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#when you take your two favorite killers and put ‘em together
lambinarmor · 1 year
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deathbound: those whose lives are intertwined in darkness are destined to suffer together
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stuccobaby · 9 months
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kahlopatra headcanons? 🙏
bestieeee
these are gonna be random a f
(college au/i aged em up)
Cleopatra runs cold, Frida runs hot. It's perfect.
yes, they both have their tickets for the Barbie movie. Cleopatra has her outfit planned out (pink pink pink everything) and Frida is very excited to be Cleo's Ken.
Frida thought she had a high tolerance for spicy food but Cleopatra is in a different league. Like she could go on Hot Ones and not even flinch.
but Cleo haaaates Tajin. Frida loves it. She puts it on fruit and Cleo couldn't believe her eyes.
Cleopatra has a cat! (i was picturing a siamese) Frida is lowkey allergic, but she can handle it. But if you thought Cleo was snooty...wait till you meet this cat.
Cleopatra snores. Frida thought it would be cute and quiet but it's actually kinda loud. Frida is contemplating ways to bring this up and survive to see another day.
Frida is an Aquarius! Cleopatra is a Scorpio (not to get in my astrology bag but I think she's a scorpio sun, leo rising and gemini moon. venus in leo or taurus. what do yall think about it.)
I wrote a lot hehe woops.
(TW: weed) Cleopatra is like a 'smoke at parties' kinda girl, whereas Frida smokes often for funsies and as a creativity boost.
(TW: weed) They tried to do a 'take an edible and go to an aquarium' date but Cleopatra got too high and freaked out in the shark tunnel. They'll try again but with an arboretum next time.
Frida can play the guitar. Cleopatra goaded her into playing for her once and folded immediately when she started singing. (at one point, Frida looked up and Cleo was taking off her clothes)
Speaking of, Cleopatra told Frida she signed up to be a model for her art class. Frida did not know she was a nude model. Frida should have guessed. damn it was hard to focus on painting that day
Cleopatra is now Frida's personal fashion consultant. She's a (cheerleader, homecoming queen) part-time model, she has a very keen eye for fashion obvi
When it's cold, Frida wears socks to bed and they argue about it all the time. They also argue about what side of the bed to sleep on (they both want the right side smh).
Frida loves going along with Cleo on her many beauty shop appointments (nails, hair, spa, etc) but won't go into any waxing/threading shop because the technicians start getting twitchy just looking at her. She feels like if she fell asleep, she'd wake up tied to the chair with two eyebrows.
They watch a lot of movies. Cleopatra laments how expensive TVs used to be but loves that they're cheap now because a big screen TV still makes her feel rich and luxurious.
Frida will be the first one to say I love you and it will mess Cleo up a little bit. don't worry tho, they'll talk about it! she's just not used to being loved (saad)
Frida is teaching Cleo Spanish, but all she wants to learn is swear words and dirty talk. it's gonna take a while
Cleopatra is a bug killer, Frida tries to trap and release.
Harriet (Frida's roomie in this AU) was extremely suspicious of Cleo at first ("wasn't she like your nemesis?") but she came around eventually ("enemies to lovers is kinda sexy...")
Frida is currently showing Cleo so many Spongebob episodes, she was sick of her constant references going to waste.
yes, they listen to a LOT of new music together. Frida tries to go in chronological order (2004 music, 2005 music etc), so that Cleo could hear the progression of music sound. (i could go on and on about music but these r getting long already)
Cleopatra is a passenger princess, but mostly because everybody is too scared to get in a car with her at the wheel; she drives like she's playing fucking GTA. (Frida thought people were kidding, but after they went soaring over a downhill speed bump one time, Frida politely took the keys forever).
speaking of GTA, that's Cleo's favorite video game. she enjoys mowing people down, blowing things up, and getting cute new outfits. Frida thinks its a good way for her to indulge her sadistic streak.
Mario Kartin': Frida mains an Orange Yoshi, Cleo goes between Peach and Rosalina (she refuses to make a Mii she thinks they're too ugly to represent her).
They become a different couple when they play mario kart. Frida is really fucking good and Cleopatra can't stand that shit eating grin every time she wins. (cleo would be like that tik tok sound: right hand on the bible, god can strike me down if im lying, that motherfucker's cheating!)
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I could write more but i wrote way too much already. y'all would have to ask for part 2. Also... may have snuck my next fic in here teehee.
if anybody wants to use these for art or what have you, go for it (but it better be gooood 😜)
tag and credit me tho so i can see it and be overjoyed
THANKS FOR ASKIN BESTIE!
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maweallgotohell · 4 months
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Heyyy ik you’re working on something rn, but if you still want to do requests I’d request something fluffy with Jerome… like cuddling or being touchy or whatever. I’m a hoe for fluffy soft stuff, personally :)
Hey hun <3
Thank u sm for your request.
And sorry I’m so late with this 🥲
I literally have 27 story drafts for the Cam character stuff and 3 stories I started to write, and somehow I’m working on all of them from time to time but somehow I need so fuckin‘ long to finish 'em.
But requests are something to distract myself from those if I’m having kind of a writers block on them so here we fuckin‘ go, baby!
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Fluffy Jerome would include:
• him being touchy. Literally all the time.
I’m sorry, but I can’t see this guy ever letting go of you, honey, nah ah.
He is always touching you, in whatever way. It doesn’t have to be holding hands all the time, even tho he loves that. How your small and soft hand fits in his large and rough ones so perfectly - It’s just chef’s kiss honestly.
When you two watch TV and sit on the couch together, cuddled up in a warm and cozy blanket, that’s big enough for the two of you, you mostly lean against him. First with just your shoulder and then with your head.
He doesn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt the comfortable silence while watching some nostalgic disney movie,
but he nearly always puts an arm around your shoulder, laying his hand onto the top of your head, pulling you closer in the motion. Then he just softly caresses your hair with his thumb while smiling to himself when you cuddle yourself up into his side even more. It’s just so cute tbh.
He also can’t stop smiling when you two are literally anywhere and you intertwine your pinky fingers. It’s just so fuckin‘ cute to him. Like a lost puppy. And he does that sometimes too. Jerome holding physical contact>>>>
• yeah, as I already mentioned, I’m hardly convinced he loves watching Disney movies
And I believe that his inner child is obsessed with the Disney princesses. Those movies are his favorite.
When you watch those, he always criticizes if the prince, or whoever “saves“ the princess, does something stupid while trying to save her. He then explains to you, how he would save you in such a situation, which would obv be a way sm better than theirs, because u are his princess and his plan to save you would be bulletproof.
Even tho it’s a joke, he makes up those plans kinda seriously, because he wouldn’t ever risk losing you. Ever.
He‘d also appear randomly and sing Disney songs. I’m fuckin serious darling.
You’re in the kitchen, making pancakes?
Not without musical accompaniment, babe.
The kitchen door swings open and your bf storms in, blasting ‚Be our guest‘ from Beauty and the Beast on full volume while dancing gracefully around the kitchen, acting like Lumière and knowing literally every. single. word and phrase.
He should’ve gone to broadway instead of becoming a serial killer.
First, you always break out in laughter, obv. But then you join in. How couldn’t u, really?
Couple goals, if u ask me.
• okay here comes another thing I literally ALWAYS imagine happening when yourein a relationship with him.
Like, you obv think he’s pretty. Super incredibly pretty. And most of the time he isn’t really insecure about anything but he has his moments where he feels like not being enough for you. Which obv isn’t true.
You then always take a moment to really tell him how much he means to you.
You also have these random moments where you just realize over and over again how much you love him. Like, obv you know that, but I think we all know these moments where we look at a person we know and suddenly this wave of admiration washes over us? This can’t be only me guys.
Like imagine you two preparing dinner or something and you take a quick glance at him slicing tomatoes but you’re not able to take your eyes off of him.
Eventually he notices and looks back at you questioningly but amused.
„ Yn, you good? Do I have something on my face?“
You shake your head. Then you take a step forward and put a hand on his cheek, tracing his scars with your thumb.
„ What is it then?“
You follow your thumb with your eyes, admiring every single inch of his face.
„Nothing…“, you say, still not looking him in the eyes.
„You’re just so pretty.“
GIRL WHEN I TELL YOU HIS HEART MELTS?
IT‘S DRIPPING ON THE FLOOR.
He loves these moments just as much as you do. Sometimes he still can’t get his head around the fact that somebody, and then even such a cute, loving and beautiful person like you, really genuinely loves him so much.
Sometimes he even shed a tear but psst-
Don’t tell the rest of the league ;)
Jk he wouldn’t really give a fuck if anyone saw him crying. His masculinity isn’t that fragile and those are tears of joy at that so yeah
Our baby is a slaying queen-
Anyone making fun of him could end up with a bullet right between the eyes so there isn’t really a risk of that as well
But he mostly just doesn’t cry. After the abusive time with his mom, he somehow just stopped crying. He shed so many tears through that time, that there kinda weren’t any left.
And if he cries, he just does it in your presence, because you’re his comfort person and he knows he’s safe with you.
It’s so cute-
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Hope u like it. I‘ll edit this later if you don’t mind-
And I’ll probably post more of this kinda stuff bcs tf this is cute so yeah.
If anything you had in mind wasn’t in here, feel free to let me know <3
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letarasstuff · 3 years
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"I don't wanna leave you, Daddy"
(A/N): This was requested by an Anon and it's based on this concept. I hope you are ready for the feels.
Summary: Hotch's daughter is an introvert. A quiet one. But why does she go even quieter after her mother's death?
Warnings: So much hurt. Angst. Fluff. It's bitter sweet.
Wordcount: 2.3k
✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________
(Y/N) never really was an outgoing person. Even since she was able to walk and talk, she still clung to her parents. She refused to play on the playground when other children were there. Socializing was just not her thing. Her parents were sure that she would never be the person to stand up and perform on stage spontaneously. And it is ok.
This doesn’t really change when Jack comes around. Sure, as he grows older and more capable of things (Y/N) plays with him. But it really seems like he is the only one around her age she is not afraid to befriend.
Aaron and Haley reassure themselves that their daughter will find friends in elementary school. After all this is an institution where many children go to and there also are adults trained for helping them coming along. She definitely will find at least one other kid to hang out with regularly and learn how to be a proper child. Because as of right now (Y/N) is more like a little adult, taking responsibilities, like watching over her little brother, she doesn’t need to do voluntarily. Maybe she will be more messy, rebellious, anything but a perfect child.
But this doesn’t exactly happen. (Y/N)’s teachers are really happy with her. Every parent-teacher conference is about how well and polite she is, always behaving good and following the rules. Sadly, they don’t have any good news regarding her social life. It’s not that she doesn’t get along with her classmates, it’s just that she isn’t able to strike up a conversation or is very good at keeping one long enough that a kid is interested in her.
Knowing that (Y/N) is mostly quiet in her school days, Aaron makes it a habit to bring her more often to the office. She surprisingly warms quickly up to his team and whenever she is around them the girl is an unstoppable tornado running loose around the bullpen.
This is kind of how she grows up until the age of middle school. (Y/N) learns some social skills and makes a few friends over the last few years. Unfortunately these friendships are not as deep as the parents wish, still it’s better than nothing.
Things get difficult when Aaron and Haley start to separate. It never is easy when parents fall out of love and it is not only difficult for Jack to see his father not as often as he used to, considering he still is a toddler needing both parents. Especially (Y/N), who is more of a daddy’s girl than a mommy’s girl, suffers from the situation at home.
Of course it’s hard on her to not see her father for a week or two at a time, but ever since her parents are going on parted ways she sees him at most one weekend every three weeks. This also changes her social life dramastically.
“(Y/N), don’t you wanna do something with your friends? You can invite them over for the weekend”, Haley suggests after watching her daughter not going out with somebody outside of school for several days. For the past two weeks the ten year old just comes home, does her homework and puts her nose in one of the books her Uncle Spencer recommended.
The girl only looks up at her mother to shake her head. “Why not, Sweetie? I haven’t seen William and John in so long. Are you still friends with them?” (Y/N) nods again. “So what is it? Are you guys fighting?” Haley sits down next to her on her bed.
“No, they just-just don’t know about this. I don’t want to tell them. And I want to stay home. It’s ok how it is right now”, she admits. Her mother’s heart breaks at that statement.
In this moment she realizes that anything a parent does has immediate consequences for the children. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t know this is so hard for you. Maybe you can talk to them over the next few days about it, I think it’ll help you. Do you want to watch a film with me for now? Jack has a sleepover at a friend’s. We can do a girl’s night. We hadn’t had one in a long time.”
(Y/N)’s eyes light up at that. “With all the candy in the world?” Haley smiles at the newfound excitement. “Of course. Anything you want.”
From only seeing Aaron every now and then it suddenly turns to not knowing when she will see him next. After George Foyet ambushes him and makes his family into the next target, (Y/N), her brother and her mother have to go into witness protection.
The goodbye at the hospital is painful and filled with tears. “But Dad, I don’t want to leave you. I’ll miss you too much. I don’t like not seeing you. And what about you? You will be more lonely and-and I can’t leave you”, she confesses, sobbing into him.
Hotch has to hold his own tears back. He doesn’t want to come over as stoic, but as the strong father figure he always tries to be. “Honey, I know I’ll miss you so much. You have to be strong for your mother. This will not be easy and I know it. I promise to do my best to get all of you back as soon as possible, ok? Please be good for your mother and behave. We all need to work together for you to get back fast and safely.”
(Y/N) continues to cry into his hospital gown. Aaron can’t help it and dissolves in tears himself while trying to calm her down. “Shh, Honey. Everything will be fine. I’m so so sorry for all this. I never wanted something like this to happen. Shh, we will see each other real soon. The team and I will do our best. Just please, don’t cry. Please, it all will be better. I can’t let you go without seeing your beautiful laugh for one last time.”
“I don’t wanna leave you, Daddy. I-I wanna stay with you and Uncle Dave and Auntie JJ and Uncle Spencer and Uncle Der and Auntie Penny and Auntie Em. I’m scared you won’t be fine when we come back.”
It’s needless to say that nobody cracked even a smile that day.
Going into witness protection made Haley worry about Jack especially. He is just four years old and she isn’t sure how much he understands about what’s going on. Surprisingly the boy gets accustomed to the situation pretty fast. Of course he misses his father and his people from school, but he is also quick to meet new ones in the town they moved to.
(Y/N) has bigger problems. New school. New kids. New everything.
“Maybe you can see it as a fresh start. Here is nobody you know. You can be whoever you want to be. I can take you shopping and you can try out a new style”, her mother tries to make the situation sound advantageous to her. But the girl dryly answers: “When somebody doesn’t like me how I am now, how will they like an act?”
Sam Kassmeyer regularly reports back to Aaron about his family’s well being. “Jack is thriving. His teachers describe him as a bundle of joy. (Y/N) slowly gets acclimated to the change. Haley told me she started making friends with a girl in their neighborhood. I already ran a background check and the family is clean.”
Hotch lets out a sigh of relief. He turns towards the image on Penelope’s monitor. “Happy fifth birthday, Buddy.”
A few weeks after that it seems like the events overturn each other.
Foyet coming back. Kassmeyer getting tortured. Foyet finding Haley and the children. Them coming back to their house. The call. Working the case with Jack. The gunshot. The fighting noises. Hotch opening the box and hugging both of his children, relieved to see them alive.
The following weeks are difficult for the now smaller family. They mostly consist of watching videos of happy memories and talking about their feelings. Although it’s more like Jack talking about his feelings, (Y/N) went mostly silent ever since their mother’s death. This worries her father more than anything.
Two months have gone by. “Hey Honey, I’m going into the office today. Do you wanna come with me, stay at home or go to school? Anything is fine by me”, he asks her softly, kneeling beside her chair at the table. The girl is munching on her cereal halfheartedly.
“Can I come to the office?” (Y/N) asks in a hoarse voice. It’s actually the first time in four days that Aaron hears her voice. A small smile forms on his face. “Of course, that’s nice. Aunt Penny is asking me after her favorite Hotchner for days on end now. And Uncle Spencer got a stack of books he has for you to read.”
His daughter nods and quickly gets ready. They are soon on their way to Quantico after dropping Jack off at daycare. “How are your classmates? Do you like the new school?” They decided to send (Y/N) to a different school. She couldn’t bear the thought of only being the girl whose Mom died because of a serial killer.
“It’s fine. There are a few girls who are really nice. I think we can be friends. Mo-” She suddenly cuts herself off. Aaron glances over at her. “Continue, Sweetheart. Just tell me what’s on your mind”, he tries to encourage her.
The girl hesitates before following her father’s advice. “Mom would have liked them,” she mumbles. It’s quiet for a few seconds. Hotch is looking for a suitable answer. After all it’s the first time she talked about her mother since her death. “I’m sure of it, Honey. Maybe you can invite them over and I can get to know them. Think about it, no pressure of course.” (Y/N) nods to indicate that she heard him.
Not long later they enter the bullpen. “There she is! My little Hotchner! How you doing, Baby?” Derek asks her and envelopes her into a hug. But she only shrugs her shoulders. This goes on for the rest of the day. Whenever anyone talks to her, the only answer is given by her body language.
Hotch watches helplessly Spencer trying to engage in a conversation with her. His arms and hands are waving around. (Y/N) though just looks at him without being really there mentally. It seems like she is lost in her own thoughts, like it happened so often over the last few months.
“Have you tried talking to her about it?” Dave asks, sitting down on the chair opposite of him. Aaron looks at him funny. “Of course. But (Y/N) is just not ready to talk about Haley and everybody grieves differently. I can’t force her to speak, Dave.”
The older agent leans back in his seat. “I don’t think she needs to talk about her. This probably is too soon. She needs to talk about you. The changes.” After a short pause, in which the other one still doesn’t get the point, Rossi continues. “That little girl just lost her mother. She is scared to lose her father, the one with the high risk job. I think that is enough to talk about.”
This occupies the agent for the remainder of the day. Aaron was so invested in fulfilling both parent roles, that he forgot that he is just a father. The man his children go to when they have a nightmare. The one, who is more lenient than their mother. He can’t be both ones. He can’t be two people in one.
A kid trusts a mother and a father usually. And he can’t be mother and father at once. Hotch has to accept the fact. The fact that (Y/N) and Jack are going to grow up without a mother. But luckily not without mother figures.
Later that day, after tucking Jack in, Aaron knocks on his daughter’s door. A small “Come in!” echoes back to him. He enters her room and spots (Y/N) already in her bed reading a book Spencer gave her today.
“Hey, do you have time before it’s lights out?” He asks, still wanting to give her the upper hand on this. The girl nods and scoots over for her father to take a place. He lays next to her, pulling his daughter into a hug.
“I know I can’t promise it. Coming back to you every time. You know it as much as I do. But I promise you to try anything and everything in the books. You guys keep me going.” Tears roll over both of their faces.
“I-I just”, (Y/N) moves her head onto his chest to sob into it, “Just don’t wanna lose you, too. I-I don’t think I-I can’t be the girl, who doesn’t have a mother AND a father. C-can you stop that from happening?” Hotch has to wipe his eyes before answering.
“I-I try to keep that from happening, Honey. I promise.”
This is how they fall asleep, squished in a twin bed close to each other. In the morning they both are overheated and got a visitor during the night. Jack wakes them up, asking why they had a sleepover without him.
This morning is the first time Aaron sees (Y/N) smiles since day zero.
Taglist:
All works:
@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos
Criminal Minds:
@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962
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mariinara · 3 years
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inspired by the sam one,, hcs for being married to nate please
A/N: HELL YEAH!! baby boy deserves all the love too I'm so happy y'all are requesting nate <3
BEING MARRIED TO NATE WOULD INCLUDE:
-This man is highkey the sweetest human being on earth and he definitely proposed to you on the rooftop of somewhere very beautiful while you were traveling together and cried when you said 'yes', although he denies that ever happening.
