwardly. "You're, uh, you're beautiful and my mother always told me to treat beautiful things with care. Not that you're a thing - no, I didn't mean it like that! You're not a thing, absolutely not. I'm a feminist, I don't think women -"
Again, she laughed at his rambling and, if he hadn't been wearing a red tinted visor, he would've seen how deep she was blushing. That small chuckle sent his heart beating faster. This woman was adorable. A little bit shy, yes, but sweet and lovely and found him to be amusing and definitely was his type.
"Is that a good laugh or a bad laugh?"
"A good laugh."
"Great! Good! That's good to hear!" He smiled wide at her, unable to contain it even if he wanted to. He didn't want to.
No, containing any sort of happiness inside of him was not something he wanted to do, especially because she had begun to swing their conjoined hands back and forth and he was enjoying every single second of it. He didn't want this moment to end.
Throughout the walk to her home, Adrian made it his mission to make her laugh as many times as he possibly could, which seemed limitless as she found all his quirks humorous. More often than not, she ended up giggling at what he had to say, and it was honestly adorable. He didn't know why he cared so much about making her happy - but he did and he decided he liked making her happy. If only he could do this everyday.
They made it to her front porch and both stood outside of it, smiling at each other stupidly, until finally she took a deep breath and cleared her throat to announce, "This is me."
"This is you."
There was a silence as they stood there, staring at each other, neither knowing exactly what to say next. After what felt like forever but couldn't have been more than ten seconds, she broke the tension with, "How long have you been on your feet?"
"Uh, I don't know. A few hours maybe."
With a tug on his hand, she dragged him past the threshold of her front door and further inside her house until they reached the couch. She motioned for him to sit while she got him something to drink. And Vigilante just let her lead him around like a puppy.
"Do you want a drink? I own a coffee shop so I have an almost limitless amount of types of teas and coffees. Do you have any preferences? I can whip you up something real quick..."
"You got hot chocolate? With whipped cream? C'mon! Please. Tell me you got hot chocolate with whipped cream. That shit is heaven!"
"Of course I've got hot chocolate with whipped cream."
"Thank god," he groaned, leaning further back into the couch cushions as he closed his eyes. "Please? With an extra pretty on top?"
When she returned with two mugs full of steaming hot cocoa and sat next to him, he opened his eyes and grinned before grabbing one of the mugs and blowing lightly on it. The pair sat there quietly for a few moments, sipping their drinks happily until it was time for Vigilante to get back to work.
"I, uh, I better let you get some rest. So uh," he stammered as he stood slowly from the couch, placing his mug down onto the wooden coffee table and missed the corner completely. He managed to grab it before it dropped to the ground and carefully placed it on a coaster.
But before he left, she stopped him by putting a gentle hand on his arm. For a second he thought she was going to ask him to stay, so when she did nothing but kiss him on the cheek, he nearly jumped for joy.
"I just realised, I never got your name," he spoke quickly, glancing down at her to see her smiling.
"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Vigilante."
She pulled away but he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, causing a quiet giggle to escape her lips. Her cheeks were red as he took his time to roll up the bottom of his mask. Adrian rarely did anything slowly, but as he revealed his lips, it was teasingly slow.
"Y/N," he repeated her name softly, savouring the way it felt upon his tongue. It sounded amazing coming from his lips. She hummed, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.
Y/N unconsciously bit her lip as she watched him. His face was inches apart from hers, so close, almost tantalisingly close. She could practically feel his breath against her lips. She felt herself lean forward slightly, but as they were mere millimetres from kissing, he stepped back abruptly, leaving her feeling oddly bereft.
"I'll see you around, Y/N," he whispered, before kissing her cheek and leaving her standing all alone as his footsteps disappeared into the night. And then the door shut. And everything went quiet again.
Outside her door, Adrian rested against the wood and lightly banged his head because why? Why did he do that? Had his brain short circuited? Why hadn't he kissed the cute girl? What was wrong with him?
For a brief moment, he considered knocking on her door to ask, "Hey, can I get a do-over?" but the moment was gone too soon to be worth the trouble. He pushed himself off from the door and, instead of finding another criminal to deal with, he went straight home.
He was tired. Too tired, apparently. Not physically. When he started becoming the badass Vigilante, he thought he'd become cooler too. Deep down, he was still that nerdy fucking nerd that couldn't help but fall for girls who had pretty faces, and had no idea how to be flirty and do the whole relationship shit that he'd always wanted to try out.
Because he knew, if he had kissed Y/N, he would've gotten obsessed. He'd probably forget all his other plans and spend his entire life worrying about her smile and wishing he could make her laugh. He'd probably tell her everything that was running through his mind. Which was pretty damn embarrassing, but whatever; he'd take a hit to the ego over getting lost in his head.
Just being around her, however, was fine. Protecting her. Surveillance. Watching her as her own personal superhero. That was enough to satisfy him. Just knowing she was safe was good enough for now.
The next day during his daily distraction, Adrian found himself at the same cafe as the day before, and lo and behold, who was standing behind the counter? Y/N wearing, what he assumed to be, a genuine smile as the bell above the door signalled that he'd just walked in.
Okay, okay, new plan. Vigilante wasn't a relationship guy. Adrian could be though.
So, he sauntered up to the counter. Well, he tried to saunter but accidentally tripped over his own feet. He managed to regain his balance before he fell directly on his ass and gave Y/N a sheepish grin. She simply raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his clumsy appearance and he chuckled nervously under her gaze.
Shit. He wished he had his mask.
"Hi."
"Hi? What can I get you?"
And, fuck, she really looked beautiful and sexy today, and he didn't want to stop looking at her. Was he drooling? Oh, yeah, he was, alright. Had he been drooling last night too? Had the mask covered it? He wouldn't put it past him either. Yeah, that would totally happen.
His mouth ran dry, and he stared dumbfounded at her for a few seconds before answering, "What do you recommend?"
"Do you have a sweet tooth?"
"I do."
"Caffeine or no?"
"I don't mind."
After giving it a thought, she nodded and got to work on his drink without further prompting. He leaned his arms against the counter behind him and watched her intently as she worked, trying not to stare, obviously, but failing miserably. As much as he didn't want to admit it, watching her work was really turning him on.
Her hair was up in a ponytail today which allowed him to see her face a little better. He noticed how cute her nose scrunched whenever she concentrated, and how pink her lips were as she pressed them together.
Oh. That boy needs to stop thinking about her lips. Now. Y/N didn't know him. That would've been a super creepy move to make. She somewhat liked Vigilante, and currently, he wasn't Vigilante.
She finished making his drink and set it down in front of him, sliding it and a complimentary cookie across to him with a bright smile. "Here, one of my favourites, the three chocolate milkshake supreme. Enjoy."
He picked up the cup and took a large sip, letting out a content sigh after swallowing. "Holy fuck; this shit is heaven!" he exclaimed excitedly, his smile only growing larger. "It's so good!"
Once he started to pat his pockets for his wallet, she waved it off with a kind, "Don't worry about it. This is my treat. Consider it a welcome gift."
"Oh thanks, Y/N."
Fuck.
"How'd you know my name?"
No, no, no...he'd fucked up big time. Way bigger than he expected. Shit, he's messed it up real good. No clue about what to say, what to do, how to respond. This could very well mean he was losing his chance here.
So he just shrugged, a small, nervous smile plastered onto his face. "Uh, I've been here before. Once. Overheard someone - your coworker, I think - say it." His voice trailed off as he began fiddling with his fingers awkwardly.
Y/N nodded, seeming to be amused by that answer as she looked down and teased, "So you didn't read it on my nametag?"
Adrian froze. He huffed out an awkward giggle, embarrassed to have blundered so badly. "Well," he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, hoping he looked more casual than he felt right now. "That might be it, yeah. Nametag. Yeah, um, that sounds about right."
Likes she had with Vigilante, Y/N found his awkwardness amusing, and couldn't contain a smile as she watched him fumble over his words. She shook her head and laughed.
"I'm Adrian," he added hastily, once he was able to form sentences again.
For the next couple of hours, they talked about everything from their favourite books to random facts and stories, until the lunch rush arrived and she was too busy with the onslaught of customers. At that point, he sat on the sofa tucked away in the corner of the cafe, beaming at her every time she glanced in his direction.
Even under the pressure of all the orders, she looked cute, admittedly a little frazzled, but still adorable nonetheless. She sighed with so much relief when her colleague appeared to help her. She smiled gratefully and thanked him before taking her break.
