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hxneyandespressx · 4 years

Text

if i were a man (i’d be the man)

summary: jj holds a press conference while on a high-profile case. she has to deal with the stupid male reporters. after the conference is done, jj goes to the nearest bathroom, away from the crowd, and screams and swears to her heart’s content

word count: 6.2k

content warnings: mentions of emotional and verbal abuse, guns, violence, blood, suicide

a/n: inspiration for this fic is from criminal minds season 4 episode 16 “pleasure is my business”

☆。*。☆。

It was a rough start to a Wednesday morning for a particular FBI agent. She almost twisted her ankle on her early morning jog, got stuck in traffic, and had to wait in a long line for her co-workers’ coffee orders. Soon enough, she started to wish that she took the metro instead. Media communications liaison Jennifer “JJ” Jareau woke up today and chose violence. She huffed in frustration at how her morning went.

Walking toward the bullpen with the coffee orders in her hands, JJ was greeted with “hellos” and “good mornings”. Not wanting to have her co-workers profile her, JJ bottled up her frustration and grumpiness and put a smile on her face. It was a rule amongst the group to never profile each other. With learning an assortment of profiling tactics, JJ knew how to form a realistic smile without genuine happiness. Creases around the eyes, smile lines contoured the mouth, sparkles in her baby blue eyes. The short blonde perfected the fake smile that could fool anyone, even expert profilers.

“Good morning, guys.” JJ said with a bright smile on her face. She held two cardboard trays filled with various coffee orders. She placed one of the trays on Emily’s desk, so she can pass out the orders to her co-workers. She called out the order name as she passed the cup to the person.

“One French vanilla latte for Ms. Garcia. Two black coffees for Emily and Derek. And finally, a coffee with extra cream and sugar for Spence.” Everyone said their thank you’s to the blonde. Then, there was one coffee cup left. A cappuccino.

“Happy Wednesday, my nerds.” Rossi said as he approached the group of tired agents. JJ smiled and handed the cappuccino to the elderly man.

“Grazie.” He thanked the media liaison for her efforts to bring his favorite morning beverage. The group spent some time chatting nonsense before the case briefing. Thirty minutes went by and all of them disbursed into their desks to finish up the paperwork. JJ headed down to her office to work on choosing the next case after the one that was currently ongoing.

After settling in her office chair, JJ took a look around her office. Messy stacks of pending files scattered her desk. Empty coffee cups and water bottles lined the file cabinet. JJ checked the time on her watch. 8:12 AM. About two hours to kill. The blonde put her hair up into a ponytail and took in a deep breath. She dove into the nearest pile of manila files, looking through all the documents and photographs to determine which case for the BAU team to take on after the current case.

As the clock ticked closer to 10 AM, JJ picked up today’s case files and head out of her office. Strutting through the bullpen, JJ entered the briefing room slightly out of breath.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone,” JJ said while passing the manila folders out to her co-workers. After handing out the necessary materials, she grabbed the remote from the center of the wooden table.

“Sam Winchester was found in Fulton Park, in the Stuyvesant Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn. Eighteen stab wounds to his chest and neck,” JJ explained as she clicked on the remote to switch between the crime scene photos. “He is one of the victims dumped at various locations of Brooklyn that was found last night.”

“Hold up. One of the victims?” Derek asked.

“Yeah. So far this killer built up a rep sheet of five kills.” JJ stated. Hotch raised one of his eyebrows at the new information.

“Seven? Why haven’t the NYPD notified us immediately after the first three kills?” Hotch asked the media liaison.

“Probably the department thought they could handle the crimes,” JJ explained. “That was the case until they realized that they needed help.”

The young blonde switched to the next slide, showing one of the other victims dumped in North Williamsburg.

“What’s interesting about the locations is that the first victim was drowned in the Hudson River. And as more victims appear, the disposal methods get more dramatic. Maybe it plays some role in the unsub’s pathology.” Spencer said as he looked at the screen, observing for any patterns.

“Like with one of the recent victims, the disposal site is in Cobble Hill. It’s typically occupied by those who are relatively wealthy.” Rossi said to continue Spencer’s thoughts. “This unsub is getting bolder with his disposal sites. I’m concerned with there being an end game to this.” Emily stated. Everyone at the round table shifted through the various crime scene photos and documents. Rossi took hold of one of the crime scene photographs: a reversed ten of cups tarot card. “It is also apparent that the unsub is leaving tarot cards at the scene of the crime.”

“Tarot cards? What’s the significance?” Derek asked.

“Maybe to tell of the inevitable fortune the victims faced?” Emily said.

“Well, each card has a different meaning when it is upright and reversed. And usually, when doing a reading, three to five cards are pulled to tell a fortune.” Penelope explained as she typed away on her work laptop. It had not surprised anyone that the technical analyst had an interest in tarot readings and astrology.

“You know, the first documented tarot packs were recorded between 1440 and 1450 AD in Milan, Ferrara, Florence, and Bologna when additional trump cards with allegorical illustrations were added to the common four-suit pack. These new decks were called carte da trionfi, triumph cards, and the additional cards are known simply as trionfi, which became "trumps" in English. The oldest surviving tarot cards are the 15 Visconti-Sforza tarot decks painted in the mid-15th century for the rulers of the Duchy of Milan. The Duke of Milan described a 60-card deck with 16 cards having images of the Roman gods and suits depicting four kinds of birds.” Spencer talked about the history of tarot cards, with hand gestures to accompany his little ramble. When he finished, everyone at the table stared at him. The young FBI agents sheepishly smiled as Emily poked his left cheek.

“Since when did you learn about tarot cards?” Emily asked.

“I learned about it when I took a college course on the Italian Renaissance.” Spencer sheepishly smiled.

“Well, whatever it is, it seems like there is a story to be told––or rather to be heard.” JJ said as she stared at the crime scene photos, her eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment.

“That’s what we need to find out. Wheels up in 20.” Hotch called out.

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The BAU members sat comfortably on the jet, each in their little world. That was until the unit chief called on everyone for a case discussion.

“Let’s go over victimology.” Hotch said to call on the group. Everyone moved closer to the unit chief to better discuss the case. Derek sat in an armchair, with Emily next to him. Across from them were Spencer and JJ. Hotch leaned against one of the seats, practically sitting on the adjustable arm of the plane seat. Rossi sat on the tan velvet couch, adjacent to JJ.

“Reid.” Hotch called on the genius of the group.

“White. Male. Between the ages of 45-55. Jobs ranging from a stockbroker to assets protection manager. All of them have cheated on their wives multiple times and some even had sexual harassment accusations.” The young curly-haired man said to start the discussion.

“Even if these men cheated on their wives and got those accusations, they still didn’t deserve the multiple stab wounds to meet their end.” Emily said.

JJ looked through the case file to see the reports on all five victims.

“The victims’ names are Igor Andreevich, Lucas Duncan, Hunter Mcevoy, Sam Winchester, Jared Kalinski.” JJ called the names out like it was a roll call.

“These are the five victims that this unsub killed so far?” Hotch asked. The blonde nodded her head and said “yes, sir” in response.

“As the victim count increased, the more stab wounds appeared on the body.” Rossi said to point out an observation.

“But the M.E. said that most of these stab wounds were created post mortem. Meaning that the initial stab was to get the job done efficiently and he went back in to fuel his rage and/or sexual needs.” Spencer

“Are we assuming his sexual orientation? Because there aren’t many homosexual serial killers, kid” Rossi said.

“It could be a possibility. We have to consider our options.” Hotch said.

Just then, the laptop turned on and showed the beautiful Penelope Garcia.

“How’s it going, my crime-fighting musketeers?” Penelope asked. Everyone, even Hotch, smiled at her cheery greeting.

“Garcia, start compiling files on each of our victims,” Hotch told the technical analyst. “Everything financial and personal. Bank statements, credit card bills, investments, wills, trust funds. Anything that will tell us more about the victim’s lives.”

“Faster than a Hotch rocket.” After that was said into the air, Penelope felt embarrassed while Hotch looked at her with his usual stone-cold face. Derek sighed and shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee to hide his second-hand embarrassment for his babygirl.

To break the silence, Rossi grunted and coughed into his fist.

“Based on the jobs these men had, we could safely assume that they were killed in the financial district of New York. Then, the unsub transported the bodies to a dumpsite.” Emily said as she read off from the case file in her hands.

“But why from Manhattan to Brooklyn? That is a lot of weight to carry.” Derek asked.

“Maybe Brooklyn holds a lot of significance to him. Something from his childhood and he can’t let go.” JJ said. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement as they all closed their files.

“Once we land, do you want me to get in contact with the media to inform the public?” The media liaison asked the unit chief.

“No. We need to hold back on it. Giving him the media’s attention is exactly what he wants. He wants his story to be heard and we will not give him that.” Hotch explained. JJ nodded in response and wrote down media concerns in her small blue notepad.

“Dave, You and Prentiss go to the crime scene,” Hotch instructed the group. “The rest of us will get up to speed at the precinct.” Everyone nodded in agreement with the unit chief.

After discussing the victimology and the nature of the case, everyone separated and occupied their own space on the jet. Derek on the couch, listening to music. Spencer by the window, reading the Hound of the Baskervilles. Rossi and Hotch in the back, conversing whatever two elderly men talk about.

The blonde media liaison stared out of the window until she felt a presence next to her. She looked away to find Emily standing in the aisle with a cup of coffee and a bag of Cheetos in her hands.

“Want some company?” Emily asked as she took the empty seat.

“I don’t mind at all.” JJ smiled at the brunette. The shorter woman felt special that Emily did this for her. She took the Cheetos and the coffee mug from her co-worker. As she grabbed them, their fingers brushed against each other. A little pink blush formed on JJ’s cheeks. Not wanting Emily to know about the silly crush the blonde had on her, JJ covered half her face with her beloved blue blanket. Emily chuckled at JJ’s actions and placed her hand on the blonde’s right shoulder, closing her eyes for a quick nap.

JJ carefully took some of her dark blue blanket and wrapped it around Emily’s right shoulder. She looked at the brunette who was sleeping on her shoulder and softly smiled.

The blonde took sips of the coffee as she stared out of the window. The sunlight bounced off the water particles in the clouds, creating a mini rainbow over the tops of the white clouds. The media liaison took in the silence as a treat, before landing into the chaos of New York.

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A government-mandated black SUV arrived at the 25th precinct. Everyone––sans Emily and Rossi––got out of the car and was greeted by a lively short woman.

“Detective Miller? We spoke on the phone.” JJ shook hands with the short woman.

“Please, call me Kennedy. Thanks for coming in.”

“No problem. These are agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Doctor Reid.” JJ introduced them while gesturing at the person, in respective order.

“Hey, why don't you go on inside and make yourself comfortable.” Kennedy said. The remaining BAU members nodded their heads and made their way inside the busy precinct. Police officers swarmed everywhere as the federal agents weaved their way to an empty conference room.

Everyone worked at a swift pace to get everything set up. JJ and Derek went with a police officer to get boxes filled with case files and other materials. Hotch talked with Detective Miller to get information on how her officers dealt with the unsub so far. While all this is happening, Spencer worked on the geographical profile, so the agents know where to look for the unsub.

“What do these tarot cards mean?” Hotch asked the group. Everyone shook their head “no”, signifying that they had no clue what each card meant.

“I’ll call Penelope and ask her about the meanings of the cards.” Derek said as he took out his flip phone to dial Penelope’s number.

“Live from Quantico, Virginia, it is the Divine Miss Penelope.” Penelope greeted the group.

“Hey, sugar mama. I need something from you.” Derek said.

“Talk to me.”

“I need you to interpret the meanings of the tarot cards that were left at the different crime scenes.”

“Ah- I’ll be your little witch today. Hit me with have you have.”

“Alright, I’m putting you on speaker.” Derek puts down the phone on the wooden table, so everyone could hear what the technical analyst has to say.

“Ten of Cups, Garcia.” Hotch said.

“When upright, the Ten of Cups embody happiness, joy, contentment, and emotional satisfaction in your family, relationship, or companion. It represents an idyllic state of comfort, harmony, peace, and love which makes you feel like you are in paradise. When reversed, it could mean shattered dreams, disharmony, or a broken family.” Penelope explained.

“Reversed Wheel of Fortune card.” Spencer called out.

“When the wheel is reversed, it means that luck has not been on your side and misfortunes have been following you. When it's associated with this card, you must understand that these are due to external influences that you cannot control.” Penelope said.

“Reversed Justice card.” Derek said next.

“A reversed Justice tarot card could indicate various things. One Justice reversal meaning is to show you are living in denial. You are not willing to accept the consequences of your actions or others. You are running from your guilt. You must, however, be aware that these are actions that are in the past. Other Justice reversal meanings could be injustice, retribution, dishonesty, corruption, dishonesty, unfairness, and avoiding accountability.” The technical analyst interpreted.

“Lastly, the reversed Emperor.” JJ said the final card they had.

“The Emperor reversed is a sign of abused authoritative power. In your social life, it can manifest in the overreach of power from a father figure or a possessive partner.” Penelope described the final tarot card.

With all the information in their heads, the BAU members felt puzzled about how to move forward.

“How are these cards related to the crime scenes?” Derek asked.

“It’s like a performance,” Penelope chimed in. Everyone turned their heads to listen to the cheery woman on the phone. “Like there is a story behind these killings. The cards are telling how the unsub is feeling. She wants us to know her story.” Everyone stood in shock when Penelope made a breakthrough in the case.

“Wait, Garcia. You said ‘she’. Why do you think it is a woman?” Hotch asked.

“Well, sir. The first victim was drowned, with no signs of sexual assault on his body. Doesn’t that usually indicate that the unsub is a woman?”

“Not necessarily but it is a quiet and efficient way of murdering someone.” Hotch explained.

“Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don’t have much information on them. But what we do know involves throwing the riles completely out of the window,” Spencer started going on one of his rambles. “For example, female serial killers typically don’t leave a signature.”

“But this one leaves tarot cards at the scene.” Derek pointed out.

“Maybe it was what Garcia said: she’s telling us her story.” JJ said. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning. What could be inferenced from her childhood?” Hotch asked.

“She could have had a domineering father who worked on Wall Street. And with that dynamic, he could have sexually and emotionally abused her, making her feeling like damaged goods.” Spencer explained the backstory of the unsub. “Also because the victims cheated on their wives, we could also conclude that the father also cheated on the mother, who always forgave her husband and tried to rationalize to stay for her daughter. And that made the unsub feel rage and being inferior. That she didn’t do anything to help her mother and herself.”

“But there is no indication of sexual gratification.” Hotch interjected.

“However, there’s a reason why there are so many lacerations on the later victims. It could be the rage from her abusive father that this unsub is using against the victims, who acted like surrogates.” Derek said.

“The stressor?” Hotch asked.

“To follow her father’s footsteps, she may have also worked in the financial field. As a stockbroker, a financial analyst, or even as a secretary for a company,” Spencer said. “And as she continued at her job, she had a bunch of little comments and slights against her”

“As for the trigger, maybe she got passed up for a promotion by a male co-worker who was less qualified than she was.” JJ explained.

“Any sane person would get miffed about it, but she’s built differently,” Derek said.

“So much so, she killed five men so far.” Hotch said.

“And she did it in an efficient manner where no one had any idea until now,” Derek said right after the unit chief. “But how did one woman kill five men in one borough and disposed of them in another?”

“She must know the area like the back of her hand. Brooklyn is what? Around 72 square miles?” JJ said in response to Derek.

“Uh, 69.5.” Spencer corrected JJ. The blonde sighed, not surprised that the boy genius would know the exact measurement.

“And the fact that no one has seen her either abduct or dispose of says she knows the city and its patterns well.” Derek said to continue what JJ had said before she was cut off by the boy genius. Just then, both Rossi and Emily had returned from the latest crime scene. In Emily’s hands were coffee cups on cardboard trays while Rossi had Chinese takeout. Everyone shared the food as they continued to work on the case. Being the little tease he was, Derek flung a wonton piece at Spencer, who was struggling to eat with the wooden chopsticks. The wonton piece gently hit Spencer’s forehead and the boy genius pouted, hiding his frustration at both the chopsticks and Derek.

“The M.E. said that the cuts were clean, no serrated edges. It would have to be a very sharp knife to be able to cut through human skin like nothing.” Emily said, to drive the discussion about the M.O.

“A knife like that could get the job done efficiently. Could be the work of a throwing knife. Take out the victim with a single throw to have them die quickly, then she stabs them to feel something.” Derek said.

“Throwing knives? What is she? A secret agent of the Dai Li?” Rossi joked sarcastically.

“From Avatar the Last Airbender?” Hotch retorted, remembering that his son Jack watches that show on Saturday mornings.

“What’s Avatar the Last Airbender?” Spencer asked. Nobody bothered to answer the young man’s question.

“But this one is different. It’s like the more she kills, the more anger builds up inside and it gets released on the victim when she goes back in.” JJ stated.

It became silent in the conference room, quite the opposite to the noise of the New York precinct in the evening rush hour. Tired from both traveling and working, Hotch could see that the rest of his team was also exhausted from the day. The unit chief called everyone to head to the hotel and rest, as they can always come back to the precinct tomorrow morning.

Slowly one by one, each of the agents packed their things and get out of the New York precinct, and hopped into the cars, praying the soft hotel beds would lull them into a deep slumber.

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Day Three at the New York precinct. All the BAU members were getting irritated that they hadn’t proceeded much on the case. Derek tossed a small basketball up and down to pass the time. Spencer twirled a pen as he stared at the geographical profile, the gears turning in his mind. Both Hotch and Rossi were discussing the case quietly while JJ and Emily doodled on each others’ arms. The blonde was innocently drawing hearts and flowers until Emily came up with an idea. Feeling a tad mischievous, Emily took her sharpie marker and started to outline something on the media liaison’s left forearm. JJ raised an eyebrow, questioning what her co-worker was doing. As the image came together, JJ gasped softly, however, not surprised that Emily drew a vagina.

Emily quietly laughed as JJ, annoyed by the brunette’s actions, took her sharpie marker and tried her best to transform the vagina drawing into a flower. Taking her time, and with only a sharpie, JJ showed off her artistic talent by creating a masterpiece: a carnation blooming out of a vagina.

Emily rolled her eyes when JJ stuck out her tongue at the brunette. Taking Emily’s right arm, the media liaison started to outline a grid for a game of tic tac toe. The brunette started the game by marking an “x” in a spot and JJ took her turn. The two women continued their game of tic tac toe and

Everyone was silent in their own world until Hotch’s phone rang. The unit chief picked it up and it was a number he couldn’t recognize. Hotch silently motioned Derek to call Penelope to start triangulating the call’s location.

“Hotchner.”

“Hello, Aaron.” A sultry voice talked. On the other side of the call was the unsub, Taylor Evans.

“Seems you know my name.” Hotch asked.

“I researched you in preparation for this phone call,” Evans said. Through the phone receiver, Hotch could hear the soft whooshes of pages turning.

“You reading a book? What’s the title?”

“Le monde comme il va by Voltaire,” Taylor closed her book. “Have you read his work?”

“No, I haven’t. You seem highly educated.” Hotch stated.

“You seem to know a lot about me.” Taylor retorted.

“But I don’t know you that well since the start of this phone call.” Hotch responded.

“What would you like to know?” Taylor asked.

“May I know your name, for starters?” Hotch asked. A cold laugh could be heard through the landline speaker.

“Evans. Taylor Evans.” the unsub replied.

“Nice name,” Hotch complimented her to bring her guard down.

“Now that we are acquainted, you can ask me questions.” the unsub’s content sigh could be heard on the landline.

“Has life been hard on you?” Taylor asked, wanting to jump the gun.

“I try my best.”

“Try my best,” Taylor said mockingly. “Is that the best you can do for your family?” A sarcastic tone filled Taylor’s voice, not liking what the unit chief said in response to her question.

“With what I’ve got.” Hotch said.

“You got any children?” Taylor said to divert the conversation.

“I have a son.”

“How often do you see him?”

“I try to see him every week.”

“Do you see him every week?” Taylor tried to put Hotch under pressure, to get him to crack.

“No, I don't get there as often as I want.” A pitiful sigh was heard on the phone.

“I believe you, but don’t compare yourself to the men I see and work with. You are nothing like them. You’re just another whore.” Taylor said with such disgust in her tone.

“How am I a whore?” Hotch asked.

“You come when called on short notice. Begging to be put to work. Saving your reputation. However, even though you’re a workaholic, you make the time to see your son. You care for your son. You want the best for him.” Taylor explained.

“You’re right. I do want the best for him” Hotch said. The unsub sighed, wishing that she had a good man, like Hotch, for a father.

“Enough about you. What do you have to say about me?” Taylor asked the unit chief.

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying.” Hotch explained.

“Good deductive reasoning,” Taylor said. “But how do you know if what I find provides me less satisfaction each time?”

“It’s a part of your nature. Until you hit a psychotic break and start devolving.” Hotch said.

“Hm. Want to find out, Agent Hotchner?” She hung up on him after that last sentence. Everyone in the conference room stayed silent in awe. The unsub injecting herself into the investigation surprised all the agents in the room.

“She contacted us,” Spencer said in astonishment, breaking the silence.

“She’s getting impatient. Have Garcia look up everything on Taylor Evans. We need to find if she lines up with the preliminary profile.” Hotch instructed Derek. The olive brown-skinned man did exactly what the unit chief said: call Penelope and extract as much information as possible on the potential unsub.

“Her use of the word whore is interesting,” Spencer quipped. “It suggests she's trying to disassociate herself from her actions.”

“But she's become more personal with the murders,” Emily said. “This doesn’t make sense. She is contradicting herself.”

After gathering the information, and debilitating on the facts, everyone came to the same conclusion: Taylor Evans was their unsub.

“Reid, tell Detective Miller that it’s time to deliver the profile.” Rossi said.

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Every law enforcement officer occupied the main space of the precinct. All of the BAU members stood at one side, making it like a stage. JJ stood beside Emily, thinking to herself that she could have been this girl in a way. Both her and the unsub look eerily similar, maybe even mistaken for each other.

“We wanted to give out the profile as soon as possible. We’re looking for a white female, between the ages of 20 and 25,” Hotch said to start the profile. “Her name is Taylor Evans. Dirty blonde hair with grey eyes. She’s organized, methodical, and knows how to blend in with the crowd.”

“When this unsub kills, she does so mercilessly and without an ounce of pity. She also wants her victims to know they are going to die by her hand.” Rossi said.

“That’s why her preferred weapon of choice is throwing knives. They provide a clean cut. No mess required.” Emily said, slowly rocking on her heels.

“With her choice of weapon, she can be quick and efficient with her kills, as murder is her only goal,” Spencer paused to catch a breath. “But all the bottled-up rage gets released when she goes in for a second time, post mortem, and stabs the body multiple times.”

“It is a way for her to get sexual gratification. And revenge, from her years of being emotionally and sexually abused by her father,” Rossi said. “The victims fit the description of her father and they are surrogates for him.”

“She is also a textbook psychopath, exhibiting all of the classic traits: incapability of feeling any empathy towards others, neither guilt nor remorse, and claiming no responsibility for her actions. Like others of her type, she is highly intelligent, manipulative, and narcissistic.” Spencer explained the unsub’s pathology.

“Evans had received higher education. She graduated with a business degree, most likely a subconscious influence from her father. With the business acumen and the social skillset, this unsub can easily blend in with all the other business people and manipulate them.” Hotch explained, walked slowly around the large room.

“Based on her background, she came from a wealthy family. However, the family wasn’t perfect. Her father constantly cheated on his wife. The mother always forgave him. As a young girl, Evans most likely has experienced emotional and sexual abuse from her father. It was a way for him to control his daughter, and she had resented that for years.” Emily said about the unsub’s childhood.

“She mostly has experienced misogyny in her professional life. Had little comments and slights against her. Perhaps a less qualified male co-worker took a promotion that she deemed herself to be of a better fit,” Derek explained about the stressor. “Something in her work life triggered her to start killing the men who represented her father.”

“With this profile, we should search for Taylor Evans’ location and any potential victims. We suggest going public with the information as soon as possible… Thank you very much.” Hotch ended the profile with his parting words. Everyone at the precinct was disbursed from the room to get back to their work. The agents huddled together to prep themselves in case something big were to happen.

“JJ, I would like for you to conduct a press conference,” Hotch said.

“Why is that, sir?” The media liaison asked.

“I would like to draw her out. Have it known that we are after her.” The media liaison nodded her head in agreement and left the main room to work on getting a press conference together.

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Before entering the press room, JJ took a deep breath and exhaled to calm herself down. Thoughts were rushing in her mind. Don’t let them get to you, JJ. She neatly fixed her hair to seem presentable. Taking her golden heart necklace, the media liaison kissed it for good luck.

The media liaison walked into the conference room with great confidence and stood behind the mahogany podium. Standing tall, JJ was not willing to lose a fight with the media, especially with a high-profile case.

“Ok, can I have everyone's attention,” JJ said to gather the media’s attention to her. “Please, if you could just take your seats…”

“There have been a series of murders that appeared in random locations around Brooklyn. There is sufficient evidence that the victims were murdered on Wall Street then transported to their disposal sites.”

“We believe she may have experienced a psychotic break recently, causing the unsub to escalate to murder to regain a sense of control. You should increase your patrols in and around Wall Street… “

“Why would you focus your profile on the finance guys when the unsub has also contacted members of the FBI?” A male reporter interrupted the media liaison.

JJ stood at the podium in shock. How could he know about that? We kept that under wraps.

“I- How did you obtain that information?” JJ asked.

