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gloomwitchwrites · 5 months

Text

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): explicit language, suggestive themes

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Part Five of Ink & Needle

You and Evie stake out 141 Ink. Amelia forms a plan. You and Ghost reunite.

Chapter Four // Chapter Six

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Sticky.

Sweaty.

Chest heaving.

Legs shaking.

And none of it the pleasant kind.

Your coffee is gone. It is somewhere down the street, splattered across the pavement, and likely creeping toward a storm drain. Whatever didn’t land on the ground spilled on you. It is in your hair. On your face. Smeared over the front of your coat.

The entryway floor of Amelia’s home is your refuge. You’re seated on the linoleum with your back against the door and legs outstretched in front of you. With shaking hands, you reach above your head to double-check the deadbolt. It’s locked, and yet it doesn’t smother the racing of your pulse.

How could it? You’re seeing things. Hallucinating. Who you saw simply isn’t possible. Of all the people in the world, how could it be him? How could it be Ghost? Your wraith. The man you took a risk on. The man who worshipped your body as if you were the only thing he’s ever wanted.

For a second time, you ran. Turned tail. Bolted.

Why? Why do you always run from everything? Why do you dart away the moment you start to get close? That’s the reality of your ineptitude to figure your shit out. When Ghost held you in his arms afterward, when those large, veiny hands of his caressed and squeezed your thighs, realization came charging toward you like a herd of stampeding animals. Yes, it was sex, but there were smaller moments—flashes of emotion—that you felt within yourself and radiating from him.

After it was done, you knew. The look of rejection and determination in his eyes when you glimpsed him through the cab’s rear passenger window only confirmed what you already understood. Your wraith claimed you in Riot Room’s green room. He branded you, inked your skin, took you within himself and then etched his essence into your flesh.

You told yourself in that moment that you would never be free of him.

And you were right. Unequivocally correct.

Not only did you run a second time, but he chased after you again. That realization is almost as earth-shaking as the fact that he’s just two streets over from Amelia’s home. Your wraith is within reach, and he still wants you, even after three goddamn years.

No, you say to yourself. It’s not possible.

Now you’re just making shit up to feel better. He can’t want you—can’t desire you after all this time. Ghost must have thought you were someone else, or he wants an explanation on why you left him hanging.

Is he someone who holds grudges? Will he threaten you like way he did that man who puts his hands on you?

I’ve killed men over less.

Unlikely. That wouldn’t make sense. While a pillar of darkness, with you, Ghost was anything but. The very idea of him being rough with you is immediately dismissed.

“Fuck,” you whisper at the ceiling. You blink rapidly and realize you’re crying.

One tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand. It’s the hand that held the coffee, and the sticky residue rubs against your skin, causing you to flinch away from your own touch.

Evie’s laugh startles you out of your stupor. You hear Amelia’s gentle chuckle as well. Their voices drift toward you from the direction of the kitchen. They can’t see you on the floor like this. You need to pull yourself together. Covering up the spilled coffee that stains your face and your clothes isn’t possible, but you can easily pass it off as a slip up. It’s these fucking tears you need to control.

As you shift forward in an attempt to try and drag yourself off the floor, the brown sack with the croissants scrunches under your fist. You glance down at it and wince. It’s smashed. Croissants are delicate, and they’re probably nothing but crumbs now.

You want to laugh but you’re afraid it might sound like you’re drowning. This entire situation is fucking awful. Ridiculous. You have no idea what to do about Ghost. And should you even care in the first place?

There is no debt owed. There are no strings with a hookup. Why are you spinning this idea that you are required to do anything about any of this? Ghost is not your responsibility, and a one-time hookup does not make you obligated to be his…anything?

The phantom of Ghost’s hands upon your thighs comes creeping up to the forefront of your mind. The slow drag of his fingers over your skin is so tangible that for a moment you almost believe that he’s really here, touching you, wanting to be closer.

Evie laughs again and that solidifies your resolve. You came to England for her. Evie’s husband is dead. He is in the ground and she is eight months pregnant. There is only you and Amelia here to take care of her. Evie is your priority.

Not Ghost.

Not your wraith.

“Fuck,” you repeat. Somehow, that one small word makes you feel a little better.

Peeling yourself off the linoleum is like removing a stubborn book cover sticker. It’ll either be perfect, or a straight up mess. You fall somewhere in between that spectrum.

As you enter the kitchen, Evie and Amelia don’t appear to notice you at first. They’re in deep conversation, and it isn’t until you’re nearly at the small breakfast table that they both realize you’re in the room with them. Evie’s stunning smile falters when her gaze falls on you. It’s a slow transition as she begins to take in your appearance.

Her eyes widen in concern. “What happened? Are you okay?” Evie starts to stand but you hold up a hand.

“I tripped,” you answer. It’s not exactly a lie. You did trip in your efforts to outrun your wraith.

Evie doesn’t need to know that information just yet, especially with Amelia sitting right there. You’ll have to tell Evie what happened, even though the very idea swirls the anxiety in your stomach around until you think you might puke what little coffee you did manage to consume before it met the pavement.

Evie settles back in the chair but the concern hasn’t left her face. “Hurt?”

Not physically.

“I’m fine,” you reply, setting the brown bag on the table. “But I’m a little worried for the croissants.”

Amelia grabs the bag and peers inside. “Oh dear. Well. At least you’re uninjured. That’s the most important thing.”

Using the table as a support, Amelia pushes up from her chair, and heads for the kitchen counter. Reaching into one of the cabinets, Amelia produces a large plate. Returning to the table, Amelia gently opens the bag and slides out the croissants onto the plate. An avalanche of broken golden pastry and crumbs follow.

You wince at the sight of the crushed croissants. “I’m going to change.”

Amelia arches an eyebrow. “Perhaps a shower?” She gestures toward your head, indicating the remains of the latte that have dried in the strands.

“That too,” you mutter, removing your coat and heading for the stairs.

After you shower out the coffee in your hair, you’re left with the final crushed croissant, and the rest of your day is spent making various phone calls on Evie’s behalf. By bedtime, you’re still working, but this time on actual paid work.

Evie sits up, propped against the headboard as she reads a book. You’re spread out at the end of the bed on your stomach, scrolling through emails.

“Evie?” you ask into the quiet.

“Yeah?” she replies, not looking up from her book.

You rest your chin on your elbow. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Evie marks her page in her book and sets it on the bedside table, resting one hand on her bulging belly. “What’s on your mind?”

Your work email pings and you briefly glance at it. Sighing, you turn back to Evie, ignoring the new email. After breakfast and the ridiculous amount of phone calls, you spent the rest of your time editing an instructional manual for a furniture company. The deadline is approaching, and you thought work might take your mind off the morning’s events.

But it didn’t. And your mind is still a swirling storm of anxiety that just won’t abate. You cannot stop thinking about Ghost and the intense look in his eyes when he realized it was you. The brief surprise became hardened determination, and that is what pushed you to bolt. Couple that with him chasing after you, and you’re an overflowing pot of boiling water.

Closing your work laptop, you push it to the side, sitting up until you’re fully facing Evie.

“Is it about this morning?” she asks softly.

How is this woman so goddamn intuitive? That kid isn’t going to get away with anything.

“Yes,” you reply slowly, drawing out the s a bit.

Her brows crease, and suddenly, Evie looks ready to fight God. “If someone hurt you—”

“No,” you say quickly, holding up both hands. “Stop. I’m fine. I’m just…” You trail off and then sigh heavily, rubbing your face with both hands as you try to figure out what it is you want to say.

Evie doesn’t speak. She waits until you’re ready.

Your hands drop to your lap. “I saw him this morning.”

Evie frowns. “Saw…him?”

You nod and lean forward a bit. “Him.”

Evie blinks, her lips parting slightly as her brain starts to piece the puzzle together. As it all starts to fall into place, Evie shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re having a laugh.”

Groaning, you throw yourself down on the bed, face-first. “I wish that I was,” you say, turning your head so your voice isn’t muffled.

“Are you sure it was him? Absolutely sure?”

“You don’t believe me.”

“That is not true,” says Evie with a bit of bite to her tone. “I’m just trying to process how it’s possible.”

“You and me both.”

Evie adjusts on the bed, and sits up a bit more. “But where did you see him? And more importantly, did he see you?” You wince, and Evie groans. “Tell me from the beginning. All of it. From the moment you left the house to when you returned. Every. Detail.”

Rolling onto your back, you tell Evie everything, all of it rushing out of you like water moving out of a tipped glass.

“Oh shit,” murmurs Evie as she absently rubs her belly.

“No kidding.”

“And it’s the same one from Riot Room? Ghost? That guy?”

You nod. “I am one hundred percent sure on that.”

Evie stares off into space for a few seconds while she absently rubs at the underside of her belly. She turns toward you abruptly as if yanked from her thoughts. “I need to see this man for myself.”

You bolt upright. “Absolutely not.”

Evie shrugs. “Then tag along if you’re that concerned.”

“That is not the point, Evelyn Green.” You throw one arm out to emphasize your point. “Ghost is in the past. We had sex—”

Evie interrupts. “According to you, it was,” she raises both hands, creating air quotes around the next words, “best sex you’ve ever had.”

“We had sex once,” you continue. “What more is there to say? I don’t need to dwell on him.”

Evie rolls her eyes. “Please. After that night, you changed. We all saw it. Even if none of us said anything to you at the time.”

You pause, pulling back a bit. “What do you mean?”

