#but anyway thank god he's gone :) the girls seem to like gina so that's good news x2

[lobaznyuk]

so, apparently the deva head coach has resigned after being accused of physical and verbal assault by a gymnast and now gina gogean is head coach? and daniela silivas is fighting people in fb comments like ‘how do you know these gymnasts were really ‘’’‘mistreated’’’, were you there?’ 

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Run to You Part Two

Derek Morgan x Reader

Words: 2494

Part One

Summary: Having been dating for a while, you finally feel comfortable enough to introduce your boyfriend to your daughter, Angelica. Derek takes on the role better than you could have imagined and you start to feel like a family. Then one day, Angelica disappears from a friend’s house and your ex husband starts making demands. 

Notes: Thank you all for the support you’ve shown for this series so far! Funnily enough, this three parter is actually similar to a Fox Mulder x Reader series I started a couple of months ago that may or may not see the light of day. I guess if you guys really like this plot and if you like The X Files, let me know if you’d be interested in that. 

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, stalking, kidnapping. 

More Criminal Minds: HERE

-

Derek made a half-hour drive take twenty minutes and pulled up to the front of the school. Local police had already been called in and were bombarding you with questions. He broke through the wall of officers to get to you. 

“Oh thank god,” You exclaimed and he took you in his arms without a second hesitation. “She’s gone.” You sobbed into his chest. “He took her. I know he did.” 

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down and tell us who you think took your daughter.” A female officer said calmly, taking another step towards you.

“Stop crowding her. Everybody back up!” Derek ordered. 

“I’m sorry, sir, who are you?” Another officer asked, sounding defensive. Derek pulled out his badge. 

“SSA Derek Morgan. I’m from the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” 

“It’s a little early to call you guys in, isn’t it?” The first officer said. 

“I’m not here officially. I know the missing girl.” 

“Then we’re going to need to ask you a few questions.” The defensive officer snapped. You pushed in between them. 

“I know who took her. Please, we have to find my baby.” 

“Y/N, just take a deep breath, okay.” Derek put a hand on your shoulder and waited for you to calm down a little. “Now, what do you mean you know who took Angelica?” You tried to keep a sob from escaping, but the tears fell freely. 

“Her father.” You watched Derek’s face morph with confusion. “My ex-husband.” 

-

You sat in the police station with Derek’s hand running up and down your back as you slowly sipped a glass of water. You hardly remembered getting there or seeing members of Derek’s team arrive. Since there was already a leading suspect, the BAU wouldn’t be called in, but Agent Hotchner and Agent Prentiss came anyway to help Derek consult with the police. 

“Ma’am, my name is Gina. I’m going to need to ask you a couple of questions, okay?” The officer from earlier started. You nodded, drinking the rest of your water. 

“Um, Derek, maybe you should go talk to Agent Hotchner and Agent Prentiss. Ask them what they need to know from me.” You suggested. You didn’t want to have to explain everything to him like it was an interrogation. Derek nodded in understanding and gently kissed the side of your head. 

“Let me know if you need anything.” He gave Gina a thankful smile and joined Hotch. 

“The police said they don’t have any problems with us being here as long as we stay out of their way.” Hotch informed, casting a sympathetic look in your direction. “How is she?”

“Her little girl is missing, Hotch. She’s doing about as well as you’d expect.” Morgan sighed. 

“What do we know about the suspect? She seems pretty certain that her ex is the one that took her daughter.” Prentiss asked. 

“Just his name and that they used to be married. I’m gonna call and see what Garcia can dig up.” He pulled out his cell and kept his eyes on you as you spoke to the officer. 

“All-knowing goddess, what can I do for you?” Penelope answered cheerfully. 

“I need your help, babygirl.” He said seriously. “Y/N’s little girl is missing.” 

“Oh god.” She gasped. With still so many more questions, she readied her fingers over her keyboard. “What do you need?”

“Lance Booker. Anything and everything you can find on him: properties, businesses, residences, especially places in the last six years.” He heard a flurry of typing before she answered. 

“Got it. I’ll send you the list forthwith.” There was a long pause, followed by a sad gasp. 

“What is it, Garcia?”

“Lance Booker’s ex-wife, Y/N… your Y/N? Ugh, I hate my job sometimes.” 

“Penelope!” He shouted into the receiver, his sudden outburst making Prentiss jump. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Penelope fretted. “At the time of their divorce six years ago and Y/N receiving full custody of their daughter, Y/N filed a restraining order against Booker with claims of domestic violence. She’s filed multiple reports of stalking since then, but without breaking any of the terms of the restraining order, the police haven’t been able to hold him for anything.” Derek’s hand tightened around the device to the point where he heard the shell crack. 

“Thanks Garcia.” 

“You’re going to find her, Derek.” Penelope assured him quietly. He took a deep breath. 

“I’ll keep you updated. Keep looking into this guy and anyone else who might have taken Angelica.” He snapped his phone shut and pressed it against his forehead, trying to calm himself down. He needed to be the one who held it together. He couldn’t let you see any anger or panic in him because it would just make you angry and panicked even more. 

It seemed like you were finishing up with the officer so he started back in your direction. Seeing him, you stood. Judging from his expression, he knew. 

“Derek, I can explain.” You wanted to reach out to him, but you kept your arms tightly wrapped around yourself as if it kept you from falling to pieces. “I wanted to tell you.” You wiped a stray tear from your cheek. “I wanted to tell you about all of it. About Lance a-and our marriage and everything that happened, but I just didn’t know how.” His eyes softened and he ran his hands down your tense arms. 

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, baby.” While there were so many questions in his mind, none of them mattered. All that mattered was that you were here with him and Angelica was out there somewhere with that man.  

The group fell silent as your phone started to ring. With a shaking hand, you looked down at the unfamiliar number, glancing back up at Derek for instructions. He nodded slowly while Prentiss called Garcia to get a trace on the number. You took a deep breath and answered. 

“Hey baby.” The voice on the other end sent a tremor up your spine. You kept your eyes locked on Derek’s to keep from hanging up right there. 

“Lance, where’s Angelica?” You tried to sound calm but you wanted to rip the bastard apart. 

“You know, she doesn’t even remember me?” He hissed. “When I picked her up from school, she had no idea who I was. But I guess that’s what happens when you decide to replace me for six years.” 

“Lance, please. I need to know that she’s okay.” 

“Of course she’s okay. She’s got Agent Morgan protecting her, right? Oh wait, he failed at that too.” He barked furiously. Your body tensed up even more. 

“How do you know about Derek?” You asked slowly. Derek’s expression didn’t change, but he felt a shot of guilt go through him. He was the trigger. 

“I have ways of knowing.” 

“He wants you to change the subject. Keep talking about Angelica.” Agent Hotchner instructed, keeping his voice low so the other end wouldn’t hear. You nodded in understanding. 

“Lance, I need to know that Angelica is okay. I need to hear her voice.” You kept your voice as level as possible. There was a shuffle on the other end and you nearly broke down when you heard Angelica’s confused voice. 

“Mommy? W-where are you? I wanna go home.” 

“I’m coming, baby. Everything is going to be okay.” You cried, hearing the sound of the phone switching back. 

“We’re going to be a family again.” Lance growled. “I’ll call again soon.” The line went quiet and you finally stopped holding your breath, leaning against the desk. You let the phone slip out of your hand and fall to the floor. 

“Did we get a trace?” Morgan called to the agents behind him, keeping his eyes glued on you. Hotch sighed. 

“Garcia said there was something interfering with the signal.” 

“Lance was a phone technician, he knows how to hide.” You said blankly. “He won’t let us find him until he wants us too.” 

The agents and officers around you were in a frenzy trying to dig up all of the information they could possibly find on Lance. Every time they said his name, you felt the back of his hand or the heel of his boot. For six years, you had been free of him. Angelica had been free of him. How dare he come back and ruin what you had built all on your own?

 Something inside of you switched. You weren’t just  frightened anymore. You were pissed off.

-

You didn’t move. You didn’t eat the food Derek had put in front of you. You didn’t drink the water he’d brought either. All you could do was stare at the phone, leg bouncing up and down anxiously. You hadn’t wanted to go home, but both the police and Agent Hotchner thought it would be a good idea in case Lance tried to contact you there. A team was setting up a device to hook your phone up to so they could control the line. All you could do was watch from the kitchen table, hands clasped in front of you like you were praying.

Derek watched you from the living room as his team set up the phone. He sat down on the couch, running a hand down his face. He should have asked you about Lance sooner. Maybe he could have prevented this if he only knew what had happened. 

“We’re going to find her, Derek.” Prentiss said, sitting down next to him. She’d watched the way that this was tearing him apart. He didn’t respond. Both watched as the youngest of their team approached your table. 

“Miss Y/L/N?” You looked up, finding the agent you could only assume was Dr. Reid. No one else was that young. 

“Yes?”

“I, um, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. I work with Morgan- I mean, Derek.” He asked to sit down and you just nodded in response. “I would like to talk to you about your ex-husband, if that’s okay?” 

“I don’t know what else I can tell you.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Lance was… mean. He was controlling and when he didn’t get what he wanted, he got violent. But he never hurt Angelica. Ever.” You stared at the table’s wooden surface. “I was always there to protect her.” You felt a tear slip down your cheek. Reid’s lips formed a thin line. 

“What was he like before? When you first met him or when you first got married?”

“Well he wasn’t the monster he is now, I can tell you that.” You sneered. “When I met him, he was sweet. Sure, he was mysterious and attractive, so I did whatever he said, but he was romantic and- and different from the other guys I’d dated. When we got married, I thought ‘this is it’, you know? Standing in that little church, everything felt exactly like it was supposed to. But after Angelica was born, everything changed. It was like he’d been hiding this creature under his skin all those years and it was finally emerging.” 

“Do you remember anything specific that might have triggered this change?” 

You shook your head. “I just remember the first time it happened. There weren’t any warning signs or anything. He hadn’t been irritable or upset. He just… snapped. Angelica was in her high chair and she had thrown her bowl of food on the floor. He must have heard the sound and he came into the kitchen. When I knelt down to clean it, he grabbed my hair and pulled me up, screaming about how it was my fault. How I made a mess and that he was going to show me what happens to people who mess up his life. And then he hit me. He hit me over and over and left me on the floor to clean. I should’ve- I should have left him right there. I should have taken her and run, but I didn’t. In my head, it wasn’t his fault. It was because of his past, it was because of me. I should have run. I should have left. I should-” 

“Miss Y/L/N.” Reid interrupted, allowing you to gasp for air. You must have forgotten to breathe. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was stopped by the shrill, dooming sound of the phone. 

You bolted from the table and joined the agents in the living room, waiting for the signal to answer. 

“Okay, you remember how it works?” Derek asked. You nodded. “Alright. Keep him talking. Don’t let him go off the subject of Angelica. You just want your daughter back. You don’t want to hurt him.” He pointed at the device and you picked up the receiver with a shaking hand. 

“Hello?” 

“Tell Agent Morgan he can’t replace me.” 

“Lance, I’m tired. I just want Angelica back safe.”

“No, you want to play happy family with your BAU boyfriend. He isn’t her father. I am!” He spoke with the fury of a madman. Derek looked at the rest of the team grimly. Lance was spiralling. 

“What do you want me to do, Lance? I’ll do anything to get her back, just please, I miss my daughter.” You cried. Derek pressed the button and muted the call. 

“Y/N, you have to keep calm. I know it’s hard, but Lance is trying to push you. He wants you to break, but you can’t.” He took your hand, softening his tone. “I’m right here. You can do this.” Under Derek’s comforting voice, you could hear Lance start to ramble. 

“I just want us to be happy again. Do you remember when we were happy?” You waited for Derek to press the button again before responding. 

“Y-yeah, I remember.” 

“We can be happy again. We can be happy again…” His voice trailed off and you heard a shuffling sound. 

“Wait, don’t hang-” You exclaimed, but the line went dead. You slammed the receiver back down and kicked the coffee table it sat on. “He’s going to kill her. He’s going to kill her.” You pushed a lamp over and listened to the bulb shatter against the carpet. Before you could break anything else, or hurt yourself, Derek locked his arms around you, pinning yours to your side. “Let me go! He’s going to kill her! It’s my fault! It’s all my fault!” 

He kept a hold of you as you screamed, sitting down on the couch with you on his lap. The other agents just stood, watching the scene of turmoil. Reid was standing completely skill, eyes darting in between invisible words in his head. He suddenly looked at Prentiss. 

“Get Garcia on the phone.” He said, turning back to you and Morgan. 

“What did you get?” Prentiss asked. She was still trying to decipher everything that Booker said. Reid swallowed. 

“I think I know where he might be keeping Angelica.” 

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

Series: @ weasleytommy, @ lowsodiumfreaks67, @panhoeofmanyfandoms

[onebangtanstan]

Power Style - Chapter Nineteen : The birthday

I've been in front of my closet for 30 minutes deciding what to wear. I really have to get ready for Yoongi's birthday. I can't be late, Hobi would kill me.

I can't believe it's already Friday. I've been so busy at work these last 2 days that I didn't even realize how quick time went by.

Back to my closet. Thankfully I already did my hair and makeup, I literally just need to put some clothes on. I'm staring at the neatly organized shelves, hoping for an outfit to magically appear in front of me, when I notice the orange fabric. Perfect! I haven't worn that in so long. I match the skirt with a black body suit and black heels, put my coat on, and 5 minutes later, I'm in a cab heading to Tae's place.

We made plans to meet at his with Kook, so we would arrive together.

My phone rings while I'm still in the cab.

« Hey Tae, what's up? » I answer

« Hey Gina, Hobi just texted, we have to get there sooner, how long til you get here? »

« Um I don't know, 3 minutes I guess? »

« Ok we'll meet you downstairs. »

« No problem. »

As soon as I get out of the cab, I'm grabbed by Kook and Tae and almost shoved into their car.

The three of us are now sitting in the back of a van, heading towards Hobi and Jin's appartment.

« Sorry about that, we really have to hurry » Kook says.

« That's ok, I'm guessing Hobi's plans didn't take as long as he expected? »

« Exactly. So he's making us all rush there so we're there before they get home.» Tae says.

« Anyway, how are you G? » Kook asks.

« Good, working a lot for you guys, but it's super interesting! »

« I can't wait to see what you've prepared! » he answers.

« I hope it will be good enough » I tell them

« Oh don't start, of course it will. » Tae almost scolds me, making me laugh.

After a few seconds of silence, Kook speaks up.

« So, about tonight, like we said, stick with us and we'll keep you as far away from Jin as possible. If at any point you want to leave, this car will be on standby, okay? »

« Okay, thanks guys. »

« Don't worry. »

« He better not pull any shit tonight. » Tae mumbles.

« Hey, Tae, don't. »

« I swear Kook, you know what I think about his behaviour. »

« I know, I know. » Kook put a soothing hand on Tae's lap. « Let's just think of Yoongi and make him spend a great birthday. »We all agree.

« He's probably expecting us to be there to be honest. » Tae answers.

« True, but still. » says Kook.

The three of us get out of the car and into an unfamiliar building. I follow the boys into the lift, clearly not knowing where I'm going, and we arrive at the last floor. A single door is in front of us, slightly open. We can hear Namjoon, Jin and Jimin's voices from outside. We walk in and find them sitting around in the couches. The boys all greet each other, but suddenly go back to their conversation when they see me walking behind Tae and Kook. Jin even scoffs at my sight. Is he for real? Chill, Gina, just ignore him.

I am in awe of the appartment. I'm standing in the middle of one huge room. The kitchen is on one side, seperated by an island, 3 velvet couches are placed around the biggest fireplace I've ever seen. A beautifully dressed table occupies the other side of the room. It's clear that Hobi decorated the place, his energy is overflowing in all the colourful details.

« Can I take your coat? » Kook's voice makes me snap out of my gaze.

« Yes thank you! »

I let my coat slide off my shoulders, revealing my outfit.

I feel stares on me as I do so.

« Well fuck. » says Jimin. « She sure can dress. »

« Um..thanks Jimin. » His comment flustered me, first of all because it's coming from him, secondly because I wasn't expecting that reaction.

« You really look stunning, G. » Kook agrees before leaving me in the middle of the room, with nowhere to go. Tae is gone somewhere else, so I'm just standing there by myself, feeling so tiny in front of these 3 men I don't have any desire to talk to. As I'm still looking around, I notice Namjoon's glare on me. What's his problem? Our eyes meet for a split second before he takes a sip of his beer and turns back to his conversation.

« Here you go, darling. » I sigh in relief at the sound of Tae behind me. I turn to see him handing me a glass of champagne.

« Oh, thank you. »

I grab the glass and just hold it. I really don't want to drink tonight, I know that if I do, I'll be piss drunk given how tired I am.