“I overheard one of the cops saying it.” The journalist said casually. The blonde’s right eyebrow lightly twitched in anger. What couldn’t those cops just shut their mouths, JJ thought.

“What you heard from these officers isn’t true,” JJ lied to keep confidential information private. “Now, do you have any questions about the case?” A new wave of hands came up. JJ took a few more questions to answer. After a while, it was time to end the press conference.

“If anyone works in or around Wall Street, and sees anything unusual, please do not hesitate to call the number on your screen. Thank you.” JJ said her final statement, ending the press conference. As she walked down the steps down the small stage, a reporter called out her name.

“Agent Jareau! I have something that may be of interest for you!” A different male reporter called out. JJ turned to face him, excepting the same male reporter from earlier. Trying to keep her anger inside, she greeted the news reporter with dignity.

The male reporter handed the media liaison a letter. JJ took a look at it and was surprised at what she saw: the signature of their unsub.

“How did you get this?” JJ asked the man.

“It was sent to me yesterday, directly to the New York Herald.” The man said. JJ called for one of the officers by the wall to collect the letter for evidence.

“We are going to take this in for evidence processing. One of the officers here will take you in for some questioning.” The man nodded as another officer whisked him away for interrogation.

JJ sighed and went to search for the officer that unknowingly leaked information. She saw him with another cop, talking, against the wall outside of the press conference room.

“That information was not for the public!” JJ said, angrily at an NYPD officer.

“Listen, lady. I don’t know how and where he got the information from,” The beat cop explained himself. “He could have been creeping around the crime scenes or the precinct.

“Keep your mouth shut, pal, as this case is private and under federal jurisdiction.” JJ huffed as Derek grabbed her shoulders and slowly tried to drag her away. The blonde complied with her co-worker, not throwing a fight as this was not her battle to fight in.

Once Derek loosened his grips, the media liaison dashed out of the conference room to find her own space to calm down.

JJ speed-walked once she was out of the hallway’s vicinity. She rushed into the nearest bathroom. Breathing heavily, the media liaison slowly walked into one of the stalls and locked the door. Taking a deep breath, JJ prepared herself for the biggest scream she would take in her life.

“Fuck. These little shits. Those bastards. Assholes. Son of a bitch. Fucking shit. Why can’t they keep their mouths fucking shut! Those cocksucking motherfucking god damned jackasses!” JJ yelled at the top of her lungs. Her chest fell hard as the blonde was taking deep breaths. She felt better after taking out her anger by screaming. Feeling a little tired, JJ sat on the closed toilet and placed her head between her knees to calm herself down. A few minutes went by, and someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“JJ… Are you okay?” Emily’s voice could be heard on the other side. JJ sighed while getting up. She opened the stall door and tried to make herself more presentable. Unlocking the silver lock, she opened the door slowly to reveal a relieved Emily Prentiss.

“Ah–,” Emily gently grabbed JJ and brought her in a warm embrace. They stood together in that position for a few minutes before heading back to the conference room, where the others were, preparing themselves to capture the unsub tonight.

Later that evening, the BAU team, along with SWAT, raided a luxury apartment building in Downtown Brooklyn. Upon entering the only penthouse, Derek broke the door with his strength. The group of agents entered the area and in the middle of the living room, was Taylor Evans. Black mascara ran down her cheeks as she held a gun in her left hand and the final tarot card in the other.

“Just in time for the show, agents.” Evans croaked. Her sad grey eyes filled with tears, her cheeks flushed from her mental breakdown.

“Taylor… Listen. You’re young. You don’t have to do this. If you come with us, you can get a lighter sentence and live your life.” Emily said to calm down the broken girl.

More time passed by as Emily and Spencer tried their best to negotiate with the unsub, but the end was already written. Taylor Evans planned to do an end game, one where she put herself out of misery.

“I’m sorry….” the blonde girl whispered. In a swift motion, Taylor pulled the trigger onto herself and shot herself underneath the jaw. Her body dropped quickly but Derek ran up to the body to catch it.

“Damn it,” Derek said. “She was young. Broken. Felt like she had to prove herself that she was something.”

“There was nothing we could have done to help, Morgan. She already had planned her end. She was long gone before anyone else could have noticed.” Hotch responded to Derek’s little monologue.

Right next to her body was the Emperor card. A beautiful deep purple with gold lining depicting an emperor. The gold detailing reflected against the tall mirrors in the room. The card was reversed, like if she purposefully did that to tell the end to her story.

taglist: @homosexualyearning / @ssajelle / @iconicc / @sunlightgalaxy / @jemilyology / @pumpkin-stars / @lgbtbau / @drinkingcroissants / @abbyprentiss / @pen3mily / @morcias / @hotchsbabygirl / @gravelyhumerus / @notsosmexy / @rxcklessly-bratty / @hqtchner / @girlbossjareau / @pagetsimp

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authoressofdarkness · 4 years

Text

His Perfect Model - Chapter 1

Tony doesn’t need the money from porn shoots, Lord knows. It’s just a fun, extremely well paying side gig. But when he somehow acquires permanent... ah, custody... of the omega from his latest shoot, he knows he’s found his perfect model. And their fun together is only beginning. It may take him some time to convince Peter of that, but really, he’s not too worried.

Read on AO3 here. Notes, warnings, and Chapter 1 under the cut.

Notes: Hello hello! I'm back again! This is another random plot bunny that I've been fidgeting with for a while, but I was eventually convinced to get it up sooner rather than later, so here it is! This first chapter is very explicit, and it probably will be rather smutty most of the way through. Not sure how long this will be yet or what it will deal with, but just for transparency, there may be talk of past trauma that could extend to noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, human trafficking, and more. I'll tag each chapter accordingly as we get there, but none of it should be too explicit. Also, anyone familiar with GMSTS will be familiar with how I write ABO, but, as simply as possible, omegas have vaginas, alphas have cocks, and betas are what we would consider "binary." Again, I say so ahead of time just in the interest of transparency so I don't accidentally trigger anyone's dysphoria. Aaaanyway, if you've made it through my rambling and are still interested, yay! Thank you for being here, read on, and I hope you enjoy! <3

He tries not to judge.

That was probably why he gets hired for so many gigs. That and his insane amount of talent, but — well. Anyone could have that amount of talent with working with equipment if they tried. Now the fact that he builds his own… that is something special, he knows.

And, really, his technical prowess was what pays his bills more than anything, and is what made him rich. That, and his father’s name, but he tries to keep that part more under wraps. He’d turned away the responsibility that normally came with being a Stark a long time ago; but the intelligence and the mechanical prowess is practically in his blood. Unable to be rejected.

Anyway, the point is, he doesn’t need to do porn shoots; yet he still enjoys taking these side jobs. He always had, even on his way to the top, and he never made any attempt to hide it.

He doesn’t just shoot porn, of course. He’d lend his camera skills to anyone who asks and has the money to back up the offer. But of course the dirty jobs tend to be his favorites. Any alpha that says they don’t like to pose an omega how they like and look at their pretty pussy for any amount of time — and get paid the big bucks to do it — was certainly a liar.

And yeah, he takes some weird jobs included in that. But he doesn’t ask many questions except on the preferences for stylings of the job, and he’s kinky enough himself to never dream of judging the extremism of it, so… yeah, he makes pretty good money.

Today might be testing the extent of it, though.

The scene he is shooting today isn’t particularly extreme or out of the ordinary, on first glance. The omega was to be strapped to a chair with a wand tied in place to tease his pussy, and Tony is supposed to capture it in photo and on video as his torture goes through stages of multiple denials until he’s hypersensitive and begging to stop. The rest was put as to be determined based on the way it comes out.

It is far from the craziest thing he’s ever shot, and he planned it out easily enough, with a few of his favorite toys and set pieces, and he’s easily ready to go.

The weird part starts when the omega gets there.

It’s apparent immediately that this is no porn star. Aside from his experience in the field and the number of them he actually knew from it, Peter doesn’t carry himself like one. He is small and shy, with a lithe, gorgeous body, as Tony can see from the moment the two gruff alphas accompanying him strip him out of the poor excuse for a covering the omega had been wearing. All he was left in then was a slip, and it’s sheer fabric did nothing to hide the pretty nude form underneath.

Most people arrived in normal clothes and then would either change or strip.

The second thing was that he is already bound. Again, unusual. Clearly he hadn’t driven himself, of course, but… this must be a really elaborate scene for him to already be tied up. And the rope isn’t even the good stuff; it’s plain and grainy, certainly hurting his wrists and not at all his color. Tony always used rope that complimented the style of the scene and the person’s skin. It would be a waste not to.

Peter is gorgeous, and he could have used a lot of colors, admittedly. But the boy is delicate and pale — his pussy much the same in the photos — and so he’d chosen a light pink, one that didn’t wash out his already pale form and almost matched the pretty color of the soft bits he’d been paid to pay special attention to. It’s easy enough to match the background of the scene and the colors of the toys and rope together, thematically.

But that aside, all of the choices up to this point were strange. Stranger than he’s used to. But he makes it a point not to say anything. He’s not being paid to judge.

Even if Peter looks almost scared of the two men he came in with. Even if something rings off about this whole gig.

Tony isn’t stupid, but he doesn’t care much for the loss of business — at least — pushing for the truth would cause. So he pushes the thoughts down and finally approaches the omega.

“Hi, princess. Gentlemen.” He kneels down to be at Peter’s level. “My name’s Tony. I’m going to be the one taking your photos, honey. Can I get you anything before we start? A water? Bathroom break?” The omega silently shakes his head. “Alright. Let's get started then.” He holds out a hand to help him up.

Peter takes it, and Tony helps him to his feet and guides him over to the chair. “Now we’re going to start with some photos on the floor and make our way into the chair. I’m going to change out your ropes. I want you to leave the slip on, for now.” It’s white, a nice color to highlight the details of the creamy skin underneath, and doesn’t contrast with his ropes, either.

He cuts the bonds on the omega’s wrists and reties them in front of him with the pink rope, then has him lay down on the floor, propping his ankles up on the edge of the chair so the slip falls back to expose creamy thighs and stomach and the top of that tantalizing slit from above his pressed-together thighs.

Tony suppresses the urge to purr. “Perfect.” He moves behind the chair and starts taking pictures, ignoring the stir of arousal in his gut at the sight of the gorgeous omega as he does, throwing out occasional changes in position for him to follow.

Peter, for his part, is pretty demure throughout all the photos. He’s quiet — whether shy or afraid to speak, Tony doesn’t ask — but he doesn’t look sullen or make any faces to spoil the photos. He just complies with Tony’s directions, usually silently or with an occasional “yes, sir,” allowing Tony to direct and shoot him in a dozen different positions before allowing him to actually sit in the chair.

Feet on the chair. Legs crossed. Legs open. Spread your folds with your bound hands. One leg up, then the other. Knees bent. To your chest, pussy exposed wide without your fingers. Pull the sheer over it for a few shots. Hold the wand to it. Hands above your head. Hold still while I get shots of it resting there. Tied with the rope like it will be in the video. Lick the wand. Close your eyes and hold it there. Take off the slip. Repeat a few sultry shots without it.

Finally, he picks up the slip and helps the omega to his feet. “You can sit in the chair now. Put the slip back on for a few minutes.”

Peter nods and does as he’s told, and Tony watches, unable to help himself. He doesn’t find himself incredibly attracted to a lot of his clients, at least after so long of doing it, and what with his tastes being so specific… but Peter seemed to hit everything on the head, and god, it was a bit of a problem for him. He’s supposed to be setting up his camera right now, but instead he’s admiring the curve of the omega’s spine and his plump ass as he heads for the chair he’s going to tie him to and-

He snaps out of it. He’s going to shoot the video he’s being paid to shoot, and that’s it. No fantasies allowed. At least not until after when he’s jerking off to the memory of this.

He sets up his video camera, then returns to the little omega, waiting patiently for him to come to him so they could shoot the scene. Tony grabs some more of the pink rope, setting about tying the pretty thing down, wrists to the arms, ankles to the legs, back to the back, and the wand added with a loop through the middle tying his back to the chair, letting it sit perfectly against Peter’s pretty pussy. He tops it off with a blindfold, and purrs at the completed look.

“Perfect. I’m going to get a few more shots before we start filming. Just relax.” He can smell the omega starting to get slick, even just from the wand resting against his pussy. He definitely knows what’s coming. Even though it’s not Tony’s idea, or Tony’s omega, even, he’s getting slightly excited at the thought of being in control and being the one to do this to him.

He gets a lot more excited when they actually start.

He does. He can’t help it. From the moment he turns the toy on and watches the omega’s head loll back in pleasure, eyes fluttering under the blindfold, he’s rock hard in his pants, watching, smelling the omega’s slick as he goes from slightly wet to absolutely drenched and dripping down his own thighs by the third denial. And his moans… the way he meekly whines out for alpha and those little cries of pleasepleaseplease! when he’s on the cusp of orgasm… it’s pornographic, there’s no other word for how obscene and arousing it is, matched only by the way his lithe body squirms in his bonds, fabric around his eyes darkening from tears-

By the fifth denial, Tony is convinced he could probably come in his pants right now from this, if he let himself. He’s half-ass tempted to. The alphas that had brought him in have stepped outside, and Peter is slumped as much as he can be and panting in the chair, still blindfolded, just waiting for him to turn it back on. It would be so easy to rub himself to a quick and dirty orgasm out of any of their lines of sight.

He doesn’t. He turns the toy back on and lets his cock twitch and strain in his pants at the sound of Peter’s broken cry instead, finding this edging to be just as satisfying for him as how it’ll probably end for Peter. At least it’s fair.

One of the alphas that brought him in returns sometime around the eighth denial. He joins him off to the side this time.

“How many?” He sounds almost bored, eyeing the crying and squirming omega with minimal interest.

Tony tried to keep his voice even as he answers, despite the arousal threatening to roughen it. “When I turn it on again, it’ll be nine.”

“Good.” He nods, looking satisfied.

There’s a long moment of silence except for the pitiful whimpering of the omega. Tony breaks it again. “How many times am I supposed to deny him?”

“At least ten.”

“And then?”

The other alpha turns to him. “That depends on you, I think.”

“On me?” He can’t hide his surprise. The paperwork had said to be determined, yes, but he assumed it was to be determined based on what Peter could take. “What do you mean?”

The older alpha gives him a once over and purposefully scents the air before answering. “You want him. Don’t you?”

It’s not like there’s any way of hiding it, but his cheeks still tint pink. “Yes. Who wouldn’t?”

“Well, you have a chance at him before anyone else.” The alpha tilts his head. “How much are you willing to pay?”

“Excuse me?” Tony straightens. “Pay for what?”

“Him.” The alpha tosses his head in Peter’s direction.

Tony lets out a little breath. God, is it tempting, but he doesn’t need anyone else used whore, no matter how pretty he may be. “He’s pretty, I grant you, but I’m not paying to fuck an omega used by how many others before me. Thanks, but no thanks.” It sounded crude, but really. Why would he take a risk like that?

“He hasn’t been. He’s fresh meat.” The other male shrugs. “The shoot is for material to advertise him. He goes online for sale tonight… unless you pay me for him right now.”

Tony doesn’t need him to say it flat out to understand that his suspicions were right — there’s definitely something illegal going on here. And he has a choice.

But what kind of choice is it, really? He only knows two people’s names out of what is surely a ring, and in all likelihood, they’re fake names. These two alphas probably wouldn’t have shared this with him if they weren’t confident that he wants Peter enough to take it. And even the fact they were here and they did this shoot would be enough to get him in trouble, even if he turned it in himself. Not to mention the fact that they know his real identity. These two men or someone else would surely come back after him if he tried to turn them in — if they didn’t kill him flat out.

But if he bought Peter and kept quiet… it was better for him, better for business, and surely better for Peter. He couldn’t be as bad as whoever the boy would end up being sold to on the black market.

Tony meets his eyes. “How much?”

The alpha grins, pretending to think about it. “To have first go round at him? A couple grand. I’ll go back outside and let you have him until sundown, if you give us our material and the cash. To keep him? Well, I still want the photos for promotional material, but… a mil or two.”

Two whole million. For a pure, untouched, gorgeous, terrified omega straight out of his wet dreams.