After disappearing from his view for a couple of minutes, Y/N re-emerged with two mugs in hand.
"Mind if I join you? I brought something to bribe you with." Adrian smiled widely and gestured towards the seat beside his own, a slight blush appearing on her cheeks as she sat down, placing the drinks down gently between them. "There you go."
"I'm sure you've lost so much revenue by giving me all this free shit."
"That's pretty privilege for you."
"Yeah...W-what?"
Red tinged her cheeks as she realised what she'd admitted, and she quickly looked down at the cup in her hands and cleared her throat slightly. "I'm sorry, that must've sounded weird. Sorry, sorry, you're just trying to have a peaceful time and stuff, and I'm calling you pretty like a fucking idiot and making you uncomfortable, and, oh shit," she rambled nervously, her eyes wide in shock.
Pretty? She thought he was pretty? Him! Adrian Chase. Adrian Chase was pretty? The dude with the glasses?! Oh, man. This was great, really. So great, in fact, that Adrian wasn't entirely convinced that this was real. It certainly seemed real, though. She was sitting there, blushing and rambling and stuttering, and he hadn't even done anything.
How was this happening?
"You're not making me uncomfortable."
"Oh, that's good," she said quietly, biting down on the inside of her cheek. Adrian bit back a smirk and sipped his chocolate shake.
"If anything, I'm the opposite of uncomfortable. These couches are comfy as fuck and I've got the hottest woman who has ever spoken to me to my right."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he thought, 'Oh shit, that was kind of smooth'. And Y/N seemed to agree because she shyly averted her eyes and smiled, looking extremely pleased.
Every afternoon, he'd speak to her in the coffee shop then he'd gear up in his suit to walk her home. Both Adrian and Vigilante got to know her better. Often, he felt bad about having this double life without telling her. It was confusing and he had to keep a haphazard log of all the things he'd told her as Adrian, and as Vigilante, so he didn't mess up.
It had come to the point that Adrian had managed to exchange numbers with her and he'd even gotten enough confidence to ask, "Would you like to hang out, just me and you, and watch a movie at my apartment later? We could watch Netflix, we could talk some more..."
Adrian almost squealed when she agreed and, by that same evening, they were in his apartment. They sat on his couch, chatting away about everything under the sun while they watched the movie. He kept stealing glances at her, and she caught him many times during the course of the movie.
What made it worse too was that the top she'd worn gave him a direct view of her cleavage. Did she wear it on purpose? To make him drool over her breasts? He wasn't complaining though. Quite the contrary. Y/N's curves were mesmerising; he couldn't help himself from admiring her body.
Could he? Totally. Was he thinking about slyly sliding his arm around her shoulders and letting his hand drop down to her breast? Yes, yes he was. And from there -
"Ade?"
"Huh? What?" he asked, snapping out of his thoughts and looking at her. He had such a dopey smile on his face that she raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Sorry, sorry. I want you to know that I'm trying really hard not, like with my whole soul, but I'm having a really hard time not looking down your shirt," he blurted out before he could catch himself, mortified. "Shit, Y/N, y'know, my mother always told me to treat beautiful things with care and I'd treat -"
"Adrian?"
Huh. She'd heard the exact same thing from her other 'suitor' once upon a time. In the past few weeks, Y/N had many sleepless nights debating whether she was being a total bitch for getting close to two men. On the one hand, Vigilante was strong and capable and fiercely protective. Yet, Adrian was sweet and cute and completely nerdy.
Both of them had her affection, that was true. And while she thought she'd have to pick between them, that notion was thrown right out the window.
Why did dorky Adrian Chase have such big muscles? And he had amazing hand eye coordination for someone with such bad eyesight. Plus, he often looked as if he hadn't slept in years and arrived at the coffee shop with scrapes and bruises and cuts and transparent lies about how he got them. Did he even have a job? She knew he had some source of income but he'd never mentioned what.
Obviously, fucking obviously, he was Vigilante. How'd she not seen it sooner?
Interrupting him, Y/N grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in for a kiss that he eagerly reciprocated, grabbing her by the waist tightly to pull her closer to him. Their lips moved against each other softly at first but they soon grew more forceful, needing to be closer, needing to feel more skin on skin contact.
As he deepened the kiss, his grip on her tightened and he ran his tongue along her lower lip, requesting entry, which she gave with gusto. Adrian pulled back, panting a little and thoroughly in shock. His eyes dilated, his cheeks and lips a beautiful rosy shade and his breathing was shallow. The look on his face was so adorably endearing. Y/N felt herself get lost in his eyes as she stared at them, transfixed by just how emerald they truly were.
"That was-" Adrian began but trailed off with a nervous laugh.
Frankly, having a murderous hero absolutely swooning over you to the point he couldn't string a coherent sentence together was flattering. Y/N would've been lying if she said she wasn't enjoying his flustered state immensely.
"And to think you could've done that the first night we met. I mean, seriously," Y/N chuckled, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind Adrian's ear, "You ever seen the movie Kick-Ass?"
"Once or twice."
A lot of times, actually.
"You remind me of Kick-Ass. Nerdy by day, hero by night."
Her fingers trailed across his jawbone and he closed his eyes momentarily. That simple touch was doing strange things to his heart, sending it racing and pumping blood through his veins with an exhilarating rush.
When he processed what she said, he began to sweat.
"I, uh, have no idea why I would... I don't know... Hero? No, not me -" He stopped when he felt her chilly palm slip under the front of his shirt and slowly brush up and down his toned stomach. He shivered under her touch, her touch causing electricity to spark through his veins and a warmth to spread throughout his body.
The butterflies in his stomach became even more pronounced. "Y/N, w... what are you -" His breath hitched as he gazed back into her eyes and saw that she was grinning from ear to ear. Her fingers continued tracing patterns up to his chest and his mind went blank, the only sounds coming from the TV playing in the background.
"...You okay there, Vigilante?" Y/N whispered quietly, her head tilted slightly to one side as she looked at him. Adrian's mind was reeling from the way she was touching him, caressing his bare chest in a slow rhythm with her fingertips, making him melt.
Fuck, he was a goner. He was aware he was touching starved, but he had no idea it was this bad. With one simple brush of her skin against his, he was ready to spill every secret he'd ever had.
"Yes," he breathed after a moment, his head nodding rapidly as he spoke in a low voice. "Absolutely." He swallowed, licking his dry, chapped lips as he looked at her and nonverbally pleaded for another kiss. God, how he wanted to kiss her again. Kiss her until she was red, till she was screaming his name and begging for more.
Y/N smiled, leaning towards him as their lips touched. Their kisses got slower and softer. Adrian gently cupped her chin, pulling her lips gently against his own and then, without saying another word, pulled her onto his lap as they kissed deeply.
His mind was completely blank. There was nothing else. Nothing else but her. Just her. If his brain had been working properly, he would've made a bigger fuss about his whole secret identity being out in the open. However, his body was acting purely on instinct and instinct alone as he held the girl he was so enamoured with tightly to him, kissing her ardently as if she were some precious jewel worth protecting. Because to him, she was.
Loud gunshots from whatever movie they were watching broke them from their trance. They blinked, both disoriented for a split second, before laughing at themselves.
"That is a lot of fake blood," Y/N commented as she looked over her shoulder to the TV. She giggled as she turned her gaze back to Adrian, who looked rather sheepish. "Hi."
"Hey."
With a soft grin, Y/N reached up and cupped the sides of his face. "Your secret is safe with me," she murmured softly, pressing their foreheads together as her thumbs brushed gently over his cheekbones.
Adrian's expression softened as he looked into her eyes, feeling a surge of gratitude washing over him. It felt surreal, yet so incredibly right to him. And now he would never let anything get between them. That was his vow. Never, never ever. He'd always be her guard, her protector.
"You know you're never going to be able to get rid of me now, right?" he mumbled, smiling playfully as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her body closer to his.
"Why would I ever want to? You're too cute," she teased lightly. A smirk slowly crept onto her face. "Besides, I don't know how I'll live without your attention."
She'd had his total attention for ages now. All of it. Both Adrian and Vigilante. But they had been separate. In a way, he'd been holding himself back on both fronts and now she knew the truth, he no longer had to do that. And as much as the thought of being completely and utterly himself terrified him, it didn't scare him as much as the idea of living without her.
He'd gotten a taste of her and he liked it. Liked it so much that he was in desperate need of more. So much so that he wouldn't mind losing himself to her, to them as a pair. And maybe, just maybe, he already had.