We finally get news from Hobi, who is on his way up with Yoongi. We all sush and wait for the door to open.

3...2...1

« SURPRISE!! » We all exclaim.

Hobi is looking at Yoongi, waiting for his reaction. He smiles at all of us, but especially at Hobi who looks disappointed.

« Is that all? »

« Babe, you organize this every year, and you say the same thing every year. I knew it was happening, but thank you so much, I love it as always. » Kook, Tae and I giggle since we've anticipated that reaction from him. Yoongi brings Hobi in for a cute kiss, making all our hearts melt.

« But hey, there's another person this year! Look Gina's here! » Hobi says, turning his head to look at me. « Who looks fucking amaZIIIING, oh my god, girl! »

« Thanks for being here guys, and Gina too. » Yoongi tells us calmly, being his normal self. « Right, who's getting me a drink? » I giggle, but the others look at him, waiting for the joke. « What I can't take advantage of today? It's my day, so someone go get me a drink. »

Namjoon stands up « Fine. Whiskey? »

« On the rocks. » Yoongi confirms.

« Yeah, yeah, we know. » Namjoon answers ironically.

We're now all sitting in the living room, talking and laughing. I'm staying safely between Kook and Tae, while Jin and Jimin are on the opposite couch, Yoongi is talling to Namjoon on the last couch, and Hobi is going around the room being the perfect guest pleaser. He keeps on insisting to bring me another glass of champagne, but I stand my ground. I drank one glass, and now Îm sticking to water. Which I need to evacuate by the way.

« I'm just going to head to the bathroom real quick. » I tell the boys.

I follow Kook's directions into the only hallway leading out of the living room. After my business is done, I check myself out in the bathroom mirror. It's true, I do look good.

As I walk out the door, I bump into a hard chest. I instantely know it's Namjoon. I recognize his scent. A mix of Tom Ford perfume and just a tad of cigarette.

I turn around, and just as I guessed, I'm faced with his torso. I look up to him, only to see his eyes locked into mine.

« You should watch where you going. » He says, in a low voice.

I gulp. That voice is sending shivers down my spine. Just as I suspected, the slightest amount of alcohol is affecting me already. I pull it together.

« And you shouldn't be waiting behind doors. » I answer back, raising an eyebrow at him.

I can feel my legs shake as his gaze is still penetrating my eyes. Ok, yeah, he's hot. Especially like this, his white hair slicked back, his loose shirt letting his muscular chest appear.

I won't break the gaze. He won't win this, even though it's so hard to stay this way, my back against the door and his big figure towering me.

He finally breaks the silence, but not the stare.

« May I use the bathroom? »

« Oh, uh, yeah sure » I move to the side to let him through, but my weak legs can't seem to carry me anymore. I feel my balance leave my body but his hand catches my arm just as I'm about to ungracefully fall onto the ground. His skin against mine feels like an electric shot rushing through my body, all the way to.. well, you guess where.

He sets me back up on my two feet and lets go once he sees I'm stable.

« As I said, watch where you're going. » He says before letting himself in the bathroom.

It takes me a few seconds to gather myself. I shake my head and make my way back to the living room where Hobi stops me.

« Babe, you good? You look like you've seen a ghost. »

« No I'm good. » I tell him, raising an eyebrow at him. I also notice Kook and Tae staring at me, probably wondering the same thing as Hobi.

« Guys, I'm fine! Just tired » I smile at them.

« Okay, I guess. » Hobi is not convinced. « Anyway, sit down, we're doing the present. » I follow his instructions while he goes to stand in front of the fireplace, right in the middle of the couches. « Hey everyone! I just need to say something real quick. Wait where's Joon. »

« Bathroom. » I instinctively say, making them all turn their heads to me. « I saw him while I was coming back. » I try to save myself. Of course, Hobi, Tae and Kook are looking at each other, trying to figure out how that plays in the fact that I looked shaken.

« Joon, hurry please, Hobi wants to speak! » Yoongi says. It's clear that he's tipsy right now, he's louder that usual.

« I'm here, go ahead Hoba. » Namjoon appears from the corridor, still fixing his outfit from his bathroom run. He straight up stares at me while going back to his seat. I feel the two boys around me intrigued about what they just saw.

« Ok, cool. » Hobi starts. « I would like to raise my glass to Yoongi. Babe, I wish you a very hapy birthday, here's to many more.» Everyone raises their glass with Hobi. « I know you don't like presents buuuut we all chipped in to get you something you've wanted for a while. Before you say anything, please follow me outside. » We all go, already knowing what it is, but wanting to see Yoongi's reaction.

« Ta-daaah! » Hobi says, revealing a brand new barbecue.

« Wooooow! » Yoongi exclaims. He really loves it. « Thanks everyone! You really didn't have to. »

« Of course we did. » says Hobi.

« I can't wait to use this bad boy. I'll make you all dinner sometime. »

Hobi is happy, at least he wasn't expecting the present.

We all stay outside for a bit, the fresh air helping the drunk ones sober up. Jin and Yoongi are in awe of the barbecue, while the others are having a chat around them. I slip myself away to go lean on the edge and admire the view. I could never get sick of it.

I hear them go back inside one by one, but feel someone coming towards me.

« Hey, Gina. »

« Hey Yoongi. Happy birthday. »

« Thank you. Hobi said you chipped in for my present? » I nod. « You didn't have to. »

« I wanted to. »

« Well thank you. And thank you for helping Hobi out when he needed it. »

« Of course! It makes me so happy to see you guys now. But don't keep him away from me for too long! » I joke, making him smirk.

« I promise. I just don't believe it's real yet, so I don't want to let go of him. »

« It is Yoongi, he's yours. »

He sighs and smiles while looking at the view for a few seconds. We stand there side by side admiring the lights coming from all over Seoul.

« Hey by the way, » he says « I know we haven't talked much since we had dinner together, but you do know you can count on me right? I've heard what happened with Jin, and just wanted to let you know that I'm here. I'm not the talkative type in case you haven't noticed. » We both giggle. « But that doesn't mean I'm not there for you. »

« Thanks Yoongi, I really appreciate that. » and  I do. His words send a calming wave through my body. « Same goes for you. »

« Thanks. »

We don't need to talk. Just being there with each other is comforting to us.

« I'm going to head back inside before Hobi goes around asking where I am. »

« It might be too late for that. » I say as I hear his voice from inside. « Where's Yoongi? »

« That's my cue! »

I smile as I watch him go back inside, and see Hobi rush to him as he does.

« There you are! I've been looking all over fo-» I hear him say before Yoongi pulls him in for a passionate kiss.

The way they look at each other after that kiss makes my stomach tighten. I want that too.

Fuck, now I'm emotional. I reach my hand into my bag to grab a cigarette. Yeah, I started smoking again. I light it up and stare at the moon while smoking. I start humming without noticing.

Moonchild, don't cry. When moon rise, it's your time.

« That's beautiful. »

I jump at the sound of Namjoon's voice. « Fuck, you scared me. » I say turning to him. « And you made me drop my cigarette. » I add, realizing that it's no longer in my hand but probably lying on the sidewalk all the way down.

« You need to chill. »

« Please don't start. » I show my back to him and start looking for another cigarette.

« Here. » he hands one to me and lights it up once I have it in my mouth.

« Thanks. » I proceed to walk to the other side of the balcony.

After a few minutes of silence, I hear him getting ready to talk.

« What were you singing? » He half shouts, given the distance I put between us.

« A song. » I let him know, looking at him with a smirk on my face. I'm being a smart-ass I know. But it worked. His jaw is clenched, indicating that I pissed him off. It makes him look hotter too. Not that I care though.

« I figured. What is it? » He asks harshly. I guess his love for music is stronger than his hate for me.

I take my time to answer, appreciating the last drags of my cigarette.

« None of your business. » I point out as put my cigarette out, staring him down before turning my heels and going back inside. I saw the annoyance in his eyes, and still feel it on me as I'm walking away. He didn't get what he wanted this time.

I spot Kook on the other side of the room.

« Hey, I'm going to head home, where did you put my coat again? »

« Oh I'll get it for you! »

« Leaving so soon? » I turn around and see Jin walking towards me.

« Go away, Jin. »

« I asked you a question. »

« Jin. Get the fuck away from her. » Tae shouts from the other side of the room, making Jimin and Hobi look at us.

« Relax, we're just talking. » Jin answers. He's clearly drunk.

« I have nothing to say to you. » I let him know, in case he hadn't understood yet.

« Ok, what the fuck happened here? » Jimin asks.

« What happened is that Gina is an ungrateful bitch. » I notice Jungkook grabbing onto Tae who is ready to jump on Jin.

« Excuse me? Wow, ok. You should look in a mirror Jin. » I spit at him before turning my heels.

« Oh, I see. » says Jimin. « Jin was a dick once again. »

« Exactly. » I answer, putting my coat on.

« Hey don't leave, we were talking. What was it about the mirror? I already know how handsome I am. » That would of made me laugh a week ago, but now it just grosses me out.

« Hey, Jin, let it go. » We turn to Namjoon who is standing at the balcony door. Jin walks away from me his hands in the air as if he was getting arrested.

« Right, I'm leaving guys, have a good evening. Thanks for inviting me Hobi. » I take him into my arms.

« You know I'm calling you tomorrow right? I need to know what happened here. As soon as I'm done taking care of my drunk baby. »

« No problem. Say bye to Yoongi for me. »

Kook and Tae walk me back to the door and bring me in their arms as goodbye.

« Call us if you need anything. » Kook says.

« I know. »

« Anything. » says Tae. Ok, angry Tae is scary.

« I will, I promise. Bye guys. »

« Bye, G. »

[artificialqueens]

(I Can Still Recall) Our Last Summer - Chapter One (Group Fic) - pureCAMP

A/N - this is a re-upload bc it apparently disappeared! I hope everyone enjoys it this time lol, let’s pray it doesn’t go missing again

A/N 2 - Here’s the surprise that absolutely no one knew about! A prequel of sorts to HIGA, my Mamma Mia! au featuring trixya and shalaska which you can read here on AQ before this for context

As before, this was pre-written so the rest is ready to go. Let me know if weekly submissions are fine or if you would prefer anything sooner!

(dont lose hope shalaska stans bc chapter two is coming sooner than soon and it’s chock full - and did i mention 8.5k words)

“Sharon, are you ready to go yet? The deacon wanted us here early so you can help to mind the kids before the service!”

Sharon stared into the mirror at a face that didn’t feel like hers. It was free of makeup, the pallidity emphasising the dark circles beneath her eyes and her uneven skin tone. Her blonde hair was pulled back into one long plait, and not a single hair dared to break the strict mold she had been forced into, even from last night’s previous sexy curls. Even her clothes felt uncomfortable, the floral dress of her mother’s choosing hanging loosely from her frame.

Demure. Sensible. Her shoes were patent and shiny, with a thick rubber sole.

Sighing, Sharon started down the stairs. Just once more, she would’ve liked to have slept in a little on a Sunday, but that would never be. Missing church was a sin, and Sharon’s almost obsessively Catholic mother would never allow such a thing to happen in her household - even though it had before. For Sharon, it wasn’t worth the screaming. As she traipsed down the stairs, she ran her slender fingers along the many embellished crosses on the wall, serving as a reminder that she would never be good enough. Above her, the depiction of Jesus on the cross glared judgmentally at her.

I died for your sins, he seemed to be saying. I died on a cross for your sins, and you’re turning up to church hungover.

Everything Sharon spent her weekends doing, it seemed, was wrong or bad or sinful in some way. She knew drinking was against the rules. Her mother, practically Puritan in some of her opinions, insisted that the popular music of the time was sinful too, as was the dancing. Sharon knew her mother would have an aneurysm if she knew how her daughter had looked and behaved the night before; a vision in bright makeup and skin-tight sparkles, grinding against other dancers as she sang. The woman would have been seconds from a heart attack if she had seen Sharon just that morning, silently making her way up the stairs and frantically wiping all traces of sultry makeup and stage attire from her body. There hadn’t been any time to sleep or recover from her night of partying - not if she wanted to look presentable.

The skirt of Sharon’s dress reached just below her knees. She was the picture of a respectful Catholic girl.

“Ah, you look decent for once,” Her mother appraised her. “Not like that awful Gina. She’s about your age, isn’t she? What a dreadful girl.”

In Sharon’s mother’s eyes, Gina was dreadful mostly due to her clothes, which were scandalous as they dipped below her collarbones and above her knees. Sharon, however, had once caught her with a boy, and Gina had once caught Sharon performing on a weekend. They had a silent pact to never spill the other’s secret.

“Yeah…” Sharon murmured, her mind elsewhere.

Her mother paused. “Here. Don’t forget your cross, for goodness sake.” She placed the rosary around her daughter’s neck. “There. Now, remember, you’re helping out at Sunday school and then attending the service with me. And no complaining, not like last time. I raised you to be a good, God-fearing girl. Or else you know what.”

Sharon nodded meekly. “Of course.”

As they walked, Sharon’s mind wandered to her friends, yearning to get away. Raja, no doubt, was lying fast asleep on the island somewhere, curled around some naked guy with hickeys all over his neck. They’d been gyrating over each other all night, and Raja was never one to shy away from male attention. Jinkx would be asleep too, most likely with Dorito crumbs in her hair, drooling from her hangover, perhaps accompanied with some young woman tucked under her arm. And then there was Sharon, on her way to church.

It had been an incredible night, like always. Her outfit - safely tucked away in the taverna’s dressing room so that her mother would never stumble upon it - was everything she knew she wasn’t allowed, tight sequined lycra that clung to her body and was perfect for dancing in. Her makeup was dark and smokey, and her spirits were high, fuelled by the alcohol and the roaring of the crowd dancing beneath them. The Supermodels had been formed a year ago, and they’d amassed quite a following on the little island they performed on.

Would anyone’s opinion of her change if they could see her now? She was the star of their show, the main attraction; she was the one everyone lauded as the lead singer, the funniest, the favourite. Yet she was the one who caught the early morning boat across back to the mainland, hurrying to scrub her makeup off and dress herself up as a good daughter.

But that was just how things were. Despite Raja and Jinkx’s encouragement, she knew it was just going to stay that way.

It was inescapable, really. As she’d been told, ever since she was a child, Jesus was watching. Some unseen forces had their eyes on her, judging her every move. Despite her lack of belief, the threat was real enough to force her into keeping up pretenses, much to her friends’ dismay. But she couldn’t help it. Disappointing her mother only ever ended in disaster.

-

Sharon wasn’t sure what she disliked more, in all honesty - the chilling silence that hung around the pews in the church or the ungodly screaming of the children at the Sunday school. The actual leader of the group had fucked off twenty minutes ago to make a cup of tea and hadn’t come back, leaving Sharon alone with the screaming under-tens as she attempted to teach them about the Last Supper.

She was sat on an uncomfortably low chair, made for the children, as she attempted to continue their lesson to no avail. They were running amok, screeching and screaming as she tried to maintain some level of control. She was seventeen, for fuck’s sake - it was cruel that they’d put her on babysitting duty.

“And- And Jesus…” She tried, holding up the obscenely large book as she tried to command their attention. “And Jesus told his disciples- oh, fuck this.”

She flung the book onto the floor, ignoring how the smooth pages crumpled beneath the foot of a little boy. She had never liked that stupid shiny book anyway. Bread and wine seemed like a crap dinner.

“You just said a bad word! I’m going to tell the priest!” An obnoxious kid of maybe seven declared, crossing her arms across her chest.

She was the kind of brat Sharon’s mother had always hoped Sharon would be. Her gaze was accusatory, her clothes disgustingly pristine, and she probably had some kind of stupid name like Mary-Ann. Undoubtedly, she’d grow up to be another suffocating church mom.

Sharon scowled. “Oh yeah? How about I tell your mommy that you said you don’t believe in God, and you don’t even want to do your stupid Holy Communion? Hmm?”

The little girl burst into tears. Sharon rolled her eyes, anger bubbling in her chest as she rose from the ridiculously tiny chair and stormed out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her, attracting the attention of the volunteer who was supposed to be taking care of the Sunday school. He looked up in surprise.

“They’re all yours.” She snarled. “Little fucking angels, the lot of them.”

With that, she stormed into the nave, cursing under her breath as she let the door slam shut behind her.

It seemed her outburst had not gone unnoticed, however, as the priest had ceased his dismal preaching, and the churchgoers were staring in horror at her entrance. It didn’t take long for Sharon to spot her mother, in that ludicrous hat with her murderous glare, so she walked with her head high towards the pew, slipping onto the end and bowing her head to blend in.

“Is everything quite alright with the children?” The priest inquired. Someone snickered.