Tony swallows. It’s hardly a decision. Not when he’s smelling how wet and ready Peter is sitting a few feet away and he knows he could have the money out of the bank as quick as a phone call. It’s not as if he doesn’t have it. “How soon do you want the cash?”

~~~

By the time Peter reaches the tenth denial, Tony officially owns him.

The two other alphas leave with a flash drive with the photos, the money in an account, and the promise that they’ll get the finished product of the video soon.

Soon, but not today, or the next couple, probably. He’s going to be a bit busy.

He fixes the angle of the camera so it’s situated mostly below the neck; the focus of it, of course, on the omega’s creamy open thighs, and the wet pussy forced open between them with the wand. Then he moves around, approaching the omega from the back while he’s slumped in the chair, panting and crying weakly.

He slides the blindfold off the omega’s wet eyes from behind, and Peter immediately straightens, tugging at his bonds. “H-hello? Alpha?” His voice is thick and raspy from crying.

“Hi, honey,” Tony purrs, setting his hands on the omega’s shoulders, enjoying the way he jumps at the touch as he runs them down his body. Deft fingers free the wand from its loop, and Peter sobs in relief.

“Oh alpha, thank you, gods- ngh- “

Peter starts to thank him for removing the wand, but chokes off with a broken cry when it returns, this time in the alpha’s hand. Tony smiles at the response as Peter’s head lolls back into his shoulder, turning it up a setting and shushing him gently at the sob that tears from Peter’s lips again.

He runs his other hand back up Peter’s body and settles it against his chin, grip firm on his throat, forcing him to keep his head back and on his shoulder. He drops his lips to the omega’s ear. “You can sob and struggle all you want to. I’m not going to let you come. And I’m not going to stop torturing you until you stop all of it. Don’t cry, don’t struggle, don’t beg me to let you ruin yourself. When you start saying please and thank you for the pleasure and for what I’m doing to you, and be a respectful, obedient omega, we might stop.”

“It hurts-“ Peter whimpers. “Alpha, daddy , please… I’ll do anything- oh- “ His face presses against Tony’s chest with a tortured cry. His thighs tremble viciously against Tony’s hand, back arching a little over the chair.

Tony feels a pang in his chest, but presses on. They have to finish this video before he starts going soft, at least. “You’ll sit still and be quiet. Here. I’ll even help you.” The hand not holding the wand in place comes up and covers his mouth, holding his head firmly against his shoulder. “Now be good, and I’ll make it stop.”

It takes time. Another few denials, kind of time, but it doesn’t matter. He has as long as needed. He’d given the omega an order, and he’d learn to listen, or they’d keep going all night.

Eventually, shaking and exhausted, Peter goes limp against him, eyes closed, pitiful little sobs audible but no words even trying to come from behind the alpha’s hand, still clamped on his mouth. Tony makes a triumphant little sound, and pulls the wand away. “Look at me, omega.”

Peter’s eyes flutter open, red and wet, fixing on Tony.

“Since you’ve listened, now, we’re going to be done. I’m going to take my hand off your mouth, and I want you to thank me. Don’t stop thanking me, and don’t say please, again, or we’ll stop until you can get control of yourself. Am I clear?” A nod against his hand. “Good.” He lets him go.

Peter takes a small breath. “Thank you.” His voice is barely a hoarse whisper.

“You’re welcome, omega.” Tony presses a kiss to his neck and lets the wand trail back up Peter’s thigh, suppressing a smirk at the way his breath hitches again. “Again.”

“Thank you, Alpha.”

“Good boy. Remember, don’t beg. Just be grateful.” He pauses, then slides the blindfold back on his eyes. He knows they want his full body in this shot, but he isn’t too keen on the possibility of the omega being recognized, either, knowing what he does now. Then he steps away just enough to tilt the camera back up, allowing it to get Peter’s face, and a small portion of his own neck and torso behind him.

When he returns, he takes his chin, turning his head toward the lens. “Look toward the camera, now. Think about how many people are going to see this, honey, and try show them how good you are. Let everyone see how pretty you look when you’re coming, just this once, before I take it all for myself.”

“Yes, alpha. Thank you, alpha.”

“Good boy.” With that, he turns on the wand again.

The omega’s body jumps visibly in the camera lens when the toy finds his swollen clit again. He lets out a broken little cry, but his hips don’t move, even as he starts to tremble again immediately. “Alpha- feels so good, Alpha, thank you- so close, Alpha, so close, thank you- oh god, oh- ngh- “

The force of the orgasm rocks his little body, and he nearly screams at the intensity before going completely limp in the chair again, clearly seeing stars, seeming to have blacked out.

Tony flicks the toy off and lets Peter’s head go, watching it fall to his chest as the omega pants and struggles to regain his senses. He walks over to the camera, taking it off its stand and coming closer.

He trails his fingers from the inside of Peter’s bound leg, up his core, pausing for just a moment to tease that oversensitive little bud, tearing a strangled cry out of Peter that he shushes, and then clear up to his face. He cups his cheek, stroking it as the omega’s unfocused eyes try to open under the fabric, clearly barely holding on to consciousness.

“You know you want one,” he murmurs, just loud enough to be heard. “So come get it.”

Then he shuts the camera off, setting it aside and turning completely back to Peter. It was time to get the omega home.

Taglist: @snowstark @serrabloodsong

Let me know if you would like to be added! <3

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alitaimagines · 4 years

Text

“I can’t wait to fall in love with you, you can’t wait to fall in love with me, this just can’t be summer love, you see.”

character: levi ackerman - ATTACK ON TITAN

note: this is my CEO au! I’ve been meaning to write this for so long but i’m barely getting around to it. there could be multiple parts to this.

you were sitting down at one of the common room lunch tables with Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, and Armin. the company all of you worked at tended to break all of you at the same time so it wasn’t unusual to see the six of you together for lunch or small breaks.

“are we still going out tonight?” Sasha asked with a mouthful of baked potato, “more than likely,” Mikasa said with a monotone voice, “I’m not going to be in charge of any of you like last time,” she added.

you knew she was hinting at you with that comment. you tended to go a little overboard with the drinking at times and she, on more than occasion, had to carry or take you back home. Eren, Reiner, and yourself were the ones who usually went all out.

“aww, come on,” you mocked as she gave you the finger, “I need the small break! I’ll make you breakfast in the morning!” you offered as Sasha immediately perked up, “I’ll take care of ya, ( your name ),” you couldn’t help but laugh, “yeah and if I leave you to take care of me, it’s going to be Connie taking care of us,” you interjected.

Sasha knew you held a point. you took a sip of your soda before releasing an unintentional burp, “wow, good one!” you heard one of your superiors say.

Armin stared down at the table realizing your three bosses were right behind you. you didn’t even want to look back at them knowing what you did was extremely inappropriate.

“hello Mr.Ackerman,” you whispered as you tried to hide the embarrassed feeling you had, “my break is done in five minutes so I’ll be over to my desk in a matter of minutes,” you explained.

you heard Hanji laughing making you even more nervous, “aw Levi! you have your assistant terrified of you! that’s no way to have them,” Hanji remarked as you felt yourself wanting crawl in a hole and die.

“you went through six assistants before Moblit,” Levi threatened as Hanji remained quiet, “exactly, watch it,” you pulled your things together before looking over to Mikasa, “remember I need to stop at my house for my night bag before heading over to yours. you already know how I am after I drink,” you whispered as she nodded.

you grabbed the files you were supposed to work on and followed your boss to his one o’clock meeting. your mind was still stuck on the action you had did in front of Levi and felt yourself get embarrassed all over again.

“going out tonight, ( your name )?” Hanji asked a bit loudly, “uh, yeah. a few of us gather at the bar a few blocks down from here every Friday after work,” you explained trying not to out anyone as unprofessional.

she nodded, “how fun! how come you never invited any of us?” she asked as you felt your face heat up instantly, “uh, I, we, never thought our bosses would be interested in going out with a bunch of low rank employees,” you managed to say through your flustered state.

“Hanji, enough,” Levi stated as she rolled her eyes, “I think we both know someone who could use a night out,” she suggested as she pointed to Levi, “but seriously! at least invite me out sometime!” she added.

you nodded as you thankfully made it back to Levi’s office with Hanji now finally stopping her hundred question game.

Levi unlocked the door as the both of you walked in. you knew Levi tended to have the last of his meetings towards the later part of the afternoon but for some reason, he had one scheduled right after your lunch hour and wanted you present for it.

“would you like me to take notes for the meeting, Mr.Ackerman?” you asked him as you shuffled through a few pieces of paper, “clearly,” he muttered as you nodded.

for the first few months of your time with the company, you had always gotten a bit upset at the way Levi talked to you but as you continued throughout the years here, you learned to live with the fact that Levi literally talked to everyone that way.

“of course,” before you could say anything else, you heard a knock on the door. you expected it to be Levi’s client but it wasn’t, “Reiner!” you exclaimed a bit happier, “is there something you need?” you asked as you welcomed him in.

he gave you a smirk before entering the office, “mind giving this to your boss, sweetie?” you nodded as he handed you the papers, “what are they for?” you asked as he shrugged, “Mr.Smith just told me to give them to him. anyway, you goin’ out tonight?” he asked.

“with Eren and the rest of them? yeah, we’re meeting at Benny’s at like seven,” you explained, “then I’ll see you there, babygirl,” you rolled your eyes at the nickname, “yeah, you’re only excited that I’ll be there because Krista isn’t,” Reiner remained quiet, “exactly, goodbye Reiner.”

you went back to Levi to hand him the papers, “Mr.Ackerman, Reiner dropped these off on the behalf of Mr.Smith,” you whispered as he basically snatched the file from your hand, “thanks,” he muttered without giving you a second look.

your face went to confusion as you tried to figure out why he was more upset than usual, “is there something wrong?” you asked genuinely. Levi, for the first time looked up at you, “I don’t appreciate such PDA in my office, ( last name ),” you started laughing at his comment making him even more angry.

“that wasn’t PDA, sir,” you tried to say, “Reiner is that way with all the girls in the building. if that was PDA liked you claimed it was, I wouldn’t have rolled my eyes as hard as I did,” you added.

a sense of relief went over Levi, one that he had never felt before, “plus, I would never give Reiner the time of day. I like my men older, with a lot of life experience,” you said honestly.

“great to know ( last name ),” he replied as you gave him a smile, “better to be honest than to be a liar. plus, I believe Braun has eyes on Ms.Rals assistant,” you inquired.

Levi’s eyebrows fluttered in confusion, “correct me if I’m wrong ( last name ), is Reiss not involved with Fritz?” you nodded as he became more confused, “Reiner doesn’t know how to handle a no. I’m surprised, however, that you would know of such a relationship,” you mentioned, “you don’t seem like the type to know of company gossip.”

"it’s not hard to tell when she is wrapped around Reiss’s finger,” Levi countered, “besides, I know more than you think I would,” you laughed as you stood up and sat down on the ledge of his desk.

you knew that if it had been any other person, even Erwin and Hanji, sitting on top of his desk, he would have immediately kicked them off, claiming that they were getting everything so dirty.

“really now?” you taunted, “like what? I wanna know the tea you’ve heard around the company!” you crossed your legs as Levi couldn’t help to actually take you in.

Levi had never really payed much attention to his assistants before. he had gone through so secretaries and assistants that he eventually stopped paying attention to them.

you were different however. you were afraid of him, as was everyone when they first signed up for the job, but as you got more comfortable around him, every now and then you would tease or taunt him.

there was something that stood out to him about you. maybe it was your looks or maybe it was the you treated him, whatever it was, his mind would wander to you at times. your smile whenever you laughed at something Hanji did made his heart stop, even for a second. whenever you touched his arm or hand on accident, it felt like there was a burning sensation afterwards.

“that’s for me to know and you to find out,” you went over to your desk and took out a bag of Pepperidge Farm cookies before going back to ledge of the desk, “would you like some? I don’t think I seen you eat lunch today,” you mentioned.

Levi was hesitant but his mind took over and pulled out the Milano cookie, “please, I want to know! I’m very interested in this company gossip,” you exclaimed making Levi laugh before shaking his head no.

you huffed in playful annoyance.

“no fair! I told you everything I knew,” Levi knew that was a lie, “okay, maybe not everything,” you replied truthfully.

for what felt like a mere few minutes actually ended up with the both of you talking for a few hours. you knew both of you had work piled high but that suddenly seemed to leave both your minds as you continued to talk.

you heard your phone going off indicating that it was time to head home, “hey, Levi?” you asked, “we’re all going to be at the bar a few blocks down. you should come by,” you asked a bit nervously.

Levi hadn’t been asked out anywhere in years. the last time he went to anything like that, he was still in his twenties.

“I’ll see if I can make time in my schedule,” he replied making your eyes roll, “come on Ackerman, when’s the last time you’ve done this?” you asked as he remained silent, “exactly! Benny’s, nine o’clock,” you reminded before grabbing your Fjallraven Kanken bag and leaving.

Levi stayed at his desk long after you were gone. his mind contemplated whether to take your invitation but his thoughts got interrupted as he heard Hanji and Erwin walk into his office.

“go home Levi,” Erwin said as Levi shook his head no, “you should!” Hanji added, “it’s a Friday night. enjoy the fucking weekend for once.”

Levi immediately kicked them out as they laughed to themselves. he took his phone out of his pants and did something he hadn’t done in YEARS.

Hanji had downloaded a few social media apps to his phone once and although he never posted anything, he was still logged in. with you being so tech savvy, he was sure that you had an account somewhere.

Levi searched through multiple peoples accounts until he stumbled upon Eren’s and got to yours. you had posted a few things to your Instagram story and clicked on it.

the first one was the photo you wore to work. the second was you at lunch with Eren, the third was of you and all the girls are the bar, and the last one was with you and Reiner. you were on his back, in a piggyback form, as you held onto Reiner’s chest a little too tight for Levi’s liking.

Levi thought of his predicament and in the end, his mind won. he was going to meet you at the bar. he quickly shoved everything in his desk before grabbing his backpack and keys.

you had no idea if Levi was actually going to come or not but every now and again, you would look at the door. a few noticed but didn’t say anything.

“come on, let’s go and dance,” Reiner asked you as agreed with hesitance.

the bar was almost blacked out that you could hardly recognize Reiner’s face as you danced against him. the lack of romance was noticeable as Reiner looked at other girls to dance with.

“the brunette in the back is eyeing you,” you whispered to Reiner, “go to her, I’m gonna get a drink,” Reiner gave you a silent thank you before going towards her as you made your way to the bar.

as you waited for your drink, you watched the door and felt your jaw drop noticing who walked in.

Levi

you knew that if you kept him out of the group, he would feel less awkward and a lot more willing to dance or even talk to you. like you had mentioned earlier, you were glad the lights were so dim that to the eye, they wouldn’t even recognize that it was Levi.

you grabbed your drink before basically darting to Levi.

“hey! you made it!” you screamed as he chuckled, “you threatened me, I really didn’t have a choice,” he joked making you roll your eyes, “come get a drink, they’re kind of cheap here,” you told him.

Levi nodded as he followed you to the bar. he ended up ordering a Hennessy neat as the two of you remained sitting and talking.

one drink turned into a few before you convinced him to dance at least one song with you. Levi followed you, albeit a little annoyed, but as soon as you got him to the dance floor, you turned around and danced against him.

“just relax,” you whispered to him before grabbing his arm and pulling it over your shoulder to hold it, “enjoy tonight.”

Levi tried to dance back but with himself feeling a bit drunk and not having danced like this in years, he felt a bit stiff. you on the other hand were vibing straight to the song playing.

once Levi finished his drink and you were still dancing with him, he turned you around and looked at your ( colored ) eyes. you gave him a genuine smile before relaxing into his arms.

“But let me buy you drinks, better yet rings. Do it how you want it done, girl and who would of thought that you could be the one 'cause I can't wait to fall in love with you.”

Levi without thinking went in for a kiss. you were a bit stunned at the sentiment but reciprocated and kissed back. you wrapped your arms around his neck as the soft make out session continued.

“my place? it’s not to far from here,” Levi mentioned as he kind of hoped you said yes, “after you Levi.”

ALITA

#attack on titan #Attack on Titan Imagine #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin imagine #shingeki no kyojin x reader #AoT #aot imagine #aot x reader #snk #snk x reader #snk imagine #LEVI ACKERMAN #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman x reader

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thejudgingtrash · 4 years

Note

Mel, my darling! ❤️ Mel's little cookout: model Percy/makeup artist Annabeth pretty please (ILYSM ❤️❤️)

Beccaaaa YOU HAD ME SCREAMING WITH THAT REQUEST!!!

I have an ENTIRE headcanon for Model!Percy and edits to make for it!!

Do you know how much I love you? This isn’t funny!

Okay! Enjoy your prompt!! (also thank you Torie @percyheartsannabeth for being an amazing beta!)

The Model (WC: 2,3k)

Annabeth Chase had a secret passion. Makeup. Most of her classmates would’ve never thought that she would enjoy the art of the daily enhancements, but she secretly did. Techniques, palettes, brushes, sponges… Everything was kept in boxes at home, all neat and tidy.

Annabeth Chase also never thought that she would actually get the gig at MAC to work there. She aced the multiple interview rounds, impressed her future employer with her skills and diverse approach in makeup and was nearly hired on the spot. And now she was a fairly skilled makeup artist. One of the best.

There was another thing that Annabeth Chase never would have guessed. That it would take only one random afternoon to change her life forever.

A man entered the store. He was tall, wore sunglasses and an expensive Italian suit. He chatted with Drew, Annabeth’s supervisor.

“Oh, yes!” said Drew with a polite smile. “Annabeth?”

The blonde turned around and approached them. “He wishes for something natural for the day to cover the circles under the eyes,” Drew explained. “Can you do that quickly?”

“Of course, I can. Please follow me, sir!” Annabeth rarely worked with men, but there was a first for anything.

Her client took a seat and removed his sunglasses. Despite having rich dark skin, blemishes and fatigue ruined an otherwise fairly handsome face. The man took care of himself. Mostly. Sleep apparently wasn’t important enough.

Annabeth took her arsenal of makeup and other supplies and put them in front of the large mirror the client was facing. “You are warm toned,” she softly spoke and grabbed foundations to mix them together.

“Skin is already primed,” the man added. He also sounded Italian.

“Oh yes, I can see that!” she smiled. Then she started her work. She grabbed her sponge and placed the mixed foundation. Slow buildup, little by little. She used the concealer to smooth the surface and brighten the under eye area a little bit. Highlighter for a little pop. The customer didn’t want a full eye look, just curled lashes and mascara and sharpened eyebrows. Roughly twenty minutes passed, and Annabeth stepped aside so that the man could see the magic she had worked.

“Oh wow!” the client sounded impressed and tilted his head.

“Very natural. I like that!”

Annabeth smiled. “Oh yes. A full face can be so expressive and fun but not something for the day to day. A natural look should enhance your beauty, make spots disappear, not turn you into something you aren’t.”

“Very true,” the client agreed.

“Can I book you again?” he then asked. Annabeth nodded to Drew.

“Oh sure, just ask my boss!”

The man laughed and shook his head. “No, no, honey. Can I book you?”

His hand wandered into his suit and pulled a business card out. He handed the card to Annabeth.

Charon Bianchi. Casting director. Paris – NYC - Milano. DMFASHIONSTUDIO.

Annabeth looked up to Mr. Bianchi. “Uh…sure?”

The following four years changed everything for her. Gone was the job at MAC after she had signed with Charon. Hello flourishing career as an international MUA that got booked for galas, editorial shootings and runway gigs. Even certain celebrities and YouTubers hired her.

Annabeth had seen it all in those short years and had worked with all of them. She had been in Shanghai and then in Greece two days later. Flights from Paris to Kabul, New York to London. Annabeth had crossed paths with famous makeup artists like Pat McGrath, Charlotte Tilbury or Lisa Eldridge. She had been on the sets of photo shootings with incredible photographers such as Lara Jade, Lina Tesch, Cass Bird and even the famous Peter Lindbergh before he had passed. But the more recent things she had been booked for were runway gigs. Less pay, but more fun and definitely more stress.

Paris 2020. Dior Men, the new fall/winter 2020/21 collection. Designer Kim Jones wanted Annabeth to return to the set, so she did. The venue was beautiful. That was all Annabeth could think before she and a dozen others were sent backstage to prep their own little areas before models, videographers and photographers would swarm the place. Four hours until the show began, and everybody was already stressed out. The first few models showed up. Annabeth had been given a set card with faces she would work with on that particular day. 47 looks in total with 37 male models. Second looks, great Annabeth thought. More stress.

Malick Bodian, Ludwig Wilsdorff and Perseus Jackson were the models that were assigned to her. Perseus Jackson. A handsome young man, not much older than Annabeth came to her mind. Long curls, brown skin, light eyes and a beautiful grin. Annabeth had seen Perseus multiple times, but she had not worked with him directly before. Whereas many designers or their agents chose models because they had an interesting look or a beautiful symmetrical face, Perseus had both. The IT factor. His walk was among the best of his generation.

Annabeth was done with Ludwig’s look as she saw how Perseus stepped into the hectic atmosphere. He was two hours early which meant that he was four hours too late in the fashion world.

“You’re good to go,” said Annabeth to the young man next to her.

“Thanks,” he laughed and got up to get dressed.

Annabeth waved Perseus over to her. His lips formed an “Oh,” before he sat down next to her.

“I think we’ve never worked together before, haven’t we?” he asked. She shook her head.

“Well, Percy,” he introduced himself.

“Annabeth,” she smiled.

“Annabeth?”

“Don’t ask,” she rolled her eyes. “A southern thing.”

That made him roar with laughter. Annabeth had the entire Dior makeup arsenal next to her and was supposed to focus on enhancing his looks, but she couldn’t. He was way too charming, way too funny, way too charismatic. They talked about life before fashion. Percy got scouted at the age of sixteen as he was working at his mother’s bakery in NYC. At first, he thought it was a joke and his mother also had been very skeptical, but after the first few gigs, they realized that Percy had the potential of making it big in the scene.

Annabeth could sense that he was one of the few male models that could actually live a fairly comfortable life with his runway, video and editorial income. He was way too relaxed, and Annabeth knew how struggling models looked like.

Percy had seen Annabeth’s work before. They’ve crossed looks behind the scenes of Prada, Valentino and Isabel Marant. At first, he had thought she had been a model herself with her height and gorgeous looks. The fact that she had been hired as a makeup artist came as a total surprise to him. The blonde set the foundation. He paid close attention to the movement of her hand. That is how he saw her diamond for the first time.

“Oh, wait you’re engaged?” His eyes widened.

“What?” Annabeth looked at the ring on her finger. A birthday gift to herself.

“Oh that,” she laughed.

“I think I might have missed the memo, but I’m pretty sure that I’m single.”

“Oh,” Percy laughed. He almost sounded relieved.

The makeup was a soft look that should set focus on the grooming of the models. A glow on the cheekbones. Smooth skin. Little crystals that were set around the eyes functioned as little highlights. A black earring dangled from his left ear. Then Annabeth moved further to his lips.

Annabeth used neutral brown tones that were supposed to enhance his looks. She applied the color and slowly worked on his bottom lip. His lips slightly parted and his intense stare made Annabeth blush. Her gray eyes wandered back to his lips to finish her work.

“I think you’re good to go,” Annabeth said.

“Already?” he pouted. It was unfair. How could someone shift from fierce to seal eyes in less than a second? Features that could shift from humor to almost anger so easily from the shoots Annabeth had seen from him.

“Move,” she laughed.

Perseus got up. “See you around,” he winked. A warm feeling spread through Annabeth. He’s just cheeky. That’s all.

*****

The collection had a touch of British fashion. Percy grabbed his stuff and was placed into a changing room by a stylist. As soon as he left, he had been swarmed by people that corrected everything. From the way the tie was sitting to the way the white jersey was stuffed into his pants. Someone actually got on their knees to work on the socks. His first look was a gray wool coat which was accompanied by a dark set of pants, a white jersey which had a silver shirt underneath. A fitting white tie and white gloves were set as highlights.

“We need someone to do a little retouch!” one of the stylists yelled. Percy turned around to see if Annabeth was around somewhere. She was not. She still sat in her niche and worked her magic on his colleague Malick. They were laughing. A pang to his heart. Disappointment.

“Hey Percy!” Makeup artist and great friend Piper McLean greeted him and redid some of Annabeth’s layers.

“All models must be ready in the next ten minutes!” yelled director Luke Castellan over the noise and busy people. “First Looks and then get in line! Ten minutes everybody!”

Percy got to the small corner where photographers were ready to take the first pictures of the entire looks. Posing, demonstrating, not getting blinded by the flashing lights. Percy stood in a group with Jason Grace, Ethan Nakamura and Taemin Park. They broke the formation after a few minutes to make room for the next set of models with other looks. Percy got in line for the runway. He wasn’t going to open the show; he was the fourth look. But he would have the honor of closing the show. A key highlight. He made a silent prayer and then it was time.

Assistant Grover Underwood gave the opening model Nico di Angelo the go to walk out. Everyone stared at the screen backstage in anticipation.

“Go!” Charles Beckendorf left.

“Go!” Jason Grace moved forward.

“Go!” It was Percy’s turn.

*****

Annabeth was in awe of his work. Percy walked upright. The right amount of poise and elegance. A hint of arrogance. A lot of determination. He did not move his hips too much and he accentuated the movement of his shoulders. A strong masculine walk and on beat with the music too. A beautiful strut. A neutral game face but his sea green eyes were set aflame.

Percy focused the minute he had reached the middle of the runway. He could do a sloppier walk in the beginning but not anymore. Eyes open, be casual but attentive. The camera that would capture the picture for Vogue Runway which would be sent all over the world in a few minutes caught his gaze. He worked around the crowd of celebrities and fashionistas that captured his looks with their own smartphones and made his way backstage. The coat got taken off immediately. A stylist handed him the final outfit which he had to change in less than a minute. Then Piper caught up with him and did small retouches before he went to Second Looks.

Percy wore a black coat which was embroidered with silver elements. The strong silver started from the collar and was reduced by the chest area. The streaks got less and less, like feathers that were falling and captured. The black fabric of the coat took over and created an interesting silhouette.

Percy was surprised. Annabeth stood next to him and actually did his retouching again. Her thumb brushed the fallout off. A small gesture he truly enjoyed.

“What? No good luck kiss for me?” Percy asked innocently. Annabeth’s jaw dropped. She actually laughed. Cheeky. He was very cheeky.

“What would you need a good luck kiss for?” He was more than just professional. Percy didn’t need luck. He just worked and did so perfectly each and every single time.

“Go!” said Grover and pushed him out. A last cocky grin and wink to Annabeth and then he was back on stage.

Annabeth stood next to designer Kim and watched how Percy worked his magic on the runway again. All 37 models were set in a row and did one final round one after another after Grover’s go. After that, the designer went on stage and bowed to the crashing applause.

The crew backstage cheered as well. Another gig was done and over and the fashion world knew what the man would wear in the coming fall season.

Annabeth helped collect the makeup and clean the area. She turned around and nearly walked into Percy. Percy almost looked nervous.

“Oh. Is everything okay?” she asked him.

“Yeah, I wanted to ask you whether you had makeup wipes,” he said lamely.

Annabeth grabbed a few and handed them to him. He was already changed back into his casual jeans and black hoodie. It almost broke the makeup artist’s heart to see the model cleaning the canvas. But with or without makeup, Percy was a handsome man.

“Thank you,” he smiled. And he did not move an inch. A question rested on his lips.

“Would you like to drink some coffee with me?” Annabeth halted her movements and looked up to Percy.

“What?”

Percy was surprised at her surprised reaction. The fact that top model Percy Jackson was single and actually had asked her out blew her mind. Annabeth nearly dropped the brushes.

“Are you serious?” Annabeth asked him. He was confused.

“Why wouldn’t I be serious? I like you,” he explained. A man that was direct. That was something Annabeth certainly liked.

“So. Coffee or not?”

“Sure,” she said and shared his smile.

The End

The looks I’ve chosen are looks 4 and 47 from Dior Men!

And of course! The letter! I haven’t forgotten!

Thank you so much for the prompt, Becca! Writing this was so much fun!

All Cookout Fics

Cute/Cursed Cookout Writing Prompts

#pjo #Percy Jackson #mel's little cookout #Annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo fanfic #percabeth fanfiction #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson and the olympians #mel writes

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dreamcaughtme · 4 years

Photo

I MET YOO KIHYUN: the post of my LIFE.

Hello. Yes.

I received two (2) tickets to enter the raffle for an online fansign through Japanese Tower Records, since I live here and the store is about a 40-minute train ride’s journey away from me. I almost didn’t even register the raffle tickets, y’all; I thought, there is no way. There’s no way I am going to win with TWO raffle tickets after there are people who have purchased literally thousands of albums for this fansign.

Yet I decided to enter. And this, my good dudes, is what transpired.

First of all, I ACCIDENTALLY SCREWED UP THE CALL~~I was supposed to be #6 out of 30, and they disconnected the call because I couldn’t get the mic to work (I was on the phone with the staff and literally HEARD YOO KIHYUN’S VOICE IN THE BACKGROUND--IT WAS TORTURE). So I tried not to cry as I sat there in front of my phone, hoping and praying desperately that they’d give me a second chance to answer my phone and get the mic right.

And they DID!!!! They bumped me to the very end. And this, THIS is what transpired.

First photo: Yoo Kihyun greeting me and looking excited to see me

Okay, y’all. This was his face. THIS WAS HIS FACE. Do you realize how precious it is to have someone looking at you like that SAIDOUASIDUAISODU it’s an absolute miracle I kept my cool and remained composed? Like I actually remained composed. I don’t know how it happened.

SECOND PHOTO: Yoo Kihyun smiling when I said it was good to finally meet him and then APOLOGIZING for the connectivity issues even though I was the problem.

This is how it went.

“Hello, Kihyun!”

“Hi, [my name]!”

“It’s good to finally meet you!”

“Yeah, finally! So sorry about the...little problem!”

“It’s okay! It’s my fault!”

“No, no. It’s not your fault.”

THIRD PHOTO: Ya girl personally invites Yoo Kihyun to come to Tokyo LOL who am i

He asked me where I was (definitely think he was surprised to hear that I live in Tokyo). He said he wants to come to Tokyo. I personally invited him to Tokyo. Yes. I did that. Hahah. As if there’s not a whole virus ravaging the world right now, preventing him from going on tour. That’s probably the closest I got to being flustered xD He said he couldn’t come Tokyo yet but that he wants to, and I told him I understood. Oh, gosh. I’m so glad I somehow didn’t notice how precious his smile was until AFTER the video call bc lemme tell you, if I’d have focused on his smile right here, y’all, I’d have lost it.

FOURTH PHOTO: Ya girl asks Yoo Kihyun for permission to tell him something (like it’s not his actual job in this moment to be my captive audience)

Me: there’s something I want to tell you.

Me: is it okay to tell you?

Kihyun: mmmm (like, the affirmative “mmm”).

Me: thank you very much

(also, as the very supportive @uwunnie pointed out in her reaction video to this video call, I want to mention that he struggled to keep a smile in check as I began speaking.)

FIFTH PHOTO: this actually isn’t the fifth photo, I just really wanted you to see his face being particularly wonderful and attentive again

ACTUAL FIFTH PHOTO: Ya girl tells Yoo Kihyun what I’ve wanted to say...for years.

Here’s the serious part.

Tw for eating disorders, body image

I explained to Kihyun, in simple terms because I didn’t want to say anything that the monitors would consider “inappropriate,” that there was a time in my life two years ago when I didn’t feel beautiful or confident. I explained that I stopped eating and became very sick. During that time, Kihyun and the other members of Monsta X made me smile and helped me with their kindness. I explained then....

SIXTH PHOTO: Kihyun’s reaction to my story

I explained then that I am now SO healthy and SO happy and living my dream...to which this precious human literally clasped his hands together and did a small bow at me. I then thanked him for his kindness in Korean (y’all don’t even know...I had a friend send me the translation and then practiced the pronunciation with her for ages) and bowed to him.

Listen to me. I know it probably sounds ridiculous that I bowed to him. But there were two things I had in mind. One, he knew I lived in Tokyo. Two, I’m pretty sure he heard me speaking Japanese with the staff during the connecting portion of the call because I heard him say something to staff in the background. And because my bow looked natural--because it’s something I do multiple times DAILY while living here--I do genuinely believe it conveyed gratitude rather than just looking awkward and koreaboo-y.

SEVENTH PHOTO: Yoo Kihyun is speechless, which could perhaps be a product of the fact that I threw a bunch of English/a butchered Korean thank-you at him after a bunch of phone calls with Japanese Monbebe, but he kept saying “wow,” which was incredibly gratifying because I was not sure how he would respond to my story and hoped that it would not be personal to an uncomfortable degree

EIGHTH PHOTO: Yoo Kihyun tells me that stories like mine is the reason why he does “this job”

Amidst a lot of “wow,” Kihyun told me exactly that.

“Wow. That was...wow. That's the reason I do this job, and you are...wow. Thank you so much. You just said we changed your life, right?”

(to which I responded, yes, even though that wasn’t EXACTLY what I said--but it was the message I conveyed, and I’m so thankful he parsed that out of my thank-you monologue)

NINTH PHOTO: i’m not kidding, y’all, he really looks at his fans like we personally hung the stars in the sky and brought to life all the good things on this earth

He clasped his hands together and told me how happy it made him to hear my story. “Wow. For sure. Yeah. Wow.” Basically, he said “wow” about 20 times.

TENTH PHOTO: Yoo Kihyun promises that he will stay healthy and happy

(so you’d better do just that, sir)

ELEVENTH PHOTO: Yoo Kihyun thanks me again and tells ME to stay healthy

...which I’m going to remember whenever I feel tempted to skip a meal or push my body too far with exercise.

TWELFTH PHOTO: confirmed: Kihyun loves me

He said so as he blew a kiss to me. So, y’know. I said it back, even though I hadn’t originally wanted to because I don’t use those words when it comes to kpop stars because???? i don’t know them????? i only know the part of themselves that they present to the public??? except i do say i love wonho but that’s because he’s wonho and you just...don’t NOT say you love wonho

But not saying “I love you” felt incomplete, because isn’t that what I was saying the whole time I was explaining to him how he changed my life?

~*~*~*~*~*~

Long story short, it’s insane and amazing and insanely amazing that I had this opportunity to thank Yoo Kihyun for the tremendously positive impact he’s had in my life, especially because I know how rare it is for people who don’t have the means to buy hundreds of albums to get into fansigns like these. In a vicious industry where it would be the easiest thing in the world to decide to detach emotionally from the public,

where you can play the “standoffish” card and make it look cool,

where you’re not required to communicate with fans so often, literally counseling them + learning their language so you can send them sweet messages + being part of a group that makes sure that awards are always credited to their fans and not just the group themselves,

Yoo Kihyun chooses to be kind, and gosh, the guy definitely has edge and sharpness and won’t take crap from anyone, but the heart he chooses to share with us motivates me all over again to be open and enthusiastic and forgiving.

And y’all. He thanked me. HE thanked ME. He didn’t have to. But it’s something I’ll cherish til the day I die.

Which is probably coming sooner than later because...holy crap...I TALKED TO YOO KIHYUN ASIDOUASOIDUAISOUDOIASUDOIASUDOIAUSDU

#kihyun

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cherishingstydia · 5 years

Text

Falling for Mr. Buckley

~Originally this was going to be based on “Maid in Manhattan” but it kinda changed as I wrote it ~

Eddie Diaz had been doing maintenance work in Mr. Buckley’s office building for a few months now. He’d never met him, but he knew how handsome he was from faculty photos up around the building.

Eddies cousin Samuel was getting married and even tho it was Eddies day off the last one hired always had to take the calls. So he had to go in and flip the breakers. Since the Church was much closer to the office he decided he could just stop by and do it quick even tho he was already in his suit it would be fine he wasn’t doing anything where he’d get dirty. Eddies son Christopher also went with him. He sat in the lobby while his dad finished up some work.

“Now who do we have here?” Mr. Buckley asked smiling at Christoper.

“Christopher Diaz pleased to meet you!” Christopher said reaching his hand out to shake Mr. Buckley’s hand.

“Well it’s nice to meet you I’m Buck” Mr. Buckley said shaking the boys hand.

Christopher giggled “What kind of name is Buck? Are you a deer?”

“What are you the tiniest business man? Whats with the suit kid?” Buck teased.

“MIJO!” Eddie yelled “What have I told you about talking to strangers!”

“It’s not a stranger its Buck.” Chris rolled his eyes.

“Oh! Mr. Buckley I am so sorry.” Eddie said straightening his tie and smoothing down his hair.

“Hello!” Buck smiled reaching out for Eddies hand.

Eddie reaches out and the moment their hands touched they both felt it sparks were flying. Neither one could understand how something so small could seem so significant.

“Do I know you?” Buck asked smiling. “I know everyone I work with and with a face like that I know I wouldn’t forget you.....Wait a minute Diaz...You’re Nick Diaz from accounting I wasn’t expecting you until later this afternoon.

“No, actually I’m-” Eddie said before being interrupted by Mr. Buckley.

Bucks phone went off.

“I’m sorry Nick I have to take this call, but it was very nice meeting you. The forms are on my desk feel free to grab them, and go I’m so busy today otherwise I’d walk with you to get them” Eddie said.

Just now they both realized neither one had let go of the others hand, and they’d been standing their hand in hand the whole time. Eddie quickly pulled his hand back and cleared his throat.

“Sorry gotta run” Buck said rushing toward the door

“Daddy why does Buck think you are Nick?” Christopher asked.

“Just a little mix up Mijo.” Eddie patted Chris on the head “Now we need to go Uncle Sammy needs his best man and ring bearer.’‘Eddie scooped up Christopher and they left the office.

“You never told me how hot Nick was!” Buck exclaimed to his assistant Kelly over the phone.

“What?” Kelly laughed “I didn’t think he was your type.”