#adrian chase#vigilante#vigilante x reader#adrian chase x female reader#adrian chase x y/n#adrian chase x reader#adrian chase x you#peacemaker
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Storytime: My traumatic pregnancies and why abortion access is also a mental health issue. (Part one.)
(TW: Miscarriage, Pregnancy complications, PPA/PPD, Blood)
"What happened, didn't you take care of yourself?"
That was what an elder female coworker said to me the day I returned to the office after my miscarriage.
In November 2011, I was 15 weeks along in my first pregnancy when I woke up to blood on the mattress. Having never been pregnant before, I genuinely didn't know what it meant; I'd heard that bleeding during pregnancy happened sometimes, and the worst I allowed myself to contemplate was a scenario that put me on bed rest for the remainder of the nine months. Fearing what the doctor would say, I called my older sister first to basically beg her for reassurance that there a chance that I––and by extension, the baby––was fine. Obviously, she had no answers, so I got a hold of my in-laws to take me to the OB/GYN for an emergency visit since my husband was still teaching at the school.
The technician was very quiet during the ultrasound. We're talking no eye contact. I had to ask if there was a heartbeat.
"No. There's no heartbeat."
She said nothing else. Just wiped off the gel, moved the box of tissues next to my table, and left. My mother in-law gathered me up into her arms, and I wept while we waited for my doctor to reiterate what the ultrasound had already proven. When my OB/GYN doctor of two years finally showed up, she sat across from me with a sympathetic look on her face and said, "I'm so sorry, Jennifer."
I paused in my sobbing to croak, "My name is Venessa."
"What?" She glanced down at her file. "Oh, I'm sorry, they gave me the wrong file! Excuse me..." And then she was gone, too.
It was a Friday, and as there was no chance of getting me in for a D&C until Monday, I was sent home and blandly informed that I might experience "some intense cramping" and should therefore have some Ibuprofen on hand. On the way out the door, my in-laws told my husband what I didn't have the voice to say over the phone, so he found a last-minute sub and met all of us at a Mexican restaurant where his parents treated us to Wheaton's best fajitas and sangria in hopes of easing the pain we were in. (I later found out he excused himself from class to cry by himself in the teacher's bathroom.)
Foolishly did I assume the worst was over and that all that lay ahead of me was some period cramping. It was 1AM when I woke up with pain like I was being impaled through my lower midsection.
I remember crawling on all fours to the phone and dialing the emergency number to my OB's office. Several prompts later, I finally got a human, a nurse who asked me what I was feeling.
"They said cramping," I said through gritted teeth. "This isn't normal. I feel like I'm dying--"
"You've just miscarried. You were far enough along that this may feel more like an early labor than a period."
"What??" I gasped. "What do I do? Can I come in? I can't even stand up..."
"It doesn't pay to come into urgent care for this," he said mechanically. "There's not really anything we can do for you. Just take another ibuprofen and it should run its course."
My breath vacated my lungs. "Right... Okay... Thank you..."
I hung up and crawled back to my bed room, grabbing my husband's arm and scaring the daylights out of him when he opened his eyes to find me on the floor. He scrambled out of bed and lifted me up, walking me out to the living room as I cried. I nearly dragged him down with me when another contraction lanced me through the gut and my legs gave out.
I couldn't sit and I couldn't stand, so he brought me over to the CD player, put on Michael Bublé, and let me lean all my weight into him as we rocked in place––a sort of tragic slow dance punctuated by waves of agony 5 minutes apart. He helped me to the bathroom several times over the next five hours as my body violently expelled all the evidence that I'd ever been pregnant, like I was trapped in an endless Sam Raimi movie.
Finally, just before the sun rose, my body calmed enough for us to go back to bed. When Monday came, they told me the D&C was unnecessary. An ultrasound showed my uterus was empty.
A clean canvas. Like nothing had ever happened.
Except I'd started painting the nursery. The room beside my bedroom had been cleared of my drafting table and art supplies to make room for a new little person I'd never had a chance to know. I walked around my house like a ghost for several days while I recovered and grieved, always winding up in this room and never remembering how I got there, punishing myself with shame-driven thoughts about having caused it because the fact was, I was so scared to be pregnant.
I wondered, Had I willed this? From the moment the second purple stripe showed up on the pee stick, I grappled with terror of having a difficult labor and delivery, of not being tall enough to house a growing baby without destroying my body, of handing down the generational trauma that had made so many of my family members succumb to addiction, codependency, depression, and other psychological maladies. I knew this baby would also mean leaving my job because it involved so much traveling. My world would be completely upended, and while this was what I wanted and had chosen, it was also a leap into the unknown that put everything in my life at risk, above all, my life itself.
Prior to my miscarriage, I'd had an abnormal ultrasound––abnormal in that the fetus was smaller than it should have been at the time the ultrasound was taken. My doctor reassured me it wasn't something to worry about in a tone that seemed to convey this was a common occurrence, so I tried not to dwell on it. Of course, I now understand that this was the first sign that, genetically, the baby would not make it to term.
Society told me my fears were selfish considerations. And for this reason, despite all the evidence in that very first ultrasound that told me this was not a typical pregnancy, I shamed and blamed myself for losing it. I internalized the chilly regard of the technicians and the doctor's kid glove treatment of me as evidence that all this trauma was on me. And when I came back to work, all the words of comfort from other women around me who had also miscarried, among them one of my supervisors, got drowned out as soon as one ignorant woman accused me of not taking care of myself.
Looking back on that experience in the wake of losing Roe v. Wade, I've considered what a court would say today about what happened to me. Would they side with the person at my workplace, confiscate the journals where I poured out my worries as evidence that I had in fact stunted my own pregnancy somehow?
I also marvel at how lucky I was to have a caring spouse and supportive family members in a moment where all my healthcare resources abandoned me to face a traumatic labor and delivery in my own bathroom. I've given birth to two children since then, and though neither of those labors were as painful as my miscarriage was, those experiences solidified the decision that, were I to get pregnant a fourth time, I would abort it.
But that's another story.
[Part Two coming soon.]
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To go with the water park one obey me brothers on a long car drive+ what they would play
I thought if I did one at the water park why not on the way there?
If you want the water park one here ⬇️
This can be romantic or platonic
Request: no
Lucifer-
He's the driver if barbatos isn't there
It's calm if it's just him if it's all of them or lord
Trying to make everyone settle from being in the car
If you offer to drive for awhile he'll say no but just keep insisting and at some point he'll love you more and be thankful
Mammon-
He sits next to where ever you are or on you
Is going insane like he cannot sit any longer his leg hurt from it
When you stop off for food he runs around the restaurant
The good boy sits and stops complaining when you tell him too you had to use the pact
Leviathan-
It's just any kind of anime song too
He's used to sitting for long times playing games so he's fine
He walks around the car a bit when you get to your place wherever you were going
He sits any where but he would want to be next to you
Satan-
He doesn't care where he sits tbh
If you get him some books he'll be fine he's also good at sitting reading so he's good like levi
He'll have to walk around a bit at the restaurant and at wherever your going to
Asmodeus-
He needs to be next to you like NEEDS to be next to you
He can't stand being in a car all dayy
He'll do skincare while in the car with you after all the ride he runs around the place your at
Beelzebub-
He's fine getting sat anywhere
He so good during the ride like he sits there looking adorable like normal
If you bring a bunch of snacks for him he'll literally have heart eyes
He's normally athletic so he'll probably run a cross country after
Belphie-
Just something easy for him to play
He falls asleep right away on your lap like he's on the floor with his head back in between your legs
Sleepy boy just there like he's fine
if you have squish mellows where ever your going or if you just have them in the car for him he'll fall in love more istg
#lucifer x reader#mammon x reader#leviathan x reader#obey me leviathan#satan x reader#asmodeus x reader#beelzebub x reader#belphie x reader#obey me#Spotify
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Save the Last Dance For Me - Azul Ashengrotto x Reader
A fic based on the song Save the Last Dance For Me by Michael Bublé
________________________________________________________________
Azul and the Tweels were hosting an event at the Mostro Lounge so as to make a great profit. You see, they were offering discounts because of a brilliant plan you came up with: more people would come for discounts and a romantic atmosphere to bring their significant others to campus. Easy profit: more people, more money.
When you brought this suggestion up to the trio, Azul was blushing while Jade and Floyd both shared a knowing smirk. You talked about it with such a business-like attitude, but the cecaelia couldn’t help but notice how your eyes shined at the ‘romantic atmosphere’ part.