-Flirts with you like you two haven't been married for a while.
-Always wakes up before you, no matter what, and wakes you up with kisses on the cheek and forehead after appreciating how beautiful you are while sleeping.
-He doesn't even need to be a dad to make dad jokes, he's always tellin' 'em.
-Considers himself the luckiest man alive for having ever landed someone like you.
-Will STILL get confused when being loved or pampered because he never thought someone could do all that for him.
-He's the kind of husband to always have your cabinets filled with snacks.
-Likes to help you change the bedsheets because it relaxes him for some reason.
-You don't take turns walking your dog, you go together.
-He's a big fan of fancy dates and will have the both of you indulge every month, but, otherwise, you two like keeping it simple on date nights.
-Your #1 hypeman when it comes to shopping for clothes.
-"Look at my wife. Look at her. LOOK at my wife. Look. Look at her. Look."
-Long drives when both of you are not feeling it, windows down, music up.
-Speaking of music, he's a big fan of Karaoke bars and will 1000% embarrass you.
-Bowling champion.
-Makes the BEST omelettes and pancakes. No one could ever even come close.
-Takes SO many pictures of you. He has more pictures of you on his phone than he does of himself.
-You're his desktop wallpaper, for sure.
-"I think I'm in love with you." and you going "we are literally married."
-Still, he says that because you're always reminding him that he was worthy of love.
-LOVES wrapping Christmas gifts and putting them under the tree. It's his favorite holiday, actually.
-He's insanely good at wrapping, too. You always told him it should be an extreme sport and that he'd be the champion.
-Shops for Halloween decorations in July.
-"Nate, are you talking to the dog?"
-Voices his baby fever very loudly.
-"Let's make one."
-You make one.
-He's a very passionate and caring lover, too. Always makes sure you're put before him when it comes to sex. Your pleasure is definitely his.
-He's such a good dad, too. Provides your child with everything you two have never received during your childhood.
-Romanticizes the idea of switching his wardrobe to look more like a dad.
-Is present. Always. You and his kid come before anything. Never misses a recital, a football game, a school play. There's not one pivotal moment when he's not there.
-He built a shelf in your kid's room just for awards and trophies.
-Just like you two built the nursery from the ground up and built the kid's room from the ground up and renovated it with your teenage kid. Also from the ground up.
-Definitely cried when dropping off your kid at their university, which was thirty minutes out of town.
-Participated in bake sales at school.
-Sucks at Math but is the house's official history, geography, and social studies teacher ™️
-Makes killer sandwiches, too, so he mostly handled making your kids' lunch.
-Has a special handshake with his kid that he won't let you in on.
-Says that you already have your own handshake and wiggles his brows at you.
-"Ew, dad!" when you two kiss and Nate going, "What– This?" and smooches all over your face.
-Vaccinated the kid against EVERYTHING because he's always panicking. Did their allergy testing, follows the doctor's instructions as is.
-Gets worried sick when either of you catches something– a cold or a fever – and is always running around to tend to you and always worries and frets.
-"I love you and I really like you." is his thing.
-All in all, Nate is such a sweet, protective, and excellent father and husband. He's always so much fun to be around and explore with and he definitely made your job as parents much easier.
-He's also obsessed with musicals. Fun!
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Text
Solar Eclipse Part Two
A Spider-Man Fanfiction
Previous Part
Platonic!Doc Ock X Peter Parker X Reader
Summary: Peter Parker is your Best Friend and your mom is a nuclear fusion scientist who works closely with Doctor Otto Octavius.
Author’s Note: Here is part two!! I can not thank @dreaminrubies enough for being the best person to bounce ideas off of and inspiring this whole series. I just have a few more things to note.
1)I tried my best to keep things gender neutral and keep descriptions relatively vague so please tell me what I can improve on in that regard.
2)Personally, I envision Andrew Garfield’s Peter Parker while writing, but I think any iteration of Peter could fit so I decided against keeping it specific. and please enjoy!
“So you’re still on for dinner tonight?” 
You had sent the text just a few seconds ago, being met with a response from Pete almost instantaneously. 
“Heck yeah!! You know I can’t resist a home-cooked meal kitchen wizard”
“Don’t be stubborn and take a ride home from my mom please you know she loves you”
“Yes she does but I’ll only accept if she asks”
“You know she will”
“Yeah yeah see you soon :P”
With that you put down your phone, getting ready to cook dinner. With your mom always working late in the lab, you had gotten used to being the one who cooked dinner for the both of you. Cooking was your favorite art. It was one of the most important ways you could express your love and appreciation for your mother. 
It was even better when you were cooking for Peter too. He always had seconds and you were more than happy to provide.
Putting your playlist on you started to cook a simple pasta dish, your mom’s favorite. She needed good luck for tomorrow, with her being gone in the lab until the early morning hours for the past few weeks you knew she was stressed. When you’d see her in passing she seemed tired. A smile always decorated her face, but the lines under her eyes couldn't lie. She loved your cooking though, and you were confident just a bite could make her smile. 
You wiggled your hips to the music, stirring the sauce in time and belting your heart out. Too engrossed to notice Peter and your mother watching you with their thing in tow. They let you get halfway through the next power ballad before interrupting you.
“Hey Superstar, how’s dinner coming?” came a familiar feminine voice. You whipped yourself around, aiming the sauce-covered spoon in their direction before bursting into laughter, “You guys can’t scare me like that!! How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to have blackmail, and careful, you're holding a weapon there” Peter teased, moving towards you and disarming you, taking a taste of the sauce. “Wow that’s killer as usual” he teased. Your mother just laughed and walked across the room to put her bags down. 
“I have to make it good for mama!! And you too if you’re here I guess” you teased right back. You snatched the spoon back and added the pasta, stirring it all together. Your mother wrapped her arms around you and kissed the top of your head. “Thank you my darling, always thinking of me.”
“ Love you too mama, now go sit! Dinner is almost done and you need to get to bed early” you laughed, leaning into her. 
“I could only disarm ‘em for a minute there Doc! I think you should listen so you don’t get spooned” teased Peter, getting out some plates for the three of you. “And I cannot thank you enough for picking me up and letting me come over all the time.” He was just as earnest as he was playful at times. He treated your mother with the same respect he had for any Oscorp scientist, and maybe some more. She took him in anytime he was being roughhoused or even if he just needed a break from his aunt. She genuinely loved him, she spent a few weeks trying to convince you to marry him. Her home was him home and you felt the same way. 
You gently shook off your mom, just enough to serve up the plates and bring them to the table. “Please, if she could leave me and keep you she would”
“Oh now be quiet you know I would never, but I would keep him if he let me” she laughed, sitting at the table. Peter sat down across from where you always sat, his unassigned assigned seat, wiggling his shoulders as you served him.
“Bone Apple Teeth or whatever they say” he jokes, causing your mother to laugh profusely.
“Hey, that is not fair! He always does this, he steals the internet jokes and plays them off as his!” you exclaimed, your mother just shook her head.
“He makes me laugh, that’s what’s important” she beamed looking between the two of you. “If it is possible, I think I want to ask the two of you to come to the presentation tomorrow. We’ve worked so hard on this… and you've been my biggest cheerleaders outside of the lab. I think it would be nice for you both to witness a piece of history. We’re changing the world my loves.”
That immediately brought a huge smile to your face. “Of course mom, you don’t even have to ask.” You were going to be there for her, no questions asked. You looked over to Peter, who looked equally as excited.
“For damn sure I’ll be there! I mean, Doctor Connors has been talking about it a lot, and then I got to talk to Doctor Octavius a few days ago and you guys sound way super confident so yeah… I’ll be there” Peter grinned, taking a forkful of pasta and taking a big bite. He closed his eyes with a soft, satisfied hum “ I really don’t know how you make it so good every time.”
You responded with a shrug of your shoulders “It’s my superpower, very useful for the two of you. Plus there is still lots for seconds or thirds and even lunch tomorrow just so you can get sick of it.” 
“Like I said, always thinking of us,” your mother said with fondness. You felt your face warm and gave another shrug, eating in comfortable silence. You always knew the sign of a great meal was when no one talked, they were too invested in eating. Maybe getting Peter Parker to shut up was your real superpower. 
You continued to enjoy your evening with them, eventually finishing up and washing the dishes. You sat and talked for a while, the evening coming to a natural close.
“Alrighty, then if I am going to be on time tomorrow I’ve got to catch the train home, you know I’m not too far” Peter sighed, standing up and hugging your mom before coming over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders.
“If you must, just text me when you get home? And tell May I said hi too” you grinned up at him, rocking back and forth on your heels. As you were leaning back he quickly pulled you in for a tight hug.
“Anything you say, you’ll get a text from me very soon and you’ll see me tomorrow, that sound good to you?” he teased. You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze, nodding your head against him. With that he let go of you, giving you a cheeky wink before heading out for the night. Your mother walked up behind you and rubbed your shoulder fondly.
“Are you sure you don’t want to marry him?”
Next Part
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luminnara · 3 years
Text
The Dismemberment Song | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Words: 3,791
Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club.
PART ONE | PART TWO |
WARNINGS: graphic blood/gore/violence, reader may or may not torture and murder a guy, alcohol, all that good Gotham stuff, reader is kinda fucked up
Seriously, don’t read this if you don’t like blood
Based on The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid! 
This is written as a kinda vague fem!reader, but if there’s interest I can always write alternate versions for different genders, more specific body/personality types, or whatever else might tickle your fancy! Just hit up my ask box!
Requests are open!! Pls, I really wanna write more Zsasz or Zsaszmask x reader, gimme ideas!
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The Black Mask was a club that boasted only the best of the best. Top shelf booze, luxurious furnishings, and entertainers that Gotham’s other club owners wished they could get their hands on all came together to form the East End’s trendiest spot. You were lucky enough to be one of those very entertainers, and you had been performing onstage at Roman’s club ever since one of his goons saw you dancing at another spot across town. Roman Sionis had bought you easily, promising a good nightly wage and all the free drinks you could stomach, and a few years later, you were still enjoying the nice gig at the Black Mask. 
Most nights were the same; you showed up around seven, hung around in the dressing room with the others while you all got ready, and enjoyed a drink or two before your first number. You were always in the chorus, not that you really minded--Roman paid you more than enough to keep you happy, even though you knew the stars got more. Girls who did solo numbers, especially if they could sing, those were Mr. Sionis’s favorites. You never really expected to achieve that kind of status, not when people like Dinah Lance were around and holding his attention, so when Roman pulled you aside one night to tell you that he wanted to give you the chance to do your own routine, you nearly dropped your drink. 
“Full creative control,” he said, a hand resting at the small of your back as you gaped at him. 
“I--what?” you managed to choke out. “I-I mean, thank you, Mr. Sionis, really--”
“Please,” he chuckled. “Call me Roman.”
“Thank you, Roman,” you smiled, swallowing down your fear. “I won’t disappoint you, I swear.” 
“I know you won’t, doll.” he motioned for someone to bring him a drink. “Full creative control, like I said. I want to see what’s swirling around in that pretty mind of yours. Put some heart into it for me, k doll?”
You nodded. “You got it, boss.”
He grinned, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss against your temple like he did with all the girls he liked. “Looking forward to it, beautiful.”
He let you go, turning to leave, and Zsasz slunk after him, but not before casting you an almost annoyed look. 
“Don’t disappoint,” he teased, whistling low before he followed his boss. 
You gulped. You were sure he wouldn’t mind peeling your face off, but you rather preferred staying alive.
“I won’t!” you called after him bravely. 
He glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes practically boring into you as if were sizing you up. He thought you were just some prissy little girl, didn’t he? Just like Roman, just like everybody else. But you would show them. They wanted to see what kind of shit really ate at your brain? Oh, you’d give them a nice little glimpse.
And so, only a couple shorts weeks later, here you were, getting ready in the dressing room like usual, only you were far more nervous than you had been for any other shift. You had busted your ass getting everything ready, even taking a few nights off to work twice as hard on what you hoped would be a good debut. You had given the band their sheet music, you had learned your lyrics inside and out (because you were absolutely determined to go that extra mile for Roman Sionis and show him that not only could you prance around onstage, but you could sing, too), and you had spent hours upon hours hand-decorating an old corset and lingerie set you had sitting around. Roman wanted this to come from the heart, he wanted a passion project, and you were gonna give it to him. 
You just had to pray that he was in the right mood to enjoy it.
“Think you’re good to go, my love,” the house mom said as she finished with your hair. 
You stared at yourself in the mirror. So far, so good...your hair was in big barrel curls, still warm to the touch as your house mom gave it a couple more passes with the hairspray for good measure. 
“You sure I don’t need--”
“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead,” she interrupted, retreating to her usual chair. 
You kept staring at your reflection. “Do you think it’s too much? I mean...”
She laughed loudly. “Hon, this is Gotham. There’s no such thing as too much.”
Glancing down at your outfit, you weren’t so sure. “But...”
“But nothing. Now go on, go show Roman why he stays in business.”
You stood on shaky legs, nodding to her as you made your way towards the door. “R-right.”
“Break a leg,” she called after you. 
All you could do was nod. You knew what you were doing. You had practiced for hours every day to get ready for this. With a deep breath, you made your way down the hall leading to stage, shaking your hands out as you stood in the wings. You could do this. You were ready.
As soon as your stage name was announced, you stepped out, ruby encrusted heels clicking against the wooden floorboards. The lights were harsh, the crowd quiet as you came out to face them. The stage was set for you, a few props already waiting for you as you stood there, ready for the music to start.
Then, the band began playing, and you sprang into action.
“Hold still, my sweet. I’m tryin to measure the space between your molar and your jaw...” You sang, lunging forward to grab the medical-grade calipers sitting in a metal bucket for you. You trailed them down over your victim’s jaw, smiling as you did so. “...This caliper, no cause for fear. No it...it doesn’t hurt, it only helps me measure how much skin you have...”
Across the club, Zsasz looked up. He was standing near Roman, his boss sitting in a booth while he chatted with some business associates. He was far more interested in you than their conversation, his dark eyes tracking you as you moved across the stage. He was absolutely enthralled by your outfit, your tightly-laced corset covered in blood red rhinestones that glimmered under the stage lights, your matching bra and thong shining just as brightly. You looked like you were covered in blood, the gems catching his eye in a way he hadn’t expected. 
“--and the topmost layer of fat, but I won’t make an incision till you’re nice and numb...” There was an operating table on the stage, where one of Roman’s lowest-ranking goons was tied down. If Zsasz remembered correctly, this guy had fucked up pretty monumentally recently, so seeing him strapped down and struggling brought a grin to his face.
You ran over to the man, the crowd laughing as you leaned across him. “...Oh, and laughing gas can be so much fun, please don’t doubt my decision...”
The scene you had set was both comedic and sexual. In all honesty, Zsasz hadn’t expected you to do anything like this; you were a chorus girl, someone he had thought would go for something overdone and classic. Maybe some old school stupid, annoying, Singin In The Rain type shit, yet there you were, dressed in an outfit that was obviously meant to emulate dripping blood while you flitted around a man on a gurney. 
Zsasz couldn’t look away. 
“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee!” you squealed, teasingly pressing your sawblade to the goon’s torso. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”
You grabbed the goon as he struggled against his restraints, holding him down. Zsasz was sure the man was in on your little number, and he thought it was cute; you were pretending to be some sort of killer, maybe trying to appeal to Roman’s face peely urges. Maybe you were trying to make the boss happy by scaring his lackey like this.
“So don’t you squirm, don't you fret, I'm not gonna hurt you...yet.” You grinned, leaning down before you shoved the man’s face to the side, letting him go as you ran back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of blood lettin’, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading...”
You pranced back to the gurney, moving with that little extra theatrical oomph that made everyone think you were just playing. You smiled as they clapped and laughed loudly. They would figure it out soon enough. 
“Cutting you up will be so refreshing for me...” you cooed, discarding the calipers in favor of a scalpel. You traced it down the goon’s bare chest, a little line of blood following the blade as it pierced his flesh. 
He let out a scream, just as you hoped he would, and you gave his little table a shove, sending it wheeling a short distance away. 
“Now don’t you cry,” You sang, “And don’t call Miriam, she’s my alibi...oh let me check your toes out!” You picked up a set of pliers, taking hold of his big toe. “Aren’t your toenails cute?” you grabbed one and pulled, the goon screaming as you removed the nail, leaving a bloody pulp behind. “...and red is such a lovely color on you!” you leaned down in his face, grabbing the opposite foot’s big toenail and yanking. “...But you won’t be needing those!”
Roman began clapping, giving a loud “Whoo!”  as he watched you. He had no idea that when you had asked him for the name of his least favorite henchman, this would be the reason. Now, watching the man suffer onstage in front of everyone while you were dancing around him in six inch heels and a scandalously skimpy outfit, Sionis was more than entertained. He was impressed, absolutely astounding by the cruelty his little burlesque dancer held inside of her. He couldn’t have hoped for more. 
“When you’ve got no knees!” you sang, dropping your weapons in favorite of a crowbar. “...Or shins, or pinky fingers, or arteries....”
You brought your weapon down on each of the man’s legs, somehow still managing to poise yourself perfectly as you did so. You gave him a few good whacks, then dropped the bar, leaning down to pick a knife up out of the bucket and run it over his hands teasingly. 
“...so hold still while I remove them!” you trilled. 
The man tried to sit up, struggling against his restraints, but you shoved him back down with a sweet smile. 
“...Oh, and don’t fight back,” you sang, hopping up to sit next to him. “I think you’ll find you’re missing the point, with that.”
Meanwhile, Victor Zsasz was grinning, showing off his gold teeth while he watched you. He kept a close eye on your hips as they swayed, his trained eyes following your ass as it moved across the stage. Were you really carving a man up right then and there? He wanted it to be true. He wanted to smell the overwhelming tang of blood as you plunged a knife into your victim. But he was too far away, and so he had to settle for watching instead. 
Your victim tried to scream, and you shoved his head to the side playfully. 
“That’s enough outta you!” you sang, holding his jaw tightly.
As you repeated your chorus, your knife returned to the man’s flesh and he grunted in pain, pleading to an audience that didn’t care about him. The Black Mask was a fucked up place for fucked up people, no matter how trendy it was, and nobody in the audience was going to protest when someone was torn apart onstage. Besides, Roman Sionis was far too powerful for the GCPD to go after, and as you heard him laughing loudly in the audience, you had a pretty good feeling that he wasn’t going to send anyone after you for carving somebody up in a way that only you could.
You kept going, peeling your underbust corset off with the same grace and dexterity that Zsasz peeled faces with. As you stood in only your bra, thong, garters and stockings, you felt exhilarated, powerful, as if you had been born to cur people up in front of an audience. 
It’s not like this was your first time chopping a body up, anyways; there was a reason you had to move to Gotham and get a new gig, after all.
Zsasz watched you. In fact, his eyes were glued to you, even when Roman walked away to chat with a few mob bosses in a nearby booth. Were you seriously killing this man right in front of everyone? Victor didn’t necessarily care for all the theatrics, but he could appreciate how seriously you took you took your craft, and he had to admit, he was surprised that this was what you had come up with when Roman told you to give him something good.
“‘Cause I’m all out of hurt, you’ve used up all I’ve got,” you taunted, sneering down at your victim as you brought your saw down on his leg. “So I’m chopping you up and still coming up squat! If I want it to bleed, I’ll just roll up my sleeve and saw and saw and saw...”
The blade cut back and forth, and Zsasz’s eyes followed it. Blood was spurting up, drenching your arms as if you were wearing red opera gloves. 