“Tall, Dark, and Handsome? Whats not to like.” Buck laughed.

“I mean he’s not bad looking, but he certainly isn’t tall! Plus he’s married.” Kelly said. “Hes kinda old too!”

“Not tall? I mean maybe not as tall as me but he’s not much shorter than I am” Buck said “Also if he’s married why doesn’t he have on a ring on? If I had a man that looked like that there’s no way I’d be ok with him walking around with out a ring, and he certainly isn’t too much older than me...I’d guess around 5 years or so.”

“You’re crazy! Nick is about as tall as I am and I’m only 5′5”. So no he’s not that tall.” Kelly laughed. “5 years try more like 20.”

“Whatever you say Kelly! See you in the office Monday morning.” Buck said.

“See ya then Boss!” Kelly said.

Monday Morning

Buck couldn’t stop thinking about that short encounter with Nick. They’d barely spoke but he felt like there might be something there. The moment their hands touched he felt something. Buck decided even tho it wasn’t the best or most ethical decision he’d just take a peak at his personal file. The man in the photo was not the man he had met days before. Who was this mystery man, and would he ever find him again. Buck heard a knock at his door.

“Come on in” Buck said.

“Um hi uh Mr.Buckley I just wanted to clear up the confusion I am a Diaz but I’m not the one you were looking for.” Eddie said.

“Well hello not Nick actually I think you might be the one I’ve been looking for. Please call me Buck, and also you could call me tonight” Buck winked and slid his business card across his desk.

“I’m Eddie and I do the maintenance work around here. I’m a single father so I don’t really think I’m what you’re looking for” Eddie said turning his back to leave.

“You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. How about we go out tonight and change that.” Buck grinned.

“Sorry I can’t.” Eddie said nervously running out of the room.

Buck wondered did he come on too strong? He had a bad habit of that sometimes.

Eddie leaned against the wall outside Bucks office and sighed. He could barely come up with anything to say and Buck was just Mr. Smooth with all these lines, and while this might have worked on Eddie years ago he only dated people who wanted something serious. He had to think about Christopher.

A few weeks went by and Buck went from never seeing Buck to seeing him multiple times a week.

“Hey” Buck whispered approaching Eddie.

“Hey” Eddie said shyly.

“Look I’m sorry for the way I was acting the other week. Those lines I was using were totally not me at all I just got really nervous, and when I’m nervous I turn into this cocky jerk who uses really bad pick up lines. I apologize if I crossed the line I’ve never dated a coworker before, and I felt like there might be something special between us,but if you’re not interested I totally understand.’‘ Buck sighed and walked away.

Wow maybe he had him all wrong. Maybe Buck wasn’t at all what he thought. That was a very genuine mature apology. Him and Christopher must’ve gotten along too since Christopher had been begging to see Buck again.

Another few weeks went by Eddie was gonna go talk to Buck the next day to see if he still wanted to grab dinner.He would have done it sooner but Buck had been away on business.

Later that evening

Eddie was walking with Christopher down town when he saw Buck with a handsome older man through the window of an Italian bistro.

“Just my luck I had my chance and blew it” Eddie thought to himself.

The next day

Eddie was under Bucks desk trying to fix his computer before he came in today. He didn’t wanna face him.

“Good Morning Kelly.” Buck said.

Eddie froze. He knew he was gonna have to see him and talk to him since he was in his office.

“Morning boss. Wow I like how I’m the assistant yet you bring me coffee you're truly too kind.” Kelly smiled.

“It’s just coffee it isn’t a big deal. Besides friends do nice things for each other.” Buck laughed.

“He’s even more perfect than I imagined” Eddie thought to himself.

“Oh and maintenance is working on your computer. The power went out last night and the generator didn't kick on so he’s just running some tests to make sure everything is ok.” Kelly said

“I hope so after last nights disaster of a dinner with my father. I don’t need any more bad news.” Buck laughed nervously.

“Father?? So it wasn’t a date” Eddie whispered.

“What?” Buck said.

Eddie jumped and knocked his head on the bottom of the desk. Eddie crawled out and stood up straight.

“Uh well Mr. Buckley sir I heard last nights dinner didn’t go too well. Maybe we could grab dinner tonight and talk. I think you were right I think there might be something here.” Eddie smiled and layed a card with his number on Bucks desk.

“One condition....stop calling me Mr. Buckley. It’s Buck.” Buck smiled.

“Ok Buck. What would you like to do tonight?” Eddie grinned.

“Surprise me!” Buck winked.

“Ok.” Eddie said warily.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Eddie thought to himself.

Later that night

Eddie decided he isn’t gonna do some big fancy date. That isn’t him this date is gonna be just a normal date. There will be no wooing and if Buck doesn’t like it then this can be their first and last date.

New text from: Buck

“So what are we doing tonight?” Buck asked.

“Harrison park shows classic movies on Saturdays, and all the best food trucks in town are there. I figured we could check it out. I was thinking of going around 6:30.” Eddie replied.

“Sounds perfect! I’ll meet you there.” Buck replied nearly immediately.

Eddie sighed thinking about how he needed to stop thinking of Mr. Buckley.....Buck as some rich snob. Clearly he’s just a really nice guy who also happens to be rich.

Eddie arrived a little earlier to get the blanket spread out so the had a good place to watch the movie. He saw Buck arriving in jeans and a nice T-shirt, but some how he looked even hotter than he did in his suit at work. The blue shirt really made his eyes pop.

Eddies style was really just flannels and jeans. It was a first date, but since he knew how nice Buck seemed and since it was just in the park he thought this should be fine.

Buck first saw Eddie in a suit and immediately thought he was hot. It’s not even just that though even in the work issued button down that wasn’t the most flattering shirt Eddie still managed to pull it off. This man was so beautiful he could probably make a potato sack look good. Something about that flannel tho Buck thought he’d never seen anyone look better.

“Hey Buck over here!” Eddie waved.

Buck nodded and headed over to Eddie.

“Glad you finally started calling me Buck.” Buck smiled.

“Sorry it’s a hard habit to break.” Eddie sighed.

“It’s not a problem I just feel old and like I’m your boss when you call me that. It just feels wrong” Buck said.

“Technically you’re not my boss since I work maintenance. Mr. Han is my boss. We are not even really co workers I mean kind of, but not really.” Eddie paused “sorry for rambling.”

“ I’ve done my fair share of rambling so you’re good” Buck laughed.

Eddies phone started ringing.

“Sorry I gotta take this Chris is with Carla tonight so I better make sure everything is ok.”

“Hey is Chris ok” Eddie asked in a panic.

“Chris is fine, but I’m sick, and I really don’t want him catching it. Could you come get him. I’m sorry I know you have a date tonight.” Carla apologized.

“I’ll be right there” Eddie said before hanging up.

“I’m really sorry but the babysitter is sick so I need to go get my son. Maybe we can try this again sometime?” Eddie asked.

“I’d like that” Buck smiled. “Don’t worry about it your kid should always be put first.”

Eddie was in awe of this man. He was not only good looking and funny, but incredibly understanding. He was the total package.

“You’re amazing!” Eddie said before kissing Buck on the cheek and running off.

Eddie winced when he got to his truck. Were they really at the kiss on the cheek place. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. He heard a knock on his window. It was Buck.

“ Hey I think you missed.” Buck smiled.

“What?” Eddie asked.

Buck leaned in the window kissing Eddie on the mouth. Eddie could barely believe how right this felt. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time....or maybe ever.

“Whoa!” Eddie whispered.

“Yeah.” Buck replied softly.

“Ok as hard as it is to leave after that I still gotta go” Eddie smiled.

“Maybe I could come with you , we could get dinner with your son. If not it’s fine I totally understand boundaries and if I’m over stepping just-”

Eddie cut Buck off by kissing him again “Sounds perfect. You made quite an impression on him at the office he keeps asking about you.”

Once they arrived to pick up Christopher. Eddie went in and came out followed by Christopher shortly and he saw Buck.

“Hey it’s the deer guy.” Christopher giggled.

“Hey it’s the worlds tiniest business man” Buck winked.

“How do you have inside jokes you met one time for like 2 minutes” Eddie chuckled.

Christopher loved people, but Eddie was in disbelief of how quickly he was attached to Buck.

After 1 month of dating and Eddie knew it. Buck was the only person in the world for him. Well to be honest he knew it after the first date.

“Can we talk.” Eddie asked.

“Anytime.” Buck smiled.

“So I know that we’ve only been dating for a short period of time, but I need to tell you something.” Eddie said nervously.

Buck smiled as if he knew what Eddie wanted to say. Buck reached over and grabbed Eddies hand reassuringly.

“I don’t care if it’s too soon to say,but I’m in love with you. I’ve never felt like this before” Eddie said letting out a deep breath.

“I love you too and even if it’s too soon I have to say this. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. The happiest part of my day is spending time with you and Chris. Please say you’ll marry me” Buck said nervously.

“Buck I’ve known I wanted to marry you since our first date.” Eddie smiled before kissing Buck.

“So that’s a yes?” Buck asked.

“That’s a 1 million percent yes” Eddie grinned before hugging Buck tightly.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 #cherishingstydiawrites

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hardyimagines · 6 years

Text

Caught

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Alright let me try this, aight. Okay okay... First, I've been living of your imagines and stories for the last few days, so here we go...!! After typing this I don't remember the numbers, so one was like #150 or something and was along the lines of "What are you wearing?" And the other #155 that said "It's not what it looks like.... Okay... Maybe it is". Preferably the first one by the oc/reader, the second by the character... That character is up to you, I'd like either Max, Alfie or Eddie...

“What are you wearing?” + “It’s not what it looks like.”

Warnings: Sex & Masturbation.

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The bed creaked beneath your adjusted weight. Kicking the comforter off of your recently shaved legs, you hissed under your breath and lowered your hand to your skin. Scratching viciously at your irritated flesh, your eyes rolled to the ceiling, annoyance glistening evidently in your orbs. This is why you didn’t shave during the winter! The pain afterward drove you crazy. The cold weather was your favorite because jeans or leggings shielded the prickly hairs on your body. You folded your arms over your chest and huffed in defeat. No amount of lotion had seemed to heal or cease the pain.

The ringing phone to your right drew your attention away from your itchy legs briefly. Lowering your hands away from your body, you hunched over the crumpled bedding and retrieved your phone. The grey duvet fell to the floor in a heap, forgotten and unneeded. Pressing your thumb against the green, answer button, the annoyance in your gaze vanished and excitement filled them instead. Eddie Brock’s handsome face filled the screen, far too close. His cheeks were red and his features glistened with sweat. He looked as if he’d been running and his harsh breaths told you that he had.

“Hi, baby.” Your soft voice floated through the phone. He smiled widely at your greeting before brushing his hand through his brunette locks. He set the phone down on the dresser, propping it up crookedly. You couldn’t see anything apart from his shoulders, neck, and face. The bare skin of his arms made you bite your bottom lip. Business took him far from you. An hour maybe didn’t sound far, but it was when you couldn’t just go visit. He’d been gone for two weeks and the two of you had talked, multiple times, about meeting up for lunch but it hadn’t happened. He was just too busy. He was working on a certain story — being a reporter wasn’t exactly suppose to take him far, but what his boss said, he did.

“Hello, gorgeous.” His husky voice filled your silent bedroom. Adjusting the pillows that resided behind you, you fixed the slouched position and fluffed them up before leaning back and against them. Holding your phone at eye-level, you tipped your head to the side.

“How are you?” Your lower lip pushed out. “Suffering without me?” His blue eyes flooded with amusement before he nodded his head. He didn’t have a chance to answer you verbally before you spoke up again. “You should come back home to me.. I’m so lonely.” You told the man with a cheeky grin.

“Just a few more days.” He promised. His hands pressed against the wooden surface of the table. He was so in love. You could see it, plain as day, and it made your body feel hot. You returned the admiration and the strong feeling, a feeling that you never knew could be so strong. Eddie straightened, popping his tight back. “And then I’m never leaving for work again. This is too far and I’ve been gone for way too long, haven’t I?” You whimpered out softly.

“Yes, yes, you really have.” Suckling on your bottom lip, you sighed gently before rolling on to your side. Standing your phone up against the lamp so you didn’t have to hold it, you let out a breathy sigh before once more looking to his bare shoulders. “So.. what are you wearing?” Your soft question made his ears twitch. “Or are you even wearing anything?” Setting your elbow on the bunch of pillows, you set your cheek in your palm and gazed at the man. Eddie smirked slowly, tongue gliding over his lips.

“I’m about to get in the shower.” He informed you. Lifting the phone, he made his way into the hotel bathroom before setting it on the counter. The placement of the phone gave you a beautiful view of his chest and stomach. The hem of his boxers could be seen, hugging his waist. You pouted.

“You’re teasing me, now.” You mumbled out, eyes running along his body. You were starved of him.

“I’m not! I swear it!” He argued. “I’m just taking a shower, you’re the one getting all worked up.” He chuckled lowly. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear, he smirked toward you. He pushed the material to the floor. You couldn’t see much of what he’d revealed so you pouted further.

“You’re an ass.” You hissed out before rolling on to your back. Gazing at the ceiling, you placed your hands on your tummy and shifted. The want bubbling in your stomach was growing stronger and stronger. Sitting up, you drew your strands up hair up and into a snug bun.

“I’m not.” He told you before kicking his underwear to the side. His eyes moved along the phone screen, glued to you. “I’m just..”

A sharp knock at the door silenced your boyfriend. He looked over his shoulder before reaching for the robe that hung on the door. Dragging it on to his body, he heaved an exhausted sigh. His blue eyes looked so worn and eyelids ready to drop. He looked back to you, lips pursed.

“I’m sorry.. I’ll call you back, alright, baby? I think that’s probably my boss.” You saw the disappointment on his face, and you could tell all he wanted to do was come home. You didn’t fuss though about not being able to talk. You knew he had to work.

“Don’t apologize. Have a good night, call me in the morning.” You kissed the phone before waving to him as he pressed the hang up button. Dropping your phone on the bed, you climbed off the mattress and moved to the closet. Seeing him, so lonely and drained, it made you want to go to him. So you were going to. No more cancelling or letting work get in the way. He was only an hour away and too much time had passed. You lugged out a worn backpack and tossed it on to the bed before dragging out some clothes. It was a good thing you’d shaved. Smiling to yourself, you pushed two pairs of jeans, some leggings, and three sweaters into your bag before zipping it shut and snatching your car keys off of the table. Heading for the door with a hopeful grin, you rushed from your apartment and headed out into the cold city.

It was crowded which meant the roads were no doubt packed. People bustled along the streets, shoulders bumping and apologies automatic. You climbed into the small car and immediately stuck the keys into the ignition. Turning the nozzle that controlled the heat, you ensured it was on high before strapping in and beginning the journey. The hour would probably drag out to be a little longer than expected, but only because of traffic and you wouldn’t know how bad it was until you got to the highway.

Eddie was sat on the bed, elbows on his knees as his droopy eyes moved over his boss’s face. He was being chewed out and he really wasn’t even listening. All he acknowledged was the tone of voice being taken, but he didn’t let it bother him. He instead thought about you, envisioning your sweet smile and warm eyes, pouted lips and clingy body. He’d give anything to be able to hold and kiss you again. A few weeks felt like an eternity. He couldn’t wait to get back home. He heaved a loud exhale before looking to his boss when the man went silent.

“Do you understand?” His boss spoke up.

“Yes- Yeah.” Eddie grunted put before looking to his boss.

“So you’ll stay?” The man spoke again.

“I’m sorry?” Eddie frowned suddenly. “Stay?” His Boss wore a look of confusion, features twisting with distaste because of the clear fact that Eddie hadn’t been listening.

“Yes. You, Eddie. Stay here.” He spoke slowly, attempting to make the task much clearer. “For another week or two.” Eddie stood then, adjusting the ties on his robe.

“Sir, my girlfriend..” He began to explain, but he immediately fell silent. His manager definitely wouldn’t care about how much time he got to spend with you. “I mean, yeah. Sure.” He whispered. He felt so defeated. He couldn’t lose this job. He didn’t know what he’d do if that was the case. He needed it. His boss shook his head in disapproval, but he didn’t want to be here any longer, so he stood with a short nod and headed for the door.

Eddie stood from the bed and made his way back to the bathroom. He wanted to call you back and tell you what had been said, but right now he felt so.. vulnerable. He felt like he was going to collapse. Another 7 days — if not more, without seeing you? He groaned out before looking toward his phone. Opening it, he hunched over, elbow pushing into the counter. His blue eyes slid along the screen, finger tapping on photos so he could swipe through them. Each one was a picture of you of himself with you. A little twinge of delight fluttered in his stomach before floating south to his groin. He narrowed his eyes, cheeks reddening in the slightest. Was his body serious? Right now? Eddie let out a quiet growl before moving his hand to his face. He couldn’t believe he missed you enough to get worked up just over a photo.

The man tongued his cheek before locking the phone. Despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at you anymore, your face was imprinted in his brain and the longer he thought of you, the filthier his brain envisioned you. Laid out beneath him with your mouth hanging open and your nails embedded in his shoulders. He let out a shaky breath, groin twitching with excitement. He clenched his jaw before moving to the shower. The hot water instantly met his body, droplets sticking to his body and hair the second that he was beneath the jet. You were impossible to not think about and the longer he thought, the harder he grew.

The hour drive was cut in half. Traffic had been gone completely. The festival on the other side of town had drawn in all the people. It’s festive lights and carnival rides had been enough to lure in majority of the city. No stoplights to delay you. No jams. No road work. You arrived in 30 minutes and your heart was beating against your chest rapidly.

The hotel was nice. The lighting inside was almost overpowering and the scent smelled like chlorine. Your legs shook anxiously as you moved toward the front desk. Setting your elbows on the surface, you smiled shyly.

“Hello,” The quietness of your voice immediately grabbed the attention of the man running the lobby. His green eyes lifted to you, brows lifting in question as he waited for you to speak further. “I’m here to surprise my boyfriend. Eddie Brock.. I didn’t know if you’d be able to give me his number so I can just go up to the room and surprise him or, do I have to call him and get permission.” The fellow behind the desk moved his gaze along your features. It was against protocol to just give up a customer’s information and room number, but he was relatively new and since you’d had the guests name.. that meant he could just let you go up, didn’t it? He looked to the computer that sat to his right and without hesitation, he typed in eddies name. It was the easiest thing to do in the world, you could done it yourself. He extended his arm, keycard in hand, and gave it to you.

“Fifth floor. Room 512.” You pinched the room key with a wide grin and a thankful flutter of your eyes.

“Thank you so much- I’ll return it by morning!” He could see as you spun around on your feel with the overstuffed backpack on your arm, that you were really excited to see this ‘eddie’. He wasn’t worried about getting in trouble, he sensed you weren’t lying about being the man’s girlfriend. And if you were, well you were a terrific actress.

The elevator doors pinged open loudly as your thumb pressed against the up arrow and when you stepped inside, they thudded closed without warning. The cold wall pressed against your back as you slouched. Two mirrors bordered the walls on either side of you, it would’ve been the perfect moment to check yourself and ensure you looked somewhat presentable but you were too excited to just get to the hotel room. Rotating the key repeatedly in your hand, you swayed lazily, waiting impatiently for the doors to slide open. They did, after what felt like ages. The purple, spiral-patterned rug made little scuffling sounds beneath your feet. The numbers on the wall told you which room wasn’t your boyfriend’s and when you got to the end of the hall, your throat grew tight. A scratchy sensation formed in your esophagus, one that made you lift your shaky palm to your flesh and cradle it. The nerves in your stomach were stupid — this was Eddie. Why did you suddenly feel so out of place? Swallowing the feeling of uncertainty down, you stuck the thin key card into the slot and watched as the unlit light above the card insert turned green. The latch unlocked and the handle turned with the gentle movement of your hand. Opening the door, your twinkling eyes ran along the interior of the room.

The shower could be heard, water droplets angrily beating against the tile wall and your boyfriend’s skin as he washed away the stress of the day. You licked your lips and made your way inside as silently as you could. Your keys, the key to the room, your purse, and your phone found their place on the table beside the door and after you twisted the lock and kicked off your shoes, you made your way toward the bathroom. Beneath the door, a glow of light could be seen and when you noiselessly opened the door, the steam inside almost blinded you. The mirror was blurry, completely destroyed by the fog in the room. You could barely see a thing. Eddie was absolutely milking this since he didn’t have to pay for hot water and he was taking his time.

What could a man be doing for this long in the shower? The silent question was met with a verbal response.

A very quiet whimper, one that sounded trapped and breathless filled the room. It was followed by a groan of relief, one of appreciation. Your ears twitched, straining to hear more of the sounds that you were only use to hearing when he was pinned beneath you or covering you like a blanket. His silhouette could be seen on the bathroom door. His outline was visible, and although it was foggy and unclear, you could make out — for the most part — what he was doing. From the side, you could see that he had one hand extended out in front of him, no doubt pressed against the wall to steady himself as his other hand worked on drawing more noises from his lips. A groan. A grunt. A swear. His palm massaged his shaft, fingers assisting him in his task by tracing his cock. You let out a shaky exhale, mouth falling open to announce your presence but he beat you to it.

“Y/N.” He hissed out, a desperate plea. You’d at first thought you’d been caught, but when he tipped his head back and slunk his hips forward and toward his hand, you realized he was simply thinking of you. A little bubble of pride filled your chest. This was quite the ego boost. Temptation pushed you toward the shower and guided your hands to the buttons on your blouse. Undress. Join him. Finish him off, help him out. Eddie needed you.

Lost in your thoughts, it was only when the cold in the room — despite the steamy atmosphere — tickled your skin and tugged on your nipples that you realized you were naked. Your clothes were a pile on the floor, thrown down and forgotten. Goosebumps covered your skin, noticeable beneath your palms as you poorly attempted to rub some heat into your flesh. You approached the shower. One, dont give him a heart attack. But two, surprise him. Your hand wrapped around the handle, ready to tug it open. Your goal would be hard to accomplish seeing as it was a bit contradicting, but without much further common sense, you yanked it open and revealed the man. No more foggy glass to prevent you from seeing the beautiful sight. Eddie Brock was touching himself, and touching himself to the thought of you.

Eddie was red. Bright red. And the need to sputter our excuses and explanations was strong. His cock was hard and pulsing from it’s painful throbbing. Pre-cum escaped the tip, a plea for him to drag himself to release. Eddie looked guilty. Like he’d been caught by his mother instead of his lover.

“I-it’s not what it looks like..” Apparently seeing your girlfriend after days and being caught masterbating by her wasn’t the most romantic. “Or.. okay.. maybe it is.” He set his hand on the back of his neck before moving his fingers up to his hair. He scratched the messy tresses in distraction. He was looking for a way out of this situation. And you weren’t going to give him one.

“My poor, poor, baby.” You laid your hand on the cool glass and stepped forward. “You couldn’t wait to be back home?” You asked, brows lifting the second that you stepped toward him. The hot water hit your arm as you made your way into the hot space. Tsking playfully, you set your hand on his belly. “And what a greeting you’ve given me.” Eddies eyes moved from yours to your lips, watching the way your tongue flopped around inside your pretty mouth as you spoke to him. He cleared his throat quietly before biting on his bottom lip. He should’ve said your name. He should’ve explained how excited he was to see you, but instead he’d acted like a 13 year old who should’ve have been rubbing himself so selfishly. You smirked slowly. You rather liked that he was.

“What are you doing here?” He whispered. The water droplets clung to his nose and eyelashes as he stood in front of you.

“I came to surprise you..” You whispered, fingernail lazily tracing his stomach. “that’s alright, isn’t it?” Eddie nodded.

“More than alright.” His palm lifted to your cheek, fingers lazily tracing your skin as it grew wetter and wetter beneath the faucet. He smiled before dragging you toward him for a soft kiss. You spoke against his lips.

“I couldn’t stay away from you.” You mumbled out against his full mouth. “I missed you too much.. and I see,” You drew back and looked south. “It looks like you missed me too.” He would’ve complained about the lack of privacy, but he didn’t mind at all that he’d been caught. It was only by you and you’d seen him naked enough times. He was rather shy about being caught doing something so private, but the second your hand moved to trace his shaft, he couldn’t focus on that sliver of discomfort. It vanished. “Let me help you, baby.” Your mouth pressed against his jaw, a very tender, soft, sweet motion, but the second you started to kiss him and also massage his cock, he lost all control.

His hand found your hip and in one swift movement, he twisted you around and pressed you against the tile. It was cold against your back and rear, but his chest, molded so tightly against your own, was keeping you warm. One leg lifted, thigh hooking around his hip, as your lips interlocked. This was a battle to convince one another that you’d missed each other more. His tongue swiped over your own, so desperate to win, but you had the upper hand, rubbing and squeezing and massaging the hell out of his dick. He was in heaven. And even more so when he felt you wiggling to angle your hips so you could guide his aching member into you. His eyes clenched shut. He’d just been daydreaming about this and now, here you were, surprising him just so you could make sweet love to him. He smirked into the kiss.

“I love you.” You both spoke out, a simultaneous confession spoke at the time that he slid into you. Your head was tipped back, pressed against the wall, and his was tipped forward, nose bumping your own and then moving to your cheek. A burst of giggles left your lips and a harsh chuckle left his. Both of you felt so giddy to be reunited and neither of you were going to part anytime soon. Eddie reached around you to shut off the shower and without any sort of intention of separating, he lifted you and carried you toward the bedroom.

The city outside would no doubt be blessed with the sight of Eddie Brock’s bare, wet ass as he passed by the window that overlooked the world below, if anyone were to look up at the hotel window. You clutched on to him like a needy child, so desperate for some love and affection. Lucky for you, he was more than willing to oblige. Afterall, a few days felt like a lifetime when it meant you couldn’t see your other half.

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Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @bsotstory @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @xxxxxeroxxxxx @wheresthewater @anrm1 @pansexualginger @marvelgirl7 @evilspretty-dead @heyitscam99 @wow-he-cute @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @sparklyreaderx @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @giftofdreams @ihclipse @meer0rauschen @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @jamierdr @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @matoki-darkpanda @bignastyfan-nz

#tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock imagine #venom imagine

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alphabees-writes · 5 years

Text

Glee - S1 E1 (Pilot)

Is it a smart idea to rewatch glee again? No.

Am I going to do it anyway? You bet your sweet bippy I am!

Am I going to liveblog my garbage monkey brain thoughts along the way even though nobody asked for it? Hell yeah.

Here goes!

Wow. The first frame of this entire show is literally of a woman who looks like she’s about 10 years above the natural lifespan of a Cheerio. Then again, I’m sure Sue’s not above holding back her best recruits for multiple years because Ohio high schools are apparently just Like That™

I also never notice this opening song was a remix of Keep Me Hangin On, wow. That’s actually kind of interesting foreshadowing of sorts, like, kind of smart. I’m glad I’m watching the part of Glee that was kind of smart.

This scene also doesn’t feature any of the Unholy Trinity as far as I can see. Are they a JV squad? Am I putting too much thought into this?

Sign #1 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Really, my guy? Driving around with your muffler dragging on the ground so bad it’s making sparks? That’s not very Road Safety of you. Fuck off.

Sign #2 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Wow, there’s going to be a lot of these, huh? Anyway, anybody with working eyes would clearly see how scared Kurt is right now. “Making some new friends Kurt?” Fuck off.

KURT. FIRST SIGHTING OF THE BOY. What a delight. But also, not a delight, because he’s being bullied and he deserves better. Look at his outfit. Iconic from day fucking one.

Finn, you’re a himbo. What’re you doing with these assholes?

Puck’s first line in the whole series is “It’s hammer time!” What a fucking dork? Who made this boy popular.

DO MORE THAN TAKE HIS COAT, FINN. LET HIM GOOOOO!!!

I paused while they were tossing Kurt in the dumpster and, wow, got the most hilarious frame where the guy who isn’t Puck is getting a meticulously polished boot to the face. Netflix let me take screenshots, you coward.

The first shot of Quinn... My wlw bones are shaking.

Why would they use that photo for Lillian Adler...? WHO WAS BORN IN 1937, MIGHT I ADD. THAT’S NOT A REAL YEAR.

It’s weird to see Mr Schue actually speaking competent Spanish. Why did they veto that later? The ONE likeable thing about him was his competence as a school teacher, and they really threw it out the window huh?

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE MEMBERS OF SANDY RYERSON’S GLEE CLUB??? This kid seems to really like singing. Also, welcome to the beginning of Ryerson being annoying as all hell.

Oh my gosh, the background choir stuff. This show really had style back in the day!!!

R A C H E L B E R R Y Y O U R M A K E U P ! ! !

Ken Tanaka walked so incels could run.

Jane Lynch you beauty. You absolutely impeccable beauty.

“Since when are cheerleaders performers?” Uh... Emma...? I get that Sue’s going ham on her budget but, like, be nice to the students? They perform their butts off!

Sue really just BRAGGED about having an iPhone. I was 9 when this came out. Why do I feel old...

Sign #3 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: He hears his coworker, presumably of several years, just got fired and doesn’t even ask why. He just jumps on the glee club like a frog on hot asphalt.

He really wants to Make The Glee Club Great Again, huh?

MySpace was really a thing, huh? And why does this grown-ass male teacher know so much about the students having them?

I know nothing about actual American schools, but I do know that they sure as shit don’t work like this. Why does a club have to win EVERY competition to be considered an asset?

Mr Shoe really lying awake at night half-naked next to his wife thinking about the glee club already? Yeah sounds about right. Also, of course you’d think up Nude Erections for a name, you asshole. Put some clothes on.

R E S P E C T MERCEDES YES!!!

Brad the piano player was really here from day ONE... Icon.

Cellophane, Mr Cellophane... Yes Kurt bby you killed it.

Chris Colfer looks so YOUNG here!!!

The hair fix... I C O N I C !

Tina really wrote her stutter down, huh? And nobody ever saw through it? Amazing.

The goth Tina look, too... Perfect... Never change...

Say what you want about Rachel Berry being generally insufferable, but I really fucking feel it when she sings On My Own. The monologue kind of kills The Drama of it, but they really solidly established her character by layering them. She really is a gold star right now.

The first-ever on-screen slushie!

The way she walks down that hall. My God you can just see how terrible she is to be around.

Never forget Rachel staring at photos of her with two men who turned out to not be her dads. Who are they? What are their stories? We’ll never know.

God, I love this stupid scene of Quinn, Santana, and a bunch of Cheerios cartoonishly typing hate comments on Rachel’s MySpace video and laughing like knock-off Disney villains.

I like watching season 1 Artie because season 1 Artie was a good character. Mostly. And he KILLED Sit Down, You’re Rocking The Boat. Rachel wasn’t asking for a male lead who could keep up with her vocally, she was being straight up ableist and that’s a fact. I love Cory, but Kevin McHale was always a better singer.

Mercedes picking up and spinning Rachel for this little routine is something I never really appreciated before, it’s cute even though they don’t like each other yet!

I really don’t get why Rachel says they suck. Yeah, sure, she’s gunning for a solo, but the vocals were solid there. The choreo was just a little janky, possibly because it’s their first EVER rehearsal?

“There is NOTHING ironic about show choir!” Incredible.

How long did it take Mr Shoe to find Rachel out on the bleachers? Did he search the whole school first?

ARTIE! CAN! KEEP! UP! WITH! YOU! VOCALLY!

I never understood Rachel quitting so soon. How long was she in the old glee club for? Surely they were never popular either?

Ah, the first “My hands are tied” for the series. Mr Figgins is a garbage principal.

Not going to advise the principal against referring to Artie as a cripple, William Shoestir? Alright.

How did the Schuester marriage last as long as it has? Do Will and Terri’s insufferable personalities just cancel one another out?

Sandy Ryerson really just openly brags about cheating the system for medical marijuana and dealing it?

Matt Morrison 100% has lip fillers. Nobody’s smile curls like that naturally.

“Terri and I are trying to get pregnant” What a weird way to phrase it. What is it, a race? Who’s going to get knocked up first!

A FIFTH OF BEETHOVEN, HOW I’VE MISSED YOU... The sound design of this show at this point is just... *Chef hand kiss*

“What you’re doing right now is called blurring the lines” Oh just wait until season 4, Sue... Just you wait.

WHY is Mr Schuester so ridiculously sweaty? I didn’t need to think about that?

EVERYONE on the football team is 30.

William Schuester you can’t just watCH TEENAGE STUDENTS SING IN THE SHOWER YOU ARE A TEACHER WHERE DID YOU GET YOUR LICENSE?!

Hearing Cory sing this always makes me emotional. What a talent!

Sign #4 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: I don’t think I need to say why using the weed to blackmail Finn is a shitty thing to do, do I?

“I’ll pee in a cup! ...I’ll pee...” I love Cory’s delivery.

PRIORITY #1: HELP THE KIDS Oh season 1... I love you so.

Mr Schue you WISH you were anything like Finn Hudson. You never will be.

Ah... Finn’s first monologue. He’s such a sweetheart. AND SO IS CAROLE. Carole is a queen I will stan forever. YOU THROW THAT MILK BB!!!

All Finn wants to do is make his mom proud. What a sweetheart. Mr Schue you do NOT deserve him.

These POV shots really enhance things, why the fuck did they stop using them?

Subtly having Kurt look at Finn in the same shot as Rachel was a nice touch indeed!

RACHEL WAS REALLY DOWN WITH ROLLING ARTIE RIGHT OFF THE STAGE HUH?

Terri’s a straight up hoarder, huh? Like a raccoon but instead of collecting edible garbage, it’s monogrammed garbage.

Surely you can’t just... BECOME an accountant, right? You need some serious qualifications for that right?

Also say what you want about how insufferable Terri is but her actress is ridiculously talented and absolutely steals every scene she’s in.

Now the background choir is doing Soul Bossa Nova and I am L I V I N G why didn’t they keep that motif!!! It was so ICONIC!

I don’t need my prostate removed. RIP Carole Hudson but I’m different :/

NO MEANS NO, KEN! TAKE THE L AND MOVE ON! Way to take out the fact that a girl won’t date you on everybody else around you! Toxic bastard. The absolute stench of melodrama on this bastard is noxious.

I was going to ask why Rachel didn’t know about Finn and Quinn if they’d already been together for 4 months, but then I remembered gossiping requires friends...

“Terri rides me. Hard. And I’ve always appreciated it!” Why don’t we talk about how this line sounds more. Why doesn’t Emma bat an eye at it oh my god

HERE COMES VOCAL ADRENALINE!!! And Jesse St. James is nowhere to be seen. How convenient. Also, they’re all 30. I’m sensing a pattern.

Sorry VA, all songs popularised my Amy Winehouse legally belong to Santana Lopez

Puck, if you were stupid enough to fall for the prostate excuse, that’s on you. Or maybe it’s on the education system...

You can do better that Mr Schue, kids. Don’t mourn him.

Ok, what the fuck is this scene where he’s filling out the job app to become an accountant? There’s a dude in the row in front off him just throwing crisps around? What is this place?? Why are you here sir???

“Accounting is sexy” shut up you horrible married man

The Cheerios sure did have straight ponytails for like, one episode, huh?

Finn is such a good boy. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is, and saving Artie from that portapotty is his first step to figuring it out.

This shot of Finn just wheeling Artie out of there... Ugh. My HEART.

KURT WHAT ARE THOSE LAYERS? SWEATER SHIRT SWEATER? HELLO???

Pee balloons. Nailing the lawn furniture to the roof. Finn, you’re better than that!!! Stop your dudebros.

They really had Artie be a guitar player, and a pretty good one at that, but they never mentioned it again? Artie had such potential SMH. (Also, Netflix subtitles are telling me it’s Arty, but I categorically refuse to spell it that way.)

Whyyyyy didn’t he go to KURT for the costumes as well? Look at his outfit, Finn. He clearly wants in on that job.

Will Schuester really is just desperately clinging to his glory days in high school. I’d feel bad for him if he wasn’t such a creep about it.

Emma, meaningfully: Do you know who that is? That’s you, Will... [FRANTIC DISCO MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND]

I find it hilarious how the audio of Don’t Stop Believin’ just DOES NOT match the characters except for the solos... Also wow, autotune city. Am I awful for genuinely not liking this cover?

I like watching them perform it though. Kurt’s adorable little shimmy... Rachel and Tina smiling at each other like that... Everybody having a blast... I’m here for it

LOOK AT MY BABIES TILTING THOSE MIC STANDS...

Ok the way Rachel and Finn look at each other here is making me FEEL

I know Puck’s about to join anyway but WHY is he there watching... Just to have a mysterious bad boy moment? Lol you dramatic bastard

Please let them win nationals without you, Will.

So, yeah! There’s that! Those are my thoughts and feelings, basic though they may be. Episode one is fantastic, the kids are fantastic, and William Schuester can suck a toe.

#Glee #Glee seasson 1 #Rosie watches things and then says things about the thing

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thruheavenandhighwater · 6 years

Text

Oh.

Pairing: Calum Hood/ Reader

Requested By: N/A (kinda by Sham, I think she mentioned this like 58 months ago.)

Word Count: 8,277

Summary: Tattoo!Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with a tattoo of the first word their soulmate will say to them when they meet. But what happens when you don’t know that they’re your soulmate and you lose them?

Oh.

That’s all it said, was Oh.

Everyone in the world is born with a tattoo of the first word that their soulmate will say to them when they finally meet. Some people had fun words, like pizza or unicorn. You’d even known a boy in middle school whose tattoo said trapezoid. You had a cousin whose tattoo said Cancer, which everyone hoped meant that she would end up with someone born in June or July, but nobody could really be sure.