Evie sighs heavily. “I saw Ghost chase after you. I saw him standing on the curb. I saw him watching the cab drive off. And I saw your face when you turned away from staring at him.” Her head tilts to the side a bit. “The emotion on your face. It was like…it was like you knew you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

“Evie—”

“Shut up and listen to me.” She takes a breath. “Sorry. It’s the hormones. I’ve been moodier lately.”

And your husband is dead.

Evie winces as she adjusts on the bed. “When we arrived back to the hotel from Riot Room, did you realize you were smiling like an idiot in love? I know who you were thinking about. You told us every detail in the cab. And as you talked, you couldn’t stop grinning.” Evie removes her hand from her belly to rub at her lower back.

You stare down at your hands.

“A man doesn’t chase after someone he doesn’t want. Then you tell me that this morning, he ran after you? It’s been three years, and he still tried to catch you.” Evie shakes her head. “What isn’t clicking here?”

You open your mouth and Evie points at you. “Don’t make an excuse. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Then what’s your plan?” you sigh, playing with the hem of your shirt.

Evie’s lips purse and she taps the top of her stomach. “There’s a little café across the street. We can camp out. Watch the shop.”

“So we’re going to stalk him?” you ask skeptically.

“Yes!” Evie holds out a hand. “Give me your computer.”

Reluctantly, you do so. Evie rests it on her stomach. Opening it up, she starts clicking and typing away at the keyboard.

“What’s the name of the shop?” she asks without looking away from the screen.

“One-four-one ink,” you reply, scooting up beside her.

The tip of her Evie’s tongue is between her teeth. She taps away at the keyboard, entirely focused. She looks like Jade right now who always knows all the loopholes in finding shit out about people.

“Ha! Look at that.”

You lean closer and glance at the screen. You meet those dark eyes framed by pale eyelashes that look like halos. It’s Ghost on your computer screen. There is no doubt.

“That’s him,” you whisper.

Evie clicks through the various pages on 141 Ink’s website. Most of it contains information about services, ways to contact the shop, and a gallery of Ghost’s work. There is a very small “About” section that vaguely describes the start of 141 Ink, but nothing jumps out at you. It’s only two sentences worth of information. Other than that, the site is fairly normal.

All of this is right in front of you, and yet you still don’t have any additional information about this man. Ghost is just that. A ghost. A stranger. And yet, when you were in his arms, it felt so natural and comfortable.

Evie grabs her phone off the bedside table and opens Instagram. She enters 141 Ink into the search bar and taps on a result. She grins and hands you her phone. “Look at this. The guy has some serious talent.”

The photos and videos on 141 Ink’s Instagram are a lot more personal than the ones on the website. While many show pictures of completed piercings and tattoos, there are some that are much softer. Like the black German Shepard you noticed basking in the sun on the shop’s floor. There is a photo of him snoozing next to a waiting customer.

It’s personal. Sweet. And you can’t help but smile at it.

And Evie is right. Ghost is incredibly talented. Some of the work is simple and straightforward, but there are many more artistic pieces. They’re gorgeous, as if you’re looking into someone’s fever dream. The color, highlights, and dimension are all unnaturally realistic. Ghost certainly as an eye for this.

It’s such a strange thing to look at all this work, and think about Ghost. When you first met him, Ghost was a haunting shadow. A creature out of hell. Tattoo artists don’t have that same kind of aura to them. At the time, the possibility seemed out of the question. Ghost oozed danger, and you were certain he was going to snap the man’s neck who put his hands on you.

I’ve killed men over less.

It doesn’t make sense.

“Fine,” you finally concede. “We’ll scope the place out from the café across the street. But I am not talking to him.”

Evie rolls her eyes and laughs. “Sure thing.” She closes up your laptop and you take it from her, placing it on top of the nearby desk.

You slide in under the covers, and Evie returns to her book.

The following morning, you and Evie head for the little café across the street from 141 Ink. The sign outside the café says The Bird, and the logo is a blackbird on a branch. The inside is warm. Cozy. It’s early enough that you and Evie snag a corner table next to the window. Not knowing how long you’ll be there, Evie over orders as compensation for the server’s lost time.

When the food is delivered, the table is covered without a spare place to set anything down. It’s an absurd display, but Evie has money to spend, and the two of you will likely be here for several hours.

You fill up your coffee cup and the server tops off your mimosa glass. Evie stuffs her mouth full of pancakes. When the server turns around to leave, Evie grabs her backpack, digging around inside.

“Have some spy gear in there?” you joke, not expecting Evie to remove a pair of binoculars. You set your mimosa flute down on the table and cross your arms. “What is that?”

“It’s for research,” says Evie, shrugging her shoulders. She scans the café with narrowed eyes and then twists toward the window, holding the binoculars up to her face.

“I don’t know you,” you mutter, picking the flute back up to take a long sip. The bubbles in the champagne tickle your tongue, and you decide to swallow down the rest. It’s not like you’re driving. The two of you walked here.

Evie drops the binoculars from her face just as the server comes back to the table. You politely set the champagne flute down and the server uses their pitcher to refill your glass.

“Thank you,” you reply as they nod and turn to leave.

“What time does the shop open again?” asks Evie as she munches on a mouthful of pancake. “You said it was early.”

“It’s way past time now. I’m guessing the time I saw him wasn’t the actual opening time.”

Evie frowns and then holds the binoculars up to her face again. “I don’t see any movement inside.”

“This is absurd,” you say, waving your hand in the air.

“Wait!” Evie lowers the binoculars and you glance out the window.

Your eyes narrow slightly, gaze focusing in on the door of 141 Ink. There is movement. A shadow. A brief pause, and then, the door is opening.

Ghost is standing right there in the doorway as he guides the doorstop with the toe of his sneakers. He wears black joggers, a black t-shirt, and a zip up hoodie that’s open in the front. The hood is down but he’s wearing his signature balaclava. Beside him, the German Shepard appears momentarily before disappearing back inside.

Evie sighs appreciatively. “He is so large. Was he like that when the two of you hooked up? I never really got a good look at him.”

Maybe it’s the space between you and Ghost that makes you feel safe in your observation of him. He is the same, perhaps a bit softer in a few places where the muscles aren’t nearly so defined anymore, but you couldn’t really say for sure. From this distance, Ghost appears the same, but then again, you didn’t actually see all of him.

“He hasn’t changed,” you answer. “Not that I can tell.”

Evie chews around some pancake and then swallows. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Absolutely not, Evelyn Green.”

Evie points her fork at you. “Listen, bitch.”

“Evie,” you hiss, glancing around the café to see if anyone heard.

“I am trying to help you,” she says simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to go talk to this man. “And since you’re not going to do it. I’m going.” Evie stands up and cradles her belly, nearly waddling to the door.

“Evie,” you call out, but she ignores you.

You watch in horror as Evie crosses the street and strolls up to the open door of 141 Ink. She knocks on it, waves—likely at Ghost or the dog—and then steps inside. You itch to reach across the table and snag the binoculars to see what Evie is up to in there.

“Oh my god,” you murmur to the air, tossing back the rest of your mimosa.

Several minutes later, Evie reappears in the doorway, and you sigh with relief. But when she steps outside, Ghost follows her. He offers her his arm, and she takes it. The black German Shepard stands guard in the doorway as Ghost escorts Evie to the edge of the road.

When Ghost glances to the left, Evie looks up, sees you, and eagerly points at him with a big grin on her face. Ghost glances to the right, then the left again, before helping Evie across the road. When they make it to the sidewalk, they keep walking as Evie gestures at the door to the café.

Ghost opens the door for her, and when Evie steps inside, her grin is downright smug when she notices you. You can’t run this time. There is no escape from this.

“Thank you,” says Evie as she slides into her seat, her hand on her belly.

“People drive fast on that road,” he replies.

Ghost turns to leave and freezes when he sees you sitting there. You watch as his pupils dilate. Science says that when human eyes dilate like that, it’s because they see someone they love. It’s also a sign of the biological need to reproduce. And you’re watching it happen in real time with Ghost.

Your mouth does not form words. Instead, you simply stare, and Ghost stares back.

Ghost blinks and then he’s almost shaking his head like he’s not sure of where he is. “Enjoy your meal,” he says.

Your gaze drops, noticing the way his hands clench and unclench. You’ve seen him do it before. At Riot Room. When he hesitated in the seconds before touching you.

Ghost exits through the door, and your gaze follows him. He pauses right outside The Bird’s large window. Ghost pushes up his balaclava to his nose and lights a cigarette.

You follow him out the door where he pauses to push up his balaclava and light a cigarette. Then he’s jogging across the street, leaning against his tattoo shop to smoke. Ghost is looking directly at you, and you cannot stop staring back.

Those dark eyes are stones that crush your bones, and no one can pull you from your torment expect him.

It isn’t until he puts his cigarette out and goes inside his shop that you release a deep sigh. Turning back to Evie, you groan at the sight of her feral grin.

“How could you?”

Her grin only widens. “You’re going to be thanking me once you talk to him.”

“What did you say to him?” you ask, exasperated. Evie shrugs, and stuffs more pancake into her mouth, saying nothing. “Evelyn Green, I swear to God.”

Evie stuffs another mouthful of pancake into her mouth. The server reaches out to snag an empty plate and you address them, needing something strong. “Can you leave the mimosa pitcher?”

“Sure,” she laughs, bringing it back a minute later. You immediately pour yourself another glass and stare down at your own breakfast which is entirely untouched.

Evie points to your plate with her fork. “Are you going to eat that?”

“No. I’m getting drunk instead.”

The moment you and Evie return home, Amelia is already in the kitchen with a kettle on for tea.