“Little shrimpy might be right, boss~” Floyd said. Jade nodded his head in agreement.
“I see. I assume you’ll be attending as well, correct? Would you be so kind as to volunteer your time to help get the lounge ready?” Azul asked as calmly as he could.
“Of course! You’ll be needing as much help as you can! I’ll be back tomorrow to start!” You said.
Now, a week later, you were sitting at one of the barstools and waiting on loving couples. Because everyone was with the one they loved most, they were drowning in oxytocin which made them more happy.
There was a dance floor in the middle of the lounge, and there were a few couples dancing there as well. Oh, how you wished to be on the dance floor with someone. Well… there was a specific someone you wanted to go dance with… a certain octomaid…
What you didn’t know, however, is that Azul had a trick up his sleeve. You see, he was going to use this opportunity to confess to you. If he were to do it in front of people, then there’s no way you could reject him… right?? Plus, he knew how much you loved to dance, so he was going to sing the perfect song. The Tweels were setting up the sound system and a mic backstage as he was staring at you with a loving gaze. He really did love you.
Then Jade came and told him that the setup was done. Azul walked over to Floyd, who was holding the mic-clip out to him. Azul clipped it onto his jacket. Then, the music started. He walked over to where you were sitting and offered his hand to you
“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He asked. He had a confident smirk, but you could tell by how his eyes widened slightly when you took his hand that he was nervous.
He pulled you to the dance floor. He put his other hand on your waist while you put yours on his shoulder. He had a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Now you can dance every dance with the guy
Who gives you the eye, let him hold you tight”
Your eyes widened. You didn’t know about this at all! When did he have time to plan this?
Nonetheless, you were going to enjoy it to the max. You smiled and looked into his eyes. You were stepping to the song… 1, 2, 3, pause, 5, 6, 7, pause, again.
“And you can smile every smile for the man
Who held your hand beneath the pale moonlight”
Then, Jade walked by and easily stole your hand from Azul’s, meaning you were dancing with Jade now. You smiled at how the cecaelia seemed a tad upset at you dancing with someone else, but you knew it was all in good fun.
“And don’t forget who’s taking you home
And in whose arms you’re gonna be
So darling, save the last dance for me”
Azul slyly took your hand again and led you away from Jade, who was snickering. You looked again into the cecaelia’s eyes, and you were immediately entranced. He was beautiful… more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen.
He spun you out of arm's reach, leaving you to begin dancing with yourself. You spun and moved your hips, now knowing what’s going on. Floyd and Jade swooped in and started dancing next to you. You started laughing and were amazed by how well they could dance.
“Oh, I know the music’s fine
Like sparkling wine, go and have your fun
Laugh and sing, but while we’re apart
Don’t give your heart to anyone”
Azul walked over and put his hands on your hips and started singing into the crook of your neck. The feel of his breath on your neck made you shiver in the best way possible.
“And don’t forget who’s taking you home
And in whose arms you’re gonna be
So darling, save the last dance for me”
Azul decided to be slick and leave a feather-like kiss on your neck before moving away. Your eyes shot wide open and a blush made its way onto your face.
You held out your hand, and Azul grasped it gently and placed a kiss onto your knuckle. You took the opportunity to catch him off-guard and pulled him to you. You then placed a kiss on his cheek.
“Baby, don’t you know I love you so
Can’t you feel it when we touch?
I will never ever let you go
I love you oh, so much”
The lines took you by surprise. He looked into your eyes with such a loving gaze. He looked like a seal in love and it made your heart flutter.
A while ago, all the other couples got off the dance floor, but you didn’t notice until now. Frankly, you didn’t really care either. You just cared about dancing with the love of your life.
“You can dance, go and carry on
‘Til the night is gone
And it’s time to go
If he asks if you’re all alone
Can he walk you home, you must tell him no”
Azul spun you around and held your other hand delicately. You both went back to the strategic steps: 1, 2, 3, pause, 5, 6, 7, pause, again.
It was like you’ve been dancing together forever. You were both very coordinated, when in reality this was your very first dance. It was as magical as one could imagine.
“Cause don’t forget who’s taking you home
And in whose arms you’re gonna be
Save the last dance for me”
He spun you around again, but this time your back was against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, and you swayed back and forth for a bit. You were having the time of your life. You wished this moment didn’t ever end.
“Oh, I know that the music's fine
Like sparkling wine, go and have your fun
Laugh and sing, but while we're apart
Don't give your heart to anyone”
He turned you around and lifted your head up to meet his eyes. His lips were very close to yours, but you pulled away at the last second, deciding to tease him a bit.
“And don’t forget who’s taking you home
And in whose arms you’re gonna be
So darling, save the last dance for me”
He put his hands on your hips and lifted you up and twirled you around. His strength always surprised you. He looked at you with a genuine smile and it would have made you melt in a puddle if you weren’t dancing.
“So don’t forget who’s taking you home
And in whose arms you’re gonna be
So darling, save the last dance for me”
He set you down with a certain elegance that made you feel like you hovered to the ground. He grabbed your hands and began the steps again. However, you didn’t look at your feet to see if you did it right. You stared into each other’s eyes.
“Oh baby, won't you save the last dance for me
Ooh, you make a promise
That you'll save the last dance for me
Save the last dance
The very last dance
For me”
He spun you around many times before you got dizzy. Then, when he did the last note, he dipped you down. You were both gasping for air.
With a sudden rush of adrenaline, you pulled him into a full kiss. Applause erupted from the onlookers and they threw roses.
It was a great night, to say the least.
#twst#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst x reader#azul x reader#azul ashengrotto#azul ashengrotto x reader#octavinelle#octavinelle x reader#twst azul#twst azul ashengrotto#twst azul x reader
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Christmas Prompts!!!!!
6. Tangled lights / "How did you even do this??"
Okay but imagine Peter Parker trying to put up the lights around the inside of the compound by swinging and completely getting wrapped in them…maybe the other avengers find him all tangled and decide to playfully torment the young hero.😆
(I loved your ghost story fic!)
This is the first of many (LATE) christmas prompts that I got last year. This list is now closed, but I might open it up again in November if people were interested (or I might even do another list, though it was hard to come up with the entire list last time lmao).
This is everything I wanted from this prompt omg it's adorable! Thank you so much for your MIND being this amazing. (I also think my title is kinda funny hehe)
And I'm glad you liked the ghost story fic! I was pretty happy with it ngl ^^
Hope you enjoy! <3
Masterpost Link
With Great Power Comes Great Christmas Lights
There were few things Peter would ever outwardly disagree with Tony about, but when it came to Christmas he would never back down.
As a hyper teenager who had the festive excitement level of a 5 year old, Peter was insistent that Christmas celebrations (and decorations) could begin on November 1st (AKA once Halloween ends).
Tony was less than impressed when he woke up the morning after the Halloween party with a throbbing headache, flashing Christmas lights, and obnoxiously loud Mariah Carey songs.
And so the pair had come to an agreement, that Peter could decorate as much as he wanted on the morning of December 1st - past sunrise specifically (Tony had been woken at 2am one too many times by the whirring motors of giant blow-up Santas).
Which brings us to the cheery morning today.
Being spiderman definitely had its perks - light hanging being one of them. There was something even more joyful about swinging round the compound absolutely decking the halls with the most colorful string lights that the world had to offer.
There was Michael Bublé singing in his earphones, festive red white and green colors on his jumper, and an already empty gingerbread iced latte cup nestled in the pocket of his sweatpants. The day was already perfect as Peter swung without a care in the world.
That was until one of his webs didn't quite latch onto it's target, and sent the young hero hurtling down from the ceiling.
Thankfully he had practically crafted a net with the amount of Christmas lights he had laid around the place, which he managed to land himself in the middle of. While initially grateful for the soft landing, he quickly realized he was absolutely stuck - wrapped tightly in wire with LED lights prodding uncomfortably into his body. He had fallen upside down, one arm trapped behind his head and the other essentially tethered to his waist.
With each wriggle of indignant frustration, Peter became more and more tangled in the Christmas lights. His legs were the only part of him that could truly move, and even then it was more of a helpless flair in the air above him. He let out an audible huff, defeatedly releasing the tension in his muscles he was using to escape. As he felt himself relax, the wires began to slowly rotate his body at a comical pace.
And to make matters worse, right when Peter's back faced the door, it opened.
"What happened here Queens?"
"Shit..." Peter said under his breath.
Of course Steve would manage to finish his morning run at the exact moment that Peter was at his most humiliating moment of the day. Why wouldn't it be Captain America himself who walked in to a very un-spiderlike Spider Man sight?