“Just fucking peachy.” She replied, eliciting a shocked gasp. “Continue, Father John.”

Listening to the priest was no better, really, than the meltdown-inducing chaos of the Sunday school children, but it was something. At least his dull, unrelenting voice could allow her to zone out a little. She could just go into autopilot, saying ‘Amen’ when necessary and singing the words to hymns that she had practically been breastfed since birth.

As usual, she just obeyed. Sit down, stand up, pass money into the collection dish, sit down, sing the hymns, stand up. It was liturgical and structured, they told her. Just the way that God wanted it to be. Just the way she would never be able to be.

Suffocating. That was how it really was. Sharon felt trapped. A foot out of line, a hair out of place, a word misspoken - that was enough to feel as though she had let everyone down. She was a disgrace to the church and one day, she knew everyone would know about it. It felt like she was living a lie, almost. She’d go as far as saying that she had never believed in God, even as a child, and so attended the services in disbelief. She lived a lie, whilst still feeling the pressure and judgement under His watchful eye with her every thought and action. Sharon’s life was essentially planned out for her, all thanks to the church, and she hated it. She would never be able to be that perfect little wife they wanted her to be.

Raja and Jinkx were lucky. Raja’s family were Hindu, but Raja herself wasn’t, and Jinkx seemed as free as the wind that blew over the shore, devoid of any preconceived notions of how she should behave. Raja and Jinkx were able to just be. Sharon didn’t have that luxury.

The service ended all too soon, filling Sharon with a sense of impending dread. Most of her rebellion was away from her mother, as a way to feel as though she was silently taking control of her own life and her own fate. Rarely, she dared to be as bold as she had in talking back to the priest and the volunteer, and it always landed her in boiling hot water. Private rebellion felt safer, and as the priest talked, she could feel the looming horror of her punishment growing closer and closer, like the telling chill of a devastating winter blizzard. Although she hated it, she wished the service could go on for longer.

Mere seconds after it had ended, Sharon’s mother had taken her arm in a vice-like grip, and was frogmarching her outside. Her face was stony, rigidly set in a mask of pure anger that told Sharon she was going to pay dearly for her actions, at some point.

“What on God’s green earth do you think you’re doing?!” She bellowed, Sharon instinctively flinching. “How dare you swear at a man of God? How dare you embarrass me and our family in the holy place?”

Sharon swallowed. “I- I didn’t mean to, I-”

“Oh, yes, of course, now is the perfect time to repent from your sins. Sharon, dearest, do you remember your parables? How Jesus forgave the adulterous woman and made her promise to never do it again?”

She had no other option but to nod. “Yes, mom.”

“You aren’t just running out of chances, you vile brat. You ran out a long time ago.” Sharon’s mother paused, straightening her awful hat and glaring at Sharon, her face pinched. “Through Jesus, we find the way and the light. But you, young lady? You will never find His light. You will not be welcomed into the arms of Heaven when Judgement Day arrives. You’ll burn in Hell’s fires.”

She turned on her heel, marching away from the church and leaving Sharon with no choice in following her, a few paces behind so that she couldn’t see the tears glistening in her eyes. It didn’t matter if Sharon didn’t believe. Her mother did, and her mother truly believed she’d be suffering in eternal damnation. She would never be good enough.

It stung the entire way home. Sharon walked slowly, mulling over her mother’s words obsessively and growing more and more worked up as she thought. It wasn’t fair - it wasn’t fucking fair. She needed to get out. She needed to get away.

Of course, it would take careful planning, but Sharon was perfectly adjusted to finding illicit ways to get what she wanted. Sneaking out was practically second nature, having been raised in a Catholic prison since birth. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was hide away.

As quickly as she could, she changed out of her nauseating church garb, letting her hair fall back into its natural waves and applying the makeup that her mother so heavily frowned upon. She knew that she would be reading by now, poring over her favourite Bible verses in order to distract and soothe her from the travesty that was her daughter, which meant Sharon had a short window of time to escape in.

Like a pro, she managed it, positioning each foot carefully on the stairs to avoid creaking and edging the door open inch by inch until she could slip through it. Once out, she ran, pelting at full-tilt through the twisting market streets into the wealthier part of town. At just after midday, she knew Raja would be home by now, and more than anything, she needed the company of her best friends.

Unlike Sharon’s respectable little home, Raja and her family were on the more extravagant side of the spectrum. Their house was gleaming white, adorned with colonnades and statues of centuries-worshipped gods that spurted water across the courtyard. It was essentially a mansion in the middle of town, and as stifling as it may have looked, it was like a second home. Even just approaching the house made her feel calmer, the anger dissipating a little. Her spirits felt lifted.

She only had to knock once before she received an answer.

“Hey!” Raja greeted as the door swung open. Jinkx stood behind her, the both of them dressed and awake for once. “You coming in?”

“Nope. You’re coming out.” Sharon grinned, spreading her arms wide to allow the sunshine to embrace her. “We’re going back to paradise and you’re coming with me.”

When in desperation, the island was Sharon’s solace. It was where The Supermodels performed on weekends, but it was also the perfect escape away from her mother’s hawk eyes that always seemed to watch her. Hardly anyone even knew about it, other than those who lived there, and those who did know about it didn’t have any interest. After all, there wasn’t much there besides the houses, a small marketplace for the residents, the taverna and some abandoned buildings. It was so secluded that it felt safe and adventurous all at the same time. Of course, it was party central for any teens, thanks to the taverna’s staging and outdoor dance floor, but that was a secret from any prying adults.

Within minutes, the girls had rushed out, dragging Raja’s boat onto the shore so they could sail away to safety. Sharon closed her eyes and let the salty air refresh her, letting the breeze blow her hair back as the sea spray flicked her skin. This was comfort and safety. Out in the open, surrounded by the blue of the ocean and the blue of the sky, nothing could hurt her. God couldn’t judge her here. She was untouchable.

They disembarked at the dock, taking each other’s hands and running all the way up, fraught with giggles. Something about the island just filled them with a sense of joy. It was only when they climbed to the highest point on the island, a sandy cliff-face that had only rocks and flowers, that they calmed down.

Sharon sat onto one of the rocks. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m going insane, girls.”

“I’m not surprised,” Jinkx replied, squatting in a decidedly unladylike manner over another rock. “It’s the same every time.”

“I mean, what’s the point?” Sharon asked. “I don’t care about what happens when I die, and whether I get into some fictional fucking Heaven. I care about now, in the moment. But nothing is happening in the moment because I’m so fucking restricted! By her, and that stupid fucking God!”

Raja nodded. “We gotta get you out of this shit before she brainwashes you. Keep rebelling and keep holding on, girl.”

Sharon sighed. “The stupid bint just keeps getting worse and worse, which just drives me to do more. I didn’t get back this morning until half an hour before we needed to leave. Plus she found those vodka bottles I hid the other week and went fucking berserk at me. Fuck her and fuck her stupid-ass rules.”

“Yes!” Raja and Jinkx cheered in unison. “Fuck her!”

“And fuck my dad for going off to Spain to be a fucking missionary. Fuck the entire fucking religion.”

Sharon took a deep breath. “Okay, it’s out of my system. So, what’s happening tomorrow? Same set?”

Jinkx shrugged. “I’d say so. With any luck, those hot siblings will be there again.”

She and Raja exchanged a knowing look.

“Shut up!” Sharon squealed, bursting into laughter. “You did not fuck a sibling each! You did not!”

“WE DID!” Raja screeched, giggling. “We really did!”

“You’re so bad!” Sharon laughed, wiping a stray tear from her eye. “I can’t believe you. That’s amazing.”

Jinkx snorted, which set them all off again into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“You know, that’s the next step. To piss off your mom.” Raja observed.

Sharon frowned. “Huh?”

“Thou shalt not commit adultery.” Raja recited solemnly, her hand on her chest in a mockery of a promise. “Girl, commit some fucking adultery and discover the wonderful world of premarital sex.”

Sharon grinned. “I’m not gonna fuck just to piss my mom off! When I find the right guy or girl I’ll do it, but not for her. She’s not worth that much.”

“Atta girl!” Jinkx reached over for a high five. “And when you do choose to lose your virginity, do tell us all the details. I miss being pure.”

“Aww, you think I’m pure?” Sharon teased, cupping her hands in prayer. “A little angel?”

“Not with those dance moves last night, sweetheart.” Raja butted in, standing up to do a horrifically inaccurate impression. “Sexy as hell!”

The three collapsed into peals of giggles once again.

When the sun began to sink towards the horizon, painting the island in beautiful shades of copper, the girls made their way back to the boat, ready to sail away from their bubble of paradise. Sharon felt her heart tugging as they left, wanting nothing more than to stay and bask in the beginnings of the warm summer evenings. At home, a strict schedule and disappointment awaited her. Her heart sank like the sun beneath the waves as they moored, stepping back onto the mainland.

“Let’s take the long way round,” Sharon said softly, her friends catching on immediately. In silent solidarity, they each wrapped an arm around her as they walked, browsing leisurely through the market stalls to waste as much time as they could.

Familiar faces went past like always, driving Sharon insane with the repetition. Her life needed something new, desperately.

I wasn’t made for this, she thought, eyeing the unwavering structure of the world around her. I was never meant to do what everyone else is doing.

Sharon wondered, briefly, if the out-of-place feeling would ever stop, until she saw him.

He was stood alone at the tourist information stall, purchasing a map. His hair was dark, slightly curly, in a tousled mess atop his head. Though she couldn’t see all of him, Sharon could tell he was lean and muscular, and she was mesmerised by the movement of his pink lips as he spoke in a husky voice.

“Fuck me, he is gorgeous.” She breathed, turning to Raja and Jinkx and then back to him.

He turned, offering her a crooked, mischievous smile and a cocked eyebrow. “Was that you?”

“Might’ve been.” Sharon responded coyly. “What’s it to you?”

He chuckled, the sound like music to Sharon’s ears, and offered his hand. “You little minx. I’m Justin, I’m here on vacation. I thought I’d get out and see all the hidden wonders of the world.”

She took it. “Sharon. How’s that going for you? I live here on the mainland and I haven’t found any hidden wonders.”

Justin shrugged, a flirtatious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m looking at one right now. Maybe you could show me some more?”

In spite of herself, Sharon blushed. This handsome stranger was doing all kinds of crazy things to her mind, and yet they were only flirting. She had never felt this way before.

“You ever been to that little island over there?” She asked, pointing towards the landmass in the near distance. Justin shook his head.

“You’re in luck.” Sharon smiled. “Meet me there, six in the evening tomorrow. There’s a fantastic show at the taverna that I’m sure you’ll love”

Justin nodded slowly, impossibly suave. “With you, I’d go anywhere.”

[vernonfielding]

Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 15 (of 16!). (Also on AO3.)

Amy squinted into the glittery sunlight that filtered through the trees across the street from where they sat. She could have lifted a hand and shielded her eyes, or turned her body away from the glare, but she was so comfortable for the moment and she didn’t want to move. She blinked lazily instead, letting her eyes water and her vision go slightly blurry.

Jake’s good arm was thrown over her shoulder and he’d pulled her close to his side, almost possessively. His thumb drew distracted circles on her upper arm, and the slow rise and fall of his chest was soothing, even if he hadn’t been the one to stop breathing. She was aware of Jake talking to Commissioner Wuntch, could feel the rumble of his voice from where she was pressed against him, and the journalist in her thought she should be paying attention to what they were saying, but the kidnap-slash-overdose victim really didn’t give a shit.

Waking up after the overdose had been bizarre and confusing but not painful, and there were surprisingly few side effects from either the Jazzy Pants or the Narcan. The narcotic effect had been instantly gone, replaced by a vague sort of panic, like something was wrong but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The paramedics had made her lie on the floor of the penthouse, breathing flat-tasting oxygen through a mask, until they felt confident that she wasn’t going to need another shot of the overdose antidote. Only then had they let her sit up, then stand, and finally walk out of the building with Jake.

She wasn’t sure how long they’d been outside now. Someone had led them to a bus-stop bench – Amy had distantly wondered if a bus driver might mistake them for actual riders – and blankets had been draped over their shoulders, because Jake was only wearing a T-shirt and Amy had forgotten her jacket at work and it was December, after all. When Amy had started shaking, from cold or emotion or both, Jake had reached for her without a word, pulling his blanket over both of them and tucking her head under his chin.

Now, she just wanted to stay right here on this bench, with Jake, forever. Or until she had to pee or something.

“Santiago!”

Amy looked up at the familiar voice, and saw Terry waving madly from across the street. He said something to a cop manning the perimeter that had been set up around the penthouse building, and to Amy’s surprise the cop lifted the yellow tape and let Terry duck under it. Amy felt a jolt of annoyance – cops never let reporters beyond the yellow tape at a crime scene. Or they never let her, anyway.

Terry jogged up to their bench, and right away her irritation was replaced by a flood of affection from the way he was looking at her, his brows turned down in concern. He crouched in front of her and peered into her face, and rested one large hand on her knee.

“How’re you doing?” he said, all gentle warmth. Amy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Hey, don’t do that, it’s okay.”

“I know,” Amy said, sniffling and trying desperately to keep herself together. Jake had stopped talking to Wuntch, who was yelling at someone in the distance, and he squeezed Amy’s shoulder. “I’m fine,” she said, to both of them. “I really am.”

Terry smiled kindly at her, then looked up at Jake and beamed. “Peralta! How are you doing, man?”

“Okay for being kidnapped and stabbed, Sarge.”

“Wait-” Amy sat up straight and looked between the two of them. “No. You two do not know each other too.”

“Sergeant Jeffords was one of my instructors in the academy,” Jake said.

“Oh no no no,” Amy said. “That is impossible. Terry’s a journalist. He’s a newspaper editor.”

“Oh! This is your editor Terry?” Jake’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wow, I had no idea you ended up at the Bulletin.”

Amy was shaking her head slowly, her exhausted brain struggling to keep up. She said, “How did that even happen?”

“After my girls were born, there was an incident-” Terry paused, and Amy got the sense he was trying to figure out how to shorten a long, or possibly embarrassing, story. “Basically, I was too scared to do field work anymore. I tried riding the desk but it was too depressing, so I left and got into journalism instead. Terry always did love newspapers.”

“This is insane.” Amy pulled away from Jake a bit, just enough to look him in the face. “Do you literally know everyone I work with?”

Jake shook his head. “Just Gina, Charles and I guess Terry. That’s gotta be it.”

Amy spotted Holt just then, crossing the street. She looked quickly between the two of them as Holt approached, holding her breath until they were face to face. Their eyes met, and they seemed to appraise one another, and then Holt said, “Raymond Holt, editor in chief of the Bulletin. You must be Amy’s detective-friend.” And Amy let out all her breath at once.

“Holt!” Rosa appeared just beyond his shoulder. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”

“Wait, Rosa knows Holt?” Amy said to Jake.

“No, she called him last night, when she was looking for us,” Jake said.

“Yeah, and also, I’m dating his niece,” Rosa said.

Jake frowned and stared between them, and Amy was glad that apparently she wasn’t the only one feeling a little sideswiped. “Wait, so-”

“Rosa’s friend Melanie is my sister’s daughter,” Holt said. “An amusing sidenote: Rosa also dated my nephew, Marcus.”

Amy gave up then and sank into Jake’s chest, and he folded the blankets securely around her. She could feel the laughter in his chest as she smiled and closed her eyes. What a strange little family she suddenly had.

+++

Their friends dispersed once the paramedics returned from treating the more seriously injured – the Vulture and Mr. Tall, Amy thought to herself, with a slightly manic chuckle – to transport Amy and Jake to the hospital. Wuntch approached them too, Scully at her heels; he was eating chicken wings out of a bucket, which he was sharing with Hitchcock. Amy watched them dully for a moment before blinking and deciding she might still be high after all.

She looked back at the commissioner instead.

“You did good work, Peralta,” Wuntch said, arms crossed over her chest. “I knew I was right to leave you and Diaz in the Nine-Nine.”

Jake stared blankly at her, and then his eyes widened, almost comically. “Oh my god, it was you. You kept rejecting our transfer requests.”

“Someone had to keep an eye on that jerkwad.” Wuntch nodded at Amy. “Thank you for your help, Ms. Santiago. You’re not a nightmare of a person, for a journalist.”

“You’re welcome?” Amy said, but Wuntch was already stomping away.

The paramedics took them to the hospital in one ambulance, but they were separated as soon as they got to the emergency room. It happened so fast that Amy didn’t realize Jake had been taken away until she turned to ask him if she’d be getting her phone back eventually, and he was gone. Amy paused mid-step, blinking at the spot where she’d expected him to be, until the nurse escorting her to an exam room took her gently by the elbow to lead her on.