“How was breakfast?” asks Amelia as she starts setting everything out on the table.

“Amazing!” beams Evie, nearly bouncing on her toes.

“Fine,” you reply, voice monotone.

Evie grabs your arms and gives it a good shake. “We should tell Amelia.”

“Absolutely n—”

You don’t even get your words out before Evie is charging forward. “Do you want to hear who we ran in to at breakfast?”

“Amelia doesn’t need to hear that.”

“Hush,” says Evie, waving you off. “Amelia, are you familiar with the tattoo parlor just a street or two over. Across from the café we went to?”

Amelia nods. “Oh, yes. I’ve chatted with the young man that owns it. Very nice. Very,” Amelia holds her arms wide. “Large. Those muscles on him always impressed me.”

Evie grins and you slouch into a seat. “During my bachelorette party, this one ran off with him for a bit.” Evie points at you over her shoulder.

Amelia tilts her head slightly in confusion and Evie makes a gesture with her hands replicating intercourse.

“Oh,” laughs Amelia, turning in your direction. “Did you?”

The kettle shrieks and Amelia takes it off the burner, carrying it over to the little table, setting it down on a neatly folded towel. Evie takes a seat to your left while Amelia sits across from you.

“I need every detail.” Amelia starts assembling the tea and you slouch further in the chair.

You leave out the act itself, not wanting to detail to Amelia exactly how good Ghost was in that green room.

“And you ran from him?” ask Amelia slowly.

“Twice!” says Evie and Amelia shakes her head in disappointment.

“It’s done,” you reply sharply. “It’s in the past. We need to let this go. I need to let this go.”

Amelia leans back in her chair. “This sounds like a second chance to me. Why don’t you go talk to him? At least find a bit of closure.”

Evie places her elbows on the table. “Or get it on in the tattoo parlor.”

“That too,” nods Amelia.

The alcohol sits heavy in your stomach. “I’m going upstairs.”

“Suit yourself, but tomorrow we’re all going to the pub. On Sunday’s I go to the Dancing Faun. The owner always puts on American baseball on the telly for me.”

“You watch American baseball?” you ask skeptically.

“Oh, yes.” She leans forward as if she’s passing on a secret. “It’s the uniforms.”

Evie cackles, and you roll your eyes.

The next day, near lunchtime, you, Evie, and Amelia all head to the Dancing Fauna. It’s on the same street that The Bird and 141 Ink are on. Amelia assured the both of you that it’s usually an older crowd and that people around your age typically don’t venture inside unless everything else is packed.

Which means you won’t see Ghost. You can cure your headache with more alcohol and call it good.

The outside of Dancing Faun is a deep, forest green with gold accents. The door is solid black. Amelia pushes on it and Evie follows behind with you bringing up the rear. It’s fairly dark inside. The only light comes from a few hanging lamps above the bar and along the wall. Several televisions display various sports including rugby and soccer.

“Amelia! Usual spot?”

You glance to the right and notice the bartender. He’s roughly middle-aged, likely leaning toward the higher end of forty.

“You know it, Ben,” replies Amelia.

“Already have it on. And you brought guests.” Ben’s voice is gruff but his smile is kind.

“Just the two. And only one is drinking.” Amelia gestures at Evie. “This one will need some tea and perhaps something to eat?”

Ben nods and wipes his hands with a bar towel, already moving into action.

Your gaze takes in the rest of the bar. There are only three people taking up seats. Two sit close to each other but with one chair between them. The third person is at the end of the bar, closest to the door and what looks like an entryway that leads to a flight of stairs and perhaps a back room.

As you focus on the man sitting at the end of the bar, you squint, confused at first. Then you notice the black German Shepard snoozing at his feet on the floor. Then the man is turning toward you, his balaclava pushed up to his nose, a beer glass lifting toward his mouth.

He stops. You stop.

Ghost is here. Your wraith. Yet again, the two of you are meeting in unexpected places.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Looking away quickly, you stare at the back of Evie’s head, following Amelia as she starts to introduce you to everyone in the pub. You smile when prompted, but you hear nothing of what is being said. You sense Ghost’s gaze on your back, and the very idea of his eyes on you sends a rippling heat of pleasure down your spine.

It’s not right. It’s not fair. Your body is betraying you.

Amelia turns and you follow her, nearly clinging to Evie in your desperation. Amelia pauses and introduces you and Evie to the two men sitting next to each other at the bar. Then you’re right in front of Ghost and Amelia is beaming at him.

“This is Simon,” she says casually. “Runs the tattoo parlor just a few shops down. He’s the only young one we allow around here.” Amelia grins and you want to flee all over again.

Ghost—or rather, Simon’s—gaze is fixated on you. Unmoving.

Amelia pats your shoulder. “I know the two of you know each other, but it’s been a while. How about you two catch up and Evie and I will go enjoy the game.”

“Amelia—”

“Sit,” insists Amelia, quickly ushering Evie away.

You’ve been betrayed.

Slowly, you sink down on the stool next to Simon—Ghost? What should you call him now?

“What will it be?” asks Ben, his gaze expectant.

“I’ll take whatever he’s drinking.” Ben shrugs and grabs a glass, filling it up before sliding it over to you. “Thank you,” you murmur.

Ghost sits up straighter, and shifts in his stool. He keeps one arm on the bar top, but the other rests against his leg, his hand poised on his knee. Your knee is touching his, and the very tips of his fingers brush against your jeans.

You have all his attention, that is very apparent.

“Hello,” you say weakly, unsure of where to begin.

“Hello,” he replies, and the sultry purr in his voice breaks something in you.

There is no going back.

Ghost—Simon? Is all there is.

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toriangeli · 30 days

Text

Final trailer stuff, not in order bc fuck it.

This is looking like Lestat was acting as a vampire, unlike in canon, because look at the eyes.

Definitely having feelings about Nicki. Very strong ones. So strong, I wonder if this is him finding out about his suicide.

Very thirsty Armand.

OKAY BUT YOU CAUGHT THIS, RIGHT? Claudia swore to obey all the coven laws. This is *right after* they say the coven master has the power of life and death. She never took an oath like this in the book. I feel like these are the plans the coven has for her, which Armand alludes to. They got her to swear to be under their power so they can claim they were just following the rules.

Not sure how I feel about this tbh. In the book I liked that it didn't matter whether Louis and Claudia were part of the coven; the coven was going to come for them anyway because that's how vampires are. They don't need a technicality. They do what they want. They don't give a fuck what your laws are. You're lucky they're even bothering with their laws.

"The coven master has the power of life and death." This appears to be after Armand comes back from watching Lestat's show. I think he's leaning against a dead body here.

So about the dialogue here, I'd think this would rule out the idea that Louis never knew Armand was responsible for Claudia's death. If he's been told about this, he knows no one but Armand could have given the word. If it's meant to be something he remembers later, I don't think it would be in the trailer, since it wouldn't exactly be a twist.

AH a close-up of this outfit that was so impossible to see before. "Vampire Amish" popped into my head. A few historical details: I think he's wearing a regular frock coat like a cape, not an unfamiliar garment. Note not everything is the same shade of black. The brownish black (which would probably look proper black if it weren't up against the other black) is the "cheap" kind of black in this day and age; the black-black was way harder to dye and keep. We can see him in a waistcoat and neck stock, so he's fully dressed, and any bit of white is fully covered, so I think this is a rule the Children of Satan must have about what they wear.

Daniel smells a goddamn rat and it is, in fact, one of Santino's pets. Louis looks so crushed here when Armand lightly suggests they take a break and Daniel sees all.

"I'm listening." This is not in response to Louis' statement in the previous shot. It's daytime here, for one thing. It's also the same shot we got opposite Armand in a previous trailer (I don't have a screen grab rn). I think Armand is about to come clean about some shit Daniel is not prepared for, and I think I know what it is.

Definitively not Alessandra, a speculation I heard, since Louis and Claudia are standing behind her. Definitely a revenant.

There's Lestat and Nicki, but WHERE IS GABRIELLE? I mean, Armand hates her in canon, so I can see him being petty and leaving her out. It would just be nice to see my wife.

This tunnel makes me think of the one that leads to Armand's cell in the book, but this Armand sleeps in the same room as the other vamps, so I wonder where they're headed and if this is the same scene where Santiago starts swooping in all menacingly.

"You've remembered." No surprise at all. No fear, either. Not that Louis could do much to Armand.

I think whatever this revelation is, it has to be about Claudia's death, but not about him having the final say about her death, because Louis has to already know. It's definitely about something Armand has done, because he seems resigned. Like he knows this is the end for their relationship. I'm guessing Louis remembered the condition Lestat arrived in and has realized just how involved Armand was in the process. What he did to Lestat. Also the fact that he broke his promise not to mess with Louis' mind again.

EDIT: Although Louis is suggesting he has forgotten a lot more than stuff about the trial. Jesus, Armand, wtf did you do?

#iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #claudia de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #armand #daniel molloy #costume stuff ig #assad being the armand of my dreams

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alittlebitofloveliness · 1 month

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Well since you said it…

Ponyboy Curtis head canons and, if possible, cherry head canons 😁

I'll do Cherry later this weekend, but for now here's some Ponyboy headcanons!