Two hands pressed themselves near Peter's hips and gently spun the hero to face Cap. Well, the angle made it more of a face-to-belly interaction but it worked all the same
"Hi Mr Rogers..." Peter said sheepishly, looking up at the hero.
"Need a hand?" He offered. There was a hint of a grin in his voice, but not enough to give away just how funny he found the situation.
Peter wriggled slightly, before nodding. There was no way he would get out of here himself, and the earlier he escaped the less people would see what happened. Steve began trying to unravel wires around Peter's shoulders in the hopes that the he would slip through and fall to the floor.
As a hand fumbled around the back of his ribs where one arm was trapped, Peter couldn't help but squirm. Choked giggled spurted out of his mouth every time the Captain's fingers prodded a particularly sensitive spot.
"Hold still..." Steve grumbled, his other hand simply resting against Peter's exposed side.
But that was enough to make the kid jump and burst out in nervous anticipatory laughter.
"Come on kid!" Steve chuckled, keeping his hands exactly where they were. "I barely did anything!"
"Mr Rohohogers plehehease wait!" Peter giggled out, wriggling and trapping himself even further in the wires. "I cahahahan't!"
Steve sighed, taking a step back from the trapped hero and folding his arms in front of his chest. "Well, I have no choice..."
Peter (once he had calmed down) gave him a quizzical look.
"If you're gonna move like that-" Steve gestured to the boy, stifling a grin, "I'm gonna have to get the others to help."
"Nonononono please Mr Rogers!" Peter begged, mouth agape and cheeks turning red.
But there was no use, Steve was already moving towards the sleeping quarters.
"I'll stay still I swear!" Peter shouted after him.
"Too late!" Steve called back.
Without a moment to lose, Peter began thrashing in his bonds. Nervous giggles pouring out of his mouth as his mind took off in a thousand different directions all of which ended with him getting his shit wrecked. If he could just wriggle himself free he wouldn't have to face the embarrassment of an absolute assault of ticklish sensations from who knows how many of his favourite heroes. And yes sure he wouldn't exactly mind it, and it wouldn't be the first time it had happened, but he really didn't need them seeing a pattern of just how often he gets himself into potentially tickly scenarios.
"Well what do we have here?" An unmistakable teasy voice smirked from behind.
'Oh fuck' Peter thought to himself. Of all the people Steve could bring to help, why Bucky?? Pete was frozen, aside from the agonizingly slow spin his body was permanently maintaining. As he finally reached an angle where his head could turn enough to see who Steve had brought, his heart began to pound.
"Are you trapped, little bug?" Thor chuckled.
"How did you even manage this?" Natasha smirked amusedly.
There were FOUR OF THEM?? Surely they didn't need four people to hold and untangle him??
"Alright, here's how we'll get him out." Steve grinned, beginning to explain his plan. "Bucky and I will untangle him, Thor stay low ready to catch him, and Nat hold his feet and help our lights from the top."
With four superheroes approaching him, Peter's face broke into a skittish smile. He felt eight different hands begin to gentle maneuver different lights around his body. So far so good, no stray pokes or prods. Maybe they were actually trying to hel-
"AGH!" Peter squeaked as someone gave his side a squeeze.
"What was that Petey?" Bucky asked innocently, though Peter saw right through that façade.
"That," Steve began, "is why I need help."
"Nononono Mr Rogers plehehease!" Peter pleaded, already squirming as best he could.
"Any time I get anywhere near freeing him, he starts wiggling and laughing and I'm right back where I started." Steve sighed sarcastically. "So I need you three to hold him."
And with Thor at his neck, Nat at his feet, and the terrible tag team of Bucky and Steve at his ribs, Peter braced himself for what may be the worst tickle attack he has ever experienced.
The untangling began again, but this time Peter's nervous system was on red alert for any fingers or thumbs spending a little too long next to his body.
Nat was the first to strike.
As each strip of lights circled his body, sharp claw-like fingernails scratched against the soles of his feet. Peter squealed and jumped with each sensation, breaking into a stream of giggles when Nat's singular strokes turned to a five-finger spidering technique every so often.
"Peter!" Bucky grinned. "You have got to quit moving!"
As the last word left Bucky's mouth, a metal hand grabbed onto Peter's exposed side - fingers menacingly poking into the ribs.
"NOHO!" Peter squeaked, thrashing move violently to try and regulate the unbearably ticklish presence of Bucky's fingertips.
"You heard him Parker, stop it." Steve teased, tickling whatever ribs he could access around Peter's arm.
"WAHAHAHAHAIT!"
The task of untangling the friendly neighborhood spiderman had been quickly abandoned, and now it seemed their only mission was to tickle the poor kid to tears.
"You'd better be careful with all that squirming, you may slip and fall out!" Thor laughed. "But I am here to catch you, see? Ready."
Peter could barely catch the end of Thor's sentence, as the thunder god gently wiggled his fingertips against each side of Peter's neck. There was no escape, every time he bent his head to one shoulder Thor just moved to feather along the other one.
He was a goner. Without a single hope of survival, Peter could only pray that someone else would wake up (his screeching laughter helped with that plan) and take pity on the him.
And as Tony cleared his throat from the doorway, Peter thought his prayers had finally been answered. The tickling stopped abruptly as everyone turned to look.
"His hips are his worst spot you know."
Peter's eyes exploded into panic, and he didn't even have the chance to beg for mercy before an endless zap of ticklish electricity shocked his entire nervous system.
"NAHAHAHAHAHA!" He screeched, flailing with more power than ever before.
There were too many hands on his hips to count, not that he could focus on putting numbers together at that moment. They climbed under wires and lights alike just to reach the sensitive flesh that was now completely exposed from under his jumper and sweatpants due to his writhing.
Somehow, with a miraculous combination of Peter's wriggling and everyone else's hands unintentionally moving the Christmas lights, the young hero slipped through the cords and crumpled into Thor's arms (thanks to the god's lighting fast reflexes, otherwise the kid would have fell head first into the floor).
After giving him some breathing space, Tony moved closer to help Peter to his feet.
"I think we're done here, Steve?" Bucky grinned, elbowing his best friend.
"Yeah, while that was pretty cute, I'm going back to bed." Nat half-smiled half-grumbled.
There was a chorus of agreeing noises and nodding heads as the rest of the crew headed back to their rooms, leaving Peter and Tony alone.
"So what exactly am I looking at here kid?" The billionaire gestured to the decorated room, wrapping an arm around the boy and squeezing his side.
Peter yelped, and let out an embarrassed laugh.
"Merry Christmas?"
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I legitimately wonder if people would give Chris Pratt or Michael Bublé the same benefit of the doubt if one of them had an affair with Olivia Wilde, and then ended up breaking Jason Sudeikis’s family up.
Please, Harries and every Chris Pratt hater/Michael Bublé hater, tell me why you give Harry the benefit of the doubt when if it was anyone else in this particular situation, you would be rightfully calling them out.
@raven-eyed-wanderer @impulse-cake @luciaelena @george-rr-binks
#chris pratt#pro chris pratt#leave chris pratt alone#michael buble#michael bublé#leave michael bublé alone#what did michael bublé ever do to you#fuck harry styles#anti harry styles#fuck olivia wilde#anti olivia wilde#anti anti chris pratt
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A Christmas Inheritance
Shifty Powers x OFC
Chapter One: Homecoming
Summary: After time away in Philadelphia for college, Zenie returns to her hometown for Christmas to collect an unexpected inheritance. Her only goal? To settle her legal business and return to the city. But what happens when she meets a handsome mechanic who throws a wrench in her plans? (The obligatory modern Hallmark au)
A/N: *takes a drag from a fancy pipe like an old timey professor* Okay so here's the deal:
I did that Hallmark poster maker earlier this month and could not stop thinking about writing a Hallmark au. "I don't like the holidays" and "I survive on cheesy Christmas romcoms" are sentences that can and do coexist within the Dove. 🫶🏼
We're only a few chapters into Like A Girl (Like a Man), but the holidays are ✨hell✨ Writing this every now and then when I'm blocked on other writing projects has been fun and kinda therapeutic. Does any of this plot really make sense? No! But that's the magic of Hallmark movies baby - all that matters at the end of the day is that they end up happy! And based on everything I'm about to put Zenie through in LAGLAM, she can be happy this time. Let's let them have this, shall we? (And if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, just let me know 🤗)
As usual, this is based on the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans! 💕🕊️
Warnings: mentions of death, discussions of grief
The weight of the world already feels like it’s crushing Zenie’s lungs before she even opens the car door. Michael Bublé’s voice greets her as she tosses her bag into the backseat, and Bill is scrolling through the Ultimate Christmas Playlist that he and Babe made so long ago that certain songs inevitably show up in their Spotify Wrappeds each year. When her friend starts to recite the scores from the Flyers game the night before, her grip on the steering wheel loosens ever so slightly. It’s almost easy to imagine that they’re just driving around killing time instead of heading into a situation that has the potential to end with an all out McGlamery family civil war.