“And saw, and saw, and saw, and saw....”
“Zsasz, can you believe this?” Roman asked, leaning towards him.
“No, boss,” Zsasz said with a little grin, shaking his head. 
“She’s good. We may have to give her a new job...”
You paused, giving your victim a break as you tossed the saw back into the bucket, drops of blood spattering across the stage as you pulled out a large butcher knife. Before it could touch Roman’s henchman, you used it to flick open the clasp on your bra, tossing the thin little piece of lingerie out into the crowd. You didn’t really care where it went; you were too busy enjoying yourself. 
“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee,” you purred, trailing the blade down the side of the man’s face. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”
“So don’t you squirm, don’t you fret, I’m not gonna hurt you, oh no, no, no, not...yet.” you plunged your blade into his chest, between two of his ribs, not close enough to knick his heart but definitely deep enough to cause him immense pain despite all the adrenaline that was sure to be running through his system now.
You pulled the knife back out, blood dripping off the metal blade as you held it tightly and pranced back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of bloodletting, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading but there’s one thing you’re forgetting...”
Turning back to him, you brought the blade to his throat, and in the crowd, Zsasz’s eyes lit up. He was delighted. He was enthralled. His pants were getting a little tight, but whatever. The rest of the audience was gazing up at you with wonder, disgust, amusement...but Zsasz was absolutely admiring the way you so confidently played with your victim. The theatrics were starting to grow on him, he decided, and he wanted nothing more than to go right up there and lick all that blood off your face.
“There’s nothing like the thrill of a shredding,” you sang, almost snarling, “but this is no orthodox beheading...”
You destroyed the man on the gurney, carving through him, drenching yourself in blood in an almost comical way. 
“Cutting you up,” you sang as you made an absolute mess. “Cutting you up...”
“Cutting you up is gonna be....” you finally stepped back, catching your breath as the song slowed. “...so refreshing for me.”
As your routine finished, you took a little bow, still holding the knife as you crossed your ankles and bent at the waist in a delightfully fancy gesture. The man on the gurney was very much dead, blood dripping down onto the stage, and the audience was still eating up every second of it. You could hear Roman cheering, and as you spotted him standing there amidst the crowd with Zsasz at his side, you blew them both a little kiss. 
“How about that?” you heard Roman’s voice boom above the clapping as you strode offstage. “I would call for an encore, but unfortunately, I think we’d need a new victim....”
Your head was still abuzz with the rush of killing, and you walked back to the dressing room in a daze. You were vaguely aware of Dinah Lance wrinkling her nose as you passed her, but you didn’t pay her any mind. Absolutely nothing could kill your good mood now. 
“Well?” the house mom asked as you made your way to your mirror. “Sounds like it went well, judging by those cheers...”
You smiled and hummed to yourself, nodding as you reached for something to clean your face with. You were going to need an entire shower to get all this blood off yourself. 
“Told you.” the house mom snorted a laugh. 
“He loved it,” you grinned. 
She shook her head in amusement. “You are one fucked up girl, I’ll tell you that much.”
“That’s showbiz, baby,” you joked, raising a towel to start working at wiping your face. 
“Oh, pussycat?” a singsong voice made you freeze. 
You could see Zsasz in the mirror. 
He was leaning in the doorway, smirking as he watched you. “Boss wants to talk.”
You paled. Had you fucked up after all? Did Roman get his shits and giggles and now planned on having Zsasz peel your face off? Sionis was infamous for his fickle moods. You’d watched him have plenty of people dragged off into back rooms just for speaking at the wrong time, and you had just done way worse than interrupt him. 
 You gawked at Zsasz, still staring at his reflection. What were you supposed to do? Run? He was blocking the only door, and there was no way you’d be able to get past him. You had no choice but to follow him to Roman. 
“O-Okay,” you managed to stammer out, finally turning towards him. “Lead the way.”
“Might want this.” he held up the bra you had tossed, twirling the strap around his finger while he gave you a smile that showed off his gold teeth.
“Give me that!” you snapped, rushing towards him.
“Ah.” he held it above his head, leering down at you. “Think I like this view more...”
“Zsasz!” you protested, scrambling against his chest and practically trying to claw your way up him to get your lingerie. 
He froze. He finally smelled the metallic tang of all that blood covering you, and coupled with the feeling of your tits against his chest...oh, he was so fucked. 
When he dropped the bra, you grabbed it from him, tossing it back to your mirror and moving to pick up a silky red robe off a nearby hook. You shrugged it on, tying it shut while Zsasz cleared his throat and offered you his arm. 
“Such a gentleman,” you sneered, taking it anyways. 
“When I want to be.” his voice was low and rough, as if his vocal chords were scraping against each other with every syllable. 
You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded, as he led you out into the club once more. The band was playing as a few people cleaned up the carnage you had left behind, the bar’s patrons all chatting and drinking again. It was as if nothing had even happened and they hadn’t just watched a man be torn apart onstage a few minutes prior. 
Zsasz took you to Roman, the crowd parting before the two of you easily. Sionis was sitting in his favorite booth, sipping his drink and laughing, still seeming to be in a very good mood.
“Ah, there she is!” He said when he saw you, standing up and spreading his arms.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked nervously as Zsasz let you go.
“Yes, yes, I had Mr. Zsasz grab you so that I could congratulate you on a thrilling performance.”
You stared at him. “You liked it?”
“Liked it? I loved it, darling! A bit messy for my tastes, but a lovely show, truly, though I suspect our dear Mr. Zsasz here wishes he could have been the one to take care of your victim. Isn’t that right, Zsasz?”
You glanced up at Zsasz. He grunted, not necessarily in agreement. He didn’t hate watching your performance by any means, and as much as he enjoyed helping little birds fly away from the world, he rather enjoyed watching you do it, too. 
“I’m glad, Mr. Sionis,” you said. 
“I told you, call me Roman.” he took a sip of his drink. “You know, normally, I don’t enjoy it when someone kills the people that belong to me, but I must admit, you certainly have a way with a knife.”
“I would have asked your permission, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” you gulped. 
“And what a lovely surprise it was!” Roman laughed loudly. “You’re very talented...in fact, how’d you like a promotion? Yes? Perfect, perfect! No, no, don’t shake my hand, you’re...well, you’re covered in blood. Quite frankly, it’s disgusting.” He snapped his fingers. “Mr. Zsasz, take her up to the penthouse so she can clean up, I don’t want all this blood getting on the new carpeting in here.”
“Oh, Mr. Sio--Roman,” you cleared your throat, “I can use the shower in the dressing room, really, it’s no trouble--”
“Nonsense, nonsense.” he waved you away. “You’re part of the team now, aren’t you? Besides, a job well done deserves some sort of reward. Zsasz will show you upstairs. Don’t worry, he’s completely harmless.”
As Zsasz put a hand on your lower back, you had your doubts. Harmless wasn’t really a word you would choose to describe Roman’s right hand man. 
“Come on, princess.” Zsasz purred, guiding you through the crowd before you had much of a chance to protest. 
He took you to the elevator in the corner, the bouncer standing guard in front of it stepping aside with a nod. The man hit the up button, and soon, you were pressed up against Zsasz in the small space, on your way up to Roman’s spacious penthouse. 
186 notes · View notes
mediocre-writerr · 3 years
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don’t blame me [emily prentiss]
emily prentiss x fem reader
requested: i have a emily prentiss request! reader and emily have been fighting and something happens to the both of them and they make up at the end
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“Emily please!” you placed your head in your hands as you were having yet another argument in your shared apartment.
You took a deep breath as she started yelling again, “What Y/N?! Are you cheating on me with Spencer?” 
“What?” you ask, giving her an incredulous look. 
“You two have been awfully close lately.” she points out.
Spencer has always been your best friend. Ever since you joined the BAU together and being the youngest out of the pack. The two of you grew an instant bond despite all of his annoying knowledge. 
“We’ve always been close Em! Do you really not trust me that much?” you ask, looking up at her. 
She just stood there unsure of what to say. But the silence said it all, she didn’t trust you. 
“We’ve been dating for almost a year now and you don’t trust me. Got it.” you whisper, getting up to pack an overnight bag. 
Emily didn’t say anything. She just stood there and watched. Tears stinging her eyes. 
“I’ll see you tomorrow at work. I’ll be at JJ’s.” you whisper, leaving the apartment.
Emily didn’t know what to say. She was running thoughts through her mind. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. This was the longest relationship she’s ever been in (Doyle does not count). 
I guess she was scared. She didn’t want to ruin it so she was self-exploding the relationship herself. Making Y/N hate her until she eventually runs off so she doesn’t have to deal with the pain of Y/N breaking up with her on her own.
You found yourself at JJ and Will’s house, knocking on their front door. 
JJ opened the door confused, but with a small smile on her face, “Y/N, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?” 
“Emily and I got into another fight. She thinks I’m cheating on her with Spence.” you say, “Can I stay here tonight?” 
“Of course. Come in, we can talk more about it here.” she whispers. 
Will comes down the stairs, “Hey Y/N, it’s nice to see you again...” 
He continued talking, but you couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. So you stuck with the pleasantries, “It’s good to see you too.” 
JJ poured the two of you a glass of wine as you curled up onto the couch. Henry came running into your lap when he saw you on the way to say goodnight to his mom. 
“Hey bud!” you say ruffling his blonde hair. 
“Hi.” he whispers meekly as you gave him a squeeze. 
You smile at the boy as he hugs his mom goodnight. 
You start to explain everything to her from the past week of the two of you just going at each other’s throats. And even though you were a part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, you had a hard time reading Emily. 
Or anyone who wasn’t a killer/kidnapper/arsonist. 
“Y/N, remember that this is her first actual long-term relationship?” JJ says giving her a piece of the puzzle and you nod not understanding her point, “And you know that her relationships haven’t quite worked out in the past?”
“Mhm, I don’t see your point.” you say, completely clueless.
“You do work the BAU correct?” JJ asks laughing. 
You roll your eyes softly, “Duh.” 
“I think you should talk to her. Just ask her what’s going on and go from there.” she suggests and you nod, “Get some rest, we don’t know when Hotch is gonna call.” 
You didn’t understand what JJ was trying to get at. Emily was the best thing that ever happened to you and you would never break her heart in anyway. But the past few days she’s been breaking your heart.
Something she always promised she wouldn’t do.
As JJ expected not even three hours into your sleep, you were woken up by a phone call from Hotch talking about some unsub in Newport, Rhode Island. 
The two of you slowly got ready as the lack of sleep the two of you were experiencing was apparent. JJ drove you two to the BAU headquarters. As you exited the elevator Penelope held a drink carrier in her hand full of hot coffee.
“Thank you.” you whisper to Penelope, shooting her a grateful smile and patting her back. 
As you went into the briefing room, Emily was already sitting there next to Derek. Spencer was also sitting there across from Em with a small smile on his face. 
You walked around the table greeting everyone. You ruffled Spence’s shaggy hair, and fist bumped Derek. Purposefully, avoiding Emily. You didn’t want to talk to her if she doesn’t even trust you. You took the spot next to JJ as you waited for Hotch to come in to give the background. 
“Hello everyone, sorry about the lack of sleep tonight, but this is the fifth death this week.” Hotch says stifling his own yawn, “We have Peter Taylor, age 34, single with no kids. Blunt force trauma to the head before being shot in the heart.” 
Hotch goes over the rest of the victims going all the way to the very beginning. All of them had the same MO’s: blunt force trauma and being shot in the heart. They were also men around the same age. 
He was about to continue on as everyone pitched ideas for what kind of killer this unsub may be, but Hotch got a call. He stepped out of the room and as we waited, Spence kicked your leg softly from under the table. 
Sliding you a note from his notebook: Are you and Em okay?
You quickly wrote down a response: Honestly, no. 
That’s all you put. He read it trying to study, both you and her. Emily noticed the little exchange of notes that was passed. It was enough to make her feel insecure about her own state. Passing notes like they were back in elementary school. 
But maybe this was for the best, Emily thought. 
“Alright guys, we gotta go, there was another body found.” Hotch says, “Wheels up, like now.”
“His killing time is shortening which means he’s gonna go out of control.” Derek says and we all look at each other with determination in our eyes. 
All of you headed onto the plane in a flash. Every time you were on the plane you took the spot next to Emily. It was a little thing the two of you did, basking in the comfort and the safety of each other before going out into the dangerous field. 
Sort of like a good luck charm.
But this time was different. Emily waited for you expectedly to take the seat next to her, but you didn’t. You took a seat by yourself, away from the rest of the group. The entire team eyed each other, all of them concerned at the couple’s behavior recently.
You put your headphones drowning out the rest of the noise, trying to get much sleep as possible. 
When you arrived in Newport, the air was cool as the costal breeze hit your hair. The smell of the salty sea filling your nostrils. You loved being along the coast, it was one of your favorite things. 
It brought you calmness and peace. 
You and the rest of the team got to work as you reached the police station. Hotch paired the team off as per usual, pairing you and Em to go check out the most recent body. 
The two of you walked together in silence, neither of you knew what to say. It wasn’t the comfortable silence the two of you have while lying in bed watching whatever was on the TV. It was an awkward silence of you at your breaking point in the relationship, not understanding what’s wrong. 
“Blunt force to the head, shot to the heart. This is an act of our guy.” Emily says softly, the first time that you were speaking since last night. 
You looked down at the body and noticed a little paper sticking out of his pocket. Picking it up with your glove, you opened it as it read three simple words.
Don’t Blame Me
“Don’t blame me?” you say, more of a rhetorical question than anyone else. 
“What?” she asks.
You hand her the note, “It says don’t blame me.” I whisper.
The handwriting didn’t look a man’s handwriting. It was neat and polished. Men’s handwriting are usually messy and sometimes illegible. 
You start to walk away from the scene finished with the crime scene, leaving her behind. When Em notices you’re gone she immediately starts running after you.
“Y/N!” she yells, finally catching up to you and spinning you to face her, “What’s the matter with you?” she asks.
You scoff in response, “Tell me why.” 
“Why what?!” she asks, yelling, frustrated with how cold you’re being to her.
“Why don’t you trust me?”
“Y/N I-” she paused struggling for what else to say, but nothing was coming out.
She was left speechless, just like she was when you left the night before. 
You nod, “Never mind. Come talk to me when you’re ready.” you whisper, disappointedly. 
As the day went on you learned more and more about the unsub. The team gathered more clues and realized that all of the victims were connected to one women. 
Hayley Nolan, a bartender at the famous bar in town. She was 26 and very popular with the guys and gals around town. 
Whoever this unsub was targeted all of the men who flirted with her. She wasn’t married or had any kids. But she was in a relationship with a one Matthew Grimes. 
We interrogated Matthew, but checked all of his alibi’s that he was at work every night of the attacks. 
You and the team were in Hayley’s home, making sure to keep a cop with her at all times. When you took a look around the house as you watched the time go by, you realized that Matthew still wasn’t back yet.
“Hayley? Where did Matthew say he was going?” you ask as you entered the living room again. 
She shook her head trying to remember, “He said he was going to the gym, but that was a couple hours ago.”
All of you shared nervous glances as you realized that he was probably in danger right now. Reid and JJ come bursting into the room, “We found out who the unsub is.”
“Hayley, does the name Taylor Hunt ring a bell?” Reid asks as he sits down on one of the chairs in the living area. 
Hayley nods softly, “Yeah. She’s one of the regulars at the bars.”
“Does she ever seem protective when someone tries to flirt with you?” you ask.
“Yeah, all the time. I always thank her for it by giving her free drink. Why?” and then it all starts piecing together for her, “Oh my gosh. You don’t think she-” 
JJ squeezes her hand softly, “You see Taylor is living in her own little fantasy world. Making her believe that you’re flirting with her and want to be with her. When in reality you’re just being nice. So she kills off anyone who she thinks is a threat.” 
“We need to find Matthew now.” Derek says sternly. 
You and him run out of the house and into one of the vans. Driving your way as quickly as possible to the gym.
Your phone started to ring and you answered it, your eyes scanning the road you were driving on, “Police called and said they’re inside the gym. Hostage situation. Me and Prentiss are right behind you.” Hotch says. 
Making your way into the gym, the two of you noticed that you Hotch and Emily were already in there. Both of them had their guns away so both of you put your guns away. 
When Taylor saw us come into the room, she pointed her gun towards us. But Emily was quick to intervene.
“Hey, it’s okay. They won’t hurt you. I know how you feel.” Emily says softly, trying to get through to her. 
“You do?” Taylor asks.
Emily nods and you were intrigued at where she was going with this, “I know how it feels to love someone so much you’re scared everyday that you’re gonna lose them. Everyone is so intrigued by them and they’re so beautiful and funny that you can’t help but feel that she’ll choose someone else.”
Your tilt your head to the side as Emily makes a quick side glance to you.
“But the difference is that you’re stronger than me. You’re trying to protect what you have with Hayley. I tend to just cause useless fights because I’m scared that they’ll break my heart. So instead of being surprised by the heartbreak, I explode our relationship.” Emily adds on. 
And everything finally starts clicking. Everything JJ was trying to say, all of it.
“Now you don’t want to do that so if you really love Hayley, I need you to put the gun down. And let Matthew go.” she whispers.
Taylor lets out a quiet sob before putting down the gun and letting Matthew go. Em goes over to her and puts her hand behind her back, handcuffing her. Hotch takes her to the cop car while Morgan tends to Matthew’s wounds. 
You ran over to your girlfriend embracing her in a huge hug. She holds you close and tight, like she’s afraid that you might walk away again.
Taking your hand you place it underneath her chin to get her to look at you, “I love you. And I am never gonna break your heart. I promise.” 
358 notes · View notes
thiswasinevitableid · 3 years
Note
62. you set off the fire alarm and I have a test tomorrow, and I might strangle you
Sternclay, sfw, please!
Why do fire alarms only go off in March? The one time Stern set one off (he fell asleep studying and the dinner he was reheating started smoking) it was in that endless stretch of time where the snow is no longer festive but will keep falling for at least two more months.
More importantly, who is responsible for interrupting his carefully planned out six hours of sleep before his midterm at eight this morning?
He stands in the freezing cold with the building’s other three occupants; the single man who looks like he stars in lumberjack porn and the girlfriends who live on the ground floor.
“Sorry” The other man mumbles, “I was making doughnuts and the oil I was using got too hot without me noticing.”
Stern runs a hand through his hair and keeps his voice low, “Why were you cooking with hot oil at three in the morning?”
“When I can’t sleep, I bake.”
“Can I suggest a less flammable hobby in the future?”
“Hey man, it was an accident. And it’s not my fault they stuck the fire alarm too high up for me to get to it before it called the fire department.”
“Too high? You’re taller than I am and I can reach mine.”
“My ceilings are higher and it was tucked between the cabinets and the roof.”
“Oh yeah, ours is in a super-weird place too.” Aubrey, one of the ground-floor neighbors, pats the offenders arm, “it’s okay Barclay, it’s just a little smoke.”
“That may be the case for you three, but I have an exam that’s worth thirty percent of my grade in six hours and I need my goddamn sleep.”
“Yeesh, man, chill out. They’re already waving us back in.” Aubrey points to the door of the three story house.
“I timed everything to optimize my sleep schedule so it actually is a big deal.”
Barclay glowers at him, “Look, I said sorry. But maybe get used to the fact the world doesn’t run on your schedule, mr. control freak, and fucking get over it.”
Stern keeps a smile flat as he bites out, “go to hell” and heads upstairs to salvage what’s left of his schedule.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The crash from downstairs comes at nine p.m; he has a huge day at his internship tomorrow, but Stern doesn’t hear any sounds after it, and he is not about to let a neighbor die on his watch.