She was hooked up to a machine to monitor the oxygen in her blood and her heart rate and blood pressure – it was just a precaution, the nurse assured her – and then told to rest. She fell asleep so fast she didn’t remember the nurse leaving the room.

When she woke up, Charles was standing so close to her bed that she yelped and batted him away, which caused the oxygen clip to fly off her finger, which in turn caused an alarm to go off and a new nurse to come storming in, and it was so chaotic that Amy’s heart rate shot up and set off a different alarm. The nurse offered Amy a sedative to calm her down, but she definitely did not want any more drugs so she said no and worked on breathing deeply in between glaring at Charles.

“I’m sorry,” he said, when the nurse had finally decided Amy wasn’t about to have a heart attack and left them alone. “But Gina wanted me to check if you were awake yet.”

“Gina?” Amy said, vaguely.

“Yeah, she needs a quote.” Amy stared at him some more. “For her story. On the whole Vulture drug ring thing. And, you know, the kidnapping and-” He trailed off, and awkwardly turned his cell phone over in his hands.

“She wants a quote. From me,” Amy said. Charles nodded. “What time is it?”

Charles turned the phone up in his palm and checked the time. “About 15 minutes to deadline.”

“Wait, what? How long have I been asleep?”

“Almost six hours,” Charles said.

Amy flopped back in the bed and stared up at the ceiling. After a moment of Charles twitching in her peripheral vision she held out a hand to him. “Call Gina and give me your phone.”

+++

Not long after she talked to Gina – who told her her quotes were boring, and Amy didn’t disagree but also was too tired and foggy to care – a doctor came by and said she could go home. Charles announced that Jake had instructed him to look out for Amy and make sure she got to her apartment safely, and to stay with her overnight if she felt like she needed company. (Amy thought that Jake probably hadn’t counted on Charles telling her all of that.) She told Charles she’d be fine on her own, but she’d be happy for the ride.

First, though, she wanted to see Jake.

It was getting close to 7 by the time she left the ER and headed into the main hospital, where Jake had been admitted for the night. A uniformed cop stood across from his room on the second floor, and it was after visiting hours, so it looked like Amy wasn’t going to be allowed in. She was just gearing up for a tantrum or a panic attack – she hadn’t committed to either – when Rosa appeared with a cup of coffee in hand and told the cop that Amy would just need a few minutes. Either because Rosa was in charge or just scary, the uniform didn’t argue.

The lights were dim, and Jake’s face was mostly in shadow. He was out cold, and even in the darkness she could tell that he was still too pale, and his eyes were bruised with exhaustion. He’d changed into a hospital gown and his right arm was bound securely to his chest; he had an IV in his left forearm, but it wasn’t attached to anything at the moment.

She carefully picked up his hand and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, then bent over and kissed him on the forehead, just above his eye. His eyelids fluttered and she was afraid, and also hopeful, that he was going to wake up, but he slept on. She stood and watched him for a while, until Rosa came in to tell her it was time to go home.

+++

Amy slept hard that night and woke at dawn. Charles was passed out on her couch when she shuffled into the kitchen; she’d conceded to him staying after she’d seen the police car parked across from her building and remembered there was still one more kidnapper on the loose. On her coffee table was a note in his familiar copy-editor print, instructing Amy to come to the 82nd precinct first thing in the morning to talk to the detectives handling the Pembroke case.

She tried calling Jake at the hospital before she left, but the phone in his room just rang and rang.

Amy figured the Eight-Two was handling the case because the Nine-Nine obviously couldn’t be trusted to investigate its own captain – so she was pleasantly surprised to find Rosa at the precinct when she showed up at 9. When she asked Rosa about it, Rosa just said, “Jake’s my partner,” and led her to a meeting room.

The interview itself was exhaustive and exhausting, and when Amy finally was set free at noon, she was tempted to go home and sleep again. She asked Rosa if Jake was coming in to be interviewed later in the week, and Rosa said he was scheduled for that afternoon.

“So he’s been released from the hospital?” Amy said.

“Yeah. This morning.”

He could have called, Amy thought. But then, she didn’t have her cell phone – the detectives on the case said they were keeping it for evidence. Maybe he already had called. Maybe he was wondering where she was too.

After that, she decided to go into work. She didn’t need to be alone.

+++

“Santiago! What are you doing here – go home!”

Terry’s yell cut through the din of the newsroom as Amy walked toward her desk. She gave him a little wave and sat down across from Gina, who leaned forward and said, in a conspiratorial whisper, “You’re such a nerd.”

“What? Gina, I literally shot a drug dealer in the kneecap yesterday and was given a nearly fatal overdose of a brand-new street drug – that is not nerd behavior.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty dope, but your FOMOW is not.”

“I do not have FOMOW,” Amy said. “What is FOMOW?”

“Whatever you say, nerd.” Gina sat back in her chair and clicked her pen. “Now c’mon, I’m writing the follow-up story today and you’ve got to give me all the deets.”

So Amy spent another hour describing the events of the day before. The detectives at the Eight-Two had asked her not to talk to any reporters, to which Rosa had actually laughed out loud, and Amy had made them no promises. She told Gina almost everything now, except for two or three details that the cops had insisted be kept out of the press, at least until they were further along in their investigation.

After she talked to Gina, Amy called Jake at home again (still no answer) then gave a couple of brief phone interviews to the Bulletin’s competitors – there was something deeply satisfying about telling the New York Times reporter that she had no further comment five minutes into their conversation – and scheduled another appearance on The Brian Lehrer Show for the next day. Her inbox was flooded by the time she found a minute to check her emails, and she clicked out of it after doing a quick search to see if Jake had sent anything.

Charles took her out for a late lunch – everyone else was on deadline, mostly writing about the Vulture takedown – and when they got back to the newsroom, Holt called for her to come to his office. Amy couldn’t resist calling Jake first; she hung up after three rings.

“Close the door,” Holt said, when Amy entered his office. Her gut did a slow roll. He only closed the door for very serious conversations.

When Amy was seated in front of his desk, he asked how she was doing, and Amy said she was tired but otherwise fine. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything that happened,” she said, feeling somewhat shy.

“That’s understandable,” Holt said. He studied her for a moment. “You realize I have to take you off of the police beat now.”

Amy sighed, but strangely, his words actually eased some of her tension. She was disappointed, but she’d expected this, after all. “I do, sir.”

“Santiago.” Holt folded his hands on his desk, and his face softened gradually until he looked almost affectionate. “Amy. This reassignment is not a reflection on your work. You are a most promising reporter. Your attention to detail, your persistence, and your eye for a good story are all remarkable. But what makes you stand out is your commitment to telling the full story – to exploring the gray area between the black and white.”

Amy could feel herself blushing from her forehead to her toes. She was dizzy with pride, her head buzzing from it.

“Thank you, sir. That means-“ She paused and took a deep breath. “It means everything.”

Holt nodded sagely. Then he smiled a bit and said, “Not that it’s any of my business, but I think that is why you and this detective make a good team.”

“How so?” Amy truly had no idea what he was talking about – she wasn’t even sure if she and Jake were a team anymore, romantic or otherwise. Just because they had comforted one another through a terrible ordeal didn’t mean they were together, or back together, or whatever.

“Your pursuit of the truth, and your faith that you’ll get there,” Holt said. “I don’t know your friend Detective Peralta personally, of course. But that he risked his life and his career to take down his own captain shows impressive strength of character.”

“Well, in fairness, Jake really hated Pembroke,” Amy said with a smirk.

“As well he should have.”

But Amy understood what Holt was saying, and she didn’t disagree. She supposed that she and Jake did share more than one or two key values – values that defined them, even, and that they sought and cherished in one another.

She was repeating his words over in her mind (and still basking in his praise) when Holt began tapping a pencil on his desk, snapping her out of a haze.

“Though it’s unfortunate that you got caught up in this whole drug ring boondoggle, I have to admit, it’s given us quite the advantage on this story,” Holt said, as though he were thinking out loud. “Even Wuntch has been grudgingly giving us information. And she’s basically just a skin-suit stuffed with gremlins.”

Amy stared at him, completely at a loss at how to respond to any of that. Finally she said, somewhat faintly, “You know Commissioner Wuntch?”

“She was a source of mine back when I was a reporter,” he said. “Things didn’t end as well for us as they did for you and Detective Peralta.”

Amy nodded vaguely. “I see.”

“Dismissed, Santiago.”

+++

Unfortunately, even Holt’s accolades withered under Amy’s growing anxiety over Jake. As the afternoon faded to evening, she tried to keep herself busy and distracted. She went through all of her emails, and she read every word of news coverage she could find on the Vulture situation. (The Bulletin’s coverage was the best, by a longshot.) She made a list of potential follow-up stories, most of which she wouldn’t be able to do because she was too close to it all.

At the same time, she lost count of the calls to Jake’s home and the many messages left for him at work – at the Nine-Nine and the Eight-Two. She called Rosa enough times that she started sending Amy straight to voicemail. Jake’s cell phone voicemail was full by mid-afternoon, but she kept calling anyway. She sent him multiple emails, and even stole Charles’ phone to send a few texts.

She was trying not to think worst-case scenarios. But it had been a full day since she’d seen him, longer than that since they spoke. It was hard not to worry when she felt like she was  crawling out of her skin with the need to hear from him (and see him and touch him, smell him even) and yet, he hadn’t reached out to her. Her desk phone had been ringing all afternoon, and in fairness, she hadn’t been able to pick up every time, but not once was it Jake’s voice on the other end. The rise and fall of hope each time she answered was making her physically ill.

By 7:30 it was starting to hit her that she was going to have to endure this stress at home, alone, when the new copy desk intern approached her desk, his face flushed and splotchy like he was incredibly nervous. She wanted to take pity on him but she couldn’t call up the energy, so she just looked up at him expectantly.

“Amy Santiago?” His voice cracked – on both names.

“That’s me,” Amy said with a sigh.

“Uh, hi.” Beads of sweat were pearling on the poor kid’s forehead. “I’m such a huge fan, your story on the jail recordings was awesome, and I just know you’re going to write something amazing about, you know, this drug stuff.”

“Well- thanks,” Amy said, genuinely touched.

“Anyway, I- I took down this message for you earlier, and then I forgot-” He held out a slip of paper torn from a reporter’s notebook, and Amy snatched it from his hand so quickly he jumped.

“A message? From today? Why are you just giving it to me now?” But Amy ignored his reply and read the note.

It said, “Meet at the park. 7 p.m.”

Amy grabbed her jacket and her purse and raced for the door. She heard the intern calling after her and thought she should have at least asked his name. But then again he’d sat on a message from Jake for who knew how long, so the kid was basically dead to her.

She ran outside and practically jumped in front of the first cab she saw, planting her hands on the hood and then pulling open the passenger door before even checking to see if it was available.

“The park!” Amy called through the glass partition. When the driver just raised an eyebrow at her in the rearview mirror she nearly growled. “Fort Greene. By the way, I shot a man yesterday. Make it fast.”

CHAPTER 16

[nevermindthewind]

decathlon of wonder

It’s the tenth Jimmy Jab Games and no one is gonna get in Jake’s way on his quest for glory and the Box of Mystery.

And that’s just the way Amy wants it.

It’s a Jimmy Jabs pregnancy reveal y’all!!!!!

(read on AO3 or under the cut)

“Alright squad,” Terry says from the podium. “I just received word that the United Nations summit will be beginning any minute. You all are to remain here -- ready to go -- for the duration of the meeting in case of protestors.”

“Yes sir,” says Rosa with a slight nod.

“The Captain and I are leaving for One Police Plaza for our meeting with Commissioner Holt.  We will be back in four hours.” Terry’s eyes narrow. “You all better not do anything stupid while we’re gone.”

“Don’t worry, Sarge. When have we ever done anything stupid?” Jake asks playfully. Terry gives him a menacing look, causing him to backtrack. “Okay, okay, we won’t do anything while you’re gone.”

Terry gives him one more glare before exiting the briefing room.  

As soon as the door closes Jake turns to the rest of the squad.

“Of course we’re going to do something while they’re gone,” he whispers, his eyes lighting up. “And not just anything. Friends, it’s time for--” The door handle turns, causing him to completely change the subject.

“No Charles, I do NOT want to wax each other’s le --”

In walk Amy and Gina, both in civilian clothing.

“Oh thank god,” Jake sighs. “What are you two doing here? You’re off today,” Jake nods at Amy before turning to Gina. “And you’re supposed to be with Holt.”

“Holt agrees that my job is optional,” Gina shrugs. “And when I heard you all were stuck here, I figured you could use some entertainment a la me.”

“He definitely did not say that, but okay,” says Amy, rolling her eyes before looking back at Jake. “I needed to drop off some paperwork downstairs, but I thought I’d come up and say hi before I left. Hi!”

“Hi,” Jake grins. Six months as a married couple and he still gets butterflies whenever he sees her.

She crosses the room to where Jake is sitting and leans down to give him a peck on the lips. “There’s a bagel and coffee on your desk.”

“Aw, thanks babe.” He looks up at the squad. “How great is my wife? Seriously, name a better wife than Amy Santiago Peralta.”

“Jake, we’re losing time…” Rosa warns. Jake jumps, his attention brought back to the situation at hand.

“Right. Ames, Gina, take a seat. For today is the day you’ve all been waiting for. THE JIMMY JAB GAMES.”

Amy and Gina slide into empty chairs as the entire squad breaks into cheers.

“But this is no ordinary Jimmy Jabs,” Jake says as he pops out of his chair and begins pacing the aisle. “No, for not only has it been ten years since the inaugural competition, but it is also the tenth Jimmy Jab Games to be held in this very precinct. Which is why today’s Jimmy Jabs will henceforth be known as...drumroll, please…”

The squad obliges, hitting their hands against the table. Jake brings his fingertips together and wiggles his eyebrows in an attempt to create suspense.

“...Jimmy Jabs Ten: Decathalon of Wonder.”

Everyone oohs and ahhs at the name, their excitement evident. Everyone, that is, except for Amy, whose eyes are filled with disappointment.

“I wish I could stay,” she mutters.

Jake’s face falls. He’d forgotten Amy wasn’t on duty. As much as he loves the games and loves competing with the entire squad, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without Amy there. Plus, this was supposed to be their first Jimmy Jabs as a married couple. According to that marriage book he’s been reading — That’s right, he reads on the reg now — they were supposed to celebrate important milestones together.  What’s more important than the Jimmy Jabs?!

He’s just about to suggest she stay when Gina, of all people, beats him to it.

“Come on Amy, live a little and stay for the games. The pantsuit shopping can wait ‘til tomorrow.”

“But I have errands to run,” Amy insists, although Jake can tell she’s thinking it over.

“Come on Ames. It’s only a few hours, and we can finish all our errands tomorrow or something,” Jake suggests as he approaches her chair. As he gets closer he can tell she’s tired, and maybe a little stressed by the slight furrow in her brow. Half her squad had been out with a stomach bug last week and Amy’d been forced to work overtime to make up for the lack of manpower.  He takes her hand in his. “It’d be way more fun if you stayed. But if you need to go, I totally get it.”

Amy gives him a tiny smile as she runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re sweet,” she says. “I’ll stay --”

“Yay!”

“-- But only so I can kick your ass,” she adds with a smirk, turning to face the others. “JIMMY JABS! JIMMY JABS!”

The rest of the squad joins in the chanting, and in that moment Jake’s never been more proud of his wife.

--

After the ceremonial lighting of the bagel, the detectives file into the kitchen where six items sit under various fast food napkins. Once everyone has taken their seats across from their respective object Gina begins the explanation of the rules.

“Despite the name of the games we don’t have time for an actual decathlon.”

“I stand by it,” Jake interjects.

“So we will be continuing with the traditional four game event. The loser of each game will be eliminated, while the winner will get a bonus in the final round. The overall winner will receive, along with all of the glory and pride that comes with being a Jimmy Jab champion, this magical box of mystery.”

She holds up a beat up lunch box that had to be at least thirty years old. It was metal, with a picture of…

“Wait a second,” says Jake, confused. “Is that my Superman lunch box from the fourth grade?”

“Yeah girl, I stole it from your old apartment before you moved out. Anyway,” Gina continues, “The real prize inside this box, but in order to win it you must survive all four competitions.”

“I don’t know, that box seems like a good prize to me,” Jake murmurs to Amy, who rolls her eyes.

“Sure it is, babe.”

“The first game is ‘Smoothie Move, Exlax,’” announces Gina.  “Under your napkins you will find a smoothie containing a variety of foods I found in the lunchroom refrigerator.  These foods include but are not limited to Charles’ latest desk yogurt, expired salami, and, as a tribute to Double J 7, month old chinese food. Whoever drinks the most of their smoothie wins.”