More often than not, these tattoos were greetings of some kind. Hello, hi, and excuse me made appearances most frequently. Your father’s tattoo had said Sir, while your mother’s had said Yes. They met while she was waiting tables in college and the rest, as they say, was history.

But yours? Yours just said Oh. It infuriated you beyond belief, if you were being honest. It was just a basic word, one that you yourself said multiple times a day. There was nothing exciting about it. No context to it at all. You found yourself looking down at your wrist any time a stranger would say the word to you for any reason at all. But every single time you looked, it was still there. The drill was that once the right person said this magic word, the tattoo would disappear. Once the tattoo disappeared, you’d found your soulmate. At that point, you were supposed to kiss, fall in love, live happily ever after. The End.

But here you were, alone in your tiny, one bedroom apartment with your cat and no soulmate. No idea whatsoever about who your soulmate could even be. The only thing you had to go on was the tattoo. That stupid word you’d grown to hate seeing every day, anytime you washed your hands or touched your face. Oh.

When you were younger, you and your friends would often sit together and compare tattoos. You would spend hours outside, or in one of your bedrooms, even in Mallory’s treehouse sometimes when her grandma was home to watch you. Just holding your fists out to each other to show off the black ink on your wrists and come up with elaborate and extravagant stories about how you would meet your soulmates. You’d never forget the time that Christine found out that Aaron, the boy she had a crush on, had a tattoo that said And. She spent days coming up with what you all thought was a clever plan for her to have a reason to say it to him. The day came, she said her lines perfectly, but to her horror- both of their tattoos remained. She’d cried for hours after school, claiming that the tattoo system was broken. But then, two summers ago she met Erin and decided that the tattoo system was working just fine, thank you very much.

Today was Saturday, your weekly lazy day. The one day you allowed yourself to not care about the dishes piling in the sink or the laundry you swore you were going to do three days ago. No, Saturdays, as far as you were concerned, were created to sit on the couch in your pajamas and binge watch the best and worst things that Netflix had to offer. And that is exactly what you were doing. You were three episodes into a Gilmore Girls marathon when suddenly you felt your stomach rumble, accompanied by a loud groan that you were definitely sure your downstairs neighbors had to have heard.

You slipped into a pair of boots and grabbed your jacket and keys as you walked out the door in search of food. You stopped at a diner just down the street, where all the wait staff and cooks knew you by name. After placing your usual order, a turkey club and an extra side of fries, you took to a booth to wait. Donna, the waitress who was always extra nice to you and never charged you for the extra fries, came around the counter holding a white paper bag containing your order.

“Why the long face, honey?” She asked you as she set your food in front of you.

You sighed as you stood from the table and picked up the bag. “Chris and Erin’s wedding is in a few months. I love them and I’m excited for them, but being the only bridesmaid that still has my soulmate tattoo is starting to get to me.”

Donna scoffed and rolled her eyes at you. “You know I didn’t meet my husband until I was 39?” She said. “I had my soulmate tattoo for 39 years. You’re young, you’re sweet, and you’re cute. You’ll be fine.” She said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet them at the wedding.”

“I do appreciate your never ending belief in me, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.” You told her with a laugh.

“You never know. People meet their soulmates all types of places.”

“I suppose.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders. You took a few steps backwards, toward the door. “Thanks for the food, Donna. You know you’re my favorite.”

She laughed and walked back behind the counter. “Uh huh. Get out of here, trouble.” You winked at her quickly before turning and finally walking out the door.

Outside, the temperature had dropped slightly while you were inside the warmth of the cozy diner. You decided that if you were going to survive the four block walk back to your apartment, you absolutely had to have coffee to keep you warm. So, you crossed the street and walked a few doors down to a small cafe. When you opened the door you were met with a packed house. Clearly, you were not the only one who needed some warming up. You got in line and passed the time on your phone, occasionally switching your food from hand to hand when it got too heavy.

When it was finally your turn, you placed your order and walked to the other end of the counter to wait for your grande caramel macchiato. When the barista called out your drink, you thanked her with a smile. You made your way to the front door, finally ready to get home as quickly as possible with your food and coffee when it hit you. Like, literally hit you. The front door of the coffee shop swung open and whoever was on the other side walked directly into you.

You ended up smushing your hot coffee between your chest and his, successfully drenching both you and him in the process. The burn made you drop your bag, which thankfully stayed closed but you were sure that your sandwich would be a toppled mess when you got home.

“Oh, shit.” The guy said, putting his hands on your shoulders to steady you. You wished he hadn’t because the hot coffee seeping through your jacket and dripping from your hand had you wanting to smack him. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

You looked at him. Well, you looked at his coffee stained chest before your eyes trailed up to his face. If you weren’t so pissed about your wasted coffee, you might even think he was kind of handsome. Tan skin, a few moles across one cheek. Black hair that was combed back, styled in a way that could only be described as a special kind of perfect. Then he smiled at you. Even though it was cold and the sun wasn’t technically out, you were completely sure that you saw the sun shine out of his smile.

You bent down to retrieve your dropped food. “It’s fine.” You told him. “Nothing a run through a washing machine won’t get out.”

“Are you sure?” He asked you, pulling his hands from your shoulders.

“Yeah. Sorry about your shirt.” You told him as you stepped around him and through the door.

“At least let me buy you a new coffee.”

“It’s fine.” You repeated. “This is hot and I just want to get it off as quickly as possible. Thank you, though.” You saw him open his mouth to speak again, but you turned away and started heading for home before he had the chance.

As you walked you couldn’t help but to think that he had some sort of nerve. Being that handsome after making you spill hot coffee all over yourself. Well, he was probably that handsome before that, but that wasn’t the point. You angry walked home, your feet carrying you faster than they had since you were forced to run the mile in high school. When you finally reached your front door, you unlocked it and set your now cold and likely ruined food in the kitchen before moving to the bathroom.

You unzipped your jacket, setting it on the counter while you finished undressing. You ran yourself a shower and let the warm water wash away the sticky coffee residue that was left on your chest and stomach. When you finished your shower, you changed back into a pair of fresh pajamas before throwing your damp clothes into the wash. So much for a lazy day.

As you fished your food from the paper bag on your kitchen table, you discovered that you were right. The fries were okay, no longer neatly contained in the styrofoam box that you’d gotten them in, but fine. Your sandwich hadn’t fared so well. It was still edible, yes, but you had to reconstruct it.

You finished dinner, put your clothes in the dryer and decided it was time for bed before anything else would have the chance to go wrong. You slid beneath your comforter and your cat curled up on the foot of your bed just like he did every night. You plugged your phone in to the charger next to your bed and began to scroll through Facebook. Erin had posted some of her and Christine’s engagement photos a few hours prior. Even in your slightly cynical state, you had to admit that they were a beautiful couple. You sighed as you looked over to your wrist at your stupid tattoo.

Instead of being met by the single word that had tormented you for as long as you could remember, all you saw was bare skin. Pure, unmarked skin. No tattoo. It was gone. You sat bolt upright in bed and rubbed your hand over your wrist. How could it be gone? It was impossible. When? Where? Who? Every question you could think of was flooding your mind at once as you stood from the bed and started to pace around your room, trying to remember every person you’d met today. You were definitely sure that it had been there this morning. But after that? You tried to look at it as little as possible, so it could have disappeared at any point between your shower this morning and getting coffee.

Fuck. Coffee boy.

Shit shit shit shit shit. You ran a hand through your hair as you continued to pace around your room. Eventually, you got tired of the confines of your bedroom, so you moved into the living room, then the kitchen and even the bathroom. You had to keep your feet moving to keep your mind from eating itself alive for letting you walk away from him. You didn’t even get his name. All you knew about him was that he was tall and didn’t pay attention to where he was going. Not a lot to go on.

You checked the time on the clock over the stove. 8:04 pm. Fuck. The coffee shop just closed. You couldn’t even go back and try to find him. What the hell were you supposed to do now? All you had was a basic description of a random guy you’d seen in a public place for a few minutes at an undetermined time this evening. What kind of missed connections ad would that be? You went back to your bedroom and called the only person you knew that might be able to help you. Your mother.

The phone rang a few times while you bit at your fingernails nervously. When she finally answered, you realized that you had no idea where to even begin. So, you just started with what you thought was the most important part.

“Mom.” You started with a sigh, bringing your hand to cover your eyes. “I uh… Well, my tattoo is gone.”

“Oh, my god!” She squealed into the phone. You pulled your phone from your ear and held it at arm's length until she was done getting excited over nothing. “So, tell me! Who is it? What’s their name? What do they look like? How old are they?” She had what seemed like a million and one questions. And you didn’t have an answer to a single one of them.

“That’s uh… Shit.” You stopped yourself, not entirely sure how you were supposed to continue.

“Y/N?” You mother asked, her voice laced in concern as the excitement quickly faded away. “Y/N, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Okay, well.” You started again. You decided to bite the bullet and just tell her. “So, the thing is… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“What don’t you know?”

“Anything.” You said with a laugh. How were you laughing right now? Nothing about this was funny. Maybe it was the nerves, or the fact that if you didn’t laugh you might end up crying. Either way you continued to giggle lightly as you detailed your encounter with your soulmate to your mother over the phone.

“Oh, wow.” She said when you finished your story. “That’s… Well, that’s quite the predicament, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. And I don’t know what to do now. How am I supposed to find him again?” You asked her, praying that she would have all the answers.

“Baby, I don’t know.” She answered, sounding as defeated as you felt. Your shoulders slumped. If she can’t help you, then who the hell could?

“Okay.” You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Well, thank you for listening to me ramble. I’m gonna try to sleep and figure this thing out tomorrow.” You and your mom said your goodnights to each other before hanging up. You had every intention of going to sleep and figuring this out tomorrow, just like you’d told her. But how were you supposed to sleep at a time like this?

You ended up scouring the internet all night, trying to find ways to get in touch with him. Most sites suggested that you make a post on every social media platform you could find. Give their description, where you’d seen them and at what time, and what their tattoo would have said, all the basic info. You tried your damnedest but all you could remember about him was that he was tall and tan. You couldn’t even remember what you’d said to him, so including what his tattoo would have said was completely out of the question.

You finally closed your laptop with a defeated groan just before 5 am. When you read the bight green numbers above the stove, you realized that the coffee shop would be opening soon. You ran to the bathroom and took a quick shower to wash the night of fruitless research from your body. You quickly got dressed and all but ran to the coffee shop. The same barista from yesterday greeted you as you pulled the door open and stepped inside.

“Good morning!” She called all too cheerily. “What can I get ya?”

“Actually, I was here yesterday.” You told her, slightly out of breath.

“Oh? Was there something wrong?”

“No, no.” You assured her. “But, right after I left there was a guy in here. Tall, black hair, a little bit handsome?”

She pursed her lips as she thought back to the night before. It took a few minutes but when you saw a smile came to her glossed lips you knew that she remembered him. “A little bit handsome?” She asked with a laugh. “He was more than a little bit handsome.”

“So you remember him?”

“Yeah, black house blend, I think. Why?”

“Have you seen him before? Is he a regular?” You asked, almost begging her to say that yes, he comes in every day at the same time and orders the same thing so that you could have a sliver of a chance of finding him again.

“I’m sorry,” She started, taking a step back from the counter with a worried look on her face. “I don’t really think I should tell-”

“He’s my soulmate.”

“Woah. Lucky you.” She giggled.

“No,” You sighed. You brought a hand up to your hair as you closed your eyes. “Not lucky me. He bumped into me and spilled my coffee and I was mad and I didn’t know that he was my soulmate so I left. I lost him and I’m really hoping that you can help me out here.”

“That sucks.” She said, raising her eyebrows. Yeah, no shit, Katie. “I’m sorry, but that was the first time I’ve ever seen him. Do you want me to ask the others?”

“Yeah. Yes, please.”

She turned her head and called for the rest of the staff that was on duty to come to the register. She quickly explained the situation to them and asked them if they’d ever seen your unidentified soulmate before last night. They all looked disappointed as they went down the line and told you that, no, they’d never seen him before.

Shit. This was bad.

You thanked them and denied Katie's offer for a replacement coffee. You were too upset to even think about caffeinating yourself right now. You walked home, your feet dragging beneath you as they lead you back to your front door. Your cat greeted you the same as he always did, but you ignored him as you sulked to your bedroom and flopped down on top of your comforter. Your eyelids were heavy, and you were far too emotionally and physically drained to even try to keep them open. Instead, you let yourself fall asleep in your jeans, hoping that you’d have a solution when you woke up.

It was nearly two in the afternoon when you finally woke up. You blinked your eyes a few times as you started to remember the night before. With a groan, you pushed yourself from your bed and made your way to the bathroom. Of course, you still had no idea what you were going to do. Eventually, you decided that maybe posting ads on social media was your only option.

You brewed a pot of coffee, opening your laptop at your kitchen table while you waited for it. Once it was done brewing you quickly poured yourself a cup and got to work. You included everything you could remember from the night before- The time and place, what little you could recall about his looks, and what your own tattoo had said. You found yourself hating that stupid tattoo more now than you ever had before. Oh. Such a basic word that millions of people say every single day without realizing. How the hell was this mystery guy supposed to remember that he had said it to you?

After typing and retyping the ad a few dozen times you finally decided that it was as good as it was gonna get and posted it to Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Your posts got a few shares and retweets from your friends and family but none of them gained any ground. In the post you included your email address and asked whoever thought they might be it to email you a photo of themselves so you could be sure. The first few days you got fifty or so emails a day. None of them were him. After that, you got less and less until eventually you were lucky if you got one a day.

Days passed. Then weeks. Then months. Christine and Erin’s wedding was in two weeks and you couldn’t stop yourself from being bitter. You found yourself thinking that maybe Christine had been right, all those years ago while she sobbed on the floor of your bedroom. Maybe the soulmate tattoo system was broken. You hated yourself for letting him slip right through your coffee covered fingers that day. Day after day you continued to check your email and scour the internet, hoping and praying that somehow you would find him. And then one day, you did.

You were in line at the grocery store, a cart full of groceries and a head full of thoughts that refused to leave or even let up so you could get some damn sleep. You glanced over the magazine display casually. You felt your breath catch in your throat and your mouth go dry when you saw it. Saw him. Saw the headline.

5 Seconds Of Summer cancels upcoming world tour, citing “personal struggles” for bassist Calum Hood.

Was that you? Was this Calum Hood guy your soulmate? He was definitely one of the four boys on the cover, but you had no idea if he was the right one. The line moved and suddenly it was your turn. You quickly checked out and left the store, sure that the poor checkout boy had thought you were rude by the way you didn’t make small talk and all but forced him to scan quicker. But you didn’t care, you’d apologize to him later. After you found the person you’d been looking for for months.

You drove home, loudly cursing every red light that you caught as you went. You ran into your apartment, throwing the door open and hitting the wall so hard that the crash scared your cat who was sleeping on the couch.

“Sorry, bub.” You called out to him as he ran into your bedroom.

Opening your laptop you pulled up Google and typed in the name of the band that you’d seen on the cover of the magazine. You scrolled down to where the band members were listed and sure enough, Calum Hood was the man that had covered you in hot coffee and then disappeared.

You clicked on a link to his Twitter account. He wasn’t too active, you noticed. But the last few tweets that he had posted were definitely more than a little melancholy. Apparently, he had been looking for you for as long as you’d been looking for him. You found yourself laughing alone in your bedroom as you scrolled further down his Twitter feed. He was funny, that much was clear by the way he interacted with his fans.

But how? How could this even be happening? How could your soulmate be a world famous, honest to god, rockstar? It didn’t make sense. The more you went over it in your head, you all but convinced yourself that you had made it up. You were remembering it wrong. You had to be. You called up Christine and told her about what had happened.

“So you’re going to DM him, right?”

“Chris, have you listened to anything I just told you? This can’t be right.”

Christine laughed, a real genuine belly laugh. “I thought I was straight before I met Erin.” She told you. “The tattoos don’t lie, even if it doesn’t make sense.” She was right. She had been just as surprised as the rest of you when she met her soulmate, only to find out that she was a woman. “Listen, I’m not your mom so I’m not going to tell you what to do. All I’m saying is that if you don’t do it, you’ll probably spend the rest of your life wishing that you had.”

“Do you know how much I hate it when you’re right?” You asked her.

“I do.” She answered with a laugh. “Sucks for you that I’m always right, huh?”

“Shut up.” You told her before saying your goodbyes and hanging up. You sat back down in front of your laptop and opened his Twitter page again before remembering that he didn’t follow you, so you couldn’t message him. Just as you started to freak out, a text from Christine came though.

Stalked a little. Seems like he’s more active on Instagram. Try him there. And if it is him, he’s invited to the wedding.

You smiled to yourself and silently thanked the universe for giving you a best friend like Christine. As you opened the Instagram app and typed in his username, all of your nerves that you’d thought had gone away over the last two months suddenly came back in full force. Your hands shook as you looked through his pictures. Lots of pictures of his dog, which you loved but hoped that didn’t mean that he would have a problem with your cat. Soulmate or not, you and your cat were a package deal.

Just like when you’d written out the useless ad to try to find him, you typed and retyped your message to him. Eventually you settled for just the facts.

Hi, my name is Y/N. I think we might be looking for each other.

You hit send and waited. And waited some more. And then even more. After three hours had passed with him not even opening the message you decided that you had been wrong and that this had been a terrible mistake. You knew that it couldn’t be true. Why had you let Christine talk you in to sending that damn message? You made a mental note to call her and rip her a new one in the morning. But for now, it was time for you to retire to your bed and hide under your blanket until the end of time.

Days passed without a response from the man that you had thought was your soulmate. You were back at square one. You pushed all thoughts of Calum and soulmates from your mind as you helped Christine with the last minute things she needed for the wedding.

“So he never even opened it?” She asked you as you were helping her to make the centerpieces for the reception.

“Not the last time I checked.”

“When was that?”

“A few days ago, I think.”

“Well, check it again. He could be reading it right now.”

You rolled your eyes as you pulled your phone from your pocket and opened the Instagram app. Just like you had expected, he still hadn’t read your message. Every time you checked it, you felt more and more stupid for sending it in the first place. “I told you it wasn’t him anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Y/N.” She said flatly. “He’s your literal fucking soulmate. Don’t be stupid. Of course it’s meant to be. It might take a little time, but it’s definitely meant to be.”

Days continued to pass until it was finally the day before your best friend’s wedding. Your whole life you had hoped that you’d be able to attend the event with your soulmate on your arm, but as you checked that damn message again it was clear that that wasn’t going to happen. You busied yourself the entire day with getting every single possible last minute detail taken care of. You made sure that the decorations were up and ready at the reception venue, double checked with each of the other bridesmaids that they had everything they needed, even called the woman who would be performing the ceremony to double check that she knew the right time and place for tomorrow.

When you realized that there was nothing left for you to do, it was just after 5 pm. You went home, ready to take a long, hot shower and relax for tomorrow. But as you stepped through the door of your apartment, your phone dinged. You quickly pulled it from your pocket and dropped it to the floor when you saw the notification that had come through.

Instagram: calumhood sent you a message!

Shit shit shit. This was it. He’d finally opened the message and was being nice enough to let you know that you were wrong, rather than ignoring you. That was it. It had to be. You bent over and picked your phone up from the floor cautiously opening the notification.

Holy shit.

You're “It's.”

I’ve been looking for you for months.

You felt faint as you read the messages over and over again. Three messages. Eleven words. One heart in your stomach as you tried to think of what you could possibly say to him.

It's?

It may have been a stupid message, but you had to know what the hell he meant when he called you It's.

That's what my tattoo said. After I bumped you, I apologized and you said “It's fine.” Which, btw, I'm still totally sorry about.

Before you could even type anything out, he sent another message.

What are you doing? I can fly you to LA tonight and we can finally properly meet. Maybe I can even buy you that coffee I owe you.

Your smile grew as you read his message and typed back your own reply.

I would, but I’m in my best friend’s wedding tomorrow ): rain check?

I can come there. I don’t have to go to the wedding, but I can’t wait any longer to see you again.

She actually said that if she was right about this, that you were invited.

Awesome. Then I’ll pack my dancing shoes and see you tomorrow. What’s the closest airport to you?

You quickly Googled airports near you and sent him the name of the the one that was closest.

Great. Just bought my ticket. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, soulmate.

You spent the rest of the night texting Calum, telling each other stories from your lives and gently making fun of yourselves for taking so long to find each other. You glanced at the clock and knew that if you were going to be of any use at the wedding, you had to go to sleep now. You said goodnight to Calum before rolling over and closing your eyes. Just as you were about to fall asleep, one last text from him came through.

Goodnight. I can’t wait to see you in the morning. I’m so glad we finally found each other.

The next morning you woke up to a few texts from Christine and one from Calum, wishing you a good morning and letting you know what time he would be getting dropped off at your apartment. You checked the time saw that you had about an hour and a half to get yourself ready and do whatever you could to make your apartment presentable before he arrived. You also noticed that he’d be getting there with only a few minutes to spare before you had to leave to be at the church on time.

You went about your normal morning routine- shower, brush teeth, makeup, hair, feed the cat- before slipping your bridesmaids dress on and making your way into the living room. You glanced at the clock over your stove as you passed it. Less than half an hour until Calum would be here. You mentally cursed at yourself for taking so long to get ready as you made a mad dash around your apartment. You picked up dirty laundry and shoved it all into the hamper in the bathroom, rinsed the dishes that were in the sink so they would at least appear clean even if they weren’t, and cleaned the cats litter box just before you heard a soft knock on your front door.

You froze, your hand stopping over the trashcan as you were about to throw something away. Just like that day in line at the grocery store, you felt your mouth go dry and your entire body suddenly felt warm. There was another knock, this one slightly louder, before you suddenly regained the ability to move. You walked to the door and took a few deep breaths as you smoothed the fabric of your dress with your hands.

When you finally turned the knob and opened the door, you almost swore you heard an actual chorus of angels. Calum stood in front of you in a black suit with no tie, his hair done up in the same way that it had been that day at the coffee shop, and a bouquet of roses in one hand. His suitcase sat at his feet, which were decked out in matte black boots. He looked incredible.

The two of you stood there for probably way too long, just looking at each other. He wore the same smile he had the day you’d first met him, the one that made it seem like the sun was shining even indoors. You finally took a step back and invited him in, your voice betraying your nerves as you did.

He giggled, and wow- his giggle was the most wonderful noise you’d ever heard in your life. “These uh… They’re for you. My sister helped me pick them. Said that girls like roses.” He rambled as he gestured the bouquet toward you. You took them from him with a smile before leading him into the kitchen to put them in water.

“Hope you don’t mind that we kind of have to leave, like right now.” You told him as you turned off the water. “I have to be at the venue soon.”

“Oh, yeah.” He stammered. “That’s fine. Where should I put my bag?” He asked, lifting the bag that you hadn’t even realized that he was holding.

“Just set it in there.” You told him, pointing behind him to your living room. “We can figure it out tonight.”

He did as you told him and followed you out the door and to your car. The drive to the venue was silent other than the songs that played quietly from the radio. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but it definitely wasn’t a comfortable one either. It was some sort of weird middle ground that you’d never experienced before. When you pulled up to the venue, you parked your car and turned to him.

“So, uh… Ready?” You asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” He answered, rubbing his palms over the knees of his pants.

You stood from the car and lead him to the door of the venue. Checking the time on your phone you saw that you were fifteen minutes late, thanks to some unforeseen traffic during your drive. Christine was waiting by the door, impatiently tapping her foot when you walked in.

“I swear I have half a mind to-” She stopped in her tracks when she saw Calum walk in behind you.

“Half a mind to what?” You asked with a smirk as she gawked at him.

“Half a mind to ask you to introduce me to your friend here.” She answered sweetly.

“Christine, this is Calum. Calum, Christine.” You said to both of them in turn.

“The Calum?” She asked him.

He laughed and you saw a rosy tint come to his cheeks. “I think so.” He answered, turning his smile to you.

“Yes.” You told her, returning his smile. “The Calum. You said he could come.”

“I did say that. We’ll have to add a seat, but you can sit with the rest of our friends if you want.”

“Whatever works for you. I don’t want to be intrusive.”

Christine scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Please. You're my best friend’s soulmate. You’re not being intrusive.”

You felt your body get warm again. Neither of you had said the word out loud to each other yet. But when you finally looked up at him and saw the widest grin you’d seen from him yet, all of those nerves melted away instantly.

Soulmate.

Calum Hood, the beautiful man standing next to you, was your soulmate. You could definitely get used to saying that. Out loud or just to yourself, you didn’t care.

“I’ll have one of the guys pull out another chair. They’re right up there at front.” Christine told him, pointing in the direction of your friends. “You can head that way if you want, but I need to steal Y/N in a few minutes.” She finished, hurrying away toward your friends. You watched her walk up to them and within twenty seconds all of their heads snapped from her to you.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag.” You told him with a laugh.

“I don’t think Binx would appreciate being put in a bag in the first place.”

“I told you his name?”

“No, but he’s all over your Instagram.” He answered with another giggle. He placed one hand on your wrist and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you up there?”

“Yeah. Meet back at my car after?”

“Okay.” He grinned at you again before taking a few steps away, toward your group of friends who were all excitedly waiting for him.

The wedding was lovely, as you knew it would be. Both Christine and Erin looked beautiful beyond words in their dresses. Their vows were wonderfully written and heartfelt. You dabbed your eyes a few times through the ceremony. You didn’t know if you were emotional because you were happy for your best friend, or because you were happy that you’d finally found your own soulmate. Either way, you were grateful for Erin’s mom, who stood from her seat to hand you a tissue halfway through the ceremony.

When the ceremony finished, you met with Calum at your car just like you’d agreed and drove across town to the reception venue. You lead Calum through the doors and to the table that you’d been assigned to. Once again, an extra chair had to be added for him, but nobody complained. Everyone knew who he was and why he was here and had no problem at all making room for him.

The two of you ate, drank, and were merry all night long. Even though you’d only met hours before, it was like you’d been the best of friends for years. As Calum stood to clear your plates, Forever by The Beach Boys started playing from the large speakers set up near the dancefloor. “Oh, wow.” You sighed, your eyes falling closed as you put a hand over your chest. “I love this song. Haven’t heard it in ages.” You heard Calum set the plates back down on the table. You opened your eyes to find him still standing, one hand extended toward you.

“Care to dance?” He asked. You took his hand and allowed him to lead you to the dancefloor. He wrapped his free hand around your waist while you wrapped yours around his neck. You brought your intertwined hands up between your chests as you started to move in slow circles around the dancefloor. Calum began to softly sing the lyrics to you when you rested your head on his shoulder. Even if you hadn’t already loved the song, this moment would have been enough to make it your favorite of all time.

“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” He asked during a musical break. You lifted your head from his shoulder to look into his deep brown eyes. Before you could even come up with a witty response, Calum was slowly moving his face closer to yours. Your eyes shut as he closed the space between your mouths.

Sparks.

Fireworks.

Electricity.

Lightning.

Butterflies.

Every single cliche thing you could ever possibly imagine. All at once, and all breathtaking. You’d kissed other people before, sure. But this kiss? You were completely sure that kissing Calum was what you were meant to have been doing your entire life.

The kiss was short, but damn if it wasn’t powerful. You both wore matching grins when he pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“Woah.” You breathed.

“Yeah.” He agreed, a giggle falling from his smiling lips as he leaned in again.

This kiss was longer, and somehow even better than the first. You had no idea that kissing someone could make you feel like this. Like your entire world was suddenly brighter with his lips on yours. You smiled into the kiss as he took his hand away from yours, moving it to your cheek while the other stayed wrapped around your waist. Your own hand stayed resting flat against his chest as he pulled you closer to him.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed in his arms on the dancefloor after the song ended. At some point, he moved his hand from your cheek to join his other that was behind your back, linking his fingers over your waist. Your mind was completely wrapped up in the way his hands felt as he held you close to him. The way that his lips fit so perfectly into yours was some kind of magic. One of you had broken the first kiss, and now you were shuffling together, exchanging grins and quick kisses. Nobody in the world that was not the two of you mattered.

“Hey!” You faintly heard someone calling beside you. “Y/N!” You turned away from Calum to see Erin with a disposable camera in hand. She held it up and gestured vaguely to you and Calum. “Want a picture?” You leaned your head into Calum’s chest, your cheek resting on your own hand as you grinned at her. She smiled back to you as she took the picture, the flash a little brighter than you had expected.

“Make me a copy when you print those?” You asked as she put the camera down.

“Of course,” She smiled at you again. “Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

When she walked away, snapping off more pictures as she went, you turned your attention back to Calum. He looked tired. Happy, giddy, a little goofy with the grin that was plastered on his face. But still very tired. You remembered that he had been awake for hours before you, and had a flight first thing in the morning so it wasn’t surprising at all that he would be tired by now.

“Wanna take off?” You asked him quietly.

“Nah,” He answered, shaking his head. “We’re havin’ fun. And it’s your best friend’s wedding. We can stay all night.”

“You’re sweet.” You told him, causing another crimson blush to crawl over his cheeks. “But you look like you’re about to collapse. I just have to say goodbye to Chris and we can leave.”

“Ya sure?”

“I’m sure.” You told him, reluctantly pulling yourself away from him. You took his hand in yours, linking your fingers with his as you lead him to wear you saw Christine and Erin on the other side of the reception venue. They both smiled at you as you got closer. Christine had been drinking wine all night and was slightly tipsy as she threw her arms around your shoulders.

“My best friend!” She slurred into your ear as she hugged you.

“You good?” You asked with a laugh as you pulled away from her.

“I’m great!” She cried. “I got fuckin’ married today!”

“Yeah, I was there.” You told her, laughing even more.

“You were! You were there for me for all of it. And I’m gonna be there when you get married, too.” Christine told you, suddenly getting very serious as placed an unsteady hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you, Chris. But I think we’re going to leave soon. We’re kind of tired.” Christine seemed sad, but hugged both of you nonetheless before allowing you to leave, with the promise that you would call her the next day.

As you drove back to your apartment, the same silence enveloped the two of you. This time was different, though. Just like earlier, neither of you spoke as you listened to the songs on the radio. When you were just about halfway home, Calum’s phone started ringing. He had plugged it in in your car during the reception and completely forgot about.

“Ah, shit.” He sighed as he picked it up to answer it. “Hey, Ash.” You could only hear one side of the conversation, but whoever was on the other end seemed to be upset if Calum’s expression was anything to go off of.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just-” He started before being cut off again. He smiled to himself as whoever it was spoke to him. “I know, I know, I know. But there wasn’t-” You found yourself smiling with him as you listened to his fractured responses.

“I’m fine!” He called out suddenly. “I’ll text ya tomorrow, mate. I promise.” He laughed. “I’m not dead and I’ll come home soon… Okay, yeah, bye.” He was smiling, shaking his head slightly as he hung up.

“What was that all about?” You asked as you turned into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

He laughed again and looked up from his phone to look at you. “I might have forgotten to tell people that I was leaving.”

“Calum!”

“I didn’t think about it.” He said as you parked your car. He opened his door and got out, stretching his arms over his head as he stood up straight. “My roommate is with my dog, and that was all I cared about. I just wanted to get here and see you again.”

You got out of the car and he met you in front of it. He wrapped his arms around your waist and you rested your hands on his arms. “I wanted to see you again, too.” You told him with a smile. “But I do not need your friends thinking that I kidnapped you.”

He smiled back down to you before placing a kiss to your hair. “I’ll call tomorrow and fill ‘em in. But for now, I think I need some sleep.”

You stepped away from him and took his hand in yours as you lead him into your apartment building. As you got to your front door, you couldn’t help but to smile as you unlocked the door and walked inside. Calum’s suitcase was still sat next to your couch in the living room.

“I’m gonna go get changed, if ya wanna get comfortable.” You told him as you started down the hallway to your bedroom.

“Yeah, should I just set up out here?”

“You can if you want, but my bed is definitely more comfortable.”

“Is that so?” He asked as he picked up his suitcase and started to follow you.

You nodded as you opened your bedroom door, flipping on the light as Calum and Binx followed you inside. “Oh, yes.” You told him. “Like sleeping on a cloud.”

Calum giggled and set his suitcase down by the wall next to your bedroom door. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” You pulled some pajamas from your dresser while Calum kneeled in front of his suitcase to retrieve his own.

“I’ll be back.” You said as you walked to the door. He stood up straight, a pair of black sweatpants in hand.

He put his hand around your waist and pulled you into him. “Hurry back, love.”

You could have melted on the spot. You leaned into him and kissed him, putting your hand on his cheek as you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled away, he was grinning again before he kissed your forehead softly.

You went into the bathroom across the hall and got undressed, changing into your pajamas quickly. After your makeup was off and your hair was brushed, you walked back into your bedroom and were met by the cutest sight you think you’d ever seen.

Calum was lying on his side on the far side of the bed, facing toward the door while he played on his phone. Your cat was curled up next to him. He was purring loudly as he snuggled into Calum’s bare stomach.

“I think he likes you.” You laughed as you lifted your comforter to join them in bed.

“Well, I think that I like you.” Calum said, wiggling his eyebrows as you moved closer to him.

“That’s good, since you’re my soulmate and all.”

“And I’m so fuckin’ lucky that I am.” He was careful not to disturb Binx as he wrapped his arm around your waist under the blanket. You moved toward him and caught his full lips with yours. The kiss was soft, sweet, unrushed in a way that made you forget everything that wasn’t Calum.

“We should sleep.” You sighed after pulling away from him.

“We should.” He agreed, moving in to kiss you again.

“I can’t sleep if you keep kissing me.” You said with a laugh.

“Don’t wanna stop.” He said, a slight whine in his sleepy voice.

You don’t know how long you stayed up that night, but by the time you did finally fall asleep, the sun was starting to peek in through your curtains. You talked and laughed, occasionally stealing kisses in the dark until neither of you could keep your eyes open any longer. Both of you had bright, albeit sleepy, smiles on your faces as you finally allowed yourselves to be pulled into the most comfortable sleep you’d had in years. Just before you fell asleep, you thought to yourself that you could definitely get used to falling asleep in Calum’s arms, with Binx curled up between the two of you.