“Barclay? Are you okay?” He puts his ear to the door, the heater drowning out all ambient noise.
“Nope, not really, agh, fuck, the doors locked, lemme try to stand-”
“Stay put.” He runs upstairs, grabs his wallet, and uses his debit card to trick the lock, “Shit, what happened?”
Barclay is clutching his forehead, blood between his fingers, and his ankle is swelling. “I got really dizzy, caught my foot on the couch and then my forehead on the table on the way down. Ow, fuck, it better not be broken” he growls as Stern kneels to look at his foot, “I’ve got a shift in six hours.”
“I can’t tell. You should get to a hospital; if it’s injured and you try to work on it, you might have an even worse fall.”
“Fuck, I’m not even sure I can afford the ambulance, let alone the fucking E.R.”
He knows Dani and Aubrey are out, “Any family in town, or a boyfriend?”
“No, if there I woulda called them.” He snaps, then tries for a slow inhale, “sorry, it just, it hurts-”
“I can take you in my car, that’ll be one less worry.” Stern helps Barclay up, gets him to his sedan, then tells him to hold tight while he gets something for his head. He ends up grabbing the first clean fabris he finds, which is how Barclay ends up in the E.R while holding a “Roswell, NM” tank-top to his forehead.
“Sorry to ruin your, uh, souvenir?” He mumbles as they wait for the doctor.
“It’s for a good cause. Besides, I know how to get bloodstains out of fabric.”
“That...that makes you sound like a serial killer.”
“If I were a serial killer I would wear things that could stain.” Stern winces, “sorry, I read too many true crime books.”
“I just don’t have the stomach for them. I like fictional mysteries but real ones?” he shivers, “makes me think an axe murderer is gonna break into my place. I mean, you did it with a credit card.”
“If you’d had the chain thrown it might have been another story. “
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Barclay shifts in the plastic seat, “you, uh, you don’t have to hang around. Know you got a rigid schedule.”
Joseph runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for being so annoyed last week when you set off the alarm. I’m not always great at handling changes.”
“To be fair, doughnuts probably weren’t the best stress baking choice.”
“Did they turn out?”
“Nah. I’ll have to try ‘em another time. Did, uh, did your test go okay?”
“Yes. I, um, I got a perfect score.”
Barclay laughs, the sound like warm honey, and Stern blushes at looking so deeply nerdy in front of someone with a smile like that.
“Mr. Cobb? We’re ready to see you.”
The bearded man gives an slightly awkward wave as he follows the nurse through the double doors. Stern returns the gesture, pulls up the chess app on his phone, and settles in to wait until his neighbor is done.
-------------------------------------
Barclay comes out his nap the scrchh of a brush on tile. His first thought is that he’s so late for work he’s unavoidably fucked. His second one is who the fuck is in his bathroom?
His ankle twinges, jogging his memory; he got back from the hospital at 11:30, no stitches needed on his head but bedrest required for his ankle. He’d been contemplating how to convince his manager to let him shift from the warehouse to somewhere he could sit. Joseph raised an eyebrow and asked for his phone while telling him to go get into bed. All Barclay overheard was a polite, steely voice mentioning the labor laws in Dane County and how it’d be a shame if someone were to arrange an OSHA spot check. The last thing he recalls before falling asleep was Joseph telling him he had the next day off.
That doesn’t explain the cleaning sounds, though.
“Oh, you’re up.” Joseph pokes his head in from the hall. His hair is coming loose from his usual slicked-down style and he’s in a V-neck and sweatpants instead of the suit Barclay sees him in most days, “I hope I didn’t wake you; since you gave me the spare key I thought I’d check on you when I got back from my internship and leave you some take-out from the Thai place around the corner--you said the green curry was your favorite--but then I thought I should wait until you got up to see if you needed anything, so I, um, I cleaned your tub while I waited for you to wake up.”
Barclay isn’t sure what part of that is the most baffling. Or the most touching.
“Why the tub?” He eases his legs over so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.
“It’s satisfying. And I, um, I clean when I’m stressed.” He wipes his hands on the rag in his front pocket, “I was worried about you, and my internship was murder today. They’re mounting a case against one of the biggest employers in the state and everyone’s on edge.”
“Heh, kinda makes me glad I work at WalMart.” Barclay takes the crutch Joseph offers him and hobbles into the kitchen, “oh, uh, if you want to try some cake, there’s leftover cinnamon spice cake in the fridge.”
“I think I will, thank you.” He bends into the fridge and wow has his ass always been that nice, “can I grab you a drink from in here?”
“One of those pre-bottled Kahlua things in the door; have ‘em for a friend but one sounds good right now.” He watches Joseph open it for him, setting it down before he pulls out Barclay’s chair for him. Normally, the kind of fussing and light ordering around Joseph has directed at him makes him bristle. This last day, it just made him feel safe and cared about.
He could get used to this.
----------------------
“Good lord, we’ve even got a flood warning.” Joseph sets down his phone as rain attempts to pummel the house to dust, “Some days I wish we lived closer to one of the lakes but this is not one of them. Should we check to see if Dani and Aubrey need any emergency supplies for if we have to shelter here? I always keep more than I need.”
“Nah, Dani’s got a strong self-sufficiency streak; got her a bucket emergency kit for Christmas last year.” Barclay pops the cork on the Pinot Grigio they got for dinner, “and I don’t think they forgot your semi-drunk promise that if they ever had to run from a flood they had full permission to break open your front door to be safe on the third floor.”
“I meant it, drunk or no.” Joseph takes down the plates and portions out the carbonara; he’s been trying to cook when he has time, both because he likes it and because it gives him and Barclay something to talk about. Not that they need the help.
Things changed after the trip to the E.R; Barclay would bring Joseph fresh cookies or pie. Joseph would offer Barclay rides when their schedules overlapped. Barclay introduced him to his favorite trivia night spot. Joseph took some of his cookies to a worker-owned bakery where a former co-student worked, which led to Barclay getting a new job.
Now they see each other almost every day, whether that’s watching movies on Barclay’s cramped couch or joining Dani and Aubrey for board game night.
He’s pleased with how the pasta turned out, even more so with the fact that when their legs bump together beneath the table, Barclay doesn’t pull away.
They’re on the couch, chatting about the recurring themes in ghost movies, when the storm starts in earnest. The sky is so dark it may as well be nine at night, the lighting and thunder performing a cacophonous two-man show across it. The closer the thunder gets, the more Barclay tenses.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah” a thunderclap makes him jump, “I know it’s silly but I fucking hate thunderstorms, I have since I was a kid.” He chuckles, “my mom would always end up making a pillow fort for me to hide in.”
“We could do that now.” He offers, tapping his foot against Barclay’s own.
“Know this might be hard to believe, but I wasn’t always six-two.” The other man teases.
“Don’t count me out just yet. Wait here.”
It takes some precarity and most of his thumb-tacks, but soon he’s waving Barclay to come join him.
“Holy shit” Barclay laughs as he sees the bed and part of the floor in Joseph’s tiny bedroom are curtained in blankets, “do you ever half-ass stuff?”
“No one can ever prove I haven’t.”
“Uh huh.” Barclay climbs into the fort, “that’s Joseph speak for ‘no.’”
Joseph plugs in his UFO lights and follows him in, “I’ve failed plenty of times.”
“Not on this. Man, this is gr-” A thunderclap makes him jump, nearly knocking one blanket down, “uh, maybe if I…” He lays on the bed, Joseph deciding it’s the least awkward option to join him in that position.
“You really didn’t have to do this.” The green of the lights add a charming tint to Barclay’s eyes.
“I wanted to.”
His friend looks away, keeps his gaze on his feet as he murmurs, “How come you’re always so nice to me?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“It’s, uh, it’s not because you want something from me?”
“Of course not. Barclay,” he touches the cooks arm, “anything you’re thinking is a favor with an ulterior motive....well, it isn’t. It’s something I did to look out for you.”
“What if I, uh, I didn’t think it was favor hunting and was, uh, a different word that started with “F’?”
This time, when the thunder sounds, Barclay nestles closer to him.
“Oh, Barclay” he drapes a protective arm over his waists, “I didn’t mean it to be. At least, most of the time. There were, um, sometimes when I was more flirtatious than I’d have been if it were anybody else.”
“Do you...want to flirt more?” Barclay mumbles into his shoulder.
Joseph tips Barclay’s chin with his hand, brings their lips together as lightning flashes through the window. When he pulls back, Barclay’s eyes are wide. He kisses him once more just to see if he can make them entirely pupil, then whispers, “I hope we can do more than just flirt.”
“Joseph” strong arms slip below and across him, “fuck, babe, if it’s not flooded tomorrow, promise you’ll let me take you out tomorrow?”
“I’d like nothing better, big guy. In the meantime..” he rolls so Barclay is atop him, “I have some thoughts on how to keep your mind off the storm.”
21 notes · View notes
honey-dewey · 3 years
Text
The Monster we Share
Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader
Word Count: 2,812
Warnings: PTSD for military action, sexual assault, and abuse. Mentions of abuse, panic attacks and dissociation, one very bitchy ex-wife, mentions of canon-typical violence, I think that’s it. 
Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell
Frankie would tell you he was messed up, at which point you would retaliate with the fact that you were just as messed up as he was. Both diagnosed with PTSD, life isn’t easy, but it doesn’t always suck either.
Dating someone with PTSD was difficult.
Dating someone with PTSD when you also had PTSD was nothing short of a hellscape.
You had met Francisco Morales through a friend of a friend, and after a few drinks and some chatting, you two were close friends. Fast forward six months, and you were dating and living together in Frankie’s house. It would’ve been a miracle.
Would’ve, of course, being the key word here.
Soon into your relationship, you heard about Frankie’s PTSD involving his time in the military, specifically his non-military mission down in South America from a year ago. You had opened up then, spilling about abuse from an ex and the horror show that had been your life for almost three straight years. You’d never seen Frankie look vicious, but in that moment, he looked like a killer.
Now, a year into your relationship, and you were still navigating the rocky parts.
Namely the nightmares.
You woke in a cold sweat, broken from your nightmare by a harsh scream coming from your side. Scrambling upright, you tried to rouse Frankie, who was thrashing and screaming, his eyes still closed.
“Frankie!” You yelled, putting your hands on his shoulders and doing your best to wake your boyfriend. “Frankie please!”
Frankie shot upright, eyes wide open, and immediately took a swing in your direction. You jumped back, but he was faster. Thankfully, his fist didn’t hit your face, which was where he was aiming, but with all the jostling around, he did catch your shoulder.
You yelped, falling off the bed and immediately starting to cry, curling up as small as you could. Despite the obvious differences from your previous apartment and relationship, all you could see, all you could hear, was your ex.
“Babe?” Frankie’s raw voice echoed through your mind. “Babe?” He sounded more urgent, and you realized, with detached worry, that it was because you were hyperventilating. “Babe!”
He pulled you close, something which you didn’t have the energy to object. Carefully lining your back against his chest and sitting you in his lap, Frankie leaned against the wall and held you against him as your panic died down, as you realized you were safe. No one in this house would ever hurt you, not on purpose.
When you finally stopped breathing heavy, you collapsed into Frankie’s embrace, feeling utterly boneless and totally spent. It was rare you entered a dissociative state after panic attacks, but this time must’ve just been unlucky.
“Hey,” Frankie breathed, and you heard him very faintly, as if he were speaking through a pane of glass. Not much stuck when you dissociated, but despite that, Frankie was determined to talk to you. “Can I lift you onto the bed?” He never got a response, but just him having the heart to actually ask instead of just doing it was comforting. After a beat, he lifted you up and carefully placed you on the bed, laying beside you once he was done.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, running feather light fingers across your aching shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
You didn’t respond. Your eyes were open, but you couldn’t really see. All you could do was lay there, waiting for your brain to turn back on again. Frankie stayed beside you the entire time, humming ABBA songs and trying to shake away the remnants of his own nightmare.
When you finally sparked back to awareness, it was your hearing that came back first. Able to anchor onto Frankie’s humming, you pulled yourself out of the dark, blinking and twitching your fingers as your sense of feeling returned. Then your sense of smell, then your touch, then you could taste blood on your tongue. Finally, your sight unclouded.
Frankie must’ve noticed you blinking more than once in a row and immediately reached over to the bedside table and held a glass of water. With one hand, he helped guide you to sitting, and then he pressed the glass into your hands. “Drink,” he said softly, and you did, glad for the water to wash the metal taste out of your mouth.
“Are you okay?” Frankie asked, taking the glass once it was empty. You nodded, not trusting your vocal chords to work right now.
“Just wanna get some sleep?” Frankie asked, and you nodded again.
Nothing makes you want sleep more than a two AM panic attack, so you ended up sleeping until noon, only really rolling out of bed because Frankie was missing and you wanted to check on him.
You found him on the couch, eating lunch and sitting on the phone, quietly arguing with someone.
“No!” He whisper yelled. “Absolutely not, I get custody! She’s my daughter too!”
You slowly walked into the kitchen, trying not to be spotted. There was still coffee in the pot for you, and you made yourself a cup while Frankie got even more mad.
“Marisa,” he hissed. “Don’t you fucking dare. I deserve to see her too, even if it’s just weekends!” He was quiet for a minute before responding. “You leave my partner out of this!” He yelled, practically at full volume, and you jumped, splashing coffee all down your front. Frankie turned, shocked. “I’m calling you back,” he said firmly. “This is not over.”
As soon as he hung up, Frankie rushed over to you and took the nearly empty mug from you. “Hey, you okay?”
“Better,” you said softly. “How’s Emmie?”
Frankie sighed, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. “Marisa still won’t let me have custody,” he said weakly. “I miss Emmie. I want to see her.”
You sighed, wrapping Frankie in a hug. “It’ll be okay Frankie,” you promised. “It’s been a year. I’m sure if we went to court, you could get partial custody if you proved you’d been clean for the whole year, which you have.”
Frankie began to shudder, and you sunk to the ground with him still in your arms. “You’ve never been in a legal battle with Marisa,” he said shakily. “She’s determined to never let Emmie see me again.”
You ground your teeth. “I hate that woman.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Frankie said.
Eventually, with cold coffee on your shirt and your stomach empty, you got up and urged Frankie to get dressed. “We’re going out to lunch,” you said insistently, kissing his knuckles. “Please?”
Frankie relented, and you two ended up driving to a small 24 hour diner that had the best pancakes pretty much ever. You’d only found it because of Benny, who had gotten a job as one of the waiters. You sat at your favorite table, the one in the corner where Frankie could see all the exits, and ordered pancakes.
Five minutes into your meal, you were interrupted.
“Daddy?”
Frankie’s eyes widened, looking at a small baby, barely two, standing near your table. She was a spitting image of Frankie, right down to the curve of her nose and the spark in her eyes. Her two thick pigtails bounced as she began to get excited. “Daddy!”
Frankie was frozen, face stiff. You bent down, smiling at Emmie. “Hiya Emmie. Where’s your mommy?”
Emmie shrugged, and you grew more worried. “Well, where were you sitting?”
“Over there,” Emmie said, pointing to a table.
“Okay,” you said, standing and holding out your hand. “Why don’t we sit back down over there. Your mommy is gonna be super worried when she doesn’t see you over there.”
Right as you finished, a scream echoed through the diner. “You bitch!” Marisa yelled, running over and yanking Emmie from your gentle grip. “How fucking dare you!”
You stepped back. “I’m so sorry Ma'am, she approached us. I was just trying to return her.”
Marisa’s eyes found Frankie and she seethed. “Good luck getting custody now,” she snapped loudly. “You just tried to kidnap Amelia!”
Emmie whined, tugging against her mother. “Daddy!” She yelled, pointing.
For you, everything else faded when you saw Frankie. He was sobbing, curled in a ball and shaking violently, hands gripping his hair and breathing uneven.
“Frankie!” You immediately rushed to his side, trying to dislodge his hands. “Frankie, honey, it’s me.”
“Fish?”
You looked up, seeing Benny standing there, wearing an apron and a horrified expression. “Benny!” You said gratefully. “Thank god, can you comfort Frankie? I’m gonna call the cops.”
“I already did it,” one of the other patrons said, holding up their phone. “And my girlfriend has been filming this whole thing.”
You nodded gratefully, turning your attention back to Frankie. “Hey babe, hey, that’s it,” you praised softly, hearing his breathing even out. “You’re with me, it’s safe. We’re here, in the diner, and Benny’s here. Hey, see, we’re all safe.”
Frankie nodded slowly, regaining himself. “Em?”
You pointed to Emmie, who was being held back by Marisa. “She’s still here. Still safe. See?”
Another slow nod, and then the cops were rushing in. You sat in Frankie’s lap, cradling his head and keeping him secure as they cops asked everyone what had happened. Upon reviewing the footage from the other patron, they took Marisa for questioning, at which she screeched and threw a fit and tried to assault the cop. Emmie, as soon as she was free, ran towards you. Benny scooped her up, holding her close.
“Are you this girl’s father?” The cop asked Benny.
“No,” Benny said. “I’m one of her godfathers. That’s her father, but he doesn’t have any custody.”
The cop sighed. “Write your name and number here, we’ll be in touch about the custody.”
Benny jotted down Frankie’s name and number and nodded to the cop as he left.
“Aight Fish, you ready to go home?” Benny asked, bouncing Emmie in his arms.
Frankie nodded, getting up with your help and trudging to the car.
Emmie watched as Benny sat in the back with her and you drove, holding Frankie’s hand and trying not to let yourself waver. “Is daddy borken?” She asked Benny.
Benny sighed. “No hon, he isn’t broken. His brain just doesn’t like him very much.”
“Oh. Otay.”
The rest of the ride home was near silent. Benny kept Emmie occupied as only he could do, mostly by very quietly teaching her to sing ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall. You didn’t object. It made Frankie smile when she lisps her way through the song, and you would do anything to see that smile again.
The other two boys were waiting for you at home, sitting on the porch. They jumped up when you two arrived back, both eager to see Emmie and make sure Frankie was okay.
“Hey,” Will said softly, pulling you aside as everyone trudges into the house. “Y’know how you told me to keep an ear on you-know-who?”
It’s like a ton of bricks hit your chest. “Yeah?”
Will smiled. “Gone. Completely. At least ten years behind bars for abuse, but the more they look into his past relationships, the more time he gets.”
The bricks suddenly crumbled, and you were crying, tears bubbling over.
“What the hell?” Frankie asked, coming back out and pulling you into a hug. “What’s going on?”
“He’s gone!” You said happily, beyond the tears. “Gone Frankie! He’s gone!”
Will filled in the details, and Frankie was grinning wildly when he finished. “This is amazing,” he said, still hugging you. “Amazing.”
You two headed back in, Frankie’s arm over your shoulder. None of the boys knew how bad your past relationship ran except Will, but they definitely knew something was wrong. So when you came in, teary but smiling, they immediately asked what was wrong.
“Their ex is gone for good,” Frankie said happily.
It was a cause for celebration, which was just what you did. Benny, along with Will and Emmie, went to go get a cake while you, Santi, and Frankie made dinner. Dinner wasn’t fancy, mostly just warming up whatever you could find and hoping Emmie would eat it.
“We’re home!” Benny said happily, opening the door and holding up a cake. “I got cake!”
“And I’ve got dinner for Emmie,” Will said from behind Benny.
While Emmie at chicken nuggets and honey mustard, you and the boys ate tacos and cake. It was a messy dinner, but it filled your bellies and made you happy.
“Movie?” Benny asked hopefully once you’d packed up the leftovers.
You sighed, putting the pan in the sink to be washed later. “Yeah, sure. Go turn the TV on.”