The squad gingerly removes the napkins to reveal a smoothie that was probably the grossest, most unnatural color Jake had ever seen.

“It looks like melted silly putty,” he says, holding the cup in the air to get a better look.

“Or one of Holt’s flavor free nutrition shakes,” Amy adds, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

Charles eyes his cup with utter terror. “I can do this, I can do this, I can do this…” he murmurs to himself.

“Ugh, it smells like ass,” says Rosa. Her nostrils flare as she sets the glass down. Amy looks at her in horror.

“Why would you smell it?”

“Enough,” snaps Gina. “Contestants, place your straws in your cups. On your mark, get Seth, MEYERS!”

Jake plunges his straw into his smoothie and begins to drink as much of it as he can. He decides to take small sips, not wanting to overwhelm his stomach with...is that a pickle?!

“Why is mine crunchy?” Rosa cries in between sips.

“This tastes how cat poop smells,” gags Amy. She’s already turned a frightening shade of green.

“I don’t know why you guys are complaining, these are delicious,” says Hitchcock, who’s currently licking the edge of his cup.

It’s only three seconds later that Charles pushes his cup away.

“Nope, I can’t. Sylvia is too important to me.”

“Who’s Sylvia?” asks Gina.

“My mouth, duh. After everything she’s done for me she needed a name.”

Amy’s next to fold, setting her smoothie down with a shudder. Rosa and Scully bow out shortly after, until it’s just Jake and Hitchcock. Hitchcock’s looking close to bursting after a minute of slurping, and honestly Jake’s pretty sure his belly is filled with more air than smoothie. Jake’s actually beginning to wonder if he has a chance. But just as the thought enters his mind Amy jumps up and runs to the bathroom, her hand covering her mouth.  

A couple years ago Jake would have kept going, his drive to win outweighing any form of compassion. But this is his wife and she’s clearly about to hurl, so he sets his cup down with a clatter and rushes after her.

“Ames!”

Amy ignores him, reaching the ladies room in record time and letting the door slam in Jake’s face.

He knocks on the door to the bathroom before opening. As soon as the doors open he hears a violent cough come from the stall closest to him.

“Babe? What can I do?”

A pause.

“Can you go get Gina?” she asks weakly.

Of all her possible answers, this one catches him completely by surprise.

“Gina? Our Gina?”

“Yeah, babe our Gi --.” She’s cut off by another wave of...well, you know.

“You’re sure? Gina Linetti?”

“JAKE.”

“Right, okay.” He shuts the door and turns only to run directly into Gina herself. “Aghh!”

“Lemme guess,” Gina says with a knowing smirk. “She’s asking for me?”

“Yes,” says Jake, bewildered. Gina and Amy are friends, sure. But of all the people Amy would ask for as she’s vomiting fridge smoothie, Gina’s pretty much the last person he’d have expected. Gina, on the other hand, looks completely unsurprised. She merely pats him on the shoulder as she walks past him and barges into the bathroom.

“Don’t worry Amy dearest, your favorite human has arrived.”

Jake did a double take. “Huh?”

Today is weird.

--

Fifteen minutes later both women emerge from the bathroom, Amy looking a little pale but otherwise okay.  Jake grabs her hand and gives it a squeeze, pulling her to a stop as Gina keeps walking.

“You good?” he asks. She smiles as she squeezes back.

“I’m fine. Just couldn’t handle the salami-egg roll-pizza smoothie, I guess. Wonder why?” she adds with a touch of sarcasm.

“Okay,” he nods. He’s just about to ask about Gina when Rosa calls over to them.

“Come on dummies, we’re about to start round two.”

“Yeah come on, dummy,” says Amy. There’s a playful glint in her eye as she pulls him to the center of the bullpen where the rest of the squad is waiting.

Gina has already taken her perch at the whiteboard, where each of their six photos are lined up.

“Charles has been eliminated,” she announces, crossing his photo out with a red sharpie. “Surprise, surprise.”

“Sorry buddy,” Jake says, giving Charles a pat on the back.

“Thanks, Jakey.”

“Moving on,” says Gina with a dismissing wave. “The next event is called ‘Dude Where’s My Bomb?’. One at a time you will each put on a pair of drunk goggles and search for the fake bomb I have hidden somewhere in the bullpen. Whoever takes the longest loses.”

“Oh you’re going down, Santiago,” Amy says, a smug smirk flickering across her face. “Drunk goggles are my shit.”

“You sure, Peralta?” Jake asks with mock concern. “Because I seem to recall you falling down a flight of stairs in drunk goggles mere months ago.”

“That was Charles,” Amy retorts.

“Yeah Jake that was me. How dare you confuse me, your best friend in the entire world --”

“-- Amy’s my best friend.”

“-- YOUR BEST FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD,” Charles repeats, “With this flooze.”

“Hey that’s my wife!”

“Yeah not cool man,” Amy adds.

“SILENCE!” Gina bellows. Everyone shuts up at once. “You savages.”

Rosa gives Gina a silent nod of approval, causing Gina to wink back before continuing.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, we will go in the order of the last game’s winners.  Which means -- and I can’t believe I’m saying this -- Hitchcock will be going first. Hashtag shudder.”

“Yeah baby!” Hitchcock says smugly.

Hitchcock’s winning the Jimmy Jab games.  Amy’s suddenly besties with Gina. And he just confused Amy for Charles.

If Jake didn’t know better, he’d think he was in the Upside Down.

--

It turns out the day’s more normal than he thought, because both Hitchcock and Scully get eliminated within the span of twenty minutes. Hitchcock straight up left the precinct during his turn because he heard someone mention an ice cream truck outside and Scully fell down the stairs in his drunk goggles less than thirty seconds after his turn started.

“We are now down to the final three,” says Gina as she crosses out both Scully and Hitchcock on the leaderboard.  “Which leads us to the acting portion of the competition.”

“Oh no,” murmurs Amy.

“Ha HA!” Jake cries. “You might as well throw in the towel now, Ames. We both know that I, Jacob Peralta Santiago, am the KING of --”

“Not that, Jake.”

The shakiness in her voice causes Jake to look over to where his wife is sitting, once again a ghastly shade of green. She has one hand on her stomach and her gaze is trained on the floor, on the one blue tile she always focuses on when she’s feeling panicky. Or nauseous, apparently.

“Ames?” he asks timidly. “Babe, you good?”

Amy gives one shake of the head before jumping out of her old desk chair and racing to the bathroom.  

Jake follows suit, fully planning on barging in this time because she’s his wife and she’s sick goddamn it, but before he can take even a step in that direction he sees someone walk past him.

Gina.

“I got it, Jakester,” she says as she continues past him.

“What? No,” Jake sputters. “Gina, I love you but I can go, you don’t have to --”

“Let her go,” says Rosa, grabbing his arm to stop him from going after Gina. “She’s got this.”

“Got WHAT? Rosa what the hell is going on?!” His voice is higher than he’d care to admit, but there’s clearly something going on that he doesn’t know about and it is stressing him the fuck out. “Rosa, if she’s sick or something I feel like as her husband I should be in the know. Right now I could not feel more outside the know.”

Rosa rolls her eyes. “Nothing, dude. Relax.  Gina has some mystical salve that she insists cures nausea. Amy wanted to try it. Just let her be.”

“Mystical salve?” Jake asks, raising his eyebrows. Amy would never buy into that.

“Ugh I know,” says Rosa with a slight look of disgust. “I’m pretty sure it’s just Vicks with raw ginger in it, but whatever. When she was...well, when she was sick she said it was the only thing that helped.”

Jake has approximately five million more questions. How did Rosa and Gina know that Amy was sick and not him? When did Amy start taking advice from Gina? And when did Gina start offering it?

But just as he’s about to ask, Gina and Amy are walking out of the bathroom.  

“Alright losers, listen up!” Gina calls from the front of the hallway.

Jake gives Amy a look, raising his eyebrows with concern.

“You okay?” he mouths.

She nods and gives him a slight, almost shy smile.

“In the interest of time we will be cancelling event three and moving straight into the final event,” Gina continues.  “Rosa, as you came in third in ‘Dude Where’s My Bomb?’, I am sorry but you have been eliminated.”

Oh crap. There is no way Rosa will take this without a fight. Rosa’s come in second the past two Jimmy Jabs, and they all knew how badly she wanted a win.  

So imagine his surprise when Rosa merely plops down into her chair, rests her feet on her desk and says, “Fine by me.”

“WHAT?!” Jake exclaims, unable to mask his confusion any longer. “How are you okay with this?”

Rosa just rolls her eyes. “Because, unlike you, I don’t need to win a stupid game to know that I’m a badass.”

“That stings, but okay. I guess,” Jake says, giving her one final confused look before turning to Amy. “What about you? You sure you can do this, babe?”

Amy walks over to him and places a hand on his chest. His heart instantly slows at her touch, allowing him to actually relax for the first time since this crazy-ass day began. She glances up at him with a sweet smile, pecking his lips before pulling back and looking him right in the eye.

“I promise I am more than able to kick your ass.”

“Alright then!” Gina exclaims. “She seems fine to me.”

Jake lets out a relieved laugh as he removes Amy’s hand from his chest and interlaces their fingers together. The entire precinct gathers around the couple, who are now standing right in the center of the bullpen. The scene is not unlike Jimmy Jabs of years past, except now instead of trying not to flirt with her, Jake is openly holding Amy’s hand and fiddling with her rings, wondering how in the world he got the hottest and smartest girl in the world to actually fall in love with him.

“The final event of the Decathlon of Wonder will be, as per tradition, an obstacle course,” Gina announces. “If the contestants could please keep their hands off each other, I will explain the rules,” she adds with a pointed look at both of them.

Jake gives Amy’s hand one final squeeze before letting go.

‘Thank you,” says Gina with a swift nod. “First, contestants must enter the break room, where they will eat an entire donut without using their hands.  Then you will race to complete Pin the Tack on the Terry, in which you will have to successfully place a thumbtack on a picture of Terry, specifically Terry’s nose, while wearing a blindfold. Once Terry has been successfully tacked you must race to the bulletin board on the second floor, where you will tear off a phone number from a roommate advertisement. And finally, you will return to the bullpen, where you must solve a riddle in order to be granted the key to the box of mystery.”

“Oh Amy,” says Jake with a smirk. “Amy, Amy, Amy. Are you ready to be owned by your loving, incredibly talented husband?”

Amy rolls her eyes.

“Weird take on a very strong and wonderful marriage, but okay.”

“Contestants, to your starting positions,” says Gina, cutting them off. Amy and Jake lineup facing the breakroom.  “On your mark, get set, HARMON!”

All the worry, all the weirdness of the day flies out the window as Jake and Amy sprint towards the break room, where two donuts sit on the worn wooden table. The crowd files in after them, cheering both detectives on as they hold their hands behind their backs and attempt to eat their respective donut. Jake finishes a hair ahead of Amy, jumping out of his chair mere seconds before Amy takes her final bite.

“Eat my dust, Peralta!” he calls over his shoulder as he flies across the bullpen to the briefing room.  

Unfortunately for him Amy’s lighting fast, so she reaches her station before Jake’s even finishing putting on his blindfold, an old bandana Gina found in the lost in found.

“Why can’t I get this stupid blindfold on?” he practically growls as he fumbles over the ends.

“Why can’t I get this stupid blindfold on -- title of your sex tape.” Amy briefly turns her head to smile at him, her eyes already covered by her own makeshift blindfold. It’s simultaneously the most sexy and most frustrating thing in the entire world.

“You wish,” Jake retorts. Amy’s grin widens before she feels around for her first tack.

“Yeah I do.”

“God, I love you.”

Finally after what had to be his fiftieth try Gina announces “Jake has tacked Terry’s schnoz!”, eliciting a groan from Amy and a full on “WOOP WOOP” from Jake.

He races down over to the elevator and this time he doesn’t even think about holding the door open for Amy. This year he’s winning all on his own, no matter what the cost. (Within reason, he’s not an animal.)

It takes forever for the elevator to come to a stop and for the doors to slide open. He scours the room for a bulletin board that might have a roommate flier on it, but just as he spots it he hears the familiar ping of the elevator door. Sure enough Amy’s flying straight towards him as soon as the doors open wide enough for her to squeeze through.

“NO!” he cries, lunging towards the board and ripping off the first phone number he sees. Amy’s right behind him as he slams his palm into the up button, hitting it repeatedly until the doors slide open. This time he actually hits the door-close button, but it’s too late. Amy runs into the elevator with at least five seconds to spare. Her cheeks are tinted pink, all evidence of her earlier sickness gone as they wait for the elevator to take them to their final challenge.

“You know Ames, you might as well just call it quits now while you can,” Jake says with a careless grin. Might as well take the time to slip in a little trash talk, just for kicks. “I’m clearly gonna win.”

“We’ll just see about that, babe,” Amy says with a smirk. There’s a twinkle in her eye, one that makes his heart physically ache, and for a second Jake is taken aback by just how beautiful his wife is. She’s in her favorite pair of jeans and his favorite sweater of hers, the pink one that makes her skin look like caramel. It’s almost, almost enough for him to want to give up entirely, to let her win and let his prize be seeing her happy, but then the elevator comes to a halt and the doors open and forget that, he has a Jimmy Jabs to win!

The two of them fly to Gina’s desk where a sealed envelope waits for each of them.  Jake tears his apart and reads the question:

As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives. Each wife had seven sacks, every sack had seven cats, every cat had seven kittens. Kittens, cats, sacks, wives. How many were going to St. Ives?

At first Jake freezes, the presh of trivia and riddles almost costing him the competition right then and there. But he reads the question again, and again, swearing he’s heard this particular puzzle before. In a movie, maybe? That’s when it hits him--

“It’s the Die Hard puzzle,” he gasps. Without thinking he calls out the answer. “One. The answer is one!”

“Ding ding ding,” announces Gina. “We have a winner!”

“YES!” Jake cries. The crowd around them erupts into cheers as Jake slaps the paper with the riddle on the desk before lifting both his fists in celebration. “I AM THE KING OF JIMMY JABS!”

“Congratulations Jake,” says Gina as she removes a tiny silver key from her front pocket. “Now I believe this belongs to you.”

“You hear that, babe?” Jake says as he snatches the key out of Gina’s outstretched hand. “I believe we now know who is the most glorious member of this couple?”

Amy, God love her, doesn’t look the least bit put out by the fact that she lost the games.  In fact, she is downright beaming. Why is she so happy?

“Care to congratulate me?” he asks as he dramatically waves the key in front of her face. “Me, the winner of five out of ten Jimmy Jab Games?”

Amy rolls her eyes as she gives him a playful shove.

“Just open your prize, weirdo.”

Jake grins as he takes the key over to the box, which had been left on Amy’s old desk.  

“You know, I really shouldn’t be that surprised anymore,” Jake continues as he slides the key into the lock.  “I think I’m just gonna have to accept that I am the ultimate --”

He pauses as the box clicks open, revealing a plain white box with his name written in Amy’s careful cursive.

“What’s this?” he asks, his heart racing as he looks up to see Amy’s smile has grown even wider. “Why’s my name on the box?”

“Just open it,” she says, prodding him along.  He gives her one final look of bewilderment before removing the lid. His jaw drops, his stomach filling with the most wonderful mix of joy, confusion, and excitement he could have ever imagined.

Because laying in the box are five positive pregnancy tests.

“Ames…” he whispers, looking up to see tears running down his wife’s face. “What the...Is this for real?”

“Mhmm,” she nods, bringing her hand up to her mouth in the way that makes him melt. “I took them two days ago on my lunch break. I was going to tell you right away, I swear! But then Rosa found me asleep in Babylon clutching the test and she got Gina to help me with the nausea and we kind of came up with this...”

She’s cut off by Jake lifting her off the ground in an (almost) bone crushing hug. He spins her around before gently bringing her back to earth. His arms stay around her waist as he touches his forehead to hers.

“We’re having a baby?” he whispers. He bites his lower lip in an attempt to contain his excitement but it’s no use. His grin is so wide it almost hurts.

“We’re having a baby,” she repeats, joy saturating her voice.

“Oh my god...” He lets out a laugh as he kisses her, rubbing the tears away from her cheeks as he brings a hand to her face. The crowd around them whoops and hollers, but they could care less. Because Amy is pregnant and they’re gonna be parents and he loves her so damn much.

After they break apart Amy leans into his chest as Jake wraps his arms around her waist.

“You’re really happy about this?” she murmurs, her voice vibrating against his heart.

“Oh Ames,” he all but whispers as he plants a kiss on the top of her head. “I am so, so happy about this.”

“Me too.”

“I do have one question though,” he says, causing her to take a step back so she can actually see his face.