-Has tried to quit smoking multiple times, usually because Darry wants him to, and never succeeded. The second he gets even the tiniest bit stressed he’s got a cigarette lit and back in his mouth. At this point he's pretty much accepted he's locked in for life

-Had to get glasses and HATES them so Darry pulled some overtime and got him contacts

-Worries a lot about Darry, not just because he tries to carry too much roofing at once and regularly hurts his back, but also because he’s terrified of what could happen if Darry was to somehow slip off a roof

-His middle class school friends think he’s REALLY cool (like Pony, they’re all a bunch of nerds) and Pony loves it because the entire gang very much does not

-His school friends are also TERRIFIED of the gang, like they see Two-bit or Steve coming to talk to him and hightail it out of there. They’re even scared of Johnny which Ponyboy thinks is hilarious (he doesn’t realize that Johnny’s dark gaze and bruises are terrifying to someone who doesn’t know how he got them)

-Thinks Curly Shepard is the funniest person alive and is determined that Curly never find that out

-Cannot for the life of him figure out why Johnny and Curly don’t get along

-Tutored Two-bit in English so he could finally graduate

-The gang is split between those who are determined to be a good influence on Pony and those who aren’t. Dally and Two-bit are the bad influences, Johnny tries to be a good influence, and Steve claims to not give a fuck but is the best influence of all in that he’s never let/asked/encouraged Pony to take part in illegal activities

-Pony thinks Curly Shepard is good looking in a dangerous way. Real good looking in fact.

-Is NOT afraid of girls no matter what that Johnny Cade says (I mean it man I ain’t SCARED of them, they just don think like us, and quit you’re laughing, it ain’t like you have any luck with girls either-)

-Is TERRIFIED of Tim Shepard

-Is also terrified of Angela Shepard because even though she has the same eyes as Curly, her's are like a snakes, all cold, emotionless and deadly, whereas Curly’s are always twinkling with ether mischief or anger

-He’s actually really good at stealing things (Two-bit taught him well), he just doesn’t do it often because he feels bad about it. But if a shop employee is rude to him he’s no holds barred and could leave with like half the store under his coat

-Can get away with literally ANYTHING in his English class after he gave Mr. Simes his theme, and uses that fact to his advantage

-Regularly falls asleep in his math class but manages to talk his teacher out of calling Darry every time

-He and Darry have the same taste in literature and regularly share/discuss books. It bores Soda to the point where he jokingly tells them to go back to arguing all the time because it was at least more entertaining to listen to

-Steps on peoples heels when he walks behind them

-HATES country music so fucking much and if Johnny plays that goddamn country record ONE more time-

-Is determined to make sure neither of his older brothers find our just how much time he spends with Curly Shepard

-Cut the blond out of his hair as soon as he possibly could, even though it made his hair shorter than he liked because he hated the light colour more than he hated the short length

-Has the worst poker face known to man but is actually decent at poker (because he cheats, but unlike Sodapop he’s good at cheating so he rarely gets caught)

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #curly shepard #angela shepard #tim shepard #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #johnny cade #dallas winston #headcanon #two bit mathews #steve randle #the outsiders headcanons

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ganondoodle · 3 months

Text

saw an older post from @golvio talking about miasma in totk (engl gloom..) and mentioned miasma RAIN

and it just kidna lead me to think up more stuff for the game that would have been so logical and cool as hell

if you have played kingdom two crowns, its basically about building a kingdom and defeating some weird goo monsters (idk the lore that well unfortunately) that spawn through portals each night, and once you destroy a portal there will be a bloodmoon night in which they attack wayy stronger

so what if instead of the bloodmoon being only that one cutscene to respawn enemies and clear cache, what if the whole night was coated in a red glow with the bloomoon looming over you the entire time and the cool ass cloud moving super fast effect from botw, with monsters spawning en masse, maybe even unique ones that arent seen anywhere else- or maybe rarely underground, this red night being the only time they will be able to spawn on the surface and the sky- NPCs running to hide and barricade themselves (so the outpost in front of hyrule castle actually has .. a function) and it beign an actual danger to you as well miasma rain being a possible special weather condition either happenign only during those bloodmoon nights or perhaps a few nights in advance to subtly warn you about whats to come soon, with the rains effects being that it slowly takes your health like acid rain if you stand in it for too long, and rarely a bloodmoon enemy spawning already, to give you a clear taste and warning of the coming night, they could form from the puddles building up from the rain!!

once the sun rises it will all calm down, maybe with a tiny cutscene using the good ol sunrise music from ww and showing people opening the gates of the towns again to transition the game from that event to a reset version again

it wouldnt just serve to make the gameplay and world more alive it would also help the narrative (not going into the HUGE problems i have with it in the canon game again) it would actually make it FEEL like you are living in a world on the brink of being swallowed by miasma and mosnters- botw was a looming threat in the background, with the security of zelda keeping it at bay but it still was there and in tone with the theme of the game (cough cough unlike some other newer game)- it would only make sense to then make totk be one where you actualy live through the catastrophe and try to find out its roots and help adress the core issue bC GODDAMN WHAT A GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY IT WAS TO CONTINUE THE SUBLTE BUILD UP FROM BOTW INTO A MUCH MORE NUANCED AND INTERESTING STORY TO F-

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #totk #ganondoodles rewrites totk #ganondoodles rants #tloz #i have talked long over the frustrations i got with the game #both with narrative- if you can call it that lmao- AND its gameplay #bc i know its usually praised as fuck but the gameplay isnt all that great either #impressive on a technical level in some parts #but worldbuilding and narratively and just ... gameplay wise it also severly lacked #and im not aFRAID TO SAY IT

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zvdvdlvr · 9 months

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i’ve been rewatching ncis lately and was wondering if you go do some fluff for ziva x reader? maybe a little bit of angst idk sorry i don’t have anything specific 😭😭 but i absolutely love your page and your writing!!!!

⎯ ❝ what i want to hear ❞ | ziva david

✰ - synopsis :: ziva messes up and needs to apologize to her beloved girlfriend.

✰ - warnings :: female reader, reader is gibbs’s daughter, r doesn’t work at ncis, angst to fluff >:p

✰ - k.j.’s diary says... sorry abt photos i cant really find any that mach the aesthetic i was going for.

“Please, y/n, for all of us: take Ziva back,” Tony pleaded, on the phone. “She keeps looking at the phone and is all nervous and keeps looking up whenever the elevator dings. I’m actually begging you right now to answer her calls.”

McGee nodded from his desk. “It’s even got Giibbs a little worried.”

Your sigh crackled through the phone. “No. I see no point. If she truly feels remorse for what she said, she’ll tell me in person.”

Tony whined and leaned back on his chair, frustrated with both of his best friends.

“I have to go because unlike you, I do my job,” y/n quipped. “I’ll talk to you, Tim, and Jethro later. Bye!”

Tim and Tony echoed their goodbyes and hung up. Ziva had her hands on her head and was clearly thinking back to the conversation from about 24 hours ago.

“You okay over there Ziva?” McNosy asked from his desk.

“I do not know why she is upset! I answered her question and now she is upset at me!” Ziva burst out, her eyes getting that ’I love her but how the hell do I fix this’ look.

“Sometimes you just gotta tell ‘em what makes ‘em happy,” Tony shrugged.

Nodding, Tim agreed. “For the first time in his life Tony’s right. Tonight go pick up some flowers and sit down with y/n and apologize for what you said.”

“I just told her the truth!” Ziva defended.

Gibbs scoffed as he rounded the corner. “If I know my kid, David, you better tell her what she wants to hear before she pulls the cold shoulder.”

Sighing, Ziva went back to typing reports on her computer while thinking about what she would say to you tonight. She knew the guys were right, she had to tell you want you wanted to hear.

𓇽 - time skip

“Hello my love,” Ziva greeted from the table of your apartment.

You shrugged your coat of without looking her way.

“y/n, please hear me when I say that I’m sorry for what I said.”

Once again, you don’t acknowledge her as you turn to the fridge to grab the pasta that Rossi had given you on your most recent visit. You scoop some spaghetti into a bowl and place it into the microwave.

“I realize now that what I said hurt you and I’m willing to make up for what I said,” Ziva spoke. She wrapped her arms around your stomach and leaned into your back.

“So then say it, Ziva,” you say quietly.

“I… I would love you as a worm. I would make a little container with soil and leaves and flowers you like and carry you around with me everywhere. I’d love you if you were a moth, black widow, pirhannah, australian hissing cockroach, or a rabid wolf. I promise.” Ziva’s words were like the most beautiful song you’d ever head, playing your heartstrings like a cowboy playing a harmonica.

“You, Ziva David, are a goddamn sap,” you coo, turning in her arms to embrace her. “I love you too. I’d make a greenhouse just for you if you were a worm.”

Ziva laughed and pressed kisses up and down y/n’s neck. “I do not doubt that, my love.”

As Ziva clung to y/n, a dopey smile pulled at her lips. She really did love this woman… even if she became a worm.

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southsidestory · 4 months

Text

Chapter 1: Grounds for Harassment

Mickey knows he’s a piece of shit. It’s easy to forget sometimes, like how piss in the carpet stops stinking after it’s settled, but every now and then he’ll think something so awful that he remembers, Oh, yeah. Piece of shit.

That happens when Mandy says Ian Gallagher messed with her (and not in the good way). Because Mickey’s first thought is that Mandy is lying, and his second is thank fuck.

Getting to hunt down Ian is the best thing that’s happened to Mickey in months.

“What he do to you, exactly?”

“I’m not giving you the gross details!” Mandy shouts.

She leans against the front door, blocking the handle, as if he’s stupid enough to go inside the house.

He’s been locked out for a week. A whole fucking week of stealing food from corner stores, taking a leak behind buildings, and sleeping in icy alleys. He can’t even remember what he did to set Ronnie off this time, but his uncle must still be angry if Mandy won’t let him in on the sly.