~~~

I know it’s a long one, and I’m sorry but this is without a doubt my favorite fic that I’ve ever written. I hope you all agree that it was worth the 8,000+ words. Also, considering making this into a series at some point. Let me know if that’s something you’d be into. Cannot wait to hear what y’all think of this one! Also, super duper sad that Calum month is ending next month! But I have great things coming in February!

If you have any requests, or would like to be tagged in future 5sos fics please let me know!

Tag List: @crownedbyluke @24kcalum @blue-skies-are-alright @lmao5sosimagines @therainydays4 @rosecth @thesoundsyoumake @kinglyhemmings @a-little-international @harryandthelesbians @lukescherrypie @ashotofblues @youngblood199456 @rexorangecouny @cashton-queen @tothemoonwithclifford @babylon-uncrowned @asht0ns-world @abitloudforanaccousticset @gettingjillywithit @itjustkindahappenedreally @dancingonanemptywallet @lustingforwunder @mysticalhood

#calum hood fanfiction #calum hood fluff #calum hood soulmate au #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fluff #5 seconds of summer soulmate au #5sos fanfiction #5sos fluff #5sos soulmate au #tattoo soulmate au #soulmate au #my words #this is long but i love it sm #this fic is my lil bb #ugh

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darks-ink · 5 years

Text

Play Your Part 5

Chapter 5: Not Only Will I Soar Again

I am Very Boldly posting this chapter with linebreaks and readmores and praying it doesn’t turn out like the last one. And if it does, well... Tumblr let me edit back the readmore today so it won’t be messed up forever, anyway.

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Danny’s eyes watered as he reached out. One hand, shaky with emotion, made contact with the picture. Ultimate proof that it was… that this was real.

“Is-- Is that--”

“A ghost core?” Tucker grinned wider. “That’s exactly what it is, yeah.”