“Yeah?”

He brushes a small piece of hair out of her face as gently as he can.

“Are you...are you saying I knocked you up?!”

Amy bursts into giggles as she runs her hands down his arms. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

“Yeah babe, you sure did.”

[chasholidays]

Alternate POV request: I Never Finish Phrases, I Misspell, Bellamy. Thank you for doing this whole thing! It's such a huge project and it's super appreciated.

Original fic here!

Bellamy’s not sure at what exact point he got bad at dating.

He was fine at it in high school, although he thinks part of that was that he didn’t really date in high school. He was mostly just enough attractive to be kind of popular, and that never seemed that difficult. And even college was basically fine. He had a couple serious relationships that happened fairly organically. But once he stopped being in an environment where dating was based primarily on proximity, any game he had basically fell apart.

Which is probably how he ends up texting the cute girl he has wanted to talk to for months Five animals have peed on me today, in case you didn’t believe me that dog urine isn’t a big deal in my life.

It feels like kind of a charming and witty thing to say as he’s typing it, but as soon as it sends, he realizes that he is talking about dog urine, and he needs to rethink basically his entire life.

Fuck.

That text seemed more normal in my head, he adds, and puts his head down on his desk.

His crush on Clarke had been, up until yesterday, a very nebulous thing. Crush was too strong a word, honestly. He just noticed her, and thought she was pretty, and sort of vaguely hoped she’d come in with a pet sometime. He timed his morning coffee with when he’d seen her walk by, but that wasn’t really a lot of effort on his part. His sister had noticed, but he’d been able to say, in all honesty, that it wasn’t a big deal. It was eye candy. Nothing was going to happen.

And then, the cute girl showed up with a pitbull puppy she found, and suddenly she was Clarke, worried about the puppy being left alone, a little too serious, and still cute.

And he’s texting her about dog urine.

He hears his phone buzz and looks over to see Clarke has replied: No, no, that was the most normal text I’ve ever gotten about animal pee.

He has to smile Cool, that’s what I like to hear.

For the rest of the afternoon, he tries to figure out if he has anything else to say to her, but once he’s told her to get in touch if she hears from the rescue, he doesn’t actually have anything to say. After all, just because he knows her name and has her number, it doesn’t mean they’re going to interact. It doesn’t even mean they should.

He keeps telling himself that as she doesn’t text him about the dog, as his day wears on and he hasn’t come up with anything else to say to her. Another dog pees on him and he thinks about letting her know about that, but as brands go, he doesn’t really want that to be the one she associates with him.

Maybe he’s already scared her off. He wouldn’t blame her.

“Self-centered much?” Octavia asks, and he snorts. “Come on, Bell. You know I’d tell you if I thought you were being that weird, but you really aren’t. She’s the one who came to you. You’re actually being normal.”

“Thanks.” He clears his throat. “If I offer to take her shopping for supplies, is that normal?”

“Not really,” she says. “But talk me through it anyway. What’s the plan?”

“She’s never had a pet before. She could probably use someone to consult with.”

Octavia looks dubious. “That’s a little weird. But you could probably convince her that you’re just over-invested in all the animals that get adopted, not that you want to marry her.”

“I don’t want to marry her,” he grumbles. “I just think she’s cute. And she could use some help with the whole adoption thing. I give out lists to plenty of people. This is like that, just–”

“Just you have a crush.”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “None of which matters if she doesn’t come back, so–what’s my schedule look like this afternoon? Let’s talk about literally anything else.”

“Easier said than done,” says O, and he gets it as the bell over the door chimes and Clarke comes in. “Hey, Clarke!”

“When do you usually work?” he asks, frowning. He had expected her to text before she showed up, and hadn’t expected her to show up until after six, if she did. Which he wasn’t sure she would.

He wasn’t really prepared for this.

“Usually, nine to five-thirty,” says Clarke, with a friendly smile. “I left early today.” Her expression falters, and she looks nervous, suddenly. “They’re bringing the dog back over at around six so I can take him.”

“Yeah? Awesome.”

Despite his best attempt at a warm tone, she looks more apprehensive. “Yeah, but–they didn’t really want me to.”

It’s O’s turn to frown, and Bellamy hopes Lincoln wasn’t involved. Regardless of anything else, he doesn’t deserve to get blamed for this one. Some people aren’t suited for rescue dogs, and he can understand Clarke not seeming like a great candidate.

“Why not?” Octavia demands.

“Apparently he’s got some issues, because–” Clarke shrugs. “Left his mom too early, trained to fight, stuff like that. I guess they didn’t really think he was a very good starter dog. So I told them you’d help and I guess they thought I meant we were dating?”

It takes him a second to realize she’s not only talking to him, but about him. “Us?” he asks.

“Yeah, I didn’t really–” She sighs. “She said that made a difference, so I just kind of went with it. You don’t have to do anything except reply to my frantic texts and, you know. Be my vet, obviously.”

On the bright side, he’s not the one who’s going to make this weird. Or at least not the only one. Clarke somehow managed to tell Lexa Allen that she was his girlfriend; that’s some skill.

Clarke doesn’t know that, though, so he clears his throat, offers her a smile. “Yeah, no, I was sort of, uh–planning on that. I’m invested now, so–yeah. If anyone asks, I’ll just–” He clears his throat again, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Octavia is probably laughing her ass off. But at least it’s internally. That’s the best he could hope for. “Yeah. I’m cool with minor relationship fraud for the greater good. And I was going to, uh–do you have a car?”

She frowns. “No car.”

“Yeah, I figured, uh–if you need a ride to Petsmart, I could take you? And help you get, uh. Stuff. Since it’s your first dog, I figured you might appreciate some guidance anyway.”

“You really don’t have to,” she says, but it sounds like kneejerk politeness, and when he smiles, she returns the expression.

He might not ever be able to look his sister in the eye again, but at least Clarke seems to like him.

“I don’t mind,” he assures her. “Like I said, I’m invested now. But it’s up to you.”

“No, that would be really great, honestly. I’ll buy you a pizza or something.”

“And then when I come over to eat it, you trick me into helping you set up all the stuff I told you to buy. I can see how this is going to go.”

She frowns, and he remembers, a little guiltily, that this is new for her. She’s going to be overwhelmed by some of it. “Do puppies need stuff that requires extensive setup?” she asks.

He’s going to tell her, but Iris Takahashi shows up before he can really get going. Which is fine; he has a job, and Clarke Griffin and her new pitbull are not going to be the focus of his life. It���s not a big deal. “We’ll talk about it later?” he offers, giving Clarke an apologetic smile. “I close at six on Fridays, so we can probably go after you get the dog.”

“Thanks. Really. You’re being surprisingly cool about–literally everything.”

“That’s me, surprisingly cool,” he says, and Octavia manages to not laugh, so he probably owes her. She’s not actually completely sabotaging him.

And he finds out she’s sabotaging him even less than he thought, because once Iris and Magellan are gone and they’re alone in the lobby, she asks, “So, what am I telling Lincoln?”

It hadn’t even occurred to him, and he feels the blood drain out of his face. “Oh god. She told your boyfriend that I’m dating her.”

“It’s not like she knew. And it’s not like Lincoln and I talk about you that much. No offense, but we have better things to do when we’re together than discuss your love life.”

“That’s the opposite of offensive. The last thing I want is for you guys to talk about me.” He sighs. "Just tell him it’s pretty recent and I’m bad at feelings. He’ll buy that, right?”

“It’s even true!” she says, bright. “Completely new and you’re a disaster at feelings. But she’s the one who lied about being in a relationship with you, so it’s not like you’re the only weirdo here. Plus, you’ve got an excuse to talk to her. She has a new puppy and Lexa thinks you’re taking care of it, so if she finds out you’re not, she’ll probably actually murder you.”

“That was so close to being all good news.”

“Whatever, I bet you’re going to be for-real dating her in six months or less.”

“I’ll take that action,” he says. “I’m going to text her that she can come over.”

“Awesome. I’m going to text Lincoln that you’re a human disaster.”

“Sounds about right. Good plan.”

*

It doesn’t feel as if it should be difficult to go from a fake relationship to a real one. Or asking about a real one, at the very least. She seems to like him, enjoys his company, even outside of getting dog advice. Even if his excuse for stopping by her place is to check on Faramir, he’ll hang out for hours, watching TV or just talking to her, and he thinks it really could go somewhere. He just doesn’t know how.

“How did you tell Gina it happened?” Miller asks. He finds the whole thing hilarious, and Bellamy can’t really blame him. If he was Miller, he’d find it hilarious too.

“What?”

“You and her. You told her something, right?”

“Nothing good. I said Clarke asked me out at the grocery store.”

“Wow. You couldn’t come up with anything better?”

“Fuck you, it wasn’t my idea to be in a fake relationship with her. She didn’t give me a fake relationship history to give out, I had to improvise.”

“And obviously you’re really good at it.” He snaps his fingers. “Wait, I got it.”

“Got what?”

“I’m going to save you.”

Bellamy squints at him. “How?”

“I’m going to actually have a birthday thing this year. Invite your sister and Lincoln, have it at Gina’s, invite Clarke because they all think you’re dating. Get drunk, get out of your head, maybe actually make a move on her. It’s easy.”

He pauses. “That might actually work,” he admits. “Can’t hurt, anyway.”

“Sound more enthusiastic. This should be a slam dunk, but you’re a fucking mess, so–yeah, just tell me how much you love me and buy me a really great birthday present.”

“You’re the best,” he says, obedient. “Thanks for giving me an excuse to ask out the girl I’m supposed to be dating.”

“Thanks for continuing to say shit like that,” Miller says, and they drink to it.

*

It still takes him a couple days to work up his nerve, which is pathetic, but he’s accepted that he’s pathetic. He knows.

They have a nice routine worked out, a month after Clarke found the puppy. She stops by on her way to work, and he goes to her place after most nights. She doesn’t always have specific questions or needs, but they usually chat a little, and he stays for dinner more often than not.

On Thursday, he goes over as usual, and, as is slightly less than but still not that unusual, Clarke is having puppy issues.

“He decided he hates all his chew toys and just wants to gnaw on the table leg,” she says, making a face, and Bellamy has to smile.

“Well, he knows you like the table leg. Did you tell him no?”

“He did it while I wasn’t home.”

Bellamy shows her how to demonstrate where the problem is, and Faramir seems to get it, and then he has no choice but to bring up the whole birthday thing, because otherwise she won’t come, and Miller will make fun of him until the end of time.

So once they’ve got dinner ordered, he clears his throat, reminds himself they are friends and she likes him and says, “Hey, it’s my friend Miller’s birthday tomorrow. Or, uh, his birthday was yesterday, but he’s having a party tomorrow.”

Clarke gives him a smile. “And you’re upset you have to be social?”

“We’re getting drinks at the bar where Gina works.” Clarke cocks her head, looking confused, and he clears his throat again. He’s the worst at this, honestly. “O and Lincoln are coming, so, uh–he’d probably think it was weird if you weren’t there.” But she’s still looking confused, which means, unfortunately, he just keeps talking. “Not that I wouldn’t–Miller wants to meet you, so I would have invited you anyway. But you might have to come and also pretend to be dating me.”

“Does Miller know about the whole–” She gestures vaguely, and he has to smile.

“Yeah. Gina doesn’t, but Octavia would have told Miller if I didn’t. No big deal if you’re busy,” he adds, like the entire thing wasn’t expressly set up for her benefit.

By some miracle, she looks pleased. “No, that sounds really fun. I love pretending I have a social life. My coworkers are gonna be so confused when I say I have plans on a Friday.”

“They will definitely think you were replaced by a pod person. Monty can come too, if you want. Basically any friends you want to bring. Assume this is me officially moving to merge our friend groups,” he adds, and thankfully, she laughs.

“Wow, that’s quite a step.”

“You’re the one who took us from zero to fake relationship in like a day.”

“True. Thanks for inviting me.”

She might actually be blushing, and he might really have a shot at making this into an actual, honest-to-god relationship. “Don’t thank me. You haven’t met my friends yet.”

“You have met all my friends, so you should get why I’m desperate.”

“Poor Monty,” he says.

“Monty and you,” she counters. “End of list.”

“That’s not a burn, you’re just telling me you consider me a friend.”

“That’s not actually a surprise, is it?”

He shrugs. “I like to make sure.”

“We’re definitely friends,” she says, and he’s still hoping she’s just going to agree to go out with him, but if she doesn’t, he could live with just this.

This is nice.

*

It’s hard to say at what point in the evening he decides she feels the same way he does. It’s some combination of the alcohol and all the physical contact, but by the end of the night, he’s sure that the only reason he isn’t actually dating his cute neighbor is that he hasn’t asked her if she wants to yet. She’s been tucked under his arm for most of the night, and when he kissed her hair, she just smiled.

He does it again when he’s walking her home, just to check, and she snuggles closer.

“My friends really liked you,” he tells her. “They’re going to want you to hang out more.”

“I want to hang out too. I like them too.”

“Awesome. You should. I’m gonna ask a lot more.”

Clarke pokes him. “The puppy’s going to feel abandoned if we go out all the time.”

“We can stay in too,” he says without thinking, and when she doesn’t reply, he nearly just asks, but she’s swaying a little, and so is he. “Uh–you’re drunk, right?” he asks instead.

She seems to really be thinking it over, and he nearly kisses her again. But she says, “Kind of,” and he nods.

“Me too. So–I’m gonna come over tomorrow. And talk to you.”

“As opposed to when you usually come over and refuse to talk to me,” she teases.

“My sister likes to remind me I’m not great at human interaction.”

“You’re great at interacting with me,” she says, and it doesn’t even sound like sarcasm.

“Can I get that in writing?”

“For Octavia?”

“No, for personal reasons.”

“I’ll tell you whenever you want,” she says, with a soft smile, and it’s that as much as anything that lets him hold onto the thread of conversation until they make it back to her door, and it’s the brightness of her smile that gives him the confidence to lean down and press his mouth against hers.

It only lasts a second, but it’s still long enough for her eyes to be closed when he pulls back, and his heart flutters in his chest.

“Talk about that,” he says, and makes himself leave before he can do it again.

*

Saturday is his short day, but it feels like he’s worked at least forty hours by the time he’s finally ready to be done. He tries Clarke’s door first, just to be safe, but she’s almost never inside when he finishes on Saturdays, so he doesn’t let himself read into it.

He finds her on the back porch, makes himself go through the normal motions of shedding work clothes even as his heart is pounding so hard he’s worried Clarke will hear it.

“No answer at the door, I figured you were out here,” he says, and almost sags with relief when she settles against his side, head on his shoulder.

There’s no way she’s mad.

“How was work?” she asks.

“Fucking terrible.”

She looks up at him, clearly concerned. “Shit, what happened?”

“Nothing,” he says, and kisses her hair when she settles back. “I was at work instead of here with you, mostly. And, honestly, I was kind of worried I fucked up,” he admits, even though he’s not worried anymore. “Thought maybe you were just putting on a good show for–”

She cuts him off with a kiss, and it’s so much better now, when he’s sober and sure, when she’s the one initiating, when it feels like they have all the time in the world. He slides his hand around the back of her neck and she shivers, presses closer, and it’s so, so good, a long, leisurely kiss he wants to live in.

“So, that’s okay,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb against her jaw.

Her eyes are still closed, like last night, and he loves it. “That’s great.”

“Good,” he says, and she laughs and kisses him again.

“That’s it?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince you I’m cool.”

She grins. “Yeah, you know you text me detailed opinions on documentaries, right? That ship has sailed.”

“In that case, please tell me I can buy you dinner. Like, a lot. I want this puppy to have a family, Clarke.”

“Just using me for my dog, huh?”

“In my defense, you started it. I was all ready to play this long game, offering you occasional tips on dog care, working up to asking you out.”

“And then I accidentally told the rescue place we were dating,” she says, with a very fake sigh of resignation.

“Zero to fake dating in no time.”

“By accident!” she protests, her facade breaking as she laughs.“I really didn’t mean to tell them that. I was planning to just keep asking you awkward dog questions too.”

“At least I know my plan would have worked,” he says, kissing her again. The puppy’s going to start interrupting them at some point; he needs to take advantage of this opportunity while he can. “So, can I buy you dinner?” he asks, resting his forehead against hers. “Or are you still convinced you have to buy me dinner all the time because I’m not getting anything out of this?”

“Are you saying you don’t like free dinner?”

“Split it?” he asks, smiling.

Clarke settles in close, smiling just as big as he is. “Deal,” she says, and Bellamy has to admit, this one really seems to have worked out for him.

He might be bad at dating, but he’s great at dating Clarke. And that’s the only dating he’s planning on doing, from here on out.