Mickey sniffs back snot, then spits on the porch. He hopes he’s not getting a goddamn cold. “Will you at least let me in after I beat the shit out of Ian?”

Mandy tugs on a lock of her hair. “If Uncle Ronnie will let me.”

“That’s some award-winning gratitude right there.”

“You got to know that I want to let you in,” Mandy whines. “But if I do he’ll kick me out with you and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not a moron.” Mickey adjusts his coat and scratches his cheek, moving dirt from his skin to under his fingernails. “Guess I’ll just keep smelling like a pig sty.”

He’ll probably knock Ian back with his stench, won’t even have to hit him.

“If it makes you feel any better, the water’s turned off, so you couldn’t shower anyway,” Mandy says. “Nobody paid the bill again.”

“You look squeaky fucking clean for a girl who’s got no running water at home.”

Mandy picks at her cuticles. A tell that means shame. “I showered at a friend’s house last night.”

“Ah. That code for ‘fucked a dude in exchange for basic hygiene’?”

Mandy grabs a crumpled beer can off the porch and lobs it at him. Mickey catches it and passes it between his hands. Left, right. Left, right.

“Maybe I should hit up Angie Zhago. Trade a ride on my dick for a bath.”

And a bed. Speckled bruises cover his right side from the cracked pavement and gravel he slept on last night.

“Are you going to beat up Ian or stand here all day with your thumb up your butt?” Mandy asks.

Mickey turns away, shoots his sister the bird over his shoulder, and hurries down the steps.

He could go to the shelter for a shower and a hot meal, but he’d rather stay freezing, filthy, and hungry than deal with a bunch of homeless assholes. Half of them are plain batshit, most would steal his stuff if he doesn’t take it into the shower with him, and plenty are actual rapists (unlike Ian) who’ll think he’s an easy target because he’s young and short.

No shower, no food. Time to find his brothers, or maybe some cousins, and get down to business.

Read more of If You Have a Problem on AO3

***

AN: I swore to post the first chapter of If You Have a Problem before the end of the day, and I did it! (barely lol)

Tagging some kind folks who expressed interest on my teaser posts

@poisonedquiver @marstheterrible @5ammi90 @freitasgst @darlingian @ianandmickeygallavich1 @definenormalifyoucan @jadejabbers @ifconfusionwasaperson @machinegunbieber-blog @callivich @tsuga-of-mars

Many thanks to everyone who supported my teasers, as well as my wonderful betas @bawlbrayker and @hamspamandjamsandwich <3

#gallavich #gallavich fic #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich #gallavich fanfic #If You Have a Problem #IYHAP #my fanfiction

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hb-writes · 1 month

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Frostnip

Summary: When Charlie wears her very stylish, but not very well-insulated, boots to play in the snow with Marcus and family, she has to end her play early because of frozen toes.

Prompt: "Get off! Your feet are cold!"

Characters: Harvey Specter & Charlie Specter (OC)

Content Warning: Nothing, really. Medical-ish stuff, I guess.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

Charlie flexed her foot as she toed off her boot, a quiet hiss coming from her lips as she set the foot on the floor, bracing herself against the wall to work the other boot off. It was nearly silent in the house, the quiet punctuated only by the shouts and laughter accompanying the snowball fight happening just out back between Marcus and the kids.

Dumping her coat and gloves and hat beside the door, Charlie shuffled across the kitchen, her feet feeling heavy and stiff as she went.

"You're still working?"

She stopped to lean against the wall, her face turned back towards the door and the yard beyond it as she heard their niece let out an infernal screeching that had Charlie wincing.

Harvey didn't so much as flinch. How he was working over all the noise, Charlie didn't know, but he was still planted at the same spot at the dining room table where he'd been when the rest of them headed out into the snow nearly two hours ago. And he still didn't pull his eyes from the laptop to look at her now.

Charlie eased down onto the end of the bench and pulled her feet up, peeling off her wet socks, once again hissing as her hands ghosted over the chilled skin.

"Are you almost finished?"

Charlie hugged her knees to her chest as Harvey's eyes kept skimming over the screen as if he hadn't heard her.

"Hello? Harvey?" Charlie reached out down the bench, waving a hand at him. "Can you hear me? Harvey Reginald—"

Harvey's eyebrows raised as he continued reading whatever was on his screen, considering that answer enough since Charlie stopped herself from saying his full name.

As far as Harvey was concerned, he didn’t need to explain that what he was doing was important. Charlie knew he wouldn't be camped out at their brother's table during their visit if it wasn't, but she’d already interrupted him with three questions in a row and Harvey was starting to wonder if she was ever planning on stopping.

"What happened to you playing in the snow and leaving me alone for a few hours?"

Harvey finally pulled his eyes from the screen to look at his sister. Charlie's cheeks were still flushed and her hair was a tangled, snow-dampened mess. And Harvey was partially grateful he'd been caught up with work, trapped inside rather than rolling around in the snow with his siblings, niece, and nephew.

"I was cold. And unlike some of us..." Charlie rolled her eyes as she released her legs, stretching them out down the bench. "My auntly duty quota has already been fulfilled so—"

"Goddamn it, Charlie! Get off," Harvey shouted as Charlie tried to fit her frozen toes between his leg and the bench's cushion. "Your feet are cold!"

Cold was an understatement. Charlie's feet were freezing, the touch of her skin cool enough that Harvey could feel their deep-seated chill straight through the fabric of his jeans.

"All of me is cold," she answered as she pulled her knees back to her chest, hugging them there. "And they're kind of tingly." Harvey watched as his sister poked at the skin of her feet, watching them intently before wrapping her hands back around her toes and raising her gaze to meet Harvey's. "I guess leather boots aren't the best option when it comes to insulation."

Harvey huffed, tension creeping into his shoulders. "Tingly, Charlotte?"

"Yeah." Charlie shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"And were you limping over here just now?"

Charlie opened and closed her mouth in quick succession, not quite sure how he'd managed to notice that when he'd very clearly been focused on his computer and ignoring her.

"Let me see," Harvey said, and he held out a hand, enduring Charlie's delaying for only a moment before he grasped both of her legs around the calves.

"Harvey, stop!" Charlie shouted, grabbing the table edge for support as Harvey hauled her down the bench, placing her feet in his lap so he could take a better look.

"Christ, Charlotte, I told you to stop wearing those goddamn shoes," he said, his own fingers gently testing the cool skin.

She had complained about cold feet just about every time they'd gone out in the city during the last few weeks. They didn't keep her feet warm on the snowless, and slightly-warmer, streets of New York. He didn't know why she'd think they'd be enough to keep her warm while traipsing through a foot of snow for over an hour. Why she hadn't just worn Katie's old snow boots, especially after Marcus went through the trouble of digging them out for her.

Harvey's lips pressed into a straight line as his fingers continued assessing the bone-white skin of Charlie's toes, transitioning mottled pink just beyond. There were no blisters and no swelling. No hardened skin. Thankfully, she had come inside when she did. Harvey glanced at her. "Does it hurt?"

Charlie swallowed, shaking her head, quickly, almost as if the answer was a reflex. A lie, Harvey figured, and he waited for her to elaborate, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them.

"I don't think so. I…I can't really tell."

Charlie couldn't feel any pain. She could tell her feet were cold because the skin had felt cool against her fingers, but aside from that, there was only the tingling sensation. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but Harvey eased her feet off his lap and stood at the admission, lifting her from the bench without warning.

"Harvey, I can—"

"Walk?" Harvey asked as crossed the kitchen and eased her onto the counter. "I don't think so, Frodo, you barely made it across the Shire."

Harvey turned on the faucet, one hand held under the water for a few moments to gauge the temperature as the basin started filling.

"Is this really necessary?" Charlie asked.

"Would you rather we amputate?"

"I don't think you're really qualified," she answered, muttering to herself about Harvey not being capable of healing, like Aragorn.

Harvey glared at her, and Charlie held his stare. He was the one who had started the Lord of the Ring references.

"And it's not really—"

"Is there tingling anywhere else?" Harvey asked, interrupting Charlie before she could insist that his efforts were unnecessary. "Your fingers? Are you cold?"

Charlie shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, part of her determined to be fine, even as the hairs on her arms rose beneath her shirt.

"Yeah?" Harvey tilted his head. He hadn't missed her shivering or the way her hands kept rubbing at her arms...the way her cheeks were still bright red with cold. "You're telling me the truth?"

Harvey slipped out of his sweater before Charlie could answer him, wrapping it around her shoulders. Charlie was poised to fight him, to point out once again that he was being over the top—first, by carrying her around and now, by playing mother hen—but the weight and warmth of the knitted cardigan felt nice so she didn't complain. Charlie twisted in her spot at the sink's edge, fitting her arms through the sleeves as Harvey eased back against the kitchen island across from her. Once she settled, he grasped her cold feet once again, giving them a second once over.

He glanced up at her. "Can you move your toes?"

"Yes, Harvey," Charlie groaned, wiggling them for emphasis, though the movement was somewhat less enthusiastic than she intended, her toes stiff and heavy.

Charlie swallowed, avoiding her brother's gaze. So what? Her feet were cold and they were tingly. And maybe she'd been stupid to wear the boots, as Harvey had suggested, but...

"I'm—"

Harvey cut her off. “If you tell me you’re fine, I’m gonna—”

"You're gonna what? Yell at me?" Charlie scoffed, waving a hand. “Be silent. Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth."

"What did you just say to me?"

