#crossh4irs

@crossh4irs sent "i see you've made yourself at home."

when he left, there weren't papers spread across the table. madani's laptop wasn't out and she hadn't made herself a pot of coffee. she'd looked presentable when he'd left, and now her dark curls were barely restrained by the claw clip at the top of her head. to say she'd made herself at home was an understatement, but that was just how she was when she got so into her work she barely noticed the hours passing by.

she spots the guy in the cap nearly the moment he slips into the club, but it's funnier letting him think he has the advantage. she plays pretend until she can slink away from anyone's gaze and introduce herself to the mystery man.

[ car chase ] sender and receiver evade the enemy in a high speed car chase / for your resurrection verse. because why not chaos right away (if you'd like)

　　　there wasn't much room for switching around between seats with all that was going around. dodging bullets, yelling ( lots of yelling ) and running meant that aria would have to accept that she's the get away driver in this case. there's a brief moment of panic as she realizes she's going to have to learn how to drive and fast. ❝ i'm really not good at this. ❞ is her explanation as the speeding car is turned so sharply around a corner that she nearly flies from her seat. ❝ maybe we should — switch — ?? i'll do the shooting. ❞ not like she knew how to work a gun, either.

🐝  *  ―  𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻.

do i ship our characters together?: yes | no | not yet but maybe soon

would i like to ship with you?: yes | maybe, i'm willing to try | no

type of relationship i could see: childhood or high school sweethearts | exes | engaged | married | long-term relationship | crushes | unrequited love | fling | long distance | online relationship | just dating | new relationship | toxic lovers | friends with benefits

tropes i'd enjoy writing for them: friends to lovers | enemies to lovers | exes to lovers | fake relationship / dating | forbidden love | grumpy and sunshine | star-crossed lovers | surprise pregnancy | second chance | soulmates | amnesia / mistaken identity | forced proximity | secret relationship | slow burn relationship

would i rather plot first or jump right in and see where it goes?: develop their relationship first | jump right in | something in between ( what specifically? )

what now?: let's plot something | send me shippy memes | i'll send you shippy memes | write me a random starter | i'll write you a random starter

there is not much nice about frank's life, diana suspects. or perhaps she knows. his life and heart are splattered with bloodstains that can't be erased no matter how hard he scrubs them. she wonders if he bothers doing that, at all, or if he likes the way the blood suffocates him.

but the side of his knee is touching the side of her knee and that is taking priority in her thoughts right now, as it so happens. her hands are clasped in her lap. what she does next she can only blame on herself. because what she does next is place one of her palms on one of his knees. it's not just to stop the shaking. no, there is something explicitly intimate, in how she spreads her fingers across his jeans and squeezes his knee.

“ i like it here. ” she ends with the truth.

part observation, part tease, with a hint of accusation, too. diana smiles to herself, a red stretch of her lips that dimples her cheeks. she's in a tight, tight leather dress that exists miles away from the silk blouse and pencil skirt she wore when she interviewed him. her curly, black hair bounces across her shoulders with every small movement she orchestrates. a long, elegant finger of hers is tracing along her collarbone, where a small layer of sweat glistens. (glistens.)

she tilts her face. “ you want a taste? ” frank will be forgiven if he does not see the grapes she extends her other hand to offer him. somewhere along the way, her smile has become a smirk.

" yeah? " her eyes light up. she vaguely remembers how to make an omelette. she could swear a roommate had tried to teach her in college. but she's not a chef by any stretch of the imagination, and she hasn't really gotten past cracking eggs. she's already bad at that to begin with, and it's made even harder with one investigation-related broken finger taped to another finger on her dominant hand, and she'd prefer her omelette shell-free as much as possible.