Still, if she has to be plunging headfirst into all of this, she’s glad Bill is by her side. There’s a reason his friends call him Wild Bill, and it’s not just because of his driving – although that’s more of a joke, because even with a prosthetic leg, he can still drive better than anyone in their friend group.
There’s also the fact that Bill nothing short of insisted that he accompany her on the trip back to North Carolina. On the one hand, ever since she helped him with a paper on the epidemic of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, he or any other member of their friend group always seems to be right by her side, wherever she goes. On the other hand, if any family drama is going to break out over issues regarding the Will, Wild Bill Guarnere is a total wildcard who will not be afraid to fight back, grab whatever the lawyer says now legally belongs to Zenie, and then drive them back home as fast as his 4Runner will go – which is exactly what he has been telling Zenie for almost two weeks now.
(He also admitted that he wants to get out of the city for a bit. He and Frannie have hit a bit of a rough patch, and he seemed to think an adventure and a change of scenery would clear his head. Who is Zenie to judge?)
“You think your ma will like me?”
The question drags her out of her head and back into the present. “Huh?”
“Nothin’.” Bill smiles. “Just wanted to make sure you were still with us.”
“Sorry, I just – “ She blows out a breath. “I haven’t been back to North Carolina since this time last year. And even then I didn’t go all the way home; I stopped in Cherokee for the funeral, and then headed back to Philly the second it was over.”
Something feels strange about referring to the town she grew up in as home. For a while now, home has been in Philadelphia, referring to the apartment she shares with Bill, Babe, and Fran, when she spends the night. I’m heading home; I’ll meet you at home; You need me to bring anything home? How easily the words slip from her lips, even if Philadelphia itself still feels a bit like a sweater that your aunt buys for you under the assumption that she knows what size you wear even though she hasn’t seen you since you were twelve - it takes some getting used to.
“Well, Zenie Beanie, don’t you worry, because you’re not going home-home. Just to your hometown, not your parents’ house.” Her parents’ house, with it’s walls that always felt too close and too much like a heavy blanket that was slowly suffocating her.
“Did you book a hotel?” She raises an eyebrow, flips her blinker on as she merges. “It might be the country, but this isn’t exactly the time of year to go roughing it.”
“We have a house.”
“So like an Airbnb?”
“No. You’ll see.”
Zenie is nothing if not the youngest sibling, and her friend knows her well enough to know that she hates – maybe even despises – surprises. Inflating her lungs with a deep breath, she prepares herself to make this a very annoying road trip. “Bi-ill.”
She accidentally cuts herself off with a laugh when she sees his face. He grew up with a brood of siblings. He knows what’s coming to him.
“Zeeee-na!” He crosses his arms. “Nope! You just have to wait and see the accommodations yourself. It’s the first of many Christmas surprises.”
Many? It catches her so off guard that she almost slams on the breaks.
“What are you talking about?”
To prove a point, Bill turns up the volume and practically shouts along to Merry Christmas, Kiss My Ass, refusing to elaborate further.
Sometimes Zenie really has to ask herself why she’s friends with Bill Guarnere.
She shouldn’t really be surprised when they pull up at her Granny’s old house. Not the one on the Boundary, but the one in Zenie’s nearby hometown, not too far down the gravel road from where her parents live. It had been where she had chosen to live after Zenie’s grandfather passed, when she packed up all her belongings and bought the house as soon as it hit the market, shrugging and saying that if she was moving to be closer to her only daughter and grandchildren, then she was going to be close.
Granny’s house was nothing special, Zenie has come to realize as time passes. Not in appearance, anyway. It’s quaint white paint, large windows, and sprawling front porch don’t give it much distinction between the other houses in the valley, but much like a good book or a person with a kind heart, it’s about what lies inside that counts.
Except part of what made the inside of the house so special was that her Granny was in it. With her warm smile, a welcoming hug, and a pot of fresh coffee always at the ready, everything about the days she spent in her Granny’s house as a girl felt like magic. Especially around Christmas, when the decorations and Christmas stories lit the house up with wonder. Granny would drag out her old record player, and Bing Crosby would keep them company while they baked cookies and put stamps on cards that needed to be sent out to what seemed like practically everyone that Granny had ever met.
Now she’s gone. That Christmas spirit went with her when she passed. Hell, everything magical and inviting left with her. And her house stands in the valley, empty of that warmth and looking utterly lonely, as a testament to that.
Neither of them moves when Bill parks the car. Zenie is staring at the house and Bill is staring at Zenie as she stares at the house. She told herself she would not cry on this trip, under any circumstance, but now her eyes sting and she wants to turn the car around, but she also wants to say something, and she’s not sure if she wants to hug her friend for comfort or slap him for thinking that this was the Christmas surprise that she needed.
“I’m sorry,” Bill finally says. He reaches across the console, hand open with his palm up. Without looking, Zenie takes it, interlocks their fingers, and squeezes like she’s holding a stress ball.
It takes her a few tries to speak without bursting into tears. “Why . . . here?”
From the corner of her eye, she sees Bill’s shocked face as he turns towards her. “They didn’t tell you?”
Her eyes are too watery for her to be snarky with him right now. Her expression is all the question that he needs.
“Zenie, your grandmother left the house to you.”
The house before them looms even larger. A year of her grandmother’s Will being dragged out, all for Zenie to drive all this way and then find out she inherited a house in a town she hates? What is she supposed to do – move back home and live in it?
“We don’t have to stay here,” Bill assures her, already gently taking his hand back so that he can crank the car. (That’s part of why she’s friends with Bill, she thinks, answering her own question from earlier. He does things instead of talking about doing things. Anyone else would say that they didn’t have to stay there while secretly implying that they had to, but Bill says they don’t have to, and he’s willing to drive away with no questions asked.) “We’ll go to a hotel.”
But just as he’s about to crank the car, movement from the front porch catches Zenie’s eye. She’s been so caught up in memories and emotions that she never bothered to notice that the lights of the house were on – because when was the house not lit up, both literally and metaphorically, when her Granny lived in it?
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The next thing that Zenie knows, two little palms are slapping on the door of the car, and suddenly she’s climbing out the door and being enveloped by her niece and nephew, who are hugging her so tightly and squealing with such excitement that her heart feels full to burst and any tears in her eyes are from the pure joy of experiencing such unbridled affection.
“You’re here, you’re really here!” Jasmine cries, hooking her arms around Zenie’s neck so that she’s forced to bring the six-year-old up with her when she stands.
Sticky hands tug at her jacket as Jack vies for her attention. “Aunt Zena, is it true that you’re really going to stay for Christmas?”
Looking into her little nephew’s brown eyes, Zenie hesitates. A moment ago she had been willing to turn away from this place without a second thought. But now, seeing her niece and nephew and their excitement at her arrival, coupled with Bill’s fond smile as he watches them . . . Maybe a few days wouldn’t hurt. After all, her college is on break and she has someone covering for her at work. It’s not like she and her friends had anything better to do with their time off except watch cheesy holiday movies and sample Luz’s mixed drinks.
“Yes,” she says, if not a little reluctantly. “I’m staying, but I don’t know for how long.”
“Yes!” Jasmine cheers, the sound vibrating in Zenie’s eardrums. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever!”
Verbally, Zenie agrees, even though she’s not without her doubts, based on how family gatherings have gone in the past. And when she looks up and sees her older sister standing in the doorway, an envelope in her hands, Zenie repeats the sentiment like it’s a lifeline.
“I don’t know for how long.”
#Hey Zenie can you hold this real fast?#*throws my problems at her and runs off before she knows what's happening*#oc zenie mcglamery#my writing#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers#shifty powers x original female character#shifty powers x ofc#shifty powers#hbo war fanfic#hbo war#hallmark au#Like A Girl (Like A Man)
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379.
Are you a dreamer or a do-er?
Hmm, I’d say I’m a good mixture of both, depending on the subject.
Do you think people get what they deserve?