"I said...Be silent. Keep your—"

Harvey gave her a look before releasing her feet. "You're really still quoting Lord of the Rings to me right now?" He stepped forward to turn off the faucet, dipping a hand into the water to test the temperature once again, ensuring it was warm but not too hot. "You probably have frostbite. You think this is some sort of joke?"

"I don't have frostbi—"

"Enough." Harvey cut her off, his voice rising just enough that Charlie remembered herself. "Get your goddamn feet in the water."

"Fine, fine." Charlie held up both hands in surrender before leaning down to start rolling up her pant legs. She twisted on the counter, lifting her feet above the sink and hissing as she eased her toes below the waterline.

"All the way," Harvey prompted when she held her feet just an inch into the water, the sensation already uncomfortable.

"I'm doing it!" Charlie scrunched up her face, squeezing her eyes shut in anticipation as she complied.

"Wiggle those toes."

"I am!" Charlie grit out and Harvey glanced into the water to confirm.

"How long do I have to—?"

"Until the color comes back to normal and the tingling goes away. Or thirty minutes—whichever's longer."

"Hmph," Charlie answered, wrapping herself tighter in Harvey's sweater. "It's starting to burn," she told him, the tingling in her feet giving way to a searing pain.

Charlie started to lift her feet, but Harvey set a hand on her leg, stopping her.

"It's supposed to," he answered.

"How do you know?"

"Boy Scouts," he answered, holding up three fingers in salute. "Stay put. I'll be right back."

Charlie rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone as Harvey left the room, doing her own internet search for frostbite and scrolling through the results, only to find that Harvey was basically right.

Do not allow them to walk if it affects their feet.

Submerge the body part in warm water 15 to 30 minutes.

Pain is common during reheating.

"According to this, I maybe, might have a very mild form of frostnip, not frostbite," she said as he came back into the room with a towel and some other supplies. She held up the phone for Harvey to read, and he took it, scrolling through the article.

"Frostnip: a mild form of frostbite," he said, reciting a direct quote from the article as he handed the phone back to her. "Anything else you want to say, doctor?"

"Well, here..." Charlie scrolled further "...right here, it says you're supposed to give your child warm drinks." It also said to cover them with a blanket, but Harvey had as good as done that already by giving up his sweater.

"And a second breakfast," Charlie added, nodding toward the blueberry muffins leftover from breakfast that still sat on the counter behind him.

"Is that so?" Harvey snorted. "Boston Children's Hospital recommends second breakfast as a cure for frostbite?"

Charlie shrugged. "It says to make sure they're comfortable, and I think another muffin would make me comfortable. Warmed up with some butter...and maybe some hot chocolate..." Charlie pointed to one of the end cabinets where she knew Marcus kept the almost sickeningly sweet chocolatey powder. "Please? Pretty, pretty, pretty pretty—"

Harvey shook his head, cutting her unrelenting pleas off with the gesture, before going through the motions of making her hot chocolate. Harvey presented her with the drink a few moments later without a word.

"My precious!" Charlie hissed. The steaming mug felt deliciously warm against her still chilled fingertips. Harvey turned from her to retrieve the muffin.

"You know, that's funny," Harvey said as he set the muffin down beside her on the counter, "because you kind of look like Gollum."

Charlie set the mug down, deciding to let it cool for a moment to avoid burning her tongue. "Jokes on you then, Harv—" Charlie picked a piece of the muffin top loose and popped it into her mouth. "—because people keep saying I look just. Like. You."

Charlie smiled sweetly at her brother as she picked up another piece of muffin, her attention spared to him long enough to realise that he had no intention of responding.

"After this can we—"

"After this, I have work to do and you're not leaving the couch. You—"

"Alright, alright," Charlie interrupted, sensing by Harvey's tone that he was preparing to go off on a lecture-y tangent. "We will sit on the couch."

Harvey raised an eyebrow at her 'we' even as she continued on.

"We can watch Lord of the Rings while you work," she offered, "Haley and Lucas have never seen it so we can fulfill your uncle duty while I rest my feet and you work and..." Charlie shrugged. "It's practically the perfect solution."

It was only half an hour later when Harvey had to admit he agreed with her because while Charlie, Marcus, and the kids lay passed out on the couch, all of them exhausted by the cold, Harvey finally had a chance to wrap up his work all to the film score of Lord of the Rings.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

#harvey specter #harvey specter fanfic #suits usa #suits tv #specter!sister #charlie specter #lines to live by #lovefest2024

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a-random-weeb · 7 months

Text

BSD relationship headcannons

Headcannons off the top of my head as to what I think they'd be like to date.

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

Dazai:

•he would constantly ask you to do a double suicide with him.

•He'd also sleep with other woman at first

•eventually though he'll find you're his reason for living (big red flag btw but it's fanfiction so...) he also stops cheating

•hes the kind of guy to pretend you're gonna cuddle together and then shove you under the blanket with his fart. (Same with Nikolai)

•he does cuddle after that though (little bitc-)

•He totally gives you his jacket while you're out on a date and you're cold like a cliché romantic moment

•He teases you A LOT

•I mean a lot a lot

•though, I do believe he can be romantic at times, but at the end of it he'd tease you for how red your face is (but he does find it really cute)

•He'd be the big spoon while cuddling

•idk, he's just always the big spoon, unless he's crying over a mission or something

•He forces you to cuddle him

•He will hold you down like "Oh belladonna, you're dot pretty, come cuddle?" He words it like it's a question, but it's not.

•If you try to deny him, he grabs you and keeps you there.

•He totally brings you to fancy restaurants and puts it on kunikida's tab.

•you can't convince me otherwise

•Hes such a jerk to kunikida about it too (little bitc-)

(Dazai was really fun and pretty easy to write for, I hope you like the headcannons for him because I'm certainly proud of them.)

─────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

chuuya:

•Like dazai, he gives you his coat when you're cold.

•he's not as romantic though, you say you're cold and he just shoves it on you and won't let you take it off

•its cannon on the anime that he's a good cook, it's also cannon irl that I can not cook.

•He would cook for you, and he'd be proud of it.

•he's arrogant, as we know, so he would take a LOT of pride in being able to provide for you (he's also hella rich-)

•If you are a chef or something though, he'd let you cook, but if you didn't feel like cooking he would.

•He would also be the big spoon while cuddling the majority of the time, he might want to be the little one after using corruption.

•(He's so small I love him-)

•Like dazai, he forces cuddles, but he's always blushing like a goddamn tsundere after pulling you to his chest.

•I feel like his favorite cuddling position is you on his lap with your face on his chest while you cling you him tightly, it makes him feel bigger (so so tiny and cuteee)

•He definitely takes you out on big fancy expensive dates.

•He'd (try to) be romantic while on those dates.

•You find it hot anyway

•He tried not to yell at you

•but some people think he's abusive when he does yell at you (He's kind of a red flag but still-)

•Hes really loyal.

•He's like your own dog, he (Reluctantly) does everything you ask basically

•He's so hot I love him- ♡

˚♡˚───˚♡˚───˚♡˚───˚♡˚───˚♡˚───˚♡˚───

Kunikida:

•he's the most normal, so he's like a typical boyfriend

•He tries to take you on nice dates, but dazai keeps spending his money (little bitc-)

•You guys have a lot of movie nights

•I feel like he's into more organized girls who can cook

•His ideal woman would have darker hair and be a little more calm

•He doesn't expect you to fit his exact ideals, that's asking to much (He's the only green flag out if the guys so far)

•He really likes sunset walks with you

•i feel like he'd want a dog, so it'd be the three of you walking around, it would be cute

•He also likes cuddling, he doesn't care if he's the big spoon or little spoon, but if you don't care either, he'd probably be the big spoon, but he really doesn't care that much

•he just wants to cuddle

•He doesn't force you to cuddle unlike the other two

•He's actually respectful, wow

•I think he'd also like it if you had your own journal where you write everything. He'd just find it hot, you sitting on the couch, writing

×•~°_×•~°_×•~°_×•~°_×•~°_×•~°_×•~°_×•~°_×•~°_×•~°

Akutagawa:

•This is probably his first relationship

•He has no idea how to act

•at first when you cuddle it's really awkward, bro has no idea how 😭

•I think he'd like to be the big spoon more, but I also feel like he really likes lying his head on your chest

•He doesn't know how to be romantic, but he saw the whole 'give them your coat' thing and litterarly threw his coat at you.

•At first you thought he was mad, but then he explains what he read

•after a while (like a year😭) things get less awkward

•he finally figures out the whole relationship thing (for the most part)

(idk what else to write for him)

°~^•°~^•°~^•°~^•°~^•°~^•°~^•°~^•°~^•°~^•°~^•°~^•°

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nethhiri · 3 months

Text

Marooned: Chapter 4

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: none

The Deal

A few days passed. That first night, you were pissed and hungry. You hadn't been lying about having that jarred food for dinner. It was hard to scrounge up food. It took a lot of time to gather enough for a decent meal, even longer to hunt something, and you had spent that valuable time patching up a stranger. Not to mention you had already stolen from Mini that week, so you would feel bad about trying that again. The next day you had set a few traps that would hopefully prove fruitful today.

Surprisingly, you hadn't come across your two friends in that time. Maybe they already got picked up. You thought that was unlikely. The thought was disheartening, though thinking about the way Captain Kid had gotten on your nerves so easily, maybe it was better that you waited another few years for the next chance to catch a ride.

Across the island, Kid had been puking his guts out for the past few days after unknowingly eating several different poison fruits. He had taken Killer and found a small cave to shelter in. Killer had woken up enough to drink some water every now and again. Neither of them were fairing well. Kid would be damned if he was going to ask that feral woman for help, however. He was actually pretty pissed that the Victoria Punk had yet to show up.