[theprinceandagcd]

we were crazy, tragic and epic and so amazing

companion piece to “I’ll always wear the crown that you gave me” -- Bellamy’s perspective of Clarke’s birthday and the morning after 

words: 5,558 also on ao3

we were golden, we were fire, we were magic and they all knew our names all over town we had it made in the middle of the madness we were neon in a grey crowd

 It’s not like Bellamy didn’t know that Clarke’s birthday was coming up. The date is one that’s been etched into his mind since he was fourteen, and it’s been marked on their calendars every year since Octavia was ten, usually adorned with hearts or stars or something.

Still, when Octavia starts a conversation three weeks before its arrival, Bellamy is shocked that it snuck up on him, shocked that even with her relative absence lately, he still managed to let her birthday get so close without him noticing.

“Since she’s turning 21, I figure we can just take her out for the night, maybe get her one of those signs to hang around her neck with a list of things to do. She’s drank before but, you know… it’s a rite of passage, basically.” Octavia sits down on the other side of the couch from him, and he feels like she’s watching him closely. He doesn’t glance over at her, just in case.

“You can save the speech. You gave it to me two months ago when you turned 21.”

She grins. “Cool. So, that sound good?”

He hesitates, hating that he even has to ask the question, but he isn’t as sure about what Clarke does these days. “Is that what she wants?”

Octavia’s eyes sharpen and she’s staring at him in a way that is becoming increasingly prevalent. He can never quite place it, but he thinks that it’s just her way of trying to decipher if he’s okay, if missing Clarke is actually going to drive him crazy or not.

“Yeah, it is.” She gives him a half shrug, and now there is definitely pity in her expression. “I know you miss her, Bell. She misses you, too.”

He nods, no words forming on his lips as an all too familiar ache settles into his chest. He does miss her. Ever since earlier that year, when she changed her major against her mother’s wishes, she’s been busy more, so often that he rarely gets to see her. He texts her every now and then, tries to keep up with what she’s doing, but it isn’t the same as having her around all the time.

Thinking back, he can’t even remember the last time he actually saw her in person.

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

Octavia smiles, her gaze breaking away from his face and focusing on the TV.

Bellamy stares down at his lap for a while, though, thinking about grabbing his phone and texting Clarke, ask her how her weekend is going so far, check and see if she has any projects she’s working on. Is that too much, too desperate?

He doesn’t know anymore.

His screen flashes and he almost expects to see Clarke’s name, but instead it’s Gina calling him. He knows he should probably answer it, but decides against it. The sadness coiling in his stomach is settling deep and he’s sure she’d be able to sense it. She’s pretty perceptive about things relating to him, usually.

The only thing she hasn’t figured out is that he’s in love with his sister’s best friend.

------

When he and Gina get to Octavia and Clarke’s apartment on the night of her birthday, Clarke is trying to put an earring in her ear, brows furrowed in concentration. He thinks he sees her glance their way, but she seems much more interested in pouring a round of shots. She downs her before anyone else can even touch one, and he grins at her.

“Little fast there, huh princess?”

“I can handle it,” she tells him, and her eyes narrow in on the tiny box in his hands.

“I thought we established presents this year were buying me drinks downtown,” she says with halfhearted distaste, but he can see the curiosity in her eyes. He shrugs, trying not to show that he’s actually nervous now, wondering if she’ll still appreciate the gift even though she had tried to tell everyone not to worry about them this year.

“I’ll still buy you drinks, too. Promise,” he says, and it seems to satiate her because she takes the box from his hands.

Bellamy watches in silence as she opens it, picking up the tiny paint palette charm inside of it. He’d come across it only a week ago, sitting in display case at the jewelry store down the road, and he figured it would look nice on her bracelet that he’d gotten her. Now, he tries to assess her reaction as she holds it up to eye level.

It takes a second, a moment of her staring at it, but then she smiles. It’s small, just the tiniest upturning of the corners of her mouth, but it’s probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“I always wondered if you’d ever add to it,” she says, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. His heart jumps hard in his chest.

“Well, I figured major life events were good. Graduation, changing your major to something that you actually want to do…”

Her grin widens and then suddenly she’s there, tucked underneath his chin with her arms around his waist. He hugs her back, trying to keep himself from holding too tightly, from blabbering about how much he’s missed her as the warmth of her body surrounds him. It’s been so long since he’s seen her, much less gotten to touch her, so he’s starting to wonder how he’s ever going to let her go when Octavia speaks.

“So, one more shot for the road?”

Clarke pulls away, and he doesn’t dare look at Gina for fear that she’ll see through him, see that just being near Clarke is making his head spin.

(He was stupid, so stupid to think that he could ever get over her.)

“Here, I’ll put it on for you,” he says to distract himself, hands reaching for the charm. He attaches it easily, barely even thinking about the way his skin buzzes where it touches hers, and then they head over to where Octavia is pouring another round of shots. They all clink their little glasses together and he tries not to look at Clarke, tries not to keep checking to see if she’s looking at him, if it’s her eyes that he feels following him.

It’s probably not. He’s probably just making it up.

When Octavia hands Clarke a plastic crown to wear out for the night, he watches her pin it into place with a smirk on his face. She keeps her eyes on him, too, a playful glare in them.

Once she seems content with its placement, she points an accusatory finger at him. “Bellamy Blake, even think about touching this crown and I swear to God—“

A burst of laughter escapes him before he can stop it, and when he catches sight of Gina’s raised brow, he shrugs, trying to maintain some semblance of a casual expression. “Try to tug a girl’s crown off one time, and she remembers it for a lifetime, apparently.”

Gina’s head tilts, eyes curious, but Octavia is ushering everyone out the door, so she doesn’t have the time or space to ask whatever question was hiding behind her expression.

(Probably for the best.)

------

Clarke is already pretty tipsy when they leave, so by the time they’ve gone to a couple of bars, she’s tripping over her words and her feet, giggling every few seconds in a way that only drunk girls can manage. While Raven, Octavia, Wells, and Lincoln all seem to be doing just fine themselves, she attaches herself to his side as if she needs him to function. She latches onto him when they move to another bar, using him to keep her balance as she walks, pressing her laughter into his chest, arm snug around his waist or hooked tightly through his elbow.

She pokes his rib at one point, grinning up at him. “You’re my favorite, you know.”

He laughs, biting on his lip to try to hide the way her words are echoing in his mind. “You’re my favorite, too, princess.”

“I meaaan it,” she drawls, and he has to look away from her smile, from the way her eyes are shining as she looks at him. “You’re my favorite person, like, ever.”

“Thanks babe,” Octavia says dryly from Clarke’s other side, looping their arms together.

“I love you, too, O,” she giggles, leaning a bit toward Octavia for a minute, pressing a sloppy kiss into her cheek. Octavia scrunches her nose, but lets Clarke hold onto her for a second, arm wrapping around her shoulders. It doesn’t last—some seconds pass and then she’s clutching tightly to Bellamy once again, tucked into his side like she belongs there.

Bellamy nearly forgets Gina even came with them, but a little after midnight, she pulls him to the side while everyone else has walked in the direction of the bathrooms. “Hey, I think I’m going to head home.”

He feels his cheeks flush almost immediately, guilt rushing through his veins because he knows it’s his fault. He should have at least tried to make sure she was having a good time, too. “Ah, I’m sorry. I’m the shittiest boyfriend ever.”

Gina shrugs, her smile sad. “No, it’s okay. I’m just… ready to head out.”

He can tell that there’s more, that her mind is working overtime on something. After a glance over his shoulder to make sure that everyone else is still absent for the moment, he takes a deep breath. “Is everything okay?”

She seems as if she’ll shrug it off for a moment, but then her eyes lock with his and she shrugs again, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t belong here with all of you.”  

“That’s not true,” he tells her, guilt accumulating higher by the second.

Gina fixes him with a look that’s nearly exasperated, but it’s definitely tired at the very least. “You’re in love with Clarke, and she’s in love with you. And I’m just in the way.”

It takes him a second to register what she’s said, but his automatic reaction is to shake his head. “She’s not, Gina. It doesn’t… we’re just friends.”

Now, she almost looks amused. “But you are in love with her.”

He opens his mouth to counteract it, but one look in her eyes and he knows that it’s pointless. He sighs. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like you, that I can’t… It’s not like it matters anyway. She doesn’t feel the same way.”

Gina’s eyes narrow. “I think you’re wrong. I think that’s why she stopped coming around, Bellamy. Because of me. I had considered it before, but… seeing her tonight, with less control over her expressions and words, now I’m pretty sure.”

He’s sure his confusion is still plastered on his face, but his heart is frantic, racing to an unknown destination. Taking a breath is almost difficult. It’s not true— he would have known if that was the reason. He knows Clarke, knows how she operates. She’s just been busy, that’s all. Plus, if Octavia knew, she would have told him, right? Or would that be breaking Clarke’s trust, to tell him that the girl he’s in love with loves him too, just because they’re best friends?

“She’s just been busy,” he says, part of his mind begging Gina to let it go. His chest physically aches, and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He doesn’t want to let himself think that there’s even a possibility.

“Bellamy, you’re not that stupid.”

Octavia chooses that moment to walk up, and Bellamy looks behind her to find that the other members of their group at the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention. “Why does my brother look like someone slapped him in the face?”

It takes him a moment to realize that, apparently, Gina isn’t going to answer.

“Gina thinks that Clarke… likes me.” The words seem to fall flat, but Octavia’s eyes flash, bright and aware and less under the influence of alcohol than he would have expected.  

“And I know that he loves her,” Gina adds quickly, but it’s the first time he registers that she doesn’t seem extremely upset or anything.

“It doesn’t matter, she doesn’t feel that way.” It’s all he can do to repeat the words, to try to maintain some semblance of reality in his head, to attempt to keep his world turning on its axis like it’s supposed to be. That’s what is easy. That’s what keeps him from going crazy.

“Well, at the very least, you love her. And I don’t want… I don’t want to be in this, not like this. Not when you’ll never look at me the way you look at her.”

He opens his mouth with every intention to argue the point because it feels like what he should do, but then he really looks at her.

And she’s right. It isn’t fair to her to be hung up on someone else.

He sighs, looking her in the eyes when he says, “I’m sorry. I do really like you.”

It’s not the best thing to say, he knows, but it’s honest and all he can think of at the time. Gina tilts her head, gaze surprisingly affectionate. “I know, I’m not mad, Bellamy.” She reaches out and squeezes his arm, leaning up to press a kiss to cheek and lingering for only a moment. “Good luck, okay? I’ll see you around. Bye, Octavia.”

She starts to just walk away, but he remembers that she rode with them downtown and grabs her elbow. “Hey, wait, please. Do you need help getting home?”

Gina shakes her head. “Already ordered the Uber, it’s outside. You guys have a good night.”

Once she’s gone, Bellamy turns back to Octavia, who has her arms crossed over her stomach. Her eyes are glued to a spot on the floor, hard and intense. “You love Clarke?”

He shrugs, but knows there’s no sense denying anything now. “I mean, yeah, but… it doesn’t matter. What Gina said isn’t true, right?”

Octavia’s expression shifts until it’s almost… sad? He can’t tell for sure.

“You’re an idiot, and I need a drink,” is all she says before she turns sharply on her heel and heads back to the bar, where Clarke, Lincoln, Wells, and Raven are clinking their cocktail glasses together. He follows slowly, settling next to the bar beside Clarke while keeping some space between them, if only to try to maintain his sanity.

He’s pretty sure Godzilla could come crashing into the bar and he wouldn’t realize it, his mind too far away, his emotions too thrown off balance. He watches as Clarke sips on her drink that he can tell is a little watered down, likely thanks to Lincoln or Wells, trying to think back on the past summer, on the way his texts had gone unanswered more often than not, how Raven and Octavia would show up on the weekends without Clarke with them.

The way Clarke had left his house so quickly on the night that Gina showed up, the day she’d officially changed her major. He had always just assumed she felt bad for supposedly crashing his date, but maybe that wasn’t it at all.

Clarke turns to him as if she’s just realized he’s there, grin wide as she offers him some of her drink. He takes a sip just to confirm that it’s nearly all sprite and not much vodka, and then hands it back to her. “You should probably drink some water,” he tells her, and she scrunches her nose.

“I’m just fine, Bellamy Blake, thank you very much,” she says, but she trips over her words a little, giggling when they don’t fall off her tongue correctly.

When she asks about where Gina went a few minutes later, he doesn’t tell her the truth. Not yet, not when she’s drunk, not when she might not remember the conversation anyway. So, he just tells her that Gina went home, that she was tired and ready to turn in for the night.

Clarke nods once, looking a little confused before she wraps herself around him, arm low around his hips, lips grazing his jaw when she whispers, “If I was your girlfriend, I don’t think I’d ever leave you.”

She seems to forget that she’s said anything as soon as she’s spoken, and he lets himself look down at her, for the first time letting himself really wonder if maybe Gina was right. When she sees him looking at her, she just pokes at his cheek with her pointer finger and laughs, collapsing into his side.

Getting Clarke into bed once they’re back at the apartment takes both him and Raven—him getting her into her room, Raven getting her changed into PJs, both of them getting her settled in. He leaves water and Tylenol on her nightstand and, once he’s sure Raven has left the room for good, leans down and kisses her forehead.

She’s already nearly asleep, and he knows she probably won’t remember it in the morning, but he thinks he sees the corners of her mouth lift into a smile.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to give him hope.

------

Bellamy wakes up long before anyone else in the apartment, and he spends nearly an hour reading lecture prep material before Octavia pads into the living room, settling next to him on the couch.

“My head kinda hurts,” she says, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

“Crazy how that works when you don’t drink water.”

She groans softly. “You’re a jerk.”

He laughs, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Am I better if I make you some breakfast?”

She smiles, eyes still squinted. “Yes, please.”

Octavia settles herself on the counter while he cooks, silent for a long moment. “Are you going to tell Clarke?”

He doesn’t look up from the pan of scrambled eggs in front of him. “Are you?”

The pause that lingers makes him nervous, but eventually, Octavia sighs. “No, I won’t. But I think you should.”

And that’s the only things said until Lincoln comes in, thankfully redirecting the conversation. Octavia is whining about her headache and Bellamy is telling her she should have drank water when Clarke shuffles into the kitchen. She looks adorably rumpled, last night’s curls falling flat around her shoulders and the narrowness to her eyes showing evidence of her own hangover.

He smiles easily, easier than he would have thought considering that the moment he saw her, his heart burst into a frenzied beat. “Morning, princess. Hungry?”

The gratefulness is obvious in her expression when she nods, and when he hands her a plate of eggs she smiles before hopping onto the counter next to Octavia. He can hear them having their own little conversation, but he’s stirring another three scrambled eggs into the pan for Raven, trying to decipher whether or not he should say something to Clarke while making sure he doesn’t burn the food.

She’ll likely find out eventually, probably sooner rather than later, that he and Gina broke up. Whether or not to tell her the real reason is another question entirely. No matter what Octavia says about staying quiet about it, both of them keeping something like that from her would be difficult.

But maybe worth it.

Last night was the first night they had felt relatively normal in ages, and he doesn’t want that to be ruined for the possibility that she might want him, too. He spent an entire summer missing her—he doesn’t want to have to go through anything like that again.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly jumps when Clarke speaks, a little louder than when only talking to Octavia. “Did Gina make it home okay? I’m sorry she got tired.”

He looks at Octavia, who gives him the highest eyebrow raise she can muster through what he assumes is still a pretty nasty headache. He wonders how much of his inner turmoil she can sense, how much of his distress she can decipher just from the look he’s giving her.

Clarke looks back and forth between them, and he recognizes that she’s trying to figure out what she doesn’t know, what their looks are communicating. He can practically feel her brain working overtime, trying to fill in pieces that she doesn’t have, gaps in her memory that tequila and vodka sprites put there. “What? What’s up?”

“Yeah, yeah she did,” Bellamy says before she can question any further, slowing his actions of putting the eggs on a plate to buy him some more time before he has to look at anyone again.  

It’s quiet for a long moment while he does that, the silence falling and lingering, settling into the room and making his palms sweat. Octavia is the one who finally breaks it, and he hears her feet hit the floor as she speaks. “I think I still need some rest. C’mon, Lincoln, we can watch Netflix on my laptop in my room.”

Octavia and Lincoln disappear and the quiet returns. Unable to fathom looking at Clarke just yet, Bellamy takes his time washing out the pan and the plates that Octavia and Lincoln left, taking Clarke’s once she’s finished eating. He dries them slowly, puts them up in the cabinet behind her, wipes the counter a little, until finally, he leans back against the stove and lets his eyes slowly trail to her.