Benny eagerly hopped over to the couch and sat down, turning the TV on and flicking through channels. When he found a decent movie, he let the channel sit as he watched.
The movie was a violent one, something you didn’t want Emmie to watch. She yawned as you carried her to the guest bedroom, which wasn’t fit for a two year old, but it would have to do for now. You tucked some pillows under the sheets to protect her from rolling out of the bed and set a box at the side so she could get down in the morning. With a kiss goodnight, she was out like a light.
“We good in here boys?” You asked, poking your head back into the living room. “Oh for god's sake, change the channel.”
“Why?” Benny asked. “I like this movie!”
You pointed to Frankie, who was gripping the armrest of the couch. “You’re gonna set him off.”
Frankie nodded his thanks, eyes wide and body stiff. Benny changed the channel to some cute animated movie you’d seen the trailer for but never bothered to watch the movie.
You hummed, sitting practically on top of Frankie. He never panicked during movies with live fire and violence anymore, but they still made him jittery.
“You okay?” Frankie asked softly, running his hands over your skin.
“I should be asking you that,” you pointed out, kissing the hairless patch on Frankie’s face. “Tomorrow will be better. We’ll take Emmie shopping.”
Frankie smiled. “Lord, we really are two complete messes.”
You snuggled closer into Frankie’s arms. “Messes shmesses. We’re together. Our pasts are being amended. One day, we might even be able to look back at how we are now and laugh.”
“Yeah, when Emmie’s in college.”
Smiling, you reached up and grabbed Frankie’s face, squishing his cheeks. “Even if we aren’t, if we’re still waking up at two AM with nightmares and spending our days comforting each other through panic attacks, I’ll still love you.”
Frankie grinned. “I’ll love you more.”
“Oh no you don’t,” you argued playfully. “I’ll love you more.”
“Nah, I definitely love you more.”
You heard gagging from the other side of the couch and turned to see Benny making a face. “Get a room!”
Frankie stuck his tongue out at Benny while you laughed. Santi and Will both whistled when Frankie scooped you up and carried you to bed.
Because of your ex, you and Frankie had never slept together. Bed sharing was difficult in the first months, and then cuddling was the next hurdle. You were finally comfortable enough to snuggle in the bed together, and when you reached the bedroom, Frankie plopped you on the bed and immediately snuggled up. Clothes still on, he gently rested a hand on your waist, murmuring soft words in your ears.
“I don’t think this is what Benny meant when he said get a room,” you said happily as Frankie peppered kisses across your collarbones.
“To hell with what Benny meant,” Frankie said. “You aren’t ready.”
It almost made you cry. “Thank you Frankie,” you said, a slight wobble to your voice. “Thank you.”
“You adjust your life for me,” Frankie reminded you. “I can adjust my life for you.”
That night, as you lay down to sleep, you stared at the ceiling, listening to Frankie’s low and rhythmic breathing. He was right. You had mindlessly adjusted for him, noticing what set him off and silently making changes so he didn’t have panic attacks on the daily. But he had done the same for you, changing his words and his mannerisms so he could be the best person for you, the person you needed. It was so seamless, the way you two molded to each other.
“Love you,” you whispered softly into the air, swirling around because of the fan Frankie needed on. Frankie, dead asleep, didn’t respond, but you didn’t mind. Rolling closer to Frankie, tucking yourself up and under his arm, you breathing in his late night smell. “Thank you.”
You knew, in the morning, he’d either wake up at three in tears or slowly in the sun. But either way, he would wake up to you, ready for his worst, and no matter what, he would be there for yours when it struck. You both had each other, no matter how dark life got. The monster you shared would always connect you.
59 notes · View notes
tipsycad147 · 3 years
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Going to a faery festival? Costume tips and ideas
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by Michelle Gruben
One of the best parts of attending any festival is putting together a killer outfit. Faeries especially love fashion, frivolity, and the art of disguise. But budget, weather, and travel concerns can have any faery feeling less than magickal. Costuming for outdoor festivals is challenging, but it’s worth it when you get to run around with other faeries in a beautiful natural setting.
Are you going to Faerieworlds? Glastonbury? Or another faery festival or Renaissance faire? Here’s some ideas to help plan the faery costume of your dreams.
Inspiration
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Maybe you already know what kind of Fae you want to portray. A fairytale godmother with a giant updo and a poufy skirt? A lusty satyr with body paint and a loincloth? If you’ve already got the character idea in your head, start by drawing out a few quick sketches. (Don’t worry—you don’t have to show them to anyone.) Drafting out a plan will help you figure out what costume pieces you need to obtain. There’s no need to be too practical at this stage—let out your wildest ideas out on the page.
If you’re stumped, try looking at books, movies, and past festival photos for inspiration. Keep a folder of your favorite accessories and ideas. Borrowing like crazy is totally encouraged: Victorian, Gothic, Steampunk, Disney, Renaissance, Medieval, Lolita, D&D/LARP, Hippie, Psychedelic, Rave, Circus, Gypsy, Ballet, Carnivale, Tolkien and Tribal fashions have all had a notable influence on the garb that appears at Faery festivals. Look up any of these styles to uncover a wealth of inspiration--then combine at will!
Budget
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In a perfect world, we faeries could just close our eyes, wiggle our nose, and (poof!) be transformed into a fantasy fashion plate. But we live in the (sigh) real world where money exists (and costumes cost a pile of it. A ready-made getup from a costume shop or clothier runs several hundred dollars or more, plus accessories. You gotta stay within your budget if you want to have any money left over for your ticket to the ball.
Fortunately, it is possible to put together a worthy costume without spending all the gold in Middle Earth. Faeries can be a scrappy lot, and nothing in the faery wardrobe need be shiny and new. What you do need is time. If you’re going to be scrounging, adapting, and making most of your costume, start early (like, several weeks before). Plus-size and teeny-tiny faeries may need even more time than that to find clothing in their size.
Thift stores and even your own closet can yield great base garments for your faery costume. Gypsy skirts, vests, sundresses, tunics and tights can all be easily modified or embellished. (Big tacky prom dresses are a great source for yards and yards of tulle!) Craft stores have fake flowers, ribbons, and feathers galore. Fabric scraps can be become appliques, junk jewelry can be taken apart and turned into faery bling.
It helps a lot if you can sew. If you can’t, take a class or have someone show you the basics. Faery sewing doesn’t have to be perfect—the messier, the better, really! But it sucks to have something fall apart the first time you wear it.
If you go the DIY route, be realistic. Some costume pieces take a lot of skill and are worth every penny. A circle skirt is relatively easy for a beginner to sew—a corset, not so much. It might be worth it to splurge on a purchase that will save you a giant headache. Plan ahead and build it into your figures—shopping at the last minute is a sure way to blow your budget.
Big multi-day festivals like Faerieworlds give you the opportunity to create multiple costumes and wear a different one each day. There are also various themed events (like Good Faeries/Bad Faeries). Obviously, this can get really expensive and cumbersome for travelers. A new hairpiece, overskirt, or bodice can freshen up yesterday’s costume (or last year’s) if a whole new outfit isn’t in the cards.
Transportation and Packing
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While admiring your new 36” wings in the closet mirror, you realize that you have to get them to the festival. Oh crap. Make sure there’s enough room in your vehicle or luggage to bring the costume(s) you’re planning to wear.
Fabrics like rayon, silk, and cotton voile are wonderful for traveling faeries because they’re lightweight, compact, and wrinkle-resistant. With any luck, you can just shake them out upon arrival and be ready to go. But other accessories aren’t so forgiving. Pack flower wreaths and headdresses in boxes (if you can) to prevent crushing. Small wings can be folded and packed between two layers of stiff cardboard. A mesh cover is great for keeping wigs in line. One more tried-and-true faery travel rule: Anything with glitter gets its own bag.
Lost luggage is pretty rare on commercial flights, but of course that knowledge won’t help you when the airline loses the suitcase with your Swarovski-encrusted bodice. Valuable or irreplaceable costumes should be carried with you at all times.
Being Prepared
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Outdoor festivals come with a special challenge for costumers: The weather. Over the years, Oregon’s Faerieworlds has been held in weekend-long rain, scorching sun, and plenty of fair-weather days.
You can’t exactly have a different costume for each weather possibility. But you can plan to dress in layers and still look the part. Toasty leggings and an elf cape are good things to have if the weather turns chill. A stylish parasol is handy if you’re not a dancing-in-the-rain type faery.
In addition to rain and wind, your costume will probably come into contact with the following: Sweat, perfume, sunscreen body paint, copious glitter, mud, sticky children, intoxicated adults, UV light, animals. Oh well. Your costume will definitely be tested for durability by the festival. So will your feet!
Live music and dance performances are a big part of many faery festivals, so don’t let your costume be a buzzkill. Accessories like stilts, oversized wings and headresses may block the view of the stage and keep you from dancing. Have a plan for ditching them so you can join the crowd, if you wish.
In case of an emergency, you should have a set of human clothes, too. (I know! Boo!) You can leave ‘em in your duffel bag until it’s time to go home.
Last-Minute Faeries
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Okay, so not everyone is able to spend months planning a festival costume. If you’re down to the wire, but you still want to look faery-fabulous, there are options. Lots of stores have off-the-rack clothing that fits the general vibe: Sundresses, bohemian-style skirts, blouses, tunics and leggings. Top it off with a festive wreath or garland and you’ll be fit for the faire.
If you’re still feeling drab and human, try another accessory. A bright hair color, horns, mask or face paint can help transform you into a Fae creature. These things can almost always be found within the festival gates. In fact, if you’re truly strapped for time, you could do all your costume shopping at the festival—the vendors will thank you for it!
Have fun at the festival, and don't forget to take pictures!
https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/going-to-a-faery-festival-costume-tips-and-ideas
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snarkwrites · 3 years
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ssw | juice ortiz ; when he can't go any deeper | m
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Notes:
Okay so here's the thing.. This is a bit of a glimpse into the future / what if for a fic I'm about to start writing.. well, re-writing. Despite me knowing jack fuckall about strip clubs / exotic dancing / how to describe someone giving or getting a lapdance or pole work, I got the idea to have Hazel working two nights a week in a club, idk why.. Anyway.. The idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are, loves.
Also.. I'm no longer just dipping my toes in the filth pool anymore. I went all in with this, oops rip. If anyone wants me to actually write the fic I have in mind for this... Pls.. I beg.. LMK.
Prompts:
taken from either [ HERE ] or [ HERE ] give or take. It could be one or the other or a mix of both at my own choosing.
kiss me up against the wall // moan my name as you come // when he can't go any deeper. - those were all the inspiration / prompts for this.
Fandom / Character:
Sons Of Anarchy / Juice Ortiz x Teller Morrow!OFC, Hazel
Fics Hazel can be found in:
None..Yet.
** the one I've used her in is being discontinued to do a rewrite.**
Warnings:
No minors, full stop. There is NSFW / adult content ahead. If you're underage, this was not meant for you -nor should you be reading this. If you choose to stick around after my warnings, this is strictly a you thing and it's not my problem or fault.
If you choose to go on and read this, these are the things present you need to be aware of: stripper!ofc - I admit.. I really am not too sure on how strip clubs operate, so.. if I'm wrong, sorry. lap dancing. thigh riding. body fluids tw. unprotected sex. That's pretty much it.
Tagging:
@brithedemonspawn
@chasingeverybreakingwave
@kyleoreillysknee
@sassymox
@twistnet
Other Stuff:
[ ABOUT MY WRITING | TAG LIST DOC - IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, THAT IS. | FANDOMS I WRITE FOR]
I swear I wanted to melt into the floor when I happened to glance out in the crowd and see Juice Ortiz sitting in the back with his eyes glued to the stage. I froze where I stood behind the curtain peering out and for a good five seconds, I heavily contemplated just bolting out the back door of the club.
But if I did that, I’d be out of the killer tips I’ve been told I could get dancing at this place. I wouldn’t have an outlet to express myself freely, either.
,, I had to know this would happen sooner or later. Charming is a small town and the guys from Samcro do come to this club. Even taking the audition and showing up tonight was me, taking a huge risk… So I had to know this would’ve happened at some point if I actually get the gig.” the thought came and I took three deep breaths. The hope was that I’d center myself.
Spoiler alert… it did not happen.
But I did catch sight of a brunette wig. And I convinced myself that between the wig and the dim lighting and the fact that Juice was so far away from the front of the club where I’d be dancing on the stage, he wouldn’t figure it out.
I’d just finished putting on the wig when the club owner cleared his throat and nodded to the curtains in front of me. “You’re up, kid. Do this right and Tuesdays and Thursdays are yours. Fuck it up and you can forget ever getting a chance to try again.”
I scoffed at him for a second or two but he stared me down, humorless.
My favorite Motley Crue song began to play and I stepped through the curtain. Out onto the stage and just as I did, I happened to see that prick AJ Weston and the guy who bought one of the shops downtown making their way to the table right in front of me.
My stomach dropped.
Those cold and emotionless eyes locked on me and he smirked. Nodding to me and leaning in to the shop owner. His best buddy or whatever. I don’t try and keep up with whose pissed off my father day by day, so I didn’t exactly know names.
All I did know was that for whatever reason, my mother’s scared to death of AJ Weston. She thinks she hides it, but she doesn’t. And my mother is not a woman who scares easily.
Suddenly, my biggest worry wasn’t Juice sitting in the back of the club anymore. It was the prick sitting right in front of the stage. I strutted out on the stage, not bothering to make eye contact with AJ Weston, no matter how hard I could feel him staring at me, willing me to do so. I tore off the cropped leather jacket I wore over my favorite red lace bra and after twirling it in the air a time or two, I tossed it onto the stage, hitting the floor. Writhing. Arching my back and crawling around, whipping my hair around to the song playing. I kept away from the center of the stage because I did not want to lock eyes with AJ Weston. I literally had zero desire.
The crowd was starting to get into it. I started to feel that rush like I used to feel when I danced in Las Vegas. I completely forgot about AJ Weston, thankfully. And what started off as a bumpy dance got smoother. Even more so when I found myself searching the crowd. Finding Juice in the back and locking eyes with him. That seemed to cut out a lot of my nervousness.
My hands drifted down my body, and I caught myself pretending they weren’t my hands but Juice’s. Just the thought of him feeling me up, his hands pinning my hands over my head. Pressing into me. The way he’d feel strained against those baggy jeans when he bucked against me in the heat of the moment. I used my dirty mind to fuel the dance. Letting my hands wander down to the waistband of my leather pants, working them down.
The crowd was really getting vocal now. They usually do when the clothing starts to actually come off. My stomach fluttered nervously when I locked eyes with Juice in the back of the club and I actually saw the way what I was doing on stage was affecting him.
He sat up a little straighter in his seat. Spread his legs a little. Squirming around. He nursed a glass of whiskey and his eyes wandered up and down my body slowly. When I hit the floor and started to writhe around, my back arching and my ass up in the air, he bit his lip. Watching intently. Rubbing his chin in thought.
Out towards the front of the club, right in front of me, I heard AJ swearing. Laughing out loud. I wanted to strangle the asshole, especially when he really got started with all his stupid filthy commentary as if he were mocking me, as if he were somehow better than this place even though he was willingly sitting here, of his own volition… But I went back to blocking him out. Focusing all my attention on Juice all over again instead.
Imagining what I’d do if I truly had half the nerve. What I’d let him do to me if I weren’t so damn afraid of falling in love with a Samcro man.
Because if I were going to love one, I’d choose him. Hands down. If I were ever to settle, I’d want to settle with Juice Ortiz.
My song was nearing an end. My dance was slowing down. I made my way up the pole again, grinding it as I inched up it. Slowly. Seductively as I could... Eyes locked on Juice the entire time as I flipped myself upside down and started to wind around the pole, spinning slowly with my arm outstretched as the other arm gripped the pole to hold myself. And just before the official end of my song, I dropped to the ground, crawling away from the pole. Towards the front of the stage, bolder. Getting closer in the hopes I could at least get a little better look at Juice’s face because I was dying to see the expression on it right now.
I smirked in his direction and gave a teasing wink as I pulled myself off the floor and slunk towards the red velvet curtain separating the back of the club from the front.
“Stormy Knight, ladies and gentlemen. If anyone wants the VIP experience, find Vinnie.” the announcer called out over the rowdy crowd. I was just about to reach for the doorknob on the door that lead into the dressing room when a throat cleared behind me.
“Not bad, kid. If you can bring that every single Tuesday and Thursday, gigs yours.” the club owner was standing there, smirking. He almost looked like he felt bad for doubting me in the first place. He added casually, “Had three guys come to me about VIP dances. I usually leave all that to my girls to work out. That’s extra dough in your pocket, makes no difference to me. I know half of ya have extra mouths to feed.”
I eyed him, my mouth falling open.
“Three guys? Like.. altogether?”
“No, no.. Two were together. One was by himself. Belonged to one of the MCs. Just do me a favor and at least attempt to obey club rules, kid. Don’t go gettin knocked up on the clock.” the man laughed and I took a deep breath.
At best, I figured that the biker in question was probably one of the Mayans I’d seen sitting towards the middle of the club.
I was pretty damn sure I knew exactly who the two men were and after mulling it over because it seemed as if my new boss was awaiting a decision from me, I decided I wanted no part of the risk of having to give AJ Weston and his slimy friend a private show.
“I’ll take the biker tonight, man. I’m not feelin up to a three way.”
The owner nodded and mused thoughtfully, “Good idea, kid.. That one guy out of the two of ‘em looked like his elevator didn’t go all the way to the top floor. I’ll go get your biker and bring him back. You got room 3. That was Gina’s old room.” before walking away, disappearing out into the front of the club again.
“Please god… at least let it be the J.D Pardo look alike if it’s one of the Mayans.” I muttered to myself, not daring to get my hopes up that it’d be Juice.
A throat cleared from behind me. I nearly shit myself when I heard Tig Trager mumble with a laugh, “Okay Ortiz. Go get your girl.” before walking away. I did not dare turn around until I knew Tig was long gone.
“Stormy, huh? That’s one hell of a name, baby girl.” he mused aloud.
I turned around slowly. Found myself body to body with him. He was staring down at me intently, licking his lips. Chuckling as he shook his head and leaned in a little closer to whisper, “Does daddy know you dance, Hazelynn? Because if he’d been here… Seen all that…” he fanned himself and gave me a teasing smirk.
My mouth dropped open.
“How? How’d you know?” I stammered out.
“I saw your car parked outside… Life pro tip, princess.. If you wanna keep this a secret, I’d suggest parking around back. Or catching a ride. Because your car? Kind of hard to forget.” Juice’s hand settled on my hip and he pulled me just a little closer. His eyes dipped down, settling on my lips, a quiet groan coming when his intent stare made me lick my lips and fidget a little.. Melting against him a little before I could stop myself from doing it. Giving a sheepish laugh as I glanced up at him.
“Your secret’s safe with me. Relax.” he chuckled. He must have felt how tense my body was as I pressed against him. I let out a shaky breath. Parts of me wanted to ask the logical question, if he came here a lot, but also, at the same time parts of me definitely didn’t want to know. Those parts of me knew that if I did ask and he said he did, I’d get just a little jealous. Because it already happened whenever I’d see him at the bar and he’d have Croweaters flocking to him.
“Guess I owe you a VIP.” I teased gently, nodding towards the door with the gold star and the black number 3 painted on it. I reached down, grabbing hold of his hand, starting to lead him in the direction of the room.
“If you don’t wanna do this…” Juice frowned slightly and acted like he was going to walk away, but I stopped him. Made him look at me.
“It’s fine. It’s part of the job.” I gave him a reassuring smile as I opened the door to the room, stepping inside. Letting him step inside.