"What the fuck are those idiots doing? IT'S BEEN THREE GODDAMNED DAYS." He laid back next to Killer. "I swear I'm going to kill Wire. Damned navigator."

Kid hadn't realized he drifted off to sleep, until he was woken by his growling stomach. His mouth watered at the smell of something cooking. No, he wasn't giving in. She was probably doing this on purpose. That witch. That woman wouldn't win. His iron will lasted about 20 minutes before he was growling and muttering curses under his breath. Kid threw his coat over his shoulders and grabbed Killer, stomping off in the direction of the smoke wafting up towards the gradually darkening sky.

The brush around your small clearing started to rustle. "Mini? Have you forgiven me?" The hopeful look you threw in the direction of the snapping branches fell from your face when you saw a different kind of beast come into view. Glaring at Kid, your eyes slid to Killer, where they softened. It was a little concerning that he wasn't a bit more conscious yet. "What do you want?" You already knew the answer but you wanted him to say it. Kid was practically drooling as you bit into the drumstick of some kind of bird. "Mmmm," you wanted to torture him a little bit more.

Kid lowered Killer to sit up against a tree before placing himself between you and the fire. The purple-blue dark circles under his eyes contrasted sharply with the amber shine within them. Even as he squatted down in front of you, you still had to look up at him. Hands with chipped scarlet nail polish rested on his knees. "You know... I can just take what I want." Heat radiated from him.

You took another bite and he frowned at your lack of reaction. "If you think you can intimidate me, you're wrong. I didn't make it this far being weak." You turned your head pointedly to the left, letting the orange glow of the fire illuminate the scarred skin on your face. Turning back to him, you saw his slightly sunken eyes and the way his pale skin clung to the underlying musculature. "Water," you offered, holding your waterskin out to him. "Make sure he gets some." You nodded to Killer.

Kid snatched it from you and greedily chugged the majority, more due to sheer thirst than his normal asshole behavior, before trying to get Killer to drink some. Thanks to the convenient rip in his jeans where the initial injury was, you could tell from where you were sitting that the wound on his leg was healing nicely. Probably just getting more dehydrated. If you had any real medical equipment, this would be an easy fix.

"So is someone coming for you?" Or will I have to babysit for a while longer.

Kid threw back your empty skin. "They should have been here already. We weren't that far from here and they have my vivre card for fuck sake," he growled.

You licked the grease from your fingers in what you were sure was a less-than-ladylike manner. Leaning toward the fire, you grabbed the spit that was holding the remainder of the cooked bird. You ripped off the other drumstick and chucked it behind you into the woods. Kid looked like he might run after it for a second and was about to yell, but you cut him off. "It's for Mini. Only fair since I... borrowed some food from her." What was left on the spit you held towards Kid, pulling it back when he reached for it. Before he could light you up with curses, you cut him off, "I know you're too prideful to ask and I'm not giving anything away for free. So how about a deal?"

#one piece #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #x reader #kid x reader x killer #killer x reader #eustass kid x reader

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lilithlinen · 17 days

Text

Turning Tables II - Kevin Lomax, John Constantine X You.

Reluctantly, you allow him to dig deeper into your phone's history. Your relationship has been rocky lately, but he never imagined this level of betrayal. As he scrolls through the messages, his chest tightens with each passing second. There are countless texts, some flirtatious, others suggesting meetings. And then, he finds the pictures. Intimate photos of you and John together, touching, kissing.

Is this even good? 😭😭

You swallow hard as you see the look on Kevin’s face, knowing that he has probably seen everything.

He scoffs, throwing your phone aside. "You've been lying to me the whole time! How could you do this to us?!"

Your eyes widen, a look of fear creeping into your expression. "Kevin. Please, ju-"

"SHUT UP....just stop talking," he says, pushing himself off the bed.

"No, wait!!" You beg, grabbing his arm. "Don't go."

He tears his arm away, already knowing what he must do. He needs to seek revenge for this betrayal. He storms out of the bedroom, his heart racing as he grabs his coat and keys. As he steps outside, he knows exactly who he is going to visit. John Constantine.

"Kevin, please!!!" You throw on your long coat to cover your naked body and follow him as fast as you can. "WAIT YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITE! You're so fucking selfish!!" You yell, stopping him. "You're sleeping around with 'Elite escorts' or whatever the fuck you call them and expect me to suck it up every single time! Now you're mad at me for cheating on you?! Did I hurt your goddamn ego?!"

He stops in his tracks, his eyes widening at your accusation. "What?" He chokes out, turning to face you. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing? You're the one who cheated. You're the one who lied to me!"

"Bullshit!" you retort, your eyes filled with defiance. "You've been fucking around with those escorts, and I've had enough! I've covered for you, and you're mad at me? You hypocrite!"

"You knew about them?" he asks, feeling a mix of shock and anger. "And you kept it from me?"

"Yeah, because I didn't want to ruin your goddamn reputation!" you shout, tears stream down your face. "I've been covering for you all this time, while you've been sleeping with your secretary and calling her your 'angel'!"

"What?!" he exclaims, his jaw dropping. "That's a lie!"

"No, it's not!" You scream, pointing at him. "I saw everything, Kevin! You're a liar! You and I both knew what this was. At least John is unlike them...unlike you."

He stares at you, stunned by your accusation. "You've been checking my phone?" he asks, his voice shaking with anger. "You invaded my privacy?"

"Yes!" you shout back, your eyes blazing with fury. "And I’ve had enough of how you treated me, how you ignored me while you were too busy climbing that social ladder! I was lonely, Kevin. I couldn't take it anymore. So, I called John, and he was there for me!"

"You cheated on me!" He shouted, his fists clenching. "You betrayed me!"

"And you cheated on me, too!" You retort, tears falling freely now. "So, stop playing the victim! We're both in the wrong here!"

"You're right," He growls, acknowledging the truth in your words. "But that doesn't make it okay. We're both at fault, but it doesn't excuse what you've done."

"And what about you?!" you argue, wiping away your tears. "You've been cheating on me with your escorts and pretending to be this perfect husband. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"I'm sorry, is that what you want to hear?" He mutters, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I was giving you everything you wanted. Your social status, security, love..."

"You only cared about yourself!" You snap, your voice shakes. "You never really loved me, Kevin! You loved the idea of having a successful wife, a beautiful woman who would help further your ambitions!" You take a moment, trying to gather yourself. "I'm leaving."

"Over my dead body," He snarls, lunging towards you. "You're not running off to him. He's not your answer!"

"Stay away from me, Kevin!" you shout, backing away. "You're the reason I'm like this. You drove me to him, and now I'm leaving!"

He grabs your arm, his grip tightening as he pulls you closer. "You're not leaving," He hisses, his eyes burning into yours. "You're mine, and I won't lose you to that bastard."

"Let go of me!" you scream, struggling against his hold. "You have no right to keep me here!"

"Oh, I think I do," His eyes glinting with danger. "If you leave, you'll regret it. Trust me."

"I'll call the police if you don't let go!" you threaten, desperation clear in your voice.

"Go ahead," He sneers, his grip unwavering. "Tell them about the affair, the lies, and the secrets. Tell them how you tried to leave me. Your goddamn husband."

You go silent, the reality of the situation setting in. "You're such a monster, Kevin," you murmur, your eyes filled with fear.

"Apologize." He demands. "For what?!" You ask confused.

"For what?" He scoffs, releasing you. "Maybe for your pathetic little life? Or the fact that you can't handle being married to someone like me?" He pauses and smirks mischievously. "Apologize to me in bed," He orders, his voice cold. "Now."

"WHAT??!! FUCK NO!"

"You heard me," he says, his eyes darkening. "Get in the bedroom, now."

"No. I won't do this. I won't be your fucking puppet!" you shout, your defiance shining through.

"You will do as I say," He growls, stepping closer. "Or else, I'll make sure you regret it."

"No," you whisper, shaking your head. "I won't be controlled like this."

"Then I'll make sure you're controlled," he says, grabbing you by the wrist. "Come with me."

You struggle, but he is too strong for you. He drags you to the bedroom, his anger rising with each passing moment. Once you both inside, he pushes you onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Say you're sorry." He commands, his voice low and menacing.

"I won't," you mutter, your voice shaking. "I won't apologize for wanting to leave you."

"Then I'll make you," He promises, his anger turning to lust. He crawls onto the bed, his hands gripping your wrists. "You'll beg for forgiveness, and I'll make sure you never forget your place."

Suddenly your phone rings, it's John.

Kevin sees John’s name. "Pick up," he says, his voice heavy with desire.

"No, I can’t," you say, struggling against Kevin's grip. "Please."

"I said pick up the damn call." He demands, reluctantly letting go of you.

You pick up the phone, your voice trembling. "Hello?"

"Y/N, are you okay?" John asks, his voice filled with concern.

"I'm fine," you lie, looking at Kevin. "I just need some space."

"I'm coming over," John says firmly. "I'll be there soon."

"John, no," you plead, but it's too late. He's already hanging up.

Kevin's eyes narrow, his anger rising. "This isn't over," he warns, standing up. "This is just the beginning."

You stare at Kevin, fear etched on your face. "I'm leaving you, Kevin. I can't stay with someone like this."

"You won't leave," he says, walking towards the door. "Not until I say so."

"I'll call the police," you threaten, tears streaming down your face.

He laughs, opening the door. "Do it."