“But then…” Danny frowned, one hand still on the core on the photo, the other reaching for his chest. “Why isn’t it… working, then? If I have the core, why don’t I have the powers?”

“Well, we can’t know for sure, of course, but…” Jazz placed one finger on the photograph as well, tapping the core. “This isn’t an active ghost core. We have pictures of Danny’s, and of a few regular ghosts, and this one looks even less active than Danny’s when he’s in human form.”

“Oh.” One hand still rested on his chest, as if he could feel the core’s hum now that he knew it existed. “How? Why?”

“We already figured that you lost your powers because you purged your ectoplasmic contamination, right?” Jazz shrugged, gently pulling the photograph out of his hand. “In doing so you must’ve run your core out of ectoplasm, forcing it into some sort of hibernation. I think, if we can carefully feed it ectoplasm again, that it might activate again.”

“And that’ll get me my powers again?” Danny brightened up slightly, hope unfurling in his chest. It sounded… it all sounded very possible. Would it just be that easy?

“Well, probably. Like I said, we can’t know until we try.” Jazz sighed, placing the photo on the table Danny was sitting on. “At least I know a good way to get you ectoplasm in a somewhat safe manner.”

“Oh lord, Jazz, you want him to eat--” Tucker made a disgusted face, pretending to vomit. It wasn’t very encouraging, to be honest.

“Oh grow up.” She shoved the boy, turning to Sam, who looked far more steady. “Sam, can you go fetch some of the leftovers in the fridge? You know how to recognize the right ones, yeah?”

“If they try to bite me they’re good.” Sam nodded, turning around like she hadn’t just said that food might actively attack her, hello? What the hell was going on here?

Danny cleared his throat, drawing Jazz’ attention back to him. “What’s, uh. What this ‘safe manner’ of ectoplasm consumption?”

“Well, it’s.” She blushed, twirling a strand of hair as she tried to find the right words. “Uh, you know how in this universe, our parents are ghost hunters?”

“Uh huh,” he said, slowly.

“And ghosts are made out of ectoplasm. Which means that for their inventions, they do a lot of experiments with said ectoplasm, including ways to use this to make food faster?”

“Oh.” He still didn’t understand where she was going with this.

Jazz opened her mouth to explain further, but a strange hissing sounded by the stairs, and Danny twisted to look at that instead. Sam was coming down, her arms full of various plastic containers, some of which were duct-taped shut.

“Got the leftovers you asked for. Is the malevolence directly related to how heavily contaminated they are?”

“I think so.” Jazz shrugged, releasing her hair. “Not sure. Mom and Dad never really looked into it much.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Danny waved his hands around, drawing the attention of everyone else back to him. He ignored the jostling of the plastic bins for the moment. “You want me to eat… contaminated food? Living food?”

“Well, it’s not living, technically.” Jazz wiggled her hand a little, making a so-so motion. “They’re kind of… reanimated, I guess? We’re starting off slow, with the stuff that just glows. Anything that moves we’ll re-cook first.”

“Like the weenies,” Tucker added helpfully, taking one especially violent container from Sam. The duct-tape on it seemed to strain to hold it closed, and through the plastic Danny could see sausage-like shapes bouncing around. “These are definitely some of the worst in the fridge.”

“Yeah, and the fact that they’ve been in there for months hasn’t helped.” Sam shook her head, moving over to the table to put down the other stuff. “Anyway, don’t worry about it, Danny. Our Danny can eat this stuff just fine, and so can any ordinary ghost. We’re not giving it to you until we’re sure you’ve got enough ghost in you to do the same.”

“Oh. Um.” He looked at the boxes that now shifted over the table, driven by the force of their contents. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Don’t thank us until it works, man.” Tucker placed his one container on the table as well. When it immediately threatened to throw itself off again, he placed a heavy-looking invention on top of it. “Seriously, if we make you eat this stuff and it doesn’t work you’ll hate us.”

“Tucker, stop discouraging him,” Jazz scolded, picking up one of the containers that lacked duct-tape. “Danny, it’ll be fine. Mom and Dad and I have eaten this stuff on multiple occasions, and you’re supposed to have this stuff in your body. Do you really think I would be giving this to you if I thought it would be a problem?”

“No,” he said, “but this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried feeding me something weird as a big sister prank.”

Jazz made a face, then nodded. “Ah, I guess that that’s fair.” She opened one box, showing its contents to him. “How do you feel about starting with these mildly glowing carrots?”

Bad, he wanted to say.

“I guess they’re… okay?” he said instead, taking the bin from her. They did, indeed, look like regular carrots. Y’know, if carrots came in ecto-green and glowed. “Do I… have to?”

“You can try the Portal too, if you prefer that,” Sam suggested, leaning against the table. “Get it over with in one quick swoop.”

Danny made a face, then shoved one baby carrot into his mouth. The moment he bit down he pulled a face. It tasted like what he imaged raw ectoplasm might taste like; copper and rusted pennies and something like lemons? Except it still had a mild taste of carrot, and its texture was mostly carrot-like. Mostly, because it was just a little goopy on the inside.

He slapped his free hand over his mouth, trying to push away his desire to puke. Come on Danny, just bite through it!

Swallowing, he made another grimacing face at the others.

“Ah, come on, they’re not that bad.” Jazz clicked her tongue, shaking her head disapprovingly. “How is it that you guys in the halfa-universe are less used to eating ectoplasm infused food, huh? Am I the only one wondering about that?”

“No, I was too,” Sam admitted, looking far too amused for Danny’s liking. “And I bet our Danny is, too. He’ll definitely be enjoying the break where he doesn’t have to worry about his lunch coming to life.”

Danny sighed, placing the carrots down again. “Can I try something else? Maybe that’ll be better.”

Tucker snorted disbelievingly, but to his credit, did push one of the other boxes towards Danny. “Here, I think this one is just glowing toast.”

“Ugh, toast.” He pulled off the lid, revealing, indeed, several slices of ecto-green toast. “Well, can’t be worse than regular toast, right?”

He took a bite of one of the slices. Wow, hey, that’s actually worse than regular toast, who would’ve thought? Again that taste of copper and lemons and sour metal, although the inside wasn’t quite as soft as with the carrots. Just felt like untoasted bread instead of goop.

“Well?” Tucker asked, a grin on his face again. “Better or worse?”

“Better than the carrots,” Danny said as he swallowed the bite. “And honestly? Not much worse than regular toast.”

“You want jam or something with that?” Sam asked, turning one of the slices in her hand as she looked it over. “That might mask the taste a little.”

“Hm, maybe.” He took another bite, trying to chew it away quickly. “Egh, yeah, let’s give that a shot if you’ve got some.”

“I’ll go look,” Jazz said, ruffling his hair as she passed him by. “Sam, Tucker, stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble?” Tucker gasped dramatically. “We would never!”

Danny shot him an unimpressed look as he chewed away another bite of sour toast. “You two literally tried to zap me with a giant ghost portal while she was away.”

“Don’t get involved, Fenton.” Tucker swung a finger in his direction. “Eat your toast and shut up.”

“Yes sir.” He took another bite of the toast. Against all expectations, he was actually kind of getting used to the taste of ectoplasm-infused food. It felt kind of warm in his throat, like it was melting as he chewed it away.

He’d finished his first slice of toast when Jazz reappeared downstairs, carrying a few types of jam and some margarine. “Wasn’t sure what would go best with, uh, ectoplasm,” she said, blushing a little. “What do you want to try first?”

“Margarine, I guess?” He shrugged, picking up a new slice of toast to butter it. “I think I just had to get used to the toast, anyway. It’s not too bad anymore. Kind of nice, actually? Warm and melty.”

Jazz frowned, sharing a glance with Sam and Tucker. “Warm? Ectoplasm is cold and goopy, usually.”

“Oh.” Danny took a bite of his still-unbuttered toast, tasting it carefully. “No, it definitely tastes warm. Like, pleasant warm, like honey?”

“Maybe that’s what it tastes like for half-ghosts?” Tucker suggested, his brow creased in consideration. “They are made out of the stuff, so of course it wouldn’t feel cold to them.”

“Does that mean it’s working?” Danny asked as he started buttering the toast. The taste of lemon and metal hadn’t gone away entirely, and he wasn’t too hot on it still. “If I just keep eating enough toast, that’ll fix my core? It’s really just that easy?”

“I mean, you’ll probably have to move on to something stronger eventually.” Sam tapped on one of the taped boxes, ignoring the way it jerked in response. “Danny has a lot of ectoplasm in his body, usually. If you want to recover all of that in a short time, you’ll need to eat more ectoplasm and less actual food. There’s only so much food you can eat before you’re full, after all.”

“Right.” He took a bite of buttered toast. Not bad, actually. The butter definitely offset the sourness, even if wasn’t entirely functional against the taste of copper. “So when should I switch, if the higher amounts could be dangerous?”

“Finish off all the toast first, then we’ll see.” Jazz looked distastefully at the weenie-container, which seemed to be trying to throw off the heavy weight that pinned it down. “Honestly, we might try roasting the weenies. They’re definitely the highest in ectoplasm to food ratio, and they won’t fill much either way.”

Danny eyed the box suspiciously. Then, rather than speak up about the fact that these hot dogs might just be the most dangerous thing in the lab, he took another bite of toast.

“We, uh, should probably get them roasting sooner than later, then.” Tucker leaned down next to the box, his frown deepening. “I think that they’re trying to chew through the plastic.”

“Do you think the Thermos would work on them?” Sam asked, her tone light as if this was perfectly normal. “Or are they not ghostly enough?”

“That might just suck out all the ectoplasm and leave behind the weenies.” Jazz sighed, stepping away to dig through some equipment. “If they break out, just trap them in something metal. Or, like, trap them in a box with something else and let that distract them. I’ll look for something moderately safe to cook them with.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tucker declared cheerfully, frown gone again. He picked up a larger plastic bin, opening it and peeking inside. “Ah, non-sentient ham. That should keep them occupied if they break out.”

Sam sighed and shook her head, but didn’t comment. Danny shoved another piece of toast inside his mouth. If she didn’t want to comment, neither did he.

But, really. How was this world so much crazier than his own world? Is this what their planet would be like if it was ruled by humans instead of half-ghosts? Crazy. Maybe they really were still out there somewhere, surviving unseen thanks to their sheer insanity.

“Well, so, most of the stuff I found I wouldn’t trust around food,” Jazz said plainly as she rejoined them. In one hand she held a metal pot, the inside stained a suspicious mix of green and black. The other, she held behind her back. “I wouldn’t worry about the ectoplasm on this, except that it seems to be burned to hell and back, and I don’t think the charcoal will be any good. And I don’t trust the bunsen burners with this, either.”

She placed the burned pan on a nearby table, then swung the object in her other hand around to her front, using her other hand to hold it up as well. It looked like a weapon, but not any Danny was familiar with. Sci-fi esque, silver with glowing green accents. Round and shiny, like a cylinder with another cylinder on top. This, at least, looked kind of like the water containers on a water gun. The vivid green really just kind of reinforced this appearance.

“I don’t think I’m familiar with that one.” Sam stepped closer, twisting her head to look at the weapon. “What is it? A flamethrower?”

“Yep,” she simply said, placing it in Sam’s arms. “Here you go, I’m pretty sure you’re the best shot of all of us.”

“Tuck’s pretty good too, and you’re not too shabby either.” But as she said this, Sam shifted the flamethrower in her arms, gripping it properly. She grinned like she was absolutely loving this. God, humans were scary. Danny was faintly sorry that he had ever felt lesser for thinking he was human if they were all like this.

Rather than get involved, he took another bite of toast and jumped off of the table. He could watch the proceedings from somewhere further away, he was sure.

Tucker lifted the machine off of the bin that contained the hot dogs, pinning the box down with his own strength instead. “I’ll count down and then dump them on the table. Got it?”

Sam, grin widening, nodded. “Got it.” She turned to gun onto Tucker, holding it steady with one finger already on the trigger. “On 3?”

“I was thinking on fire, actually.” Tucker nodded back, licked his lips, then started counting. “3. 2.”

“1,” the both of them counted in sync, muscles bunching as they got ready.

“Fire!” Tucker shouted, peeling the container open and spilling the contents onto the table, then stepping back in the same swift motion.

The hot dogs seemed thrown off by the sudden movement, sitting dazedly on the metal tabletop a long moment. They were ecto-green, glowing, and they seemed to have… eyes and pointed teeth? Yikes.

On the shout Sam had pulled the trigger, and bright flames spilled from the gun. Despite his expectations, they weren’t pure green; pink was scattered throughout the flames, and the inner column was white-hot.

The reanimated meat screeched when the flames reached them, but they were quickly silenced under the steady fire.

An unmeasurably long moment later, Sam cut off the flames. Jazz stepped forward to inspect the results, expression carefully blank. Then she smiled, expression lighting up. “Looks good to me! I think we can finally put the Frankenweenies to use.”

“Frankenweenies?” Danny repeated incredulously, swallowing his last bite of toast. “Really?”

Jazz hummed. When she turned back to him, she was holding one of the hot dogs pinched between her fingers. The flames hadn’t lessened its glow, but they had turned it into a darker green. The eyes and mouth seemed to have somehow disappeared entirely. “What do you think? Does it look appealing?”

“No,” Danny said honestly, taking it from her. “But neither did the toast.”

He took a bite, chewing it experimentally. The skin was like… not like a hot dog, but more like a regular sausage? Somewhat tough, a little chewy, but not in a bad way. The inside was soft and warm and gooey, and actually kinda sweet. Like it was filled with honey.

“That’s… pretty good, actually,” he said when he swallowed it. “I mean, I don’t think it beats actual food, especially since the green is a real deterrent, but…”

“What, the glow is fine with you?” Sam scoffed, but the smile on her face didn’t leave. “Priorities, Danny.”

“Eh, the glow isn’t too out of place where I’m from.” Danny shrugged, taking another bite of the hot dog and swallowing it. “With all the half-ghosts and stuff. My parents, especially Mom, they use telekinesis pretty often, so stuff often glows in and around the house.”

“That’s fair,” Sam decided, nodding approvingly. Her fingers drummed on the barrel of the flamethrower. “Hey Jazz, do you want this thing back or can I keep it?”

“If you get in trouble for having it I’m not taking responsibility.” Jazz crossed her arms, twisting to look at Sam. “My parents will just blame its disappearance on a ghost anyway.”

“Nice.” Sam flipped a switch on the side, and the glowing elements dulled down. A safety switch, then. “I’ll find a spot for it, don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” Jazz said, just as Danny hiccuped. Loudly.

“Sorry,” he apologized, hiccuping again. Something in his chest rattled strangely. “I think something didn’t go down right.”

He clenched his eyes closed, dropping the half-eaten sausage back on the table. His other hand came up to claw at his chest. Something felt wrong, it hurt, it hurt--

Another hiccup, following with a thrum in his chest. He opened his eyes again, staring wide-eyed at his friends, his sister, hoping for some sort of help or advice or--

“Look!” Jazz exclaimed, enthusiastically. “See, I told you it would be fine!”

“Fine?!” Danny bit back, his voice peaking up high as a hiccup burst through the last half of the word.

“Well, yeah, obviously.” Jazz gestured at him like it was an explanation. “See, and your eyes brightened even further. Must be your core.”

Tucker frowned, looking a little concerned. “Are you alright, dude? Besides the hiccuping, obviously.”

Danny groaned back, his fingers digging into his chest even more. His core? Was that what this was? Why did it-- “Why does it hurt?”

“It’s not… supposed to.” Jazz darted closer, suddenly, kneeling a little to look at his face. She pried his hand off of his chest, placing her own there instead. “Maybe it’s because it was out of energy for so long? Like when you boot up a machine after it’s been off for really long, and it sounds like it’s struggling to get functional again?”

“Or like when your muscles hurt way more if you haven’t been active in a while?” Sam suggested, tone not as jubilant anymore. “That could be it, yeah. Should we hold off and give it time to work through it, or should we try feeding it more energy?”

“I don’t know,” Jazz said, slowly. “Danny, do you think you could eat?”

“Dunno.” He huffed, feeling faintly breathless. It felt like something was burrowing in his chest, trying to shove all his organs aside to make room for itself. “Maybe.”

“Alright, that’s a no in Danny-speak.” Jazz took him by the arm, gently tugging him towards a table. “Sit down, tell us if it gets worse.”

He nodded, letting her shove him onto the table. He tried clawing at his chest again, but Jazz swatted his hand away and he gave up.

It was hard for him to tell how much time passed. For most of it, he had his eyes closed, focusing exclusively on the feeling in his chest. As the pain receded, he started to feel his core more clearly. It was pulsing, thrilling and humming in his chest. Like a heart, but also… not? It was clearly trying to drag in energy, awake but not… not satisfied, he didn’t think.

Once it felt as stable as it would get, he opened his eyes again, looking at his best friends as his sister. “It, uh. I think it’s done. But I don’t think that it has all the power it needs, still.”

Jazz nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Didn’t think so. But we got it enough energy to wake up, so if it’s functional we can try feeding ectoplasm straight to your ghost form.” She started, looking at him somewhat guiltily. “If you’re okay with that, of course.”

“I mean… sure? Assuming that I can shift right now.” He shrugged, then settled one hand on the back of his neck to rub it.

“Do your parents have some of that Ecto-Dejecto still?” Sam asked, turning towards Jazz. “Danny uses it sometimes when he’s really really out of energy, but I think he stockpiles it all in his walls.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a good idea.” Jazz perked up, gesturing at one of the nearby drawers. “I think they have some in there?”

Sam hummed, moving to search it. “Worst come to worst, we can try having Danny search through his own walls. If, uh, he can maintain that kind of intangibility, that is.”

He made a face, not that she could see. “Yeah, let’s not risk that.”

“Oh, wait, here it is already.” Sam straightened up, a tube of unnaturally bright ectoplasm in her hand. “We just need a needle, and for Danny to shift into his ghost form.”

“At least we won’t have to fight with his sleeve this time,” Tucker joked, nudging Danny. “Did you know how much of a hassle that is, to roll up the sleeves of those jumpsuits? Absolutely awful.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind?” He tried mentally poking his core. How were you supposed to shift to your ghost form, anyway? He thought he was doing it right, but he had no way of knowing whether he was doing it wrong, or if his core just didn’t have enough energy. “When should I shift?”

“Now’s fine,” Sam said, reappearing with a worryingly large syringe. It was filled with the same fake ectoplasm as the vial before. The ‘Ecto-Dejecto’, presumably. “We’re ready if you are.”

“Oh, joy,” he muttered, stirring his core more forcibly. He tried to encourage it, tried to picture himself as the photos he’d seen of Phantom. Tried to goad it with the lure of more energy.

Then, suddenly, it was like lightning crackled through him. Pure energy burst forth, sparking through his flesh and his skin but not hurting him. It formed a ring, bright and luminescent, and Danny felt like he could cry.

As with everyone else, with every shift he’d ever witnessed, the ring split into two. Twin halos of pure light danced over his body, inverting the colors everywhere they passed, until he was left in his black shirt and with white hair hanging down in his eyes.

“Arm,” Sam immediately commanded, like she hadn’t just witnessed something incredible and life-changing. When he didn’t respond, Jazz grabbed it and pulled it towards Sam for him.

He was so occupied with, well, everything, that he didn’t even notice the needle until its contents were being pushed into his body. It wasn’t even cold, not really. Just… weird? Very energetic. His core thrilled, immediately pulling in the energy provided.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, feeling the pulse of power throughout his entire body. His core hummed so loud that he wondered if everyone else could hear it, too, like the purr of a cat. “That’s… holy shit.”

“Sounds like it worked,” Tucker commented dryly, not even bothering to hide his smile. “Feeling good, ghost boy?”

“Yeah,” he answered, breathlessly. “Yeah, wow. It’s like… Like this weight in my chest is gone, suddenly. Like I’ve been dragging around my core this whole time, like a ball and chain, and finally I’m free.”

“How poetic.” Sam grinned, nudging him playfully. “Want to take your powers for a spin?”

“In the lab?” he asked, already pushing off of the table. “Are you sure?”

“We train Danny’s powers here all the time,” Tucker said dismissively, flapping a hand. “And it’ll be safer here than outside.”

“Fair enough.” He bounced a little on the ground, feeling lighter than usual. He wondered how floating worked. Didn’t it come naturally to--

“Oh.” He flipped in the air, maneuvering like he’s been doing it his whole life. “Wow, that’s really fun. Now I get why everyone’s always flying everywhere.”

“I guess I should’ve seen that coming.” Jazz grinned at him. “Danny’s favorite power is flight, too.”

“I can’t blame him!” Danny exclaimed, flying a lap at moderate speed through the lab. “It’s so much fun!”

“Alright, well, let’s run through a few more powers. Hopefully establishing that your powers work will trigger the switch back.”

“Yeah,” Danny hummed, feeling his core pulse with happiness at the thought of showing his parents his powers, before a spike of dread stabbed through it. “Unless your Danny has something he needs to achieve, too.”

Danny’s eyes watered as he reached out. One hand, shaky with emotion, wrapped around his mother’s wrist. “Wait.”

“Yes, sweetie?” She crouched down in front of him, smiling softly. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t.”

“Can’t what, kiddo?” His dad frowned as he, too, crouched by Danny.

“I…” He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all so nice.”

“Of course they are,” Jazz said, voice carefully blank. “They’re our parents. When have they ever not been nice?”

“That’s complicated,” he muttered back through his fingers. They’d never meant to be mean towards him, of course, but… but they’d uttered plenty of insults and threats towards Phantom. And that was… it was just hard to ignore, especially when faced with such complete and utter acceptance.

A silence fell, and Danny got the feeling that his parents and sister were sharing confused glances.

“What do you mean, son?” his dad finally asked, uncertainly. “We’ve always tried…”

I know.” He dragged his hands off of his face to shoot them a look that hopefully expressed how lost he felt. “You’ve been nothing but nice, I know. But you’re not-- I am not--” He groaned again, now in frustration at himself and his trouble to put his feelings into words.

Jazz narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you Danny?”

“Is he what?” his mom asked, at the same time that he shook his head. While she snapped her jaw shut, he corrected himself by nodding, then made a so-so motion with his hand.

“I’m Danny Fenton,” he finally said, giving up on his attempt at miming out an answer. “But I’m not… your Danny.”

“Oh,” both of his parents chimed, perfectly synced.

“Yeah.” He dragged a hand through his eyes, wiping away the half-formed tears. “I’m… yeah. It’s, um. Complicated, I guess.”

“How?” His mom reached for him, twisting his head like she could suddenly see differences that didn’t exist before. “Why? What happened to our Danny?”

“I… I don’t know. I really really don’t know,” he admitted, much as it pained him. “I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t understand it. Usually if I get brought to a different timeline I’m told why, what I’m supposed to do. Not…” he gestured vaguely. “Not this.”

“And our son?” his mom repeated. “What about him?”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Danny dragged his hand through his hair, mussing the black locks up beyond their normal mess. “Sam and Tucker and Jazz will take care of him. They’re good at that kinda stuff. They’ll catch on quickly, I bet.”

“That’s good.” His mom – this version of her – patted him on the arm. Her expression was hard to read, though. “Now, what was this about your parents, sweetie?”

“I, um.” He blushed, licked his lips. “It’s. Complicated. Like I said. They don’t… they don’t mean it, they’re nice, but it’s…”

He hummed, looking at his hands in his lap. “You know how you’re all half-ghosts, and so am I?”

“Yes?” His mom frowned a little, shooting a short glance towards Jack. “Is that not… Is that a problem, back home?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, because I never told them.” He blew out a breath, the confession making him feel lighter. Not much, but, well. A little. “It’s… You know how you’re human hunters, here? Well, my parents, they hunt ghosts.”

“Oh,” his dad said on his other side, voice low and quiet.

“Yeah.” Danny sighed, thumbs twirling. “They, um. They’ve seen me in my ghost form, but they didn’t know it was me. I’m the only half-ghost in town, so I… fight the other ghosts? To protect the town. But they don’t see it like that. They just see an aggressive ghost causing trouble.”

“They hurt you,” Jazz stated, her voice clearly forced into neutrality to cover up her emotions. “Right? They’ve hurt you, but they didn’t know it was you because you never told them. And they don’t think of the similarities, because they don’t think half-ghosts can exist.”

He barked out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, you nailed it. They’ve, uh. Made something of a habit out of threatening and insulting ‘Phantom’ around me and Jazz. They work on their inventions in the lab and in the kitchen, and they keep going off near me, and one day--” He snapped his mouth shut, shaking off the thought.

“And you’re afraid that one day it’ll go wrong.” Light flashed as Maddie shifted back to her human form without moving. Her hand, laying on Danny’s, became marginally warmer. “You’re afraid of your parents, because they don’t know that their prey and their son are the same person.”

Danny nodded, listlessly.

“Can I offer some advice?” Jazz asked, her hand on his knee. She continued before he got a chance to answer. “Tell them.”

“What?” he frowned at her.

“Tell them,” Jazz repeated, looking from him to their parents. “You’re afraid because they don’t know that you’re half-ghost. So tell them.”

“But they-- They hate ghosts.” He gestured with his free hand, leaving the one with Maddie’s hand on it. “They hate ghosts with such fervor that they’ve dedicated their life to getting rid of every single one of them!”

“Danny.” His dad caught his free hand, gently placing it down and pinning it with his own warm hand. At some point he, too, had shifted back to human form. “Danny, I don’t know how different your version of me is, but I can tell you one thing with absolute certainty. The most important thing in my life, always and ever, is my family. And that includes my son, human or ghost or half-ghost.”