He closed the door behind him and we found ourselves body to body all over again. He muttered quietly, “Confession… I saw that Weston asshole and his idiot friend talking to the owner about a VIP dance with you so I went over and offered more money.”
Between the goofy little shit eating grin he gave me as he said it and the fact that he did that because he knows the guy creeps me right the fuck out, I was blown away. Before I could stop myself, I rose to tiptoe, gently pressing my lips against the corner of his mouth. “You’re an actual angel come to Earth, sir. You have definitely earned that dance.” I muttered softly as I pulled back to look up at him.
He bit his lip and my eyes followed the movement helplessly.
If I thought I was making myself wet on stage with my own dirty imagination, it was nothing compared to how wet I got when I locked eyes with him and realized that he was fully aware that I’d been staring at his mouth like a proper idiot.
I stepped close to him again and placed my palm on the front of his cutte, gently shoving him so that he settled in the chair right behind him.
Right away, his hands went to my hips. I lowered my hands, pushing his hands back down as I shook my head. “No touching. Club rules, Juice.”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.” he gave an awkward laugh and I giggled softly. Sinking down into his lap slowly.
Maybe I was slightly exaggerating out in the hallway when I told him I could do this and made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. The second I settled in his lap and started to grind against it, I could feel myself dripping just a little more. I rose up slightly and he sucked in a breath. His knuckles went white with the way he was gripping the arms of the chair. His eyes were absolutely glued to me and I smirked. Teasing a little. Acting as if I’d take off the cropped leather jacket over my bra only to pull it back up.
The third time I did this, he growled quietly. Bucked himself against me. When I whimpered and grinded myself down harder against his lap, he muttered in a heated whisper, “You feel what you’re doing to me right now, baby girl?”
Oh. I felt it alright. The way he strained at his jeans, cock still twitching and growing harder and harder. The little friction I was allowing myself wasn’t enough. My cunt was throbbing and I was getting so wet that I was pretty sure when I finished giving him his lapdance the poor guy was going to have a wet spot on his jeans.
“Mhm.” I answered in a daze, leaning in so that my lips brushed against the shell of his ear and my tits rubbed right against him. He whimpered and bucked into me all over again and when I slipped out of his lap, he frowned. I hit my knees, parting his legs. Staring up at him from where I kneeled on the floor and he shifted in his seat, gripping the arms of the chair tighter when I started to rise up. Swaying my hips side to side. Leaning in. Rubbing against him as much as I could get away with. Oh, I was definitely using this little VIP dance he paid for as an excuse to do as much touching and teasing as I thought I could get away with.
All those urges to touch him I normally kept at bay were finally being allowed free reign and it felt so good.
I settled on his lap again. He let out a long and shaky breath and we locked eyes. He was staring at me like he wanted to ask me something or he wanted to say something but he wasn’t sure how.
“What’s up?” I asked quietly.
“Nothin, it’s nothin.” he said it quickly. Too quick. I gripped his cutte and pulled him in closer. My mouth inching dangerously close to his as I muttered against it, “Whatever you want to say, say it. Trust me. I can handle it.”
“Okay, you asked for it.” he muttered. After a second or two of staring at his lap, he looked up at me again and asked quietly, “Did you wanna dance for me?”
“I got the owner to come get you, didn’t I?” my heart was beating faster. I thought it’d jump right out of my chest. I did my best to play as cool and casual as I could but every single part of me wanted to tell him that dancing was not all I wanted to do for him.
“I know that… what I mean is.. Forget it.” he went quiet. Looked down again and I gripped his jaw, making him look up at my face. “Eyes up here, Ortiz.” I teased gently, my smile falling away when I saw the serious and somber look in his eyes. I scooted away a little, an attempt to give him some space. Settling myself over his thigh instead of fully positioned on his lap as I had been.
“Talk to me.” the words left my mouth in a whimper as I pressed myself right against his thigh, rocking my throbbing sex back and forth over it. Getting wetter and wetter with each second that passed. And the ache. Oh god, the ache. I was on the brink of frustrated tears. And I couldn’t break down, I couldn’t act anything less than totally professional, because this was my night job and I was on the clock but God.. did I ever want to.
He spread his legs wider and took a deep breath. Trying not to touch me, but I could tell with the way he kept raising his hands only to put them back down on the arm rests of the velvet covered chair he sat in that he wanted nothing more than to do that very thing.
And the thought of those hands on me had me flooded in a split second. If there was any doubt before that I’d leave a wet spot behind on his jeans at the end of this dance, there wasn’t going to be by the time it was over.
Anticipation and desire had my stomach coiled tightly. I wanted, more than anything, to be able to pick up with this back home… Behind closed doors. Just him and I.
But I knew that tonight was most likely just going to be an awkward little secret. Kept between two friends. And it bothered me, because I wanted so much more than that but I was afraid to cross lines and let myself have that… I doubted it was even an option anyway because I just didn’t think Juice even saw me like that.
Sure, we flirted now and then, but nothing ever came of it.
God, did I want it to.
This heavy tension seemed to settle in all around us and I picked up on it. Juice groaned quietly, and after he nearly broke the no touch rule again and very nearly reached out to grab hold of my ass and rock me against his thigh faster, I leaned in.. Pressed against him as I continued to grind against his leg and muttered against his ear, “Most guys put their arms behind their head… Til they’re used to not being allowed to touch.. They get verbal too…” my words hitching in my throat, rushing out over each other breathlessly.
He raised his hands, locking them behind his head. Sprawling back against the chair. It seemed to help ease the tension built in his body too, because I felt him sort of melting into the chair a little and I smiled.
“C’mon.. Tell me what you want me to do.” I coaxed, fixing my eyes on him and biting my lip when I immediately found myself getting sucked far too deep into his gaze.
“Touch yourself.” he muttered. Raising up a little. Leaning forward. “Touch yourself for me, baby girl… Like you were when you were dancin out front.”
I let my hands wander.
They were shaking slightly and I just hoped to God that it wasn’t noticed.
Juice took a few shaky breaths and bucked a little in the seat. “Come closer.. Get on my lap.”
I moved so that I was straddling his lap and the way his cock strained against his jeans and I tried to stop myself, but as I started to rock myself back and forth over it, I whimpered quietly. My breath caught in my throat a time or two and my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to beat out of my chest.
“I normally don’t buy dances if I come here.” he muttered quietly, shattering through my own current internal struggle.
Knowing this relaxed me a little. It was obvious he didn’t just going off the way he acted, but.. I still wondered. Some guys like to pretend it’s their first lap dance because it gets them going.
I’m not here to judge anyone.
I mean.. I have a good paying day job as a legal assistant and here I am.. Dancing two nights a week whenever I can find a club to take me just so I have some form of release.. Just so I can feel intimacy that for whatever reason, I tend to deny myself in reality.
I almost asked him why, but I remembered what he told me out in the hallway about outbidding AJ because he knew the guy scared me. And I stopped myself, even though parts of me hoped there was more to it than that.
My hands moved over my chest and I rocked myself over him faster. My breath catching in my throat as I felt myself rushing straight into an orgasm I’d been trying like hell to hold back the whole time we’d been in the VIP room.
I could feel my body burning up under his gaze and he leaned in again. Muttered breathlessly against my ear, “If you’re nervous..”
“It’s fine.” I pretended to brush it off. I acted as chill about doing this for him as I possibly could.
“Turn away.. I wanna watch you movin from behind, baby girl.” he muttered. The request caught me by surprise a little, but I kind of realized that he was doing it more for me than for himself.
I did what he asked, turning in his lap so that I faced away. My eyes caught his in the reflection of the mirrored wall in front of us. As I started to rock my ass over his bulge, he growled quietly. Bucking himself up into me. Biting his lip as he did it three more times. Muttered in a lust filled daze “Fuck yeah, baby girl.. Work that ass.”
Just the way he said it had me dripping all over again.
“Faster.” he panted, bucking himself up into me all over again. Harder.
I tried not to, but I found myself imagining that he was taking me from behind. A fist full of my hair and my tits pressed right against the mirrored wall in front of us. And I rocked myself back and forth over his cock, pressing down even harder. Moving even faster. Almost close to a blinding orgasm.
“Fuck.” I swore quietly.
Juice sat up in the chair. Pressing his chest into my back. Muttering against my ear, “ Did you wanna dance for me like this?”
“Juice, I told you already.” my head fell back and my eyes fluttered open and shut. I squeezed my tits and rolled my hips faster. My breath came in short pants because I was so close to an orgasm that I was throbbing. He was leaning in again to whisper. “What I mean is if this wasn’t your job.. And it was just me and you… Would you wanna..” he rocked himself against me all over again. Harder. With more urgency as he swore under his breath and muttered that if I kept it up, he was going to come all over himself.
“ Turn around facin me.” he panted, his lips brushing against my ear and sending a shiver rushing through me. I turned back around in his lap to face him. Raising up a little. Teasing him by putting my tits at level with his mouth. Squeezing them together before lowering my hand. Toying with the waistband of my leather pants. Teasing him like I’d take them off.
“ Tease.” he pouted up at me.
“ That’s kind of what you’re paying me for right now, Juice.” I gave a soft laugh as I tucked a finger beneath his chin. Pulling his mouth dangerously close to mine. He licked his lips in anticipation and when he did, his tongue brushed right against my mouth. I whimpered helplessly.
And I just barely kept myself from exploding.
“You’re tensin up on me, Haze… Somethin wrong?” Juice asked quietly.
Looking at me as if he were bracing himself for something bad to be said.
By this point, I was so caught up in the moment, in the way it felt to grind myself against his cock and get out all these long denied urges to touch him to my hearts content.. It slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
“Honestly? I’m a breath away from coming and this never.. Ever… happens to me when I’m givin a private dance.” my words came in a breathless rush and as soon as I realized what I’d just said, I lost my groove for a second or two. Slowing down. Trying to pull myself together.
Hoping to God that I didn’t just make things awkward for him and I in the future because I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.
His mouth opened and closed and his hands gripped the arm rests again. Tighter.
“Do you know how hard it is for me? Feelin you dancin on my cock like this? Knowin I.. Knowin that this is probably as close as I’m ever gonna get? Fuck… If I were ever lucky enough to have you all to myself, baby girl...”
His words caught me by surprise. My heart fluttered a little and I swallowed hard. Going still in his lap just to stare at him.
The lights getting brighter and the music in the room going quiet had both of us jumping apart. I realized that probably meant my time in the room was done and before I could give myself a chance to back out, I slipped off his lap and held out my hand to him.
“ C’mon.”
He eyed my hand and took hold of it, standing. I practically drug him out of the room and then down the hall. Out the door and into the back lot behind the club. Once the door was shut behind us, I started to pace in front of him. Just trying to put it all together.
Torn between continuing to fight what I felt for him and caving in.
When he stepped in front of me and placed his hands on my upper arms, staring down into my eyes intently, something in me snapped and before I could stop myself, I had his back pressed against the door of the building. My hands caught his, holding them over his head as I rose up slightly and crashed my mouth against his mouth.
Devouring. Hungry.
At first, he didn’t really react. But when the shock cleared and he realized what I was doing, he came alive. I melted against him and he growled into my mouth, deepening the kiss. Teeth latching onto my bottom lip and tugging until I felt it starting to bruise. I let his hands go and they were all over me. Settling on my ass. Rocking me up against him and making me whimper and dig my fingers into his shoulders. I couldn’t melt into him any more if I tried. I was so exhausted from trying to hold back in more ways than one at this point that my filter was totally shot. I rocked myself against him clumsily, a begging and needy whine filling the space between our mouths as the kiss broke when I just couldn’t hold it back.
“Do you know why I almost got off giving you a lap dance? Do you know what you do to me, Juice? I.. I tried so hard not to fall for you and yet.. Here I am.”
He blinked in shock. For a few seconds we stared at each other, panting for our next breath. Neither of us saying a word.
Then he bent and scooped me up. Started to carry me towards the end of the alley where he’d parked his Dyna Glide.
I didn’t do or say anything to try to stop him. I didn’t want to.
I’m so tired of keeping him at arms length. I’m tired of fighting the way I feel.
He sat me on the back of his bike and I grabbed hold of the front of his vest, pulling him down. Pulling his mouth down against mine all over again because I just.. I was needy. I craved him on this level I couldn’t even begin to get my head around.
His bike came to a stop in front of his apartment building and he got off. Scooping me up all over again. Stopping just outside the doors leading into the building to grope and kiss me. Letting his lips stray down the side of my neck. Sucking a mark deep into my skin. I clung to him and begged breathlessly, “Juice, please..”
Neither of us was really stopping to think. I didn’t want to.
I wanted him.
More importantly, I wanted to be with him. And tonight just proved to me that I couldn’t fight it anymore.
The whole time he was trying to unlock his apartment door, he kept fumbling with the keys. Rutting right against me. Stopping to kiss or touch me. When he finally got it unlocked, he stepped through the door and stepped over to the couch. Tossing me down onto it gently. Following close behind. Pressing himself down into me and snapping his hips against mine, making me whimper. My whimper echoing off the walls of the quiet room. I reached down between us, tugging at the hem of his white t shirt and he rose up, pulling off his vest and tossing it at a chair nearby. Then pulling his shirt off and tossing it too. It settled on the floor in front of the chair. Then he was pulling me up. Tearing my bra away and tossing it out into the room. My hands lowered, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and he bit his lip. Gazing at me for a second or two with this look of lust and adoration in his eyes. Savoring the moment and what was about to happen.
Because it’s been building for a while, apparently. I just focused so damn hard on keeping myself from caving in and letting myself have what I wanted, with him, that somehow, I missed all the signs.
“Baby, c’mon.” I begged.
The term of endearment slipped out.
He gave me that little smirk. Rubbed his chin in thought as he let his eyes wander.
He worked his way down my body, using his body to part my legs. He worked my leather pants down my legs and I kicked them free at my ankles.
His fingers caught in the thin strap of my panties and they came away with a quiet tear. I tried to get him out of his pants again and he lowered my hands. Slipping off the sofa. I watched intently as he teased me, pouting about it. Begging.
I needed him buried inside me. Fucking me. Slow. Deep. All night long.
His pants fell to his ankles and he kicked off his boots and then kicked his pants free from his legs. When he dropped his boxers, I swallowed hard as my eyes settled on the way his cock stood at attention once it was free from fabric. He was pressing himself down into me all over again.
His mouth roaming over my tits. Tongue teasing my nipples as my back arched away from the sofa and I rocked myself against him. His free hand settled between us, circling his thick cock. Teasing it between my folds and making me shiver and cling to him. Try to rock myself against him urgently.
And then he buried his cock inside me. Shallow at first. Going still to let me adjust to him. I felt like I was being split in two and the feeling had me whining. Nipping at his chest, at any patch of skin I could get my mouth on just so I could muffle the way I wanted to scream his name at the top of my lungs.
I rocked into him clumsily and he growled quietly. His hands going down to my hips. Holding them still as he started to pound me harder. Deeper. So deep he couldn’t go any deeper. When he bottomed out, I dragged my nails down his back.
“Not yet, baby girl. C’mon, hold out just a little longer for me.” Juice coaxed breathlessly as his hips crashed against me with a bruising pace. I begged for release, on the verge of tears. The more I begged, the more he’d slow down. Stop to kiss me or leave marks on me. Torture.
Slow, steady and deep torture.
“You gonna moan my name when you cum?” he questioned, slamming his cock deep into my womb. Going still and capturing my mouth in a deep and passionate kiss. “ God. You’re so.” he panted, snapping his hips against mine, cock pistoning in and out of me with steady deep thrusts, “So fuckin wet I can barely stay in. Fuck. Shit. Shiiiit, baby girl. I wanna cum so bad.”
“Juice! Ah, -ah fuck. Right there.” my back arched away from the couch and my orgasm ripped through me, leaving me weak and dazed, clinging to him as I tried desperately to keep up with his pace, spent. Dripping. My walls vising his cock and clenched around it. Tears flooding my eyes because holy fuck, all I’ve wanted for the entire time was to finally be allowed to let go.
Juice stared down at me from above, a soft gaze. He caught a tear as it made a black trail down my cheek. Chuckling quietly. Going still to pepper kisses soft against my mouth and then trail them down the front of my throat. When he started to move again, he muttered against my lips softly, “It’s okay, baby girl. I got you. I’m right here.” as he pistoned in and out, the wet sloshing sounds accompanying each thrust he made seeming to make him move just a little faster. His hands were all over me and all I could really do was lie there, pinned beneath him. Whimpering his name as I tried to come down from the high. Stare up at him softly as my mind spun, replaying every single thing that led us here, to this exact moment.
���Oh fuck. Fuck baby girl. You want it?” his hips stammered, smashing against mine in a bruising pace and his words were swallowed by another hungry kiss and I nodded. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he did. Striking against my throbbing g-spot a time or two and growling, biting. Locking his lips against my neck and sucking yet another big,deep mark into soft flesh. The warmth of his release flooded me, making me whimper. Overfilling me, because I could feel the excess slowly leak down. Puddle beneath me on the sofa.. I bucked my hips against him greedily trying to take it all because I wanted it. I needed it. I craved him so badly I couldn’t have put it to words if I tried. He leaned into me heavily, panting for his next breath. Spent. A fine sheen of sweat gathered on our bodies. I grabbed hold of his face and pulled his mouth against mine. Our foreheads pressed together and he muttered quietly, “Mine?”
“Yours.” it shocked me when the word bubbled out. It shocked me because a, I was saying it and b, I meant it. With everything in me. As soon as I said it, he gave me a soft and lazy grin. Pressing his lips to my forehead. He collapsed onto the couch settling behind me. Pulling me on top of him.
Quiet little soft kisses. Caressing my face as he stared up at me and caught sight of one of the bigger marks he left on my throat, grimacing as he chuckled about it quietly.
“Fuck me. Baby, that was amazing...” I groaned out in a daze, making him laugh and gaze up at me. “Give me an hour, babe.” he teased…
“Careful. I might take you up on that.” I teased back, melting against his body. Letting his arms wrap around me and hold me tight.
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powerpuff-ali · 3 years
Text
Brotherly Headcanons for the boys!!!
Context: Mojo and Him are not consistently in their lives. They live in Mojo's lair.
When the reality of life strikes them, they realize that they only have each other. This has two effects: they despise the world so much more and they draw closer together
Not only are they true ride or dies, they move as one unit with the strength and determination to survive. This translates in their fighting as well. (Possibly even surpassing the girls' will to see justice prevail.)
As a result, they grow tolerant of one another and eventually more affectionate
Oh, they still fight but it's not as extreme and they save fights for serious occasions
Brick can either be extremely critical of them or overly empathetic. There is no in-between and that scares Boomer sometimes.
Butch is surprisingly a great listener. Boomer goes to him often. Butch has to seek Brick out to make sure he's not overburdening himself (again)
Butch and Boomer often team up against Brick and surprisingly, he does give in. They help him to loosen up even if the outcome is a disaster
Boomer is very supportive and a slick talker.
Yes, he's clueless and yes, he's not the sharpest but he's charming and charismatic
No officer, my brothers would never do that! *Bats those pretty lashes* works everytime
They learn to cook together and each have their specialties: Boomer is in charge of breakfast foods, Butch is not allowed to use the stove but he makes killer sandwiches, Brick makes the best steaks and soups
The only reason why Brick makes soups is because Boomer tends to get sick a lot so just like a mother hen, he smothers Boomer back to health
*taking Boomer's temperature* Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital? Do you need more pillows? Butch, he looks worse than before right? He looks fine. Brick, it's just a cold. Shut up, you're in a state of delirium.