You stare at Kevin, the weight of your argument hanging in the air. He walks past you, grabbing his jacket from the closet. "I'll be back," he says, his voice low. "And when I do, you better be ready to apologize."

"I won't," you murmur, your voice small and weak.

He turns to look at you, his eyes hard. "We'll see about that."

As he walks out the door, he hears the sound of you dialing the police. But he doesn't care. He needs to think, to figure out how to handle this. As he steps into the elevator, he knows one thing: he won't let you leave. Not without making you suffer.

Once he is outside, he calls his friend at the firm. "You need to find out everything you can about John Constantine. Find out his dirt, his secrets. I need to know how to control this."

"You sure about this?" he asks, concern in his voice.

"Yes," he says, his voice cold. "Find out everything. And make sure it hurts him."

Kevin hangs up the phone, his mind racing. He needs to control this situation, to make sure you know who's in charge. He won't lose you to anyone, especially not John Constantine.

#keanu reeves #keanuverse #john constantine #john constantine x you #john constantine imagine #john constantine x reader #john constantine 2005 #kevin lomax x you #kevin lomax imagines #kevin lomax x reader #kevin lomax

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gayforrosadiaz · 11 months

Text

Long Day (Rosa Diaz)

Summary: After a long day, both you and Rosa come home to relax and unwind.

Rosa Diaz x Fem!Peralta!Reader

Warnings: None, just a very little makeout scene.

----

"When do you clock out?" Asked Rosa, walking over to your desk. You were working on the case file of a drug bust, and couldn't wait to go home. It had been a really long day, to be honest.

"Right after I submit this case file to Holt," you replied, leaning back against your chair and heaving a deep sigh. "It's just not getting over."

"Power through, babe," she said, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You've got this."

"When do you clock out, hm? I better not hear I'll be eating dinner alone tonight," you chuckled, looking up at her.

"I'm almost done," replied Rosa with a small, soft laugh. "Mine's a B&E, so it'll be easier with the file."

"God, there is so much crime in Brooklyn," you scoffed, hunching back over your computer. "When it comes to paperwork, I regret becoming a detective."

"If it makes you feel any better, we can order pizza from your favourite place after work," replied the woman.

You laughed and nodded, "You got me there, Diaz. Go on and finish your work, I'll wait outside when I'm done before you."

"Is that a challenge?" Asked Rosa, standing in front of you with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

You shrugged, "Maybe."

"Oh, it is on, Peralta," she gasped in mock-offence and walked back to her desk.

Sure enough, Rosa finished before you and was waiting outside, leaning on her motorcycle. You shouldered your bag securely and sat on the bike, rolling your eyes at her victorious smirk.

"Not. A. Word," you said in her ear as she climbed on. You wrapped your arms around her waist, leaning your chin on her shoulder. "And if you drive like a crazy woman I will shoot you in the face. No hesitation. I have the jurisdiction and a gun."

"Oh, I'm terrified," she said monotonously, but you noted her small smile in the rearview mirror.

"You should be," you replied, tightening your hold when she revved the motorcycle and shot off towards your house.

You both reached in a matter of five minutes, and your legs still felt wobbly as you reached the apartment elevator.

"Rosa Diaz..." you panted, holding on to the railing for dear life. "I am going to shoot you in the face, I swear to god."

"Come on, I was going slow!" She laughed, nudging your shoulder with hers as you pressed the floor you stayed on.

"In my book, 35 miles an hour is far from slow," you grumbled.

Rosa pressed a soft kiss to your head and said, "Sorry about that, babe. I'll go slower next time."

"God, my brother would give up his internal organs to see this interaction," you laughed, walking out of the elevator as the doors dinged and opened. You unlocked the door of your small apartment and let her in, following as you hung up your coat and put your bag in the storage closet. Unlike your pack rat brother, you did enjoy a certain amount of neatness in your home, however small it was.

"Your brother's a dumbass," said Rosa, following your actions.

You groaned and planted yourself on the couch, scrolling through the phone for your favourite pizza place to order.

Rosa sat next to you, placing her arm across the backrest of the couch, which invited you to lay your head in her lap and order the food while she watched something on T.V.

"Today was a long-ass day," you admitted, ordering your usual pepperoni, and a simple margherita for Rosa. "I cannot believe a drug bust for like, three teenagers with some weed was so much goddamn work."

"I hate kids," said your girlfriend, moving her arm from the backrest onto your stomach. "They're miserable little things."

"Teens are worse," you scoffed. "The dude who looked like a scrawnier version of Harry Potter had the audacity to call me fugly. Like, hello, your face looks like you painted the skin on, what the hell?"

Rosa snorted, "God, what an ass."

"Exactly. I have no problem with babies," you replied. "But only if they belong to someone else. I just want to cuddle the thing. Do not make me clean up its shit and all that." You placed your phone away and looked up at her, scowling.

"Damn, ease up on the frown," your girlfriend said, her eyes going wide as she looked down.

"Give me attention, please." You pleaded, sitting up and lying down with your head against the headrest. "I am absolutely touch-starved."

"It is impossible to make that statement sound not-dirty," chuckled Rosa, switching off the T.V. and looking at you.

You rolled your eyes, "Take it however the hell you want, but I am touch-starved because you refuse to makeout with me at work."

"Have you forgotten that when Jake and Amy made out at work they literally killed a man?" Your girlfriend replied, looking at you.

"That's because he had a weak heart," you scoffed. "If Holt caught us, I think he'd just apologise and walk off."

The woman laughed softly, making you smile and, shockingly, blush a little. She slowly moved forward so that her hands were on either side of your body, and her face was inches from yours.

"Fine then," she whispered, smirking. "We can makeout at work, but only because you're fucking good at it."

You blushed and chuckled, "Yes, I win again. Rosa Diaz can never say no to me."

She shrugged and still stayed above you, making eye contact to fluster you more.

"Fuck off, just kiss me," you scoffed, catching her by the shirt and pressing a kiss to her lips. She immediately lay atop you, humming pleasurably as you deepened the kiss. Truth be told, at times, she didn't even know who was in control.

Your hands slowly cupped her face, and your thumbs gently stroked her cheek as the pair of you exchanged deep, but gentle kisses. Her lips were soft on yours, and you were most definitely addicted to the feeling of them.

She pulled away and smiled, before resting her head on your chest, her hands wrapping around your waist. You laughed, kissing her head and playing with her hair, saying, "You know we have to take a shower and change out of our work clothes, right?"

"Obviously," said Rosa. "Way to ruin the moment, jackass."

"I am insulted that you called me a jackass," you gasped, but still continued cuddling her. "Meanie."

"Oh yeah, I'm the meanie," she replied, looking at you. "Says the one who straight-up destroyed my moment of affection."

"Yeah, yeah," you rolled your eyes playfully. "Whatever. You love me."

She nodded, "Mhm, yes I do," with a small smile, she leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

"If anyone from work saw us now..." you mumbled as she continued pressing small kisses to your lips and slowly going down to your neck.

"I would definitely shoot them in the face," she replied. "No regrets."

"The way there was absolutely zero hesitation with that answer," you chortled, earning an explosive laugh from her.

You both began to laugh hysterically, almost falling off the couch in the process.

The doorbell rang, and you had to pause laughing, gently pushing her off you, groaning, "Jesus woman, you are heavy-"

"This is all muscle, Peralta," she scoffed, sitting up on the couch, propping her legs up on the coffee table.

In minutes, you had paid the delivery man, and placed the two pizzas on the small round table you had in the corner of the living room.

"Order up," you sighed, sitting on a chair and devouring the first slice of your pizza. "You coming to eat, baby?" You looked at her.

With a groan, Rosa stood up off the couch, walking to the table lazily and sitting in front of you. "Why do you always insist on sitting at the table to eat?"

"Because I want zero crumbs on my couch. That cost me like, five months of my salary," you replied, gently kicking her under the table. "I am not going to be my brother."

"You spent five months worth of salary on the couch?" Gasped your girlfriend, moving on to her next pizza slice.

You chuckled and nodded, and both of you finished the pizzas in silence.

You quickly showered, and sat on your bed to read while Rosa finished up her bath as well.

You waited for what felt like hours before she came out of the bathroom in nothing but a sports bra and shorts. Your jaw dropped as you looked at her toned abs and strong arms, earning a chuckle from her, "It's rude to stare, Peralta."

"Shut up you absolute goddess," you gasped, sliding out of bed as she looked through your closet for something to pull on. You wrapped your arms around her from behind and pressed kisses to her bare shoulder, feeling her relax under your touch.

"Okay you perv, let me pull on a shirt," she laughed, pulling on one of your AC/DC oversized shirts.

"Noooo, where did they gooooo..." you wailed, letting go of her. "Bring them bac. Bring back those abs-"

"You are such a perv," she scoffed, laying in bed with you. You lay down as well, letting her wrap an arm around you from behind and press a kiss to the back of your neck.

"I'm not a perv, you're a perv," you countered lamely.

"Shut up, dumbass," she replied, but you could hear the smile on her face. "I love you."

"I love me too," you chuckled. Rosa gently hit your arm, making you laugh, "OW, okay, okay, I love you too!"

"That's how I know you're a Peralta," she scoffed playfully. "Goodnight, Y/n."

"'Night, Rosa," you smiled, closing your eyes and slowly falling asleep, happier than ever.

Long days were so worth it.

#rosa diaz #jake peralta #amy santiago #gina linetti #terry jeffords #captain holt #charles boyle #hitchcock #scully #brooklyn 99 #female reader #bisexual #lesbian #rosa diaz x fem!reader

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