No. I wish life was that straightforward!
Does it take a lot of physical pain to make you cry?
Yeah, I only ever really cry with physical pain when my back is really bad or I have a heavy period.
Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game):
I can’t think of anything particularly weird or strange.
Do you like sitting in the front, back, or middle of the classroom?
I preferred sitting at the back.
Do you ever see commercials for restaurants that aren’t even in your area?
Not online, but I always get adverts on Facebook for places that are nowhere near me lol.
Do you know anyone who has been struck by lightning before?
Nope.
Which is better: living where there’s lots of tornadoes or lots of hurricanes?
I suppose I’d rather live somewhere with hurricanes, all things considered.
Would you pay if your dog needed an operation?
I have insurance for exactly that reason, lol. Animal healthcare can be so, so expensive -_-
If you’re a girl, what’s your favorite color of eyeliner?
Black, but I don’t see what my gender has to do with it lol.
Have you ever overflown a bathtub?
Nope. My parents always drilled it into me to never, ever walk off from a running bath lol.
Why did you ignore the last person you ignored?
I can’t remember the last time I actively ignored someone.
What’s your favorite pizza place?
The local Sourdough pizza place.
What’s at the top of your to do list in life?
I don’t really have a to-do list?
Do you ever eat leftover pizza cold?
Yeah, I sometimes prefer it cold over hot.
Where are you the most ticklish?
My feet. I HATE people touching my feet lol.
Would you put your life in danger to rescue someone?
It depends on the person? I mean, I’d probably risk my life to save my family or my pets, but maybe not a random stranger?
When you’re wanting a midnight snack, what do you normally get?
I don’t tend to eat too late at night, but I normally go for something like cereal or toast as it’s quick and easy.
Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet?
I have no idea - maybe CatDog lol.
Do you like marshmallows?
They’re okay. I like them on hot chocolates but I wouldn’t pick them otherwise.
What is your favorite flavor of candy cane?
Just regular peppermint ones are fine.
Do you have any shoeboxes full of old photos/letters/other memorable stuff?
Yeah, they’re all my parents’ house now.
When was the last time you felt seriously embarrassed?
I have no idea.
Have you ever liked a song, looked up the lyrics to it, then hated it?
Nope.
What’s your favorite Christmas song?
Cold December Night by Michael Bublé.
Did you like the show Invader Zim?
I’ve never seen it before. I wasn’t really allowed to watch TV growing up.
What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen in a grocery store?
Nothing is really standing out to me right now.
Do you prefer to pull off band-aids slowly or quickly?
Slowly.
Have you ever met any bands/band members before?
Yeah, nobody mega-famous though unless you count Lily Allen?
Do you enjoy riding around town looking at Christmas lights?
I used to love doing that as a kid.
What states have you been to in the past year?
I’ve never been to America.
Have you ever sleepwalked?
Nope.
What’s your favorite superhero movie?
I’m not really into superheroes.
Do you struggle with acne?
Not as an adult, but I had really bad skin as a teenager which I really struggled with. Nowadays though I only get one or two spots mid-cycle.
Around what year did you start using the internet, anyways?
We got internet at home in about 2001 I think, but it was dial-up and so, so slow lol. We got broadband when I was about 14 ish, which would be 2003/2004.
What did you do for your 16th birthday?
Went out for a Mexican meal with a group of friends.
Have you ever fostered an animal?
No, I don’t think I could cope with having to hand them back lol.
What’s your favorite form of exercise?
Walking dogs or horse-riding.
Do you have a back pack in a shape of an animal?
No.
Do you still take hot showers when it’s hot out?
Sometimes, yeah. I get sore muscles from work.
What’s your favorite type of cake?
Coffee and walnut or carrot cake.
Name something you thought was cool when you were younger but don’t now?
Getting drunk and going out drinking.
What was the last song you downloaded onto your computer?
I haven’t downloaded music in years.
What color are your headphones, if you have any?
White.
Do you honestly like The Beatles or are you just conforming?
I love the Beatles. I’ve been listening to them since probably before I was born lol - one of the earliest photos of me as a toddler is me sitting in the living room with my dads HUGE headphones on my head listening to The Beatles.
What was the last video message you received on your phone?
I think it was from Suzanne of Charlie playing with his birthday toys lol.
Who did you last talk to in Facebook chat?
My mum - letting her now my aunt was planning to visit in December.
When writing $ sign, do you draw one line through the S or two?
Just the one.
Do you feel bad for people your age who have never had a significant other?
Only if they want to be in a relationship and have ever had the chance.
When do you plan on moving out? If you’re already moved out, how old were you?
I moved out at 18, back in at 22, back out at 23, then back in at 27 and back out for good at 29.
Would you kiss the last person you texted?
Nah, she’s my sister-in-law lol.
What do you think of guys wearing colored skinny jeans?
I mean, it’s not for me but people can wear whatever they want.
Where do you normally get your hair cut?
I do my own or my sister-in-law is a hairdresser and she does it sometimes.
Would you trade last names with your best friend?
We have the same last name.
Would you ever get blonde highlights?
Yeah, I had them a lot when I was younger actually but I wouldn’t want to spend ages in the hairdressers nowadays.
Will you go to your high school reunion?
Nope.
Have you stayed up past 3 in the morning this week?
No.
Do you ever not speak to someone because you’re afraid you’ll annoy them?
No, I tend not to speak to people because I know they’ll annoy me haha.
Personally, do you think you have a nice smile?
No.
What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn’t have?
A sugar glider. Or a monkey, lol.
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sabrina cross quotes from hard sell
“Sabrina says with a smile that’s warmer than I’ve ever seen from her.”
“you need a backup list, Ian. Despite what Boy Wonder here thinks, I’m not a magician.”
“Sabrina sighs. “Hell’s frozen over, because I’m about to agree with him again. Boy Wonder is right”
“What’s your name, pet?” she purrs at the drunken guy.
“Sean.”
“Sean . . . ?”
“Galen.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Sabrina says with a warm smile. Then she claps her hands like a mom at a soccer party. “Okay, boys and girls, we’re moving this party to the Brandy Library. Drinks on Sean Galen. Be sure to get whatever you want; Sean’s feeling very generous tonight.”
“I shake my head in wonderment. “It’s like you’re from a different planet.”
“Well, get used to it, because I have every intention of making you a regular lunch date,” Sabrina says with a smile that’s warmer than I’ve ever seen from her.”
“We’re the Avengers,” I say with a little smile.
She pats my cheek affectionately. “I love that you’re such a dork.”
“She laughs. “You know, I’ve never really thought about it until now, but you must be the most powerful woman in Manhattan. Just how many New York secrets do you have access to?”
I shrug and give her an honest response. “Plenty.”
“Endure? Yeah, because sipping Veuve Clicquot with Michael Bublé playing in the background while waiting for someone to bring you clothes is a really tough life.”
“pretend to be completely smitten.”
“Smitten with what?”
I exhale through my nose. “With me, you jackass.”
“Shut up,” I say with a laugh, dabbing at my eyes. “And Lara, you’re lucky you’ve become one of my closest friends, too, otherwise I’d never forgive you for ruining my makeup.”
“The only thing I’m in love with is cheese,” Kate retorts.
I lick burrata off my thumb, not entirely sure I believe her, but I suppose it’s possible. It’s hard not to be in love with cheese.”
“I take a deep breath and look up. “It would seem I fell in love with the idiot.”
I’m prepared for Ian’s shock, but I see none. Instead he gives me a sympathetic smile. “Yeah. I figured.”
“Did you?” I murmur. “Might have been nice if you would’ve mentioned it. To me.”
“I dab at my eyes, trying to clean up the worst of the mascara mess. “Will you please stand up? You look ridiculous.”
“I hold out my left hand. “Put that ring on my finger.”
“Four babies. Final offer.”
I drop olives into my martini and add a twist to Matt’s. “You do realize you’re negotiating with yourself, right? I haven’t issued a single counteroffer.”
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There isn't much Cher hasn't done in her career. A Christmas album is new territory, though
LOS ANGELES
There isn't much Cher hasn't done in her career. She's achieved EGOT status, she's the only artist to have a No. 1 song in each of the past six decades — heck, she's got her own gelato business, Cherlato. But a Christmas album? That's new territory.
So, why now?
“I just didn't want to do one,” she told The Associated Press. “I didn't know how I was going to make it a ‘Cher Christmas album.’”
The secret, of course, was to lean into the incredible eclecticism of her career, all while avoiding the sleepy, saccharine pitfalls of a “Silent Night” -heavy holiday release.