Butch rarely gets sick but when he does, he does not get the same attention Boomer does but Brick still looks after him
Oh boy... If Brick is sick, the other two pamper him to the point of suffocation and they only agitate Brick's symptoms. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Brick takes his role as their caretaker very seriously. So much so that he works three times as hard to make sure they get ahead in life especially when the local government forced them to attend school
Just lay low and don't do anything that could hurt my grades, got it? *Terrified agreement*
Boomer's a little oblivious to the stress Brick is under but Butch witnesses it (again, he's a good listener)
So Butch delegates their chores and makes sure everything is clean or in order (i know the boys and order?)
Although they have their own rooms and closets, there are still a few items that are tossed around between the three of them
I bought these socks! See, the skulls are bleeding. My color is red! Yeah, right! These are mine. I wear them all the time!
Who's deodorant is this? It smells good so I'm stealing it! Buy your own! You can use mine.
Butch, those are my rings. Yes, but they look better on me. And your head looks better slammed into the wall. I'm going to have to disagree with you on that but I will put them back later.
They are each other's wing men. Thankfully, they all have different love interest tastes.
Oh wow, Socrates? My brother is super into him too. You know, it's so hard for him to find a woman of your calibur who shares similar interests. Butch, I'm reading Kierkegaard and I'm pretty sure Brick can talk to me himself. Oh my god, Butch this isn't what I wanted!
Play time! Let's just say it's a good thing Mojo has an undisclosed amount of cash.
High powered lasers are used like nerf guns, ray guns are used in games of chicken, and giant fighting robots are turned into oversized rock 'em sock 'em robots
Sure, they could be hanging out, causing mayhem or what have you but their favorite unspoken thing to do together is fall asleep watching tv together on the couch Friday nights. Not exactly snuggled up but using each other as leg rests and pillows. They end up entangled and eventually someone ends up on the floor.
They really just go unchecked so even though they are the embodiment of chaos, they're just boys who desperately need a home, safety, and comfort. Thankfully, they found that within each other.
I have so many drafts of their day to day life and relationship with one another. I love them so much 🥺 (add more to this list if you want~)
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a-singleboat · 4 years
Text
I Need A Hero
Word Count: 4.5k
Request: i am formally requesting an emily fic 😌 i dont want to be needy but em being lowkey but then super protective of you 🥵 angst with a happy ending would be amazing - anon
A/N: Let me know what you think! This is my first emily x reader so :D
Content Warnings: Blood, Reader getting hurt, Reader getting assaulted, kidnapping, swearing, alcohol, drugs
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You should have listened to Emily. You really should have listened to her. 
Emily was always just a tad bit overprotective of you, sometimes going as far as to asking you to wear a GPS device to clubs especially if she wasn’t going with you. You understood, of course. With her past and her current job, she had to make sure all her bases were covered. You were just one of them. 
Though you rarely agreed to the GPS deceive, it was still flattering that she thought of you as important enough to keep track of. Usually, you’d just stick to texting her to let her know where you were. That was good enough for her.
But when she told you to stay home today, you thought that was her just being overly cautious, overly protective, as usual. You should have known better. 
Turns out a serial killer with an affinity for women visibly similar to yourself was on the loose, details kept from the public due to the fact that the man was a flight risk. That being, it was painfully obvious why the “unsub,” to use Emily’s terminology, was a flight risk. 
He flinched at every sound. At first, you tried to call out for someone--anyone. Well, that gained you a bloody gash on the side of your head. You didn’t make that mistake twice. Instead, you tried to remain calm and complacent--two things that Emily once said would ensure that you’d survive in a situation like this.
“Annie,” the man, Stephen, crooned. He picked up a doll from the table of toys and brought it over to you. From what you could tell, the doll was dirty and half-rotted away, as if it had been buried for a good while. He pressed it up to your face, the side coated in blood, and cooed at you. “Annie, I have Mrs. Buttercup here. Don’t cry, she’ll make it all better.”
You tried not to wince away as he rubbed the doll against your face. If Stephen wasn’t going to kill you, infection just might. 
“Th-thank you, Mrs. Buttercup,” you whimpered, hands grasping the end of the armrests. The chair rocked backward as he put pressure on the doll, forcing you backward. You panicked as your feet left the ground, struggling to at least get a toe back on the solid concrete. 
God, you should have listened to Emily. If you were going to die, you’d spend the rest of your immortal life regretting the choice you made to leave the house today. 
Stephen looked into your eyes, searching for something. You knew all he’d find was fear so you tried your best to wrestle down your emotions. You held back the tears threatening to spill, holding your breath as he leaned in closer. 
“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, the one not wet with your blood. You grimaced at the feeling of his chapped lips against your skin. “I-I didn’t mean to earlier, Annie. You were just being so loud and… you understand, right?”
You nodded, lip quivering as he brought the doll to your chin, tilting your head upward. He forced you to look at him, smearing blood along your jawline as he did. 
After a few moments of deliberation, he let you go, the rocking chair swaying back and forth until it settled back into a resting position. “You must be hungry,” he decided, dropping Mrs. Buttercup back into the piles of toys. “I’ll go make you your favorite.”
He flinched as a loud sound came from outside--a car alarm going off. The sound made you relax, however. The sound of a car alarm meant you weren’t in an abandoned factory somewhere. You were most likely in this guy’s basement, or something similar. 
Stephen gripped the sides of his head as the alarm continued, only letting go when the alarm finally shut off. He collected himself, fists clenching before relaxing at his sides. His smile returned though you can only really see his teeth in the low light. 
“I’ll be back, Annie,” he said, waving at you. “Don’t move.”
The last two words were more threatening than anything he’d actually done, true menace seeping into his voice like a poison. You waited for him to disappear around the corner before allowing yourself to cry, a few tears rolling down your cheeks and mixing with the blood. 
You gasped for air, struggling to keep your breathing steady. It wouldn’t do you any good to hyperventilate now. You looked around for something--anything--that could possibly be used to alert someone that you were down here. 
God, how long had it been? You lost count after the first thirty minutes. There were no windows so you couldn’t even tell if it was still day. Emily was probably freaking out by now. No doubt she had somehow gotten the entire United States Military involved by now, your safety being the only thing on her mind. 
Another ten or so minutes passed without Stephen. You wondered how the other victims had died. Blood loss seemed to be the only thing on your mind, unsure if your head wound had clotted yet. All you could feel was the wet of your own bodily fluid on the side of your face, which didn’t help much. Everything else just seemed numb. 
Your head lolled to the side as you heard footsteps approach, unable to lift your head as flashlights combed the ground. You barely reacted as the door got kicked in, eyelids closing as two blurry figures approached you. One of the figures shouted something behind them while the other came to you, patting your face lightly in an attempt to get you to stay awake. 
Unable to remain conscious, you allowed sleep to claim you as the person above you shouted more words, all unintelligible as your consciousness faded from reality. 
_____
Emily never did like hospitals. 
Ever since her “death,” she tried to avoid them as much as possible but now, for you, she would make an exception. She waited in the waiting room alongside her teammates. None of them knew you personally, but they all knew about you. From the stories Emily would tell to the snippets of various phone conversations they accidentally overheard, they could tell that you were something good for their Unit Chief. 
She propped her elbows up on her legs, holding her head up as she struggled to stay away. You hadn’t needed surgery but had lost a lot of blood as well as suffered major trauma. The doctors weren’t allowing anyone in as they observed you for any possible signs of infection as well as any withdrawal symptoms from the drugs the unsub had used to knock you out. It was all very dramatic, the extent of your actual injuries being minimal compared to what could have happened. 
“Stop worrying.” Morgan reached over, putting a hand on her knee. She hadn’t even realized she’d been bouncing it up and down, too worried about how you were doing. It had been a few hours at that point, nurses going in and out of your room but none of them saying anything about your state of being. 
“She’s fine. You know this. Everything they’re doing is just precautionary,” Morgan continued. He patted her knee twice, lifting his hand to point at a white-coated doctor exiting your room. “Look, the doctor’s here now. He’ll tell you that everything’s okay.”
“Y/n Y/l/n?”
Emily stood, smoothing out her blazer. “That’s me. I’m Emily Prentiss, her fiancée.”
A little white lie wouldn’t hurt, especially not when it would get her the answers she needed. 
“Well, Ms. Prentiss, Y/n is expected to make a full recovery. The trauma to her head won’t have any lasting effects. She has some bruising on her side, we think from being dropped. We want to keep her overnight to watch for infection and, of course, the withdrawal effects from the xylazine. You may see her now but you won’t be able to stay overnight with her.” 
“Thank you, doctor,” Emily said, shaking the man’s hand before he departed. She turned around to face her friends. “You guys can go home, I’ll call a cab back home later. Thank you for being here for me.” 
Morgan gave her an incredulous look, standing from his seat. “Emily, if you think we’re just going to leave you then you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Yeah,” Garcia piped up. “We’ll be right here for you. None of us are leaving.” 
“You would do the same for any of us,” Reid backed her up.
Now Emily wasn’t one for tears but upon hearing the support she got from her friends, she could feel herself starting to tear up. She took a stabilizing breath, thanking them before turning to head into your hospital room. 
It was quiet. That was the first thing she noticed. Instead of your infectious laugh filling the void space, it was the steady beeping of the machine connected to your finger, ensuring that you still had a heartbeat. It broke Emily’s heart to see you like this, bloodied and bruised. 
She dragged one of the hospital chairs over to your bedside, hesitating before taking your hand up in hers. It was all her fault that you were here. If her job was less dangerous, you’d have still been in your hometown rather than following her all the way to Quantico, Virginia. You probably would have already been married with five adoptive children like you always wanted.
Instead, you're here. In a hospital in Washington DC recovering from being kidnapped by a psycho that Emily most likely unknowingly brought back to your home. If you didn’t hate her after this, she’d consider it a miracle. 
_____
The first thing you saw when you came to was Emily’s face full of worry, her eyebrows knitted together in concentration as she thought long and hard. Your hand was in hers, still limp as you slowly regained feeling in your extremities. 
Very gently, you squeezed her hand, letting her know you were awake. 
“Hi baby,” you whispered, your throat a bit scratchy from the lack of lubrication. As if reading your mind, she handed you a cup of water off the hospital bedside table. You took a few sips, keeping your eyes on your girlfriend as she looked deep in thought. 
You set the water aside, groaning as you realized your entire side was sore. You couldn’t remember if you hit it against something. From what you knew, the only injury you suffered was your head wound, which was newly wrapped. 
You looked her up and down, squeezing her hand slightly to gain her attention. “What’s on your mind, baby?”
Emily bit her lip, carefully picking her next words. “Y/n… I think we should take a break.”
This came out of nowhere. Her words slammed into you harder than a football quarterback would have, stealing all the breath from your lungs as you processed her words. 
“What?”
“We should take a break. It’s just--I put you in more danger than you asked for and you don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve not knowing when or if I’ll come home. You don’t deserve me dropping plans for a case or forgetting your birthday because I’m working. You deserve someone who can be there and I’m sorry, but I’m not that. I-I don’t deserve you.”
“What? Emily, no. First off, you don’t get to decide what I do and don’t deserve. Second, none of this was any of your fault. I knew what your job was from the very beginning and I chose to stay because I wanted to. So what if you forget my birthday, there’s always next year and so what if you cancel plans, we’ll just make new ones. Emily, please don’t--” Tears pearled in the corners of your eyes as your voice caught in your throat. “Baby, where did this come from?”
She shrugged, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. She let go of your hand, pulling away even as you tried to keep her there. “I’ll see you around, Y/n.”
You couldn’t do anything as she walked out. You called for her, hands shaking as you tried to think of something--anything to say to her as she left your life. The worst part wasn’t even her leaving, you later decided. The worst part was that Emily Prentiss didn’t even bother turning around for one last look. She just left you with your broken heart scattered about the room, leaving you to pick up your own pieces. 
_____
You wanted to hate Emily Prentiss. You really did. 
The way she just left you leaving you numb until you were forced to feel everything as you underwent twenty-four hours of withdrawal. Xylazine wasn’t something to mess with, you knew that even before you have been drugged with it. But now, two months after you and Emily split paths, you stayed in Virginia. 
Why would you move? You’d already built up a life in the state. All your friends were there and so was your job, which you had grown to love despite the overbearing mother that neighbored workspaces with you. 
You knew Nancy meant well, that she just wanted to make sure you were adjusting to work well after you’d been kidnapped, but sometimes you just wanted the woman to take a long walk away from you and never return. Right now was one of those times. 
“It’s been two months,” Nancy said, looking up from her computer screen. She had been finalizing her schedule for that week, boxing off the times she needed so she could go visit her son in college. “You need to move on with your life. Find yourself another girlfriend or at least go out with your friends. I hate seeing you all mopey like this.” 
Nancy had a point. You did need to make an effort to go out, to go back to “normalcy” or whatever. Even your therapist was pushing you to socialize, saying that it could help you get over the recurring nightmares. 
“I don’t want to go out tonight, Nancy,” you replied, trying to focus on the work in front of you. The numbers were starting to blur together but you persevered. You didn’t have much longer until the end of work. As soon as you finished the spreadsheet on the screen in front of you, you were home free. 
“At least try, Y/n,” Nancy insisted. “Call up some of your friends, hit the club. Even if you don’t drink, at least try to have fun again.”
“But I have fun talking to you. Why do I need to go have more fun.”
Nancy wasn’t taking any of your shit. She packed away her things, powering down her computer. She lowered her standing desk and pulled her purse over her shoulder. “Hopefully you’ll be telling me all about your night out when I see you tomorrow morning. Good night, Y/n.”
Grumpily, you replied, “Good night, Nancy.” 
You stayed at the office thirty minutes more and after a solid five-minute debate with yourself, you gave in and called up your friends. Lyndsey and Brenna both said they’d be down while Brent replied with utter regret, saying he had been roped into working the night shift. 
And so you drove to Lyndsey’s to get ready, agreeing to be the DD seeing as you didn’t exactly want to get pissed drunk--especially not with Emily still on your mind. 
You drove the three of you to the nearest club, showing your IDs to the bouncer and entering without a problem. 
“I’m gonna get us shots,” Brenna shouted over the music, disappearing a moment later. You and Lyndsey stumbled over to a table, claiming it for the three of you as the music seemed to grow louder. 
Brenna pushed through the crowd to get back to the two of you, two shots balanced in one hand with another in her other. “Y/n, I know you said you weren’t drinking but one drink can’t hurt.”
“Yeah, Y/n,” Lyndsey ganged up on you. She took the two shots from Brenna, holding the second one out to you. “Besides, Brenna already paid for it so you have to.” 
You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly, giving in to their peer pressure. You figured you were already out, what was one shot gonna do? You took up the little glass, counting down with your friends before knocking back the alcohol. You made a face at the taste, coughing a little as it burned a trail down past your lungs. 
“Let’s dance!” Brenna cheered, pulling both of you out onto the dance floor. Laughing, you allowed her to drag you along. She pulled you both on either side of her, jumping up and down as the music pounded into your eardrums, the rhythmic beat coursing through your body. 
I made a promise to you, to never let you go.
You swayed to the music, holding onto Lyndsey’s hands as she sang along. She twirled you around, causing you to giggle. Brenna serenaded you from behind, grabbing your hips and making you sway. 
But now I see you're moving on and I'm still all alone, oh oh.
From across the club, your eyes connected with a familiar pair. Emily Prentiss stared you down. Around her were her work friends, all drinking their cares away. None of them realized that you were there. 
Every time I say I'm happy for you I just lie, oh oh. I made a promise to you and I'm still holding on, oh oh.
You forced yourself to look away, suddenly not in the mood to be dancing. Still, you forced a smile, sticking it out for the rest of the song. As All Mine faded into the next song, you excused yourself for water. Not thinking much of it, they let you go, continuing to dance with each other. 
You stumbled off the floor, accidentally bumping into a guy who looked like a frat boy from one of the colleges in the area. 
“Sorry,” you apologized, stepping away. Instead of going back to clubbing on his own, he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to him. 
“No need to be sorry, baby,” he drunkenly slurred, hands already moving down your body. “I’m Chad. What’s your name, princess?’ 
“None of your business,” you spat, trying to break free of his grip. Your attempts were futile, however, his grip tightening instead of loosening like you wanted it to. Memories of your abduction flashed through your mind as he placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, the feeling of Stephen’s chapped lips pressed against the same cheek causing you to freeze up. 
“Please let go,” you whimpered, though your pleas were drowned out by the music. Tears started to fall as he kissed down your neck, your body frozen as he took advantage of you. 
It seemed you had an angel on your side that night because Chad was ripped off you not even a moment later, your savior having torn him off your body and thrown him back a good few inches. 
“Get the fuck away from her,” Emily said, placing herself between you and your assailant. 
Chad squared up to Emily, cocking his head sideways as if to intimidate her. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” 
Emily whipped out her badge, shoving it into the poor fool’s face. “FBI,” she said with authority. “Now scram.”
Chad paled at the badge, most likely never having had a run-in with law enforcement before. He scrambled backward, almost knocking over a dancing couple before disappearing back into the crowd. 
Emily turned back around to face you, tucking her ID back in her pocket. 
“Are you okay?” she asked you with a gentleness you could almost mistake with care. You scoffed. You weren’t going to fall for that again. 
“What the fuck, Emily?” you raged. “You think you can just swoop in and save the day. Newsflash, I don’t need you. I don’t need your help and I most certainly don’t need your pity. You can take your false care and shove it.”
You stormed off, not even letting her respond. You went to find your friends, who had both migrated to the bar. 
“We need to leave,” you said, your voice thick with tears. You probably looked like a mess, tears streaking down your face and your body still shaking. You didn’t know if it was anger or fear. 
Lyndsey must have sensed something happened because she jumped to your side the second the words came out of your mouth, urging Brenna to finish her drink so that the three of you could leave. You made your way out of the club, collapsing into the side of the building as the tears started to pour. 
“What happened?” Lyndsey demanded, yanking a pack of travel tissues from her clutch and handing you one. You dabbed under your eyes, trying to salvage whatever makeup you had put on that night. 
“I saw Emily,” you blubbered, accepting another tissue from your friend. “And I said something terrible. Oh, my God. She probably hates me now!”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Brenna comforted you, rubbing circles into your back. “But didn’t she break up with you? Baby girl, you don’t need her.” 
You were quiet. You didn’t need Emily, but God did you want her. Not a moment went by that you didn’t miss her. She was everywhere. In the dress that you kept in the back of the closet to the little clay tray that the two of you bought together that held your keys. She was everywhere. 
“I just miss her,” you muttered, sniffling a bit as you calmed down. You felt ridiculous crying over a woman who made it quite clear that she wanted nothing to do with you. 
“Well, you could always talk to her,” Brenna suggested, her hand leaving your back. She pointed to the side where Emily was exiting the club, looking around for something… or rather, someone. 
At that moment, she noticed the three of you crouched by the wall. She hurried over, Lyndsey and Brenna getting up to form a protective barrier in front of you. 
“Lyndsey, Brenna,” she greeted your friends. “Can I please talk to Y/n?”
“I don’t think that’s the best idea right now,” Lyndsey said, her voice stern. You almost laughed at the thought of Lyndsey using her teacher's voice on Emily. You crumbled the used napkins in your hand, shoving it into your pocket as you collected yourself off the ground.
 You put your hand on Lyndsey’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” you said quietly. “We can talk.”
“Are you sure?” Lyndsey’s brows knit together, concern showing quite obviously on her face. You nodded, handing her the car keys. “You guys can go wait in the car. I won’t be long, I promise.”
Lyndsey looked between you and Emily cautiously. 
“Don’t worry,” Emily said, “I’ll make sure she gets back to you safely.” 
With one last look, Lyndsey took the keys and disappeared off to the car with Brenna not too far behind. Brenna turned around last minute, doing the ‘I’m watching you’ movement in Emily’s direction. 