“Oh,” he said, soundlessly. “But--”

“What about your sister?” his mother asked, suddenly, cocking her head at him. “You said that she would help, and Sam and Tucker. Does she know?”

“Uh…” Danny twitched at the non-sequitur. “Yeah? I mean, I didn’t tell her, but she figured it out on her own.”

“And she hasn’t recommended that you tell your parents?” this Jazz asked, brow quirked. “She didn’t comment on the secret-keeping, on the damage it could do?”

“I, well…” he sighed, letting his head hang. “She did, actually. But she’s… big on letting me tell people at my own pace. And she’s heard the vitriol my parents spit, so…”

“So she should’ve encouraged you to tell them,” Jazz insisted, more forcefully. “Danny, you need your family. You can’t hide this. Do you really think that they haven’t noticed that something changed, that their relationship somehow got damaged and they don’t even know what happened?”

“I… oh.” He looked at his hands, both covered by his parents’ hands. “I hadn’t… thought about that.”

Maddie sighed. “And I guess I didn’t think about how we might’ve done something similar to our Danny, insisting that he had to be half-ghost as well.”

“Well, how about this, then,” Danny said, trying to summon his bravery a little. He could, at least, help this other version of himself, right? That’s what heroes did, and he was a hero. “You tell him that you love him, that you accept him, half-ghost or not, and I’ll tell my parents.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” his dad boomed, his characteristic grin finally reappearing. His free hand clapped on Danny’s back. “Now we just need to figure out how to get you back!”

Danny opened his mouth to reply, but halted as a pulse of energy ripped through the atmosphere. He couldn’t tell where it came from, just felt the pure power hum--

White light blinded him, energy ripping at his body, he didn’t know what was happening, and--

Then, blissfully, he passed out.

#danny phantom #phanfic #dp fanfic #fanfiction #danny fenton #dark writes #play your part #if this posts without a readmore again i will break something #i dont Trust this website anymore lmao im definitely gonna do something different for weirdward

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cm-reiding · 6 years

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Hey guys this is part one of a two part Spencer Reid x Reader writing. Thank you for reading my first Reid story.

Monday, November 17, 2010 HOUR 1 _______________________ I walked home from work, the cool autumn air forcing me to wrap my jacket tighter around my body. I would have driven but it was a bit warmer than it had been in the last few weeks so I decided to take advantage of the weather, besides it was a short walk to the agency that I worked at. I stepped onto my porch, grabbing the mail out of the small box beside the door. Mostly junk except for a letter that had only my name on it, not my address nor a senders. I unlocked the door and went inside, petting the small dog I adopted 2 years ago from the shelter near my house on the way inside.

I make my way to the kitchen table, grabbing the letter opener and slicing through the envelope with ease. Inside there was a note and pictures of my co-workers and I from different crime scene locations of the latest murder we were working on.

"For profilers, you are all quite slow for seeing what is right in front of you, I will give you thirty-six hours before my next strike and keep the one alive I have until the full moon Good Luck, Agents."

As soon as I finished reading and re-reading the letter, my hands went to my phone calling the first person I could find in the contact list.

"Hello?" Emily picked up, still working in the office alone with Rossi and Morgan.

"Emily, I just got home and there was a letter in my mailbox with pictures from our case and a note." I said, reading the note aloud.

"Okay, (y/n) stay where you are, Morgan will come pick you up. Pack some things you need for a couple days you aren't going back to your house it isn't safe." Rossi said "Don't open your door to anyone except for Morgan."

I mumbled out an okay and hung up the phone, putting my holster back on the band of my jeans and going upstairs to pack a small bag with everything I'l need.

Fifteen minutes later, there is a loud knock on my door, shaking me out of my thoughts. I checked out the peephole and saw Derek standing there looking out into the street for anyone that may be suspicious. I opened the door to let him inside.

"Anyone came to the door?" He asked, glancing around the small house.

"Not that I know of I haven't checked outside since I called Emily." I said, grabbing the small backpack and my purse and badge.

"Okay, let's go." He said, putting a hand on my back as we walked out the front door.

I nodded, picking up the bag I had packed and tossing it over my shoulder, grabbing my house keys.

We arrived at the BAU half an hour later with the letter and pictures that were left at my home. As soon as we walked through the door, Rossi and Hotch came up to us.

"Did you bring the letter with you?" Rossi asked, looking toward the envelope I had been clenching in my hand the entire ride here. I handed it to him as he opened it and put the photos on the evidence board.

"Considering he knows y/n's address it wouldn't be surprising if he knew all of ours. I think for the time being everyone should stay here just to be cautious." Hotch said, walking into the conference room.

"Has there been anyone you didn't recognize in your neighborhood lately?" Rossi asked, handing the letter to Reid.

"Not that I know of, but I'm not really at my house most of the time."

"Morgan, Prentiss go to (y/n)'s neighbors and see if they have seen anything suspicious recently. (y/n) and Reid can run an analysis with Garcia on the handwriting. Rossi and I will go to the other homes and see if anything was left." Hotch called out.

I got up from my seat and began walking to Garcia's office when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked over and saw Reid matching paces with me.

"Don't stress to much, we will find the unsub." He said with a reassuring smile.

"I know it's just that he knows where I live - where everyone here lives. Doesn't that even scare you a little?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I knew what might happen when I started working here, you can't only see the bad side of things (y/n)."

I nodded my head, walking through the doorway of Garcia's office.

"Hello, young geniuses. What can I do you for?" Garcia asked spinning around to face us in her chair.

"We need you to run this letter and see if you can find anyone who has handwriting that matches this in the system. It was left on (y/n)'s door." Reid says, handing over the piece of paper.

Penelope looks over the letter her expression changing to concerned. "He knows where everyone lives?' She asked worriedly.

"We aren't sure it may have just been to get our attention but since it was at my house it is highly likely." I say leaning against the desk, crossing my arms.

She doesn't take another breath before turning back to one of the multiple screens in behind her and typing in different codes into the computer before putting the letter on a scanner.

"I don't see anything that matches." she says, sighing. "Did you have this run for prints?"

"Yes, the results should be coming back any time now." I say "Well, thank you for the help Garcia. We will let you know if there is anything else we might need you for."

"Be safe, peasants." She says, combing through her computer while Spencer and I exchange a look.

HOUR 3 ____________________________________

I was sitting at my desk, putting in files when my e-mail beeped signaling I had a new message.

“Hello Agent (y/l/n). I see that you received my letter and are acting to solve who I am. Let me just say that the last case we worked on together caused me to be transferred. But it isn't that easy, this was 2 and a half years ago. Good luck.”

I ran my hands through my hair, getting up and walking to the restroom and putting cool water on my face.

"Everything okay?" J.J asked, walking through the door.

"I got an email from the unsub. They said that we have worked on a case with them a few years ago."

"Then it should be easier to track them down."

"I guess so, but- it's, we know who this person is. I guess since we have worked with them before."

"Don't worry, we will find them Agent."

I nodded, walking out of the bathroom and back to my desk seeing Rossi looking at the email.

"Why didn't you tell us about this, this is key information."

"I just received it less than 5 minutes ago I was about to ask Garcia if she can find a address that we can track."

He nodded his head before beckoning me to her office.

"Garcia, I have a link to an email I received can you track it?"

"I can try" she says, opening the link I sent her myself.

After a few moments she opens up a tab that shows a computer IP and owner along with the location the e-mail was sent.

"It was sent from Arthur's coffee house in Wilmington. I also have the address for the owner's home. They did not seem to lock down their security very well before sending this."

She hands me a note with both locations and I walk into the conference room where Hotch and JJ are.

"Garcia got these addresses from the sender. Home and location the email was sent." I say, handing over the paper.

"You go with Reid and Prentiss to the Coffee shop, I will go with Rossi and Morgan to the house. Be careful, stay alert." Hotchner says walking to the suvs.

"Yes, sir." I grab my jacket with my badge off my desk chair and call for Reid and Prentiss to come with me .

HOUR 8

When we walked inside the busy coffee house, there were multiple people on computers, all around college age or in business-type clothing.

Reid walks up to the front counter and asks to speak to a manager, flashing his badge.

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, this is Agents Prentiss and (y/l/n). We are looking for anyone who may have come in here within the past 20 minutes, may have been an older male on a computer. Kind of suspicious looking." He explained.

"We have a lot of people come in every hour, doctor." He said before looking around, thinking "There was one man who came in a while back, when he came up to the counter he seemed upset and was almost punching the keys on his computer."

"Can you describe him?" Emily asks

"I can't remember, I'm sorry."

"Thank you for the information anyway, it should help." I said, walking to the exit.

I walked out of the coffee shop with Reid and Prentiss on my way to the BAU I glanced down at my phone, checking the time.

"Agent (y/l/n)?"

We looked back up seeing a man around his thirties in front of us, with blonde hair and green eyes.

"Yes, how can I help you?" I asked, his face looked familiar but I couldn't match a name to him.

"That's James Torres, he worked with us in Atlanta" Reid quietly whispered in my ear.

"I am officer Torres, we worked on the Muner case back about a year ago in Atlanta."

"Oh, right! How have you been, officer?"

"Well, after you all left the FBI cost me my job due to the mistaken identity so I had to transfer to Tallahassee." He said, I could tell that he had turned from calm to angry while explaining his situation, not hiding his emotion well.

"Sir, I can assure you that the FBI did not cost you your job. You gave your team the order to kill while we were still unsure of the unsub's identity. The man we suspected had similar ident-"

"I don't want to hear the bullshit that you have been believing from the FBI. I had to start my rank over from 15 years. My family left me."

'I don't understand how that's our fault' Prentiss said from behind me.

"It was because Agent (y/l/n) here was the one to report it to my boss and she cost me my job. She gave me the information about who was the first suspected murderer and led me to kill him." He said, reaching for the gun on his holster which was hidden underneath his jacket.

"When I give out information about a SUSPECT it does not mean they have committed the crime until we have solid evidence. At that point we didn't have any." I said with my hands up, Prentiss and Reid had their hands on their holsters in case the situation went south.

"I don't care your reasoning, this was your fault!"

He shot his gun before he even realized what he had done while you were sent to the ground from the pain in your left arm. You faintly heard gunshots which was Prentiss shooting the officer.

“We need a medic.” Emily said into her wire as you held onto your arm.

"Rossi, (y/l/n) has been shot, we are on eighty-seventh street." I heard Reid shout into his phone and saw him -blurry- standing above me as Emily was crouched beside me.

I heard sirens in the distance as I went in and out of consciousness from the pain. I guess a bystander called when they heard the shot. Then everything went black.

________________________________

#criminal minds reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds imagines #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #reid x reader #dr spencer reid #david rossi #criminal minds #reid

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kumkaniudaku · 6 years

Text

Trick and Treat

A/N: The first of two Halloween one shots. Enjoy.

“C’mon and ease on down, ease on down, down the road! Don’t you carry nothing that might be a load…”

Songs from “The Wiz” oozed from the Bluetooth speaker positioned at the edge of your vanity as you put the finishing touches on a simple scarecrow makeup look from Pinterest. From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Micah attempting to mimic Michael Jackson’s iconic cross foot shuffle only to get her feet tangled before crashing to the ground with an amused giggle.

“Mommy’s sorry she passed down her two left feet to you, baby. Trust me, it gets better.”

“For her, sure. The jury is still out on you.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smirk as Chadwick rounded the corner into the closet carrying the co-star of the Halloween Night Show in his adorable costume. For months you spent time brainstorming the perfect family costume that would proudly stand next to the couple’s costumes that Chadwick planned for the adult parties. Separate events saw you and Chadwick as Dwayne Wayne and Whitley Gilbert before transitioning into outfits that resembled Michael Jackson and Iman’s ‘Remember the Time’ get up. Though your husband had set the bar high for the family costume, you knew just what to do.

Micah had been obsessed with The Wiz from the moment she heard ‘You Can’t Win,” often begging to watch it multiple times a week. So, it came as no surprise when she was firm in her decision to be Dorothy for Halloween at school. The idea carried over into the house, and with four members of the family, the idea fit like a glove.

“Hush, Tin Man. How’s my mean ol’ lion,” you cooed, allowing Chadwick to carefully place Noah in your arms.

“He’s been mean alright. He refused to take a nap while you and Mikey went out for candy, and now he’s cranky.”

“Not my baby. He’s never cranky. Can you give mommy a biiiiiig lion’s roar?” Noah stirred in your arms, peering up at you through hooded eyes before opening his mouth to let out a long yawn and whimper that let you know he was close to tears if he couldn’t go to sleep soon.

Chadwick released a hushed snicker at your expense, “Yeah, that was a huge lion’s roar. Good job, AJ. Maybe we should just, you know, stay home.” Chadwick’s suggestion came with a tug at the uncomfortable collar around his neck. He was attempting a last ditch effort to stay at home to avoid being seen in public as a six foot, dark-skinned tin man.

“I don’t care if he sleeps the entire time, we’re taking Micah Trick or Treating for at least an hour.”

“But, baby -”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me!”

“Okay, then I’ll Tasha you. Look at me. I look like a baked potato. I can’t go out like this.”

“You look shiny like a pretty diamond, Daddy,” Micah chimed in. The thought of her father not holding her hand as she pranced down the street in her custom, ruby-colored shoes forced the corners of her lips to sag into a frown. “Don’t you wanna go get candy with me?”

Chadwick looked between his twin and you, shooting you a glare when he caught you wiping a satisfied smirk from your face. He was no longer in a position to back out, and both of you knew it.

Releasing a deep breath, Chadwick kneeled down to speak to his pride and joy.

“I don’t wanna do anything else but take you to get candy, Princess. Are you excited?”

“Yes! I wanna get all the candies! Especially the chocolates!”

“Especially the chocolates,” he laughed. “Hey, how about you go grab your bag and wait downstairs for me with I talk to your Mama? Can you do that for me, Dorothy?”

“Yes, sir!” The soft click of her hard bottom ballet flats striking the hardwood floors faded with each second until only silence hung in the large walk-in closet. The sweet twinkle in his eye from seeing Micah smile was quickly replaced by a hard glare in your direction that tried to ignore.

“You can stand there and pout all you want, Coffee Can. I’m not giving you any attention,” you warned him with your back turned as you secured Noah’s noise-canceling headphones against his sensitive ears.

“It’s all good, Co. One day, you’re gonna wanna take a sip of this coffee and the answer will be no.”

“Yeah right! You know you want a little cream for your coffee!” Turning to face him, you found him ending his visual journey across your backside with a smirk.

“That’s tempting, baby, but I’m vegan. No cream in this coffee. Coconut milk only.”

“Oh so, you’re Michael now. You’re canceled. Get out of here.”

If not for the barrier covering his ears, Chadwick’s boisterous laughter would have startled Noah from his sleep.

“You can’t cancel this black man, T!”

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

“Micah, what are the rules for trick or treating,” Chadwick asked as the group approached the first house on the block.

“Stay close to Mommy and Daddy, don’t eat the candy until we get home, and say please and thank you every time.”

“Good job. That’s my girl.”

Your usually quiet Los Feliz neighborhood was now teeming with youth of every age dressed in a range of costumes from adorable to downright scary.

As a child, your mother never allowed Halloween themed activities. If you and Tiana weren’t stuffed in the back of her station wagon and carted off to the nearest Hallelujah Festival, you were forced to stay at home and watch your friends return with buckets overflowing with treats. With that memory in mind, you promised yourself that you would give your children the opportunity to at least experience the cultural activity.

What you hadn’t accounted for was the type of neighborhood you would live in. Never did you imagine to be the ethnic minority on your street. The amount of full-sized candy bars casually left on doorsteps with instructions to only take one was astounding. Even more shocking were the looks you all received as one of a few black families in search of spooky treats.

You and Chadwick would’ve welcomed family photos with open arms if he meant that it would replace the occasional shocked stares from your neighbors further down the street.

Approaching the first house seemed to set the tone for the evening. With her afro puffs swinging in the wind, Micah nearly drug her father to the front porch to test her award-winning trick or treat song and smile.

“Oh, and look at you,” the older white woman gushed. “I’ve never seen a brown Dorothy before! And look at your hair. So wild!”

“Excuse me,” you blurted, earning a look from Chadwick.

Before Chadwick could offer the woman a much more civilized response to the woman’s ill-mannered remark, Micah took the lead.

“My Daddy says my hair grows to the sky like a crown made by God. This is how it’s ‘posed to look.”

All within earshot stood with their mouths agape at the class exhibited by a child that was missing most of her front teeth and not old enough to understand the ignorant undertones directed at her appearance. You, on the other hand, stood tall. All of the confidence you and Chadwick had worked to instill in her from the moment she was born had manifested into a reality tv show caliber read.

“Well...I guess your Daddy is right. Would you, um - would you like Snickers or Twix,” the woman asked, obviously flustered by Micah’s response.

The six-year-old gladly accepted the shiny gold wrapper housing two sticks of chocolate before adding a chipper thank you and grabbing her father’s hand for the journey to the next house.

Four houses down with no mishaps gave you hope that things would turn around for your first Halloween as a parent. Noah was now awake and receiving attention from every mother and grandmother on the block. Micah dazzled with the charm she inherited from her father dialed up to the highest notch. Several families provided extra candy for their cuteness while others requested pictures with the family as a whole to be thrown up on their personal social media channels.

Arriving at a beautifully decorated house swarming with underaged visitors, you noticed a few disappointed faces retreating down the long driveway to other houses. Still, you passed it off as unhappiness with the amount of candy received and followed Chadwick and Micah to the front step.

“Trick and Treat,” Micah exclaimed before she could reach the homeowner.

“A trick and a treat, huh? My kind of girl! Who are you, lovely?”

“I’m Dorothy from The Wiz! My Daddy is the Tin Man, Mommy is Michael Jackson, and my brother is a baby lion.”

The confusion on the young man’s face reminded you and Chadwick that you may have forgotten to inform your oldest that not everyone had seen The Wiz. She assumed that everyone knew Michael Jackson as a scarecrow, but judging by the blank look in his eyes, it was evident he was unaware that there was a more urban version of his childhood classic.

“What she meant to say is I’m the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz. Sorry for the confusion.”

“That’s great because I was just about to tell you that this is the worst Michael Jackson costume I’ve ever seen!” His attempt at a joke made Chadwick tense for a moment before catching your eyes pleading with him to calm down. At thirty minutes into the adventure, you both were starting to wonder if this was a good idea.

“Where are your candies,” Micah asked, craning her neck around the porch in search of the plastic bowl she’d grown accustomed to.

“No candy here, little one! Candy is bad for your teeth. But, I do have these!” Reaching into the Hello Kitty backpack that accompanied his Deadpool costume, he presented an apple to Micah with a smile. “Here you go, my friend. One Fuji apple just for you and a Koppleman Family Dentistry business card. Feel free to come by and see us for the post-Halloween cavities. Would you like one for the cub in the stroller?”

Chadwick reluctantly accepted the card and the apple meant for Noah. “Uh, thanks man. We’ll make sure check you out when we get a chance.”

“Mommy, I thought Halloween was for candy!”

“Micah Noelle! Hush!”

“But, you said-”

“Have a nice night, man! Dope costume by the way. Let’s go, Munchkin!”

Scooping Micah under his arm, Chadwick led the mad dash for the street to prevent any more comments from his daughter.

From that point, strange happenings seemed to follow that family at every stop. Word got out that Chadwick Boseman had been spotted in the area, drawing families without Halloween goodies out of their homes and into their front yards for a glimpse at the Black Panther.

A family dressed as the Justice held Chadwick on their front porch for several minutes in an attempt to convince him that he should make the switch to DC and play The Green Lantern. Two doors down, a lively bunch of mimes made Noah scream bloody murder at first contact, leading you to stand at the edge of the driveway while Micah asked questions that they would not verbally respond to.

Rounding out the night, perhaps the strangest occurrence you had ever witnessed would prove to cap a bizarre experience.

“Mommy, look, a red balloon,” Micah shouted as she pointed to the object floating in mid-air on the dimly lit porch.

A sign on the home’s mailbox read, “We’re not home, but there’s candy in the bowl. Take IT.”

“Take the whole bowl? That’s dumb as hell,” Chadwick remarked, reading the note a second time for clarity. “It must be a typo.”

“Whatever it is, make this quick. My makeup is starting to sweat off and it’s getting dark.”

“Can I eat some candy tonight? Pleaaaaaase? Pretty please?”

“Two pieces and that’s it. C’mon so we can grab your last one and get back home for a bath.”

Micah nodded with the same level of enthusiasm that she started the evening with. Her hair bounced in the wind beside her father as they took the short trek up the driveway and to the front porch. An eerie silence greeted the pair, and the closer they got, the more Chadwick sensed something was wrong.

“Stay right here, Boop. I’ll grab the candy and bring it to you.”

Though disappointed, Micah followed her father’s instructions and remained in place.

Chadwick approached the step on the defensive, putting you on edge once you noticed his calculated movements. One step at a time, Chadwick approached the bowl to grab the desired sweet treat for his daughter.

“You’ll float too.” A voice spoke, tiny and almost too quiet for comfort.

“Oh hell nah,” Chadwick spoke to himself. “Aye, baby, let’s go. It’s some weird sh- AYE WHAT THE FUCK?”

In the darkest corner of the porch stood a terrifying version of Pennywise the Clown sporting a morbid smile and glowing yellow contacts. The figure, clearly a member of whatever family lived in the house, stepped from his shadowy hiding place to “greet” Chadwick.

“If you need help, Don, help yourself to a balloon.” The clown never dropped his smile as he walked closer to Chadwick with his hand outstretched.

“The clown is gonna get Daddy,” Micah screeched during her full sprint to find you at the edge of the driveway. “Daddy, make him stop!”

“Hey, man, she has enough candy. We’ll just go home.”

“Want a balloon?”

Without warning, the person behind the costume made a move that startled Chadwick. Quick and misplaced reflexes ended the interaction with a swift jab to the nose and a pained groan from whoever dared to use a demon clown as a welcoming committee for a neighborhood event.

“My nose! Fuck, dude, my nose!”

“Trent,” Chadwick questioned, finally recognizing the voice.

Trent, your neighbor three doors down and a respected pediatrician, slumped against the railing of his porch to allow the blood seeping from his nostrils to fall into his manicured bushes.

“Shit, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Baby,” he called out to you to get your attention. “It’s just Trent. I think I broke his nose.”

“You what?! We can’t afford a broken nose? Ask him if he wants a band-aid.”

“No, I do not want a bandaid,” Trent answered before Chadwick could ask the question. “It’s not broken, but I have a hell of a headache. You should have those hands of yours registered as weapons. I’ve never seen anybody move that fast.”

“You scared the shit outta me, man. How can we make this up to you?”

“My wife really loves Tasha’s green apple pie. You think she could make us a couple to impress the family with for Thanksgiving?”

“Baby, he says if you make them some pies he’ll forget the whole thing!”

“I got you, Trent! Sorry my husband punched you in the face!”

“Don’t mention it, Tasha! Thanks!” Standing from his slouched position, Trent pinched the bridge of his nose before heading toward the front door. “Wait until Julianna hears this. She told me it was a bad idea.”

After a final apology, Chadwick led you and the kids back to the safety of your home. Bedtime routines and a brief candy extravaganza at the kitchen counter put everyone in a good mood before the kids were tucked in for the night.

Chadwick stood on your right in the bathroom, brushing his teeth while you finished applying night cream to the area under your eyes.

“I can’t believe I punched someone in the face tonight.”

“I can’t believe you let a clown scare you like that,” you laughed.

“Co, don’t go there. You were afraid of Harry Potter.”

“Not the same! Them spells and shit were demonic. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Chadwick watched you tie your head scarf around your edges before opening his arms to receive the hug you were initiating. “For the first time, it wasn’t so bad, right?”

“This was horrible, baby.”

“Good. We’re on the same page. Let’s never do this shit again.”

“I ain’t say allat, now!” Chadwick dropped his arms along to match his scowl as he followed you into the bedroom to finally get into bed. “I talked to ‘Vonne and she said that Trick or Treating is way better in her neighborhood. You know she lives around black people. We should try over there.”

“I probably don’t have a say in this, do I?”

“Of course you do, baby,” you answered, adding a kiss to his bottom lip. “You can say yes.”

A bitter chuckled left Chadwick’s mouth before he took his spot behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Good night, Michael Jackson.”

“Good night, Ali.”

Peaceful silence enveloped the house, setting the mood for quality slumber after a stressful string of events.

That was into an ear piercing scream from Micah’s room down the hallway, making you and Chadwick’s eyes shoot open. Seconds later, Micah’s fist pounded at the door before she abandoned the rule of waiting until she had permission to enter, and ran into Chadwick’s arms.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

“The balloon! It’s outside!”

Chadwick turned to look at you only to find you up and heading out of the door in record time. Sure enough, when both of you entered the room with Micah cowering behind Chadwick’s legs, you found a single red balloon floating past Micah’s window and to an unknown destination. Neither you or Chadwick spoke a word. A non-verbal cue to take Micah back to your bedroom answered all of your husband’s question, and a trip to retrieve Noah was swift.

Crowding into the California king, you made sure to double check the locks and the security system from your bed.

From the corner of your eye, you found Chadwick burning a hole in the side of your head with his intense stare.

“I told you we should’ve stayed home.”

Rolling your eyes hard enough for them to cause a mild headache, you turned on your side to end the conversation before it could start. There was no way he would know he was right. There was also no way you would ever trick or treat in this neighborhood again.

_____________

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#Chadwick Boseman #chadwick boseman imagine #chadwick boseman x reader #chad x coco #coco x chad

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