Her first new album in five years, the appropriately titled “Christmas,” released Friday. In some ways, it required Cher to find her voice again. She hadn't sang since a March 12, 2020, performance in Oklahoma City was canceled when a Utah Jazz basketball player tested positive for the coronavirus.
So she called up her vocal teacher, “Adrienne Angel, who's 96, who came out and hung with me and we worked every day."
"And then I went to the mic and I was able to sing,” she says. “I have very young vocal cords.”
On “Christmas,” Cher enlists an all-star list of collaborators. There's Cyndi Lauper on “Put A Little Holiday In Your Heart,” Stevie Wonder on “What Christmas Means to Me,” Darlene Love on “Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home),” Michael Bublé on “Home,” and even the rapper Tyga on “Drop Top Sleigh Ride” — you read that last one correctly.
But working with others in this way is something she says she's never done before. When you're Cher, do you really need a featured voice?
“Well, with Darlene, I wasn't going to sing her song without her,” she says of the song they first sang together 60 years ago on “A Christmas Gift for You From Phil Spector.”
“With Stevie, I did the song, I loved the song, but there were just things I couldn't do, that were just Stevie," she says. "So, I called him and just said, ‘Stevie, I’ve done it. I’m pretty proud of it. But there are things I can’t do, and I need you.’”
“I was still trying to sell him when he’d already said yes,” she says. “At some point he asked me, ‘Is this my song?’ And I went, ‘You think I could call you to ask you to sing on someone else’s song?’”
Alexander Edwards, Cher's romantic partner and a credited producer on the project, is best friends with Tyga, who helped make the most unexpected and delightful collaboration happen.
“Christmas” is dedicated to Cher's late mother, Georgia Holt, who died just before the holidays last year. But don't mistake this album as therapy — the act of reclaiming Christmas in the face of loss, or a way to memorialize Holt.
“I think about my mom all the time,” she says. She doesn't need an album to remind her of her mom; her mom is everywhere.
“I don't have a bit of regret that my mom is gone because my mom was such a vibrant woman and she didn't like what was going on in her life,” she adds.
Cher says her mom sends her messages all the time — like recently when she rediscovered a huge plate she made her mom, flipped it over, and read what it said: “Dear mom, I love you, Merry Christmas."
“And it was like, 'Mom, you're just not going to leave me alone, are you?'” she says.
In addition to the album, Cher is preparing to release a 25th anniversary edition of her Grammy-winning album “Believe" on Nov. 3. Its title track is credited as the first use of autotune — though, as she recalls, it was termed a “pitch machine” at the time.
She was arguing with her longtime producer Mark Taylor about the track, and he brought up the new technology.
“It started and it was like, ‘Oh my God, this is the best thing ever.' And I thought, 'You don’t even know it’s me. This is the best thing ever.' And then we high fived,” she recounts.
But don't mistake an openness to technology and musical innovation as an openness to artificial intelligence.
Of the technology, Cher is quick to say: “Not AI. Someone did me doing a Madonna song and it was kind of shocking. They didn’t have it down perfectly. But also, I’ve spent my entire life trying to be myself, and now these a------- are going to go take it? And they’ll do my acting and they’ll do my singing?”
“I’m telling you, if you work forever to become somebody — and I’m not talking about somebody in the famous, money part — but an artist, and then someone just takes it from you, it seems like it should be illegal,” she adds.
For those keeping count: It is also the 35th anniversary of Cher winning the best actress Oscar for her role in “Moonstruck.” When asked if she will act again, she's quick to point out the necessity of a resolution to the ongoing Hollywood actors strike.
She was asked to do a special, she says.
“They said, ‘Well, we can do it in England.’ I said, ‘We can do it on the moon, but I’m not doing it,'" she says, not until an agreement is reached.
Spoken like, well, Cher.
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Songs I Think JJK Characters Would Have On Their Simping Playlist For You [II]
| |Characters: Todo Aoi, Miwa Kasumi, Kamo Noritoshi, Zen'in Mai, Nishimiya Momo, Iori Utahime, Tsukomo Yuki, Choso.
| |A/N: This one didn't take as long since I did all of the characters at the same time- so this group was already well and ready. Don't be shy to comment which playlists are your favorite or which songs you think are fitting! I'd also love to see if you have any songs you think are accurate for the characters, too (I adore music, so I'm always up to listen to suggested songs)! [💮= Favorites]
| |Check Out: prt.I
💥Todo Aoi💥
💥"Ain't No Mountain High Enough" (Marvin Gaye ft. Tammi Terrell)
💥"Catch A Feeling" (Michi)
💥"Get You" (Daniel Caesar ft.Kali Uchis)
💥"Best Interest" (Tyler The Creator)
💥"Finally Know What Love Is" (Us The Duo)
💥"My Kind of Woman" (Mac Demarco)
💥"I'm Loving Your Vibe" (Xavier Goodman)
💥"Sing To You" (John Splithoff)
🌁Miwa Kasumi🌁 [💮]
🌁"Would You Be So Kind" (dodie clark)
🌁"Inner Child" (SATICA)
🌁"Bubbly" (Colbie Caillat)
🌁"Cliché" (mxmtoon)
🌁"LOVE" (Michael Bublé)
🌁"I Do Adore" (Mindy Gledhill)
🌁"If I Could Ride A Bike" (Chevy & Park Bird)
🌁"Reasons Why I Like You" (Abbey Glover)
🍵Kamo Noritoshi🍵
🍵"God Only Knows" (Beach Boys)
🍵"At My Worst" (Pink Sweat$)
🍵"Lows" (Pink Sweat$)
🍵"Can I" (Tedy)
🍵"When I Look Into Your Eyes" (Khai Dreams)
🍵"Blinding Lights" (The Weekend)
🍵"u know it's real" (Ant Saunders)
🍵"Pretty Thoughts" (George Barney Roberts)
🍭Zen'in Mai🍭 [💮]
🍭"Paper Hearts" (Tori Kelly)
🍭"Renee's Song" (Bazzi)
🍭"Please Be Mine" (Molly Burch)
🍭"Ever Since" (Lovey ft. D'est Roy)
🍭"I Fall In Love Too Easily" (Chet Baker)
🍭"I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend" (girl in red)
🍭"Coffee Breath" (Sofia Mills)
🍭"Stop Pretending" (Sara Diamond)
🍑Nishimiya Momo🍑 [💮]
🍑"Your Love Is My Drug" (Ke$ha)
🍑"Love You 3000" (Stephanie Poetri)
🍑"Dear Future Husband" (Megan Trainor)
🍑"No One" (Alicia Keys)
🍑"lowkey" (NIKKI)
🍑"i like you more than i thought" (maggery)
🍑"Hide n' Seek" (cehryl)
🍑"Can't Help Falling In Love" (Elvis Presley)
⚾Iori Utahime⚾ [💮]
⚾"Sugar Rush" (Addison Grace)
⚾"Like You'll Never See Me Again" (Alicia Keys)
⚾"Butterfly Rain" (Tori Templet)
⚾"Sports" (Beach Bunny)
⚾"Fly Me To The Moon" (Frank Sinatra)
⚾"Love On Top" (Beyoncé)
⚾"Love Me Like You Do" (Ellie Goulding)
⚾"The Truth" (India Arie)
💋Tsukomo Yuki💋
💋"Still Into You" (Paramore)
💋"Dream A Little Dream of Me" (Doris Day)
💋"iloveyou" (BETWEEN FRIENDS)
💋"My Type" (Saweetie)
💋"That's What I Like About You" (The Romantics)
💋"Honeypie" (Jawny)
💋"Lovefool" (The Cardigans)
💋"Rock With You" (Michael Jackson)
🖤Choso🖤
🖤"Ocean Eyes" (Billie Ellish)
🖤"Put Your Head On My Shoulder" (Paul Anka)
🖤"I Hear A Symphony" (Cody Fry)
🖤"Japanese Denim" (Daniel Caesar)
🖤"Is This Falling?" (Charile Bennet)
🖤"No Other Love" (Jo Stafford)
🖤"Something About You" (Cozy Collective, Farley, Blayne B.)
🖤"Halfway in Love" (Calub)
© Boxeom 2021- please refrain from copying, reposting or translating. DO NOT REPOST MY WORKS.
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen fluff#choso x reader#choso x you#choso x y/n#todo aoi x reader#iori utahime#jjk imagines#jjk headcanons#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#kamo noritoshi x reader
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