The two of you stood together in silence, unsure of what the first move should be. You bit your lower lip, rocking back onto your heels nervously as Emily didn’t meet your eye. 
“I’m sorry,” both of you said at the same time, awkwardly laughing as you realized what had just happened. You pulled at your fingers, a nervous tic you had developed after your abduction. 
“I’m sorry,” you repeated. You looked up at her. “I’m sorry I went off on you back there. You didn’t deserve any of that, you were just trying to help.”
Emily shook her head. “No, you don’t have to apologize for anything. If anyone owes an apology, it’s me. I shouldn’t have done anything. You don’t deserve that and you don’t deserve any of what I put you through.”
You swallowed harshly. “It’s okay.”
“It’s really not,” Emily said, chuckling as a way to diffuse some of the tension. “I’m a terrible person for what I did to you. I knew exactly what you had just gone through and I still went through with it. I made the choice for you without you even having a say and I regret that.”
“No,” you shook your head. “You’re not a terrible person. Emily, for the past two months I have done nothing but miss you. My goddamn therapist even suggested I reach out to you despite what you did. Breaking up with me while I was in the hospital was a shitty move, I’ll agree, but it doesn’t make you a terrible person. I promise.” 
“You miss me?” Emily asked, her voice small. It was a change from her normal confidence. Her vulnerability and insecurity showed through her normally strong front. You couldn’t help but smile at her, taking a step closer to her. 
You hesitated before taking her hand in your own. You brought a hand to her face, caressing her smooth features. 
“I did--do miss you,” you admitted. “And before you ask anything else, I forgave you a long time ago.”
Emily’s head dropped against your hand, her eyes closing in an attempt to block out the tears that threatened to fall. 
“I don’t deserve you,” she muttered.
You ran a thumb over her cheekbone, memorizing her features. “Bullshit,” you said, your voice low. You pulled her closer, standing on your toes so that your lips could meet. It was slow and passionate as you tried to convey all the emotions you felt for her through that simple action. Your arms looped around her neck as she reacted, pulling you in closer by the waist. 
The kiss turned desperate as Emily tried to make up for the last time, tears rolling down your face as you realized everything into the abyss. You felt yourself relax into Emily, pulling away as you sobbed. 
She put her hand under your chin gently, lifting your face so that your eyes met hers. 
“Why are you crying, baby?” she asked, her voice a whisper. She kissed underneath your eyes, most likely tasting the salt of your tears. You couldn’t help it, the tears weren’t stopping. 
“I just really missed you,” you admitted, wiping the tears away with the heel of your hand. Emily took your hand in hers, bringing them up to her mouth so she could place a kiss on your knuckles. It was the same gesture she had made two months ago before she broke up with you but this time, the message that came with them was different. 
“If you give me another chance, I promise I won’t screw it up,” she said, running her thumb over your knuckles.” I-I promise I’ll work harder on being the woman you deserve.”
You hummed, resting your head on her chest as she drew her arms around you, protecting you from the world and all the evils within it. 
“You already are.”
PERMANENT TAGLIST
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izukyu · 4 years
Text
𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬 - keigo takami x reader
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this is a birthday gift for my crackhead wine aunt, @waddle-yee​. katie i love u so much it’s unreal! i hope you enjoy the crumbs m’lady!
reblogs are appreciated bc i worked really hard on this, heart eyes.
pairing - keigo takami (hawks) x reader.
word count - 2.3k.
warnings - very vague manga spoilers for pro hero arc, possibly ooc hawks, swearing, and just. a lot of fluff.
summary - hawks needed to gain the public’s hearts once again, and attending a charity event seemed like the way to go, but falling for the cute artist in charge of him wasn’t something he planned on. 
★ - requests are open
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“your ratings are falling, hawks”
being bothered during his lunch break wasn’t something keigo was particularly fond of. the one time of the day he could let loose in his office, ruined.
“is that so?” he could only hope his agent would understand his words in the midst of his chewing, making a point he was only half-interested in the newsletter.
“the hero public safety commission reached out, you need to get your approval up again before they intervene.”
keigo gulped.
what a mouthful. they were never good news - the last time keigo met with them he was deployed as a spy, for crying out loud. needless to say, he was still their subordinate, and rejecting their demands was nothing more than a heavenly reverie.
“so, got any ideas?” keigo put down his plastic plate, lamenting the unfinished state of lunch.
“well, there’s this charity event coming up, and they’re calling for - ”
“i’m in! send me the time and place and i’ll be there,” sadly. it’s not like he had any personal vendettas with charity events or the public per se, but the simple fact he had to be shoved into one to please his superiors was enough to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.
next time he’d attend to one of his own accords.
“i’ll send it to you by email.”
keigo gave the poor intern a frown, his eyebrows drawn. “just send me a text, sheesh.”
-
maybe if he had paid more attention to the text then maybe he wouldn’t be stuck in this quandary of graphite and stillness
“you do this to every guy you meet?”
you scoffed, eyes never once leaving the canvas before you. “yes, every model i work with is required to stand still, if that’s what you were wondering.”
keigo was glad he put on a smile from the start, or else you would’ve chewed him out for moving too much.
the event was still a couple weeks away, but portraits don’t grow on trees. in all fairness, keigo was a killer model - every magazine featuring him sells out within the hour, and the photographers he’s worked with never fail to shower him in compliments and praise.
his charm didn’t seem to carry on to drawings, apparently. as you’d put it before, he was but ‘an over-energetic city pigeon that would chase around little kids for fun at every given opportunity’.
oddly specific, but it got a chuckle out of him.
“i’m almost done, so just stand still for a little longer.”
“won’t be a problem, dove, i’m already a pro,” keigo had to suppress another snicker as you hid behind the canvas, your face growing warm at the dumb pet name. another tally for hawks in his imaginary scoreboard. although standing still for longer than ten minutes wasn’t something he could see himself doing ever again, teasing you would definitely be a must in the near future.
anything for your flushed, annoyed expression.
“your wing did the thing again.”
of course it did. keigo wailed silently, dreading the sound of your pencil meeting the cotton before you, scratching and imposing.
the passing of time seemed like a foreign concept the longer he posed in front of you, amber eyes preying on you. every movement, every speck of graphite staining your hands, forever engraved in his mind. you didn’t question his sudden quietness, too engrossed in finishing the first of many portraits you’d have to make for the event.
would every other hero be as jittery and energetic as the man standing before you? 
would every other hero grow uneasy at the idea of standing still for no longer than fifty minutes?
“alright, you’re good to go.”
startled, keigo nearly fell off the small stool. “oh, was that all?”
you felt your eye twitch, choosing to ignore his wit, “it’s weird to think your portrait will probably go beyond five digits, someone’s gonna willingly pay to have those bushy eyebrows in their living room.”
keigo choked on his spit, coughs laced with laughter overruling the silence of the studio. “where did that come from?”
with a shrug and a triumphant smirk, you start to usher him out of your studio, “it had to be said, but you’re still cute, so i wouldn’t count it as a loss!” there were projects that needed your undivided attention and care, some with scary deadlines, and a birdman wasn’t exactly someone you needed to prioritize now. “see you at the event, yeah?”
“wait, hey, i wanna see what it looks like - ”
“no can do, have a great afternoon!”
before he could protest, he was already out and gone from your studio, the door nearly slamming on his wings. without much thinking, he turned around, his knuckles grazing against the door repeatedly. “c’mon, not even a sneak peak? i promise i won’t tell!”
someone clearing their throat behind him tore keigo away from the piece of wood in a heartbeat.
“endeavor-san, nice meeting you here! y’see, i left something inside, and i was just knocking so - “
“i don’t want to know.”
what was it with today and everyone interrupting him?
keigo snapped his fingers, “copy that.” from the corner of his eyes he spotted a neat pile of presentation cards, almost begging to be noticed and put to use.
fine, if you didn’t feel like letting him into your heart he’d just have to irk you over text.
knowing better than to bother endeavor again, keigo simply stepped out of the room, his fingers eagerly keying in the digits into his cellphone.
spoiler alert, it wasn’t you who texted him back, but your assistant was a delight, and set him up for another session after the event.
-
keigo has a strong, abhorrent opinion on wearing suits. they’re stuffy, constricting, and make his wings itch more than normal. despite having a custom-made, tailored suit, the sentiment of being under lock and key only ever went away as soon as he lost the jacket and shirt. something he couldn’t quite do in an event like this.
“what do you mean they’re running late?”
your second in command sighed, eyes still glued on their phone. from the brief texts they had shared, keigo would be proud to admit they’d found a friend in your friend, if that made any sense. “there were some supplies left in the studio, had to run back to get ‘em.”
keigo sighed. just what he needed in this trying time.
“but the portraits are already up if you want to check them out.”
oh.
among the sea of bidders inspecting the canvases on display, keigo’s feeble attempts to get a closer look were fruitless. his wings usually gave leverage when his height failed to do so, but flapping in such a close environment would bring more trouble than it’s worth.
with a defeated sigh (admitting to lacking in height was… disheartening) two of his feathers flew down to his feet, giving him the small boost he needed.
he most certainly didn’t expect to come face-to-face with himself.
minutes passed, and keigo remained under a trance. it was simplistic, the graphite morphing to cast an umbra on portrait-hawks. he could picture almost perfectly the light and shadow dancing together in both the canvas up for bidding and your skilled hands, the same ones that had left a nasty smudge on the back of his coat.
lo and behold, you were right, his unruly eyebrows were rather prominent.
“sorry for the delay, the traffic was horrible and the cab - don’t get me started on the cab,” you ranted as you walked through the busy hall, chanting apologies left and right. “the auction hasn’t started yet, right?”
“no, but there’s someone waiting for you.”
you furrowed your eyebrows. the people attending were either eager to see their favorite heroes in ritzy clothing or aching to take one of them home - in a canvas, of course. “don’t get me wrong, i love getting the work going, but i swear these deadlines are gonna be the death of me.”
“no need to fret,” keigo stepped down from his feathers, and you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. happy? tired? finally becoming the paragon of tenderhearted? “i’m part of your schedule already, booked a sesh and all.”
“... you mean the one I just cancelled?”
his wings drooped almost comically, “the one you just what?”
teasingly, you pushed him back, consequently making him bump into someone else. “i’m just messing around, i’m actually looking forward to it.” you could only watch as he gave the person a brief apology, posing for a selfie milliseconds after. heroes.
“is that so? i thought i was a bad subject,” keigo tugged at his collar, making a mental note to burn the shit out of the suit once home.
“the worst, actually,” more people began migrating to the opposite side of the room before the auction started. “but you’re fun to be around, so i’ll manage.”
keigo couldn’t contain his smile this time. it wasn’t his signature snigger you’d have flooding your timeline after his photo sessions, rather just a simple, genuine tug of his lips.
“and maybe you’re kinda pretty, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
and just like that, the warm smile contorted into a smug smirk. “you got me there, dove! wasn’t expecting that to come out of your pretty mouth.”
you huffed, diving to give his cheek a good pinch before dragging him to follow the rest of the guests. “that’s one creepy way to phrase it. now take a seat, i’ve got to hand out a couple of endeavors and edgeshots.”
keigo, still savoring the compliment like a kid would with a sweet, took an extra second to process those words. “they got more than one?”
-
cut to his second private session. five minutes after your scheduled lunch break, some leftover fries and ice cream exiled to your desk.
“alright, something’s on your mind.”
keigo remained stationary. this time it was just a mere pencil in your hand, waltzing on the canvas without a worry on its nonexistent mind. calculated. precise. free. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
you sighed, tucking the pencil behind your ear, sparing the finished sketch a last glance before walking to the brooding bird before you. “your wings, they’re not doing the thing.”
“and what about it?”
“well, for one, it was much easier to jot them down, i can assure you they’ll look great once i paint them,” keigo shuddered as you stood closer, how did you even get a lead stain on your cheek? “but i think i know you well enough to deduce something’s up. you’re not even being a cocky cockatiel.”
keigo let out a long, long sigh. “i’m not a cockatiel.”
“and you’re not being yourself. c’mon, why’d you even come here if you’re just gonna be grumpy?”
a brief flash of cold, burning blue clouded his mind. “work’s getting to me, i guess.”
you weren’t a pro hero of any sorts, the only context you had regarding that chaotic world would come from whatever hashtag was trending, and the occasional hero dropping by your studio to talk business. nevertheless, you knew how to spot and comfort a gloomy friend.
“you wanna paint yourself?”
“what?”
that seemed to get his attention, and it brought a smile to your face. you bit your lip eagerly, “i need to go get some paints, but you look like you need some cheering up, so you’re not leaving this room without painting your own portrait”
keigo’s lip trembled involuntarily, your words tugging at his already-soft heart. “i’ve never - i’ve never touched a paintbrush in my life.”
“woah, not even at school?”
“homeschooled.”
your hand moved on its own, ruffling his naturally messy hair. “i’ll get you acrylic paint.”
he could only tap his foot anxiously in your absence, running a hand across his face. the commission, as per usual, found great joy to bother him through day and night, almost as if his suffering tickled their ribs. keigo wouldn’t mind playing the part of the asshole kid who took tickling way too far when it came to them, hero regulations and spy work be damned.
not to mention the dust-up he had with a certain cremated acquaintance a couple days back, leaving him featherless and vulnerable for a whole day.
but as you approached him once again, a number of paints cradled in your arms and pockets, keigo could feel the weight in his shoulders slowly mitigating.
“okay, what do you think feels like the way to go?”
thankfully, his wings could twitch to their content while wearing your apron. he would’ve been just fine painting without any safety measures, but your flabbergasted expression urged him to realize clothes are expensive.
keigo gripped the paintbrush with one hand, the other holding a red paint tube, “this can’t be rocket science, i got this.”
your boisterous laughter as he squeezed some paint straight into the paintbrush told him that maybe it was rocket science after all.
“it’s not a toothbrush, keigo!” god, he loved his name rolling off your tongue.
“oh my god, next time try cleaning the paintbrush before you start to paint with another color.” he was certain your giggles could keep him going through endless crimes and stacks of paperwork.
“hey, that’s cute, you’re using different colors for your suit.”
keigo chuckled, “can’t have the piss color scheme spicing up my living room.”
that was the final straw, and you both rightfully lost it. leaning into each other to prevent falling to the floor as a result of raw elation. even your snorts were adorable, your babbling a melody to his ears, and shrieks of amusement making his heart thump faster.
at the end of the day, keigo left the studio with a gorgeous painting, as you’d generously put it. the first time he’d truly felt unbound to everything to be forever remembered with a mess of colors and sloppy strokes hanging proudly atop his bed.
the first time keigo ever felt truly free on canvas.
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hawks: @witchy-anna​
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stxrrywildflower · 4 years
Text
boo!
pairing - emily prentiss x reader
summary - you and emily go on a halloween date with the team
warnings - details of haunted attractions
word count - ?
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halloween was by far your favorite holiday.
you partially blamed it on your close friendship with spencer, your mutual love for all things spooky and even the history of the day was always shown.
but there was something about the time of year that just brought you an overwhelming sense of joy.
between the scents of fall, your favorites all being in candles scattered across your apartment, and the colors outside, there was no way another season could top it.
emily knew how excited you got once it hit september. you were practically buzzing as you strung up decorations around her apartment. she never minded seeing little pumpkins or ghosts in various places, she found it cute actually. seeing you get excited over something so small made her happy.
with halloween on a saturday this year, hotch had given the entire team a long weekend to relax and enjoy. he headed up to new york to see beth with jack while rossi flew out to see joy.
that left you, emily, j.j., morgan, spencer, and garcia without plans for the spookiest night of the year. the only thing standing in your way of having a night out was henry wanting to go trick-or-treating.
when one of henry’s friends parents quickly offered for their two boys to go together under her supervision, j.j. quickly agreed before extending an invite to the rest of your group to do something together.
after very minimal research by garcia, you all settled on field of screams in maryland. it was only an hour away and was designed for big groups like yours. garcia booked all of your tickets and you were good to go.
saturday night, you were over at emily’s apartment getting ready before you would need to leave around six. you and emily were going together, j.j. had will, morgan brought savannah, garcia with sam, and finally spencer brought his boyfriend ben. it was pretty much just going to be a big group date.
“what’s going through your mind em?” you asked, slipping on your work boots as emily put on her sneakers.
“just a littlee nervous,” emily revealed. “i’m not the best with scary stuff. i mean you saw how i was when we watched that one horror movie last weekend.”
“don’t worry,” you smiled, ducking down to kiss her cheek. “i’ll be with you the entire time.”
emily stood up, grabbing extra layers as fall in virginia was still pretty cold. “but what happens if we get separated? i don’t want to be by myself in one of the mazes,” emily mumbled. “hey, like i said i’ll be with you the entire time. i’ll hold your hand too. sound good?”
your girlfriend nodded, feeling a little better about your future night out. “ready to go?” you asked as you slipped on your bau sweatshirt, at this point you weren’t even sure if it was yours or emilys.
“yeah let’s head out.”
____
a close to an hour later, you were pulling into the parking lot outside of the main field of screams enterance.
it took around fifteen minutes for the others to arrive, you all getting out of your cars and meeting up where derek and savannah were.
“oh my god i’m so excited!” penelope squealed, nudging sam with her arm. spencer was the exact same, ben watching with an amused grin on his face. you were so ready for the night.
“so there’s six different attractions, we could all do different ones and then do the last one as a group? i think that could be fun,” savannah offered. the rest of you nodded, in mutual agreement that it would work.
“well ben and i want the carnival one, clowns seem really fun,” spencer spoke, clearly excited about the scares.
“will and i will take the prison one. and i’m sure garcia and sam want the post apocalyptic zombie maze,” j.j. piped in. “we’ll go for the mansion one. i think savannah and i can handle a couple haunted rooms,” derek huffed.
you turned to emily. “guess that leaves us with the hospital.”
emily’s half smile made you very aware of just how scared she was.
the ten of you all headed towards the front, making sure to have your tickets out as they were prepaid. you then received your wristbands and with one final ‘enjoy your time,’ you were out in the center.
“alright we all have eachother’s numbers so just meet back here in an hour or so,” with that, you all split up.
the wait to get into the mock hospital attraction didn’t take long at all. you and emily were sent in alone after giving all the standard instructions and safety protocols.
“alright em, let’s do this,” you spoke, squeezing her hand in reassurance.
you had to admit, the whole thing was pretty scary. the rooms were decorated just like hospital rooms, a waiting area, and even surgery stations. of course there was blood and other parts scattered around. while you had to deal with actual gore on a daily basis, this stuff was pretty realistic.
emily jumped just as a half-dead nurse jumped from one of the corners with a scream. “i don’t like this one,” she commented.
“aw why not? you usually deal with blood so well,” you teased.
“we hunt down serial killers, not mutated doctors and bloody nurses,” emily mumbled, holding your arm a little tighter.
you grinned. “uh huh, sure. come on, we have to finish the attraction and meet up with the others,” you spoke. “then we have the final one to do all together.”
the two of you finished awhile later, taking your time walking through and interacting with everything. however, your phone did eventually buzz in your pocket. you probably shouldn’t have checked it, but a text from will made you stop.
‘everyone’s finished. meet up by the fountain when done,’ it read.
emily groaned, “i just recovered from the last one. garcia even said the one we’re doing all together is even scarier than the last. i don’t know how i’m going to survive.”
“hey it’s okay,” you cooed playfully. “i’ll always protect you.”
☆ ☆ ☆
tags - @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @zoseph @ogmilkis @cm-is-kinda-cool @matthewgublerswife @guessthatswhyiliveinhell @spencerslatte @babyangellee @agentshortstacc @oster-hagen @emilyhottieprentiss
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