She’s still sitting in the same place on the counter, brow lightly furrowed as she stares at her lap, though now he can’t tell if it’s due to her thinking or due to her alcohol induced headache. What catches his eye, however, is that her attention seems to be focused on the silver charm bracelet on her arm. She’s turning one of the charms between her fingers absentmindedly.

He’s never seen her not wear this bracelet that he got her, not since the day he gave it for her a few years ago. Seeing it on her wrist always made him smile, because if her constantly wearing it was any indication, she loves it. Still, his stomach is in knots and he doesn’t know what to think anymore, so when he takes a step forward and reaches up to brush his fingers against it, he asks, “Do you really like this thing?”

Her lips twist a little, though it doesn’t quite look like a smile. “Bellamy, I don’t care for jewelry that much. But I’ll probably wear this bracelet every day for the rest of my life because you gave it to me.”

“Really?” Even as he asks the question, he realizes that she’s telling the truth. Clarke doesn’t wear jewelry. She has a necklace that he’s seen her wear a few times, one that her dad got her when she was little. Sometimes she wears earrings, but Bellamy is pretty sure she can’t own more than five pair. Yet, he’s never seen a day that his bracelet hasn’t been wrapped around her wrist.

Clarke picks her hand back up and toys with the crown charm again. “Yeah,” she says, and even though she doesn’t look up at him, even though she gives the tiniest shrug of her shoulders as if she’s trying to lighten the statement, he can feel the honesty of the reply.

He can feel himself staring, shocked at the realization that him giving it to her is what makes it so special to her. He’s suddenly feeling like the room is way too crowded even though they’re the only two in it—his heart is pounding in his ears and he’s suddenly leaning much more toward saying something, towards telling her the truth.

Because maybe Gina was right. Maybe he is an idiot.

The biggest one on the planet.

But maybe, even if she doesn’t feel the same way, it doesn’t have to ruin them. Maybe they’ll be okay. They always have been, after all.

He takes a breath, trying to figure out what words to use, how to approach what is probably the scariest thing he’ll ever do, the riskiest chance he’ll ever take.

(But he’s so in love with her, so completely in love with her, and maybe he should have done this a long time ago.)

“Gina broke up with me last night. That’s why she went home.” It’s not giving anything away yet, not giving her the truth of the matter just yet, but he watches her closely, wanting to gauge her reaction, to see if her response gives him any information.

Clarke’s mouth falls open for just a moment and then her brow furrows, her head shaking a little. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy. I—“

He can hear the guilt building in her voice, and he shakes his head before she can go too far. “It’s fine. It’s not like that or anything, and it wasn’t because of last night in particular, not really. It never would have worked anyway.”

“Oh.”

She’s not looking at him, even though he’s sure she can feel his eyes. It’s hard to read her, hard to break through the stoic nature of her expression. They’ve spent so much time apart, and now instead of being able to decipher her actions easily, he’s left trying to decide if this really is the best decision. He nearly backs out a dozen times, his mind screaming at him that it’s too much, that there is no way he can just casually tell Clarke Griffin that he’s in love with her.

(How does she not already know?)

“She broke up with me… because I’m in love with you, Clarke.”                    

Her eyes jump to his immediately, and her body flinches as if she’s been shocked. She’s searching him now, he can tell, eyes moving over his face as if she’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with him. Otherwise, she’s completely still.

And she doesn’t say a word.

He starts panicking a little in the silence, heart jumping into overdrive as he races to try to find a way to maybe take it back, to laugh it off, because that is not the reaction he was hoping for at all. But he knows there’s no way to go back, no way to unsay the words that he’s spoken into existence.

So he rambles instead.

“It was just the way we were acting last night, I guess. You kept telling me… that I was your favorite person and… you kept hugging me and it… I guess she saw through any pretense I tried to keep up and called me out on it, but I think she knew before last night. That’s why it never would have worked. It’s always been you, I think.”

He figures she’ll say something to stop him, laugh it off herself and tell him he’s crazy, get angry because he’s throwing this on her while she’s hungover, punch him in the face. Something. Anything. But she’s still completely silent, her eyes still on him but now they look… almost cautious, like she’s waiting for him to pull out a knife and stab her to death.

It’s turning into his worst case scenario pretty quickly and he has no idea what to do about it.

He runs his hand through his hair out of habit, the words that tumble from his lips nearly incoherent, barely even sentences at all. “She told me that… she thinks you feel the same way, that she thinks that was why you stopped coming around so much lately, because of her. I told her she was crazy, but... But she seemed really sure, and then Octavia said she was right, too. Actually, Octavia told me I was an idiot, so… I don’t know. I guess I’m telling you, to see if it’s true. And if she was wrong, or whatever, it’s fine. You’re like… my best friend and I get that this is probably weird because we kind of grew up together but… If you don’t feel the same way it doesn’t have to change anything, and—”

“Bellamy.” Her voice finally stopping his is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, even before she continues. “You idiot, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

It takes a second for the words to process, for him to understand that the apprehension he thought he’d seen in her expression has vanished, replaced with a smile that is almost a smirk. He feels himself relax a little, his heart slowing to normal speed for the first time since she came in the kitchen to begin with.

“Really?”

Her nod is short, the barest movement of her chin. Her grin widens slightly, but she ducks her head like she’s trying to hide it. “I… sort of figured you knew, honestly. And I thought you just saw me as another little sister.”

“Maybe I did, at first.” He inhales deeply, glancing away from her while he comes to terms with what she’s said. His head is reeling, spinning a little with the understanding that she does love him, too. He gathers his composure and turns back to grin at her. “But I wouldn’t offer to kiss my sister.”

She shoves at his shoulder, and he smiles, but then he takes a minute, picks up her hand slowly, as gentle as he can manage. He doesn’t hold too tightly, doesn’t want to ruin something that he’s just found because he rushes into it.

“I’m crazy about you,” he tells her, meeting her eyes because she needs to understand how deep he already is, how deep he’s always been. “And I only even dated Gina because… I realized earlier this year how bad I had it, and I didn’t want to risk what we had for just a chance that you might feel the same way, so… I was trying to convince myself I could get over it, you know? But then you stopped coming around and… I missed you so much, princess. Not seeing you drove me crazy.”

Clarke seems like she understands, turning their hands over as she smiles, looking far away for a moment. “I just couldn’t see you with her. It hurt too much. At least at first, but… not seeing you drove me crazy, too.”

He smiles just a little too, holding her hand more firmly now, hesitations slipping away. “Sorry that I was an idiot, princess.”  

She grins, nothing but happiness in this upturn of her lips. “Well, you’re here now.”

“Not too late?” he asks, shifting a bit closer.

She shakes her head and then pulls him all the way to her, between her legs where she sits on the counter. Her proximity makes his breath catch in the way like just before you make the first drop on a roller coaster. “For you? Never.”

Despite the way his heart is pounding and the excitement coursing through his veins, he leans in slowly, wanting to savor the moment. After years of imagining what it would be like to kiss her again, and years of wishing he could, he surprisingly doesn’t want to rush now. He’s slow in the way his lips press over hers, in how he trails his hands over her sides, fingers grazing her jaw, one hand taking up residence on her hip as she seems to tug him even closer, even further into the cradle of her hips. She doesn’t seem to be in a hurry either, her hands traveling leisurely over his chest, shoulders, and back, then up into his hair and scratching lightly into his scalp.

Getting lost in her kiss is effortless, so easy that he nearly jumps out of his skin when a voice speaks from just behind him.

“Fucking finally.”

He doesn’t let her go, just turns his head to look over his shoulder at Raven. Her eyebrow is raised and she seems in perfect health, no signs of post-alcohol misery anywhere in her expression or body language.

“Apparently I’m an idiot,” he tells her with a shrug, and even though he can feel how obnoxious his grin is, there’s no way he can rein it in.

Raven had never directly asked him about Clarke or how he might feel about her, but he’s always wondered if she had an opinion at all, or if she, unlike Octavia, had just kept hers to herself. Now, he figures she certainly had an opinion, if her answering smirk is any indication. She pats him on the shoulder as she reaches over to grab her food. “Hope you weren’t expecting an argument, Blake,” is all she says before slipping back out the kitchen door.

His laugh is nearly giddy, and he muffles it into Clarke’s hoodie, holding onto her tightly. She holds him there, resting her head on top of his. “You think my sister will say I told you so?” he asks her after a minute, shifting just enough to look up at her.

She laughs a little, her smile bright. “Maybe just a little.”

[musicalluna]

perspective

this is for @ivory-leigh with special thanks to @onemuseleft for her help with the idea

i super didn’t mean to write this tonight but the idea was SO GOOD and i’ve really been jonesing to write

--

In the weeks following what they're calling The Battle of New York, Bruce settles into the Tower with an incredible ease.

The floor Tony designed for him is shockingly well-suited to his tastes and needs considering how Tony likes to claim he's not a team-player. Bruce suspects each floor is equally well-designed and perhaps that's why they're all able to slip into a routine so quickly.

It feels like something missing has slotted into place and Bruce can tell just by looking at the others' faintly bewildered expressions when they look around at the space they share that they feel the same.

Still, Bruce never looks toward Harlem.

He's...content right now, but it's only a matter of time before Ross decides to try again or his teammates are reminded that he's a barely-restrained monster, not their friend.

Even Natasha seems to have forgotten, despite the fact that she still can't walk on the ankle he caused her to injure.

“Knock knock, anybody home?”

Bruce startles, Tony's voice coming from right behind him.

He covers his heart and turns to glare. “Are you still prodding at my fault lines?”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “A) You have no faults, Brucie, B) of course I am, and C) it wasn't actually on purpose this time, I called your name like ten times and you didn't answer.”

Bruce gives him a wry look. “So you thought you'd just come in anyway?”

Tony gasps softly, like Bruce has mortally wounded him. “You could have been bleeding on the floor for all I knew.”

Trying not to smile, Bruce gets to his feet and brushes off his pants before turning a look on Tony. “No, I couldn't've.”

Tony looks back. “Nah, probably not.”

“Why are you really here?”

Tony's shoulders hop in a too-casual little shrug. “Just wanted to see what you were up to.”

“Mhm.” Bruce waits.

He watches in amusement as Tony starts to wander, nudging anything within reach with his fingertips. He fiddles with a lampshade and moves a coaster, fans out a stack of books on one of the side tables so he can see portions of the covers. Finally, he says, “So have you gone through your fanmail?”

Bruce is surprised and the question stings a little. Tony teases but he's careful to avoid rubbing salt in Bruce's wounds. It hurts to have him do it finally.

Swallowing, Bruce says as evenly as he can, “I don't get fanmail.”

Tony looks up, frowning. “What? Of course you do.”

Bruce's hands clench into fists and he manages to choke out, “It's not funny, Tony—”

“I'm not joking,” Tony replies, still surprised and incongruously serious. “At least, not unless I'm hallucinating the bag of mail in the living room that's starting to overflow.”

When Bruce just stares at him, Tony beckons him with two fingers and walks off.

Not sure what else to do, Bruce follows.

They ride the elevator up to the communal floor and Bruce hesitantly follows Tony out into the main space, feeling like he's being set up for one of those prank shows or something. Steve is lying on the couch with a book and he glances up at their entrance. “Hey, fellas.”

“Your shoes are on my couch,” Tony says, in lieu of a greeting and Steve flushes and swings his feet off the couch, sitting up.

“It's our couch.”

“Our couch,” Tony amends agreeably. Then he waves a hand with a flourish. “See?”

Sure enough, sitting in the corner next to a few other half-full bags of mail labeled with the others' names is a sack labeled BRUCE.

Bruce isn't quite sure what he feels at the sight of it, but it fills his throat. He shakes his head after a moment. “I don't think I want to know what's in those letters.”

“Yes, you do,” Steve says, voice gentle and earnest. “I've gotten some really nice ones from kids in Brooklyn.”

Bruce takes a step back and shakes his head again. “Mine won't be like that.”

“Wrong,” Tony replies and reaches into the bag. The envelope he pulls out is already open and it's got a rainbow sticker on it. Tony shakes out the piece of paper inside and clears his throat. “Dear Hulk,” he reads, “You're green. Green is my favorite color. I love you. Love, Gina.”

The fullness in Bruce's throat only gets worse when Tony gives him a look over the top of the letter as if to say, How do you like them apples?

“It really says that?” Bruce croaks.

“Look for yourself,” Tony says and turns the letter around, holding it out.

Bruce accepts it, hand only trembling a little.

The letter is written in green crayon and Bruce stares at it, reading it over and over. Green is my favorite color. I love you.

I love you.

Tony is watching him, expression soft, when Bruce looks back up. “They can't all be like this.”

“Can and are,” Tony replies, breaking eye contact and crouching to take a few more out of the bag. “The shitty ones go elsewhere.” He pulls a folded up piece of paper out of a pink envelope and peels it open. He smiles. “Look at that.”

What he shows Bruce is a drawing of a green blob with an orange scribble on top of the head. A bit of the green blob is separated and there's a green circle at the end with a bunch of green lines extending upward. Those are topped with big loops of purple and red and pink.

“Is that the Hulk with flowers?” Steve says and Bruce can hear him smiling. It is unmistakably that, even crude as it is. “How about that.”

Bruce takes a few steps forward and takes that one, too. Ann is scrawled in one of the corners in huge letters. One of the ens is backwards.

Tony starts reading again. “Dear Mr. Dr. Banner, When I grow up I am going to be a scientist. My girl friend thinks I should be a fire man. I have decided to get a new girl friend. Your fan, Trey.” By the time he's finished, Tony and Steve are both laughing. “You're a homewrecker, Banner,” Tony says between fits of giggles.

Still smiling, Steve joins Tony by the bag, picking one out himself. While he opens it, Bruce sits down on the floor next to Tony to get into the letters himself. The bag is bulging, there must be hundreds of them.

“Dear Hulk, Do you know Santa? You are both famous, so I think you do. Tell him I want an Xbox for Christmas. Love, Greg.”

“Oh my god,” Tony says, delighted. He elbows Bruce. “Hey, can you get me in with Santa, too?”

“Shut up,” Bruce says, but he's smiling.

“There are a lot of terrible things about being famous,” Steve says, carefully folding the letter and putting it back into the envelope, “but this is one thing I really get a kick out of.”

“Aw, hey, are you guys doing fanmail without us?”

Bruce twists around to see Clint and Natasha on their way in. Clint has an entire gallon of ice cream under one arm and he's eating right out of it.

“Clint, how many times have I gotta tell you, use a bowl,” Steve says, voice thick with exasperation.

“This is a bowl. A disposable bowl,” Clint replies.

“Give it up,” Natasha advises Steve. “He's hopeless.” She folds her legs and sits next to Steve, bumping her hip against his as she settles. It makes Steve duck his head and smile, which is good to see. They've been fighting to get Steve to stop trying to draw lines between himself and them and it looks like it might finally be working.

“Here,” Tony says, putting a letter in Bruce's hands. “Read this one.”

Bruce glances at him, but he's still focused on the bag, so he takes it and pulls out the letter. This one is written on college rule notebook paper and the handwriting's better. It looks like it was written by a middle or high schooler maybe. “Dear Dr. Banner,” Bruce reads, “I was...” His voice chokes off when he finishes the line.

Dear Dr. Banner,

I was in Harlem in 2011. One corner in our apartment got knocked out when something smashed into it that night. It was my bedroom. It scared me a lot. I had nightmares after that night because I thought the green thing was going to come back.

But then last month the aliens attacked. My mom and I were going to hide when I looked out the window and saw the big green thing again. One of the aliens was headed straight for our apartment and he grabbed it and smashed it on the ground.

You are the big green thing I saw. You saved my apartment and my mom and me. You protected us and now I'm not scared anymore.

Thank you,

Neil

He's clutching the letter so tightly it's crumpled and Bruce reads it three more times before someone carefully extracts it from his grip and replaces it with another. He reads letter after letter from children and preteens and there are even a few from adults thanking him.

Bruce knows he's breathing too shallowly, but what—how—

“God,” he croaks and his voice sounds wrecked, “they think the Hulk is a hero.”

Someone touches his knee.

“He is a hero,” Clint says quietly.

Bruce sucks in a sharp, wet inhalation, his vision blurring even as he stares down at a drawing of a brown haired man in glasses and a big green man in purple pants and a little boy in a red shirt holding hands.

Through their eyes, he doesn't look like a monster at all.

[camdallasfanfics]

What now? - Chapter 9

Cameron Dallas fanfic - Sequel to I’m not that kind of girl

Word count: 2′183

Previous Chapter

two months later - Christmas

„Mom!“ I shout as I enter the house. It was the 23rd of December and I just got back from New York. Finally. Semester break. „In the kitchen!“ I followed her voice and saw my mom and my sister there. Both cutting things up. „I missed you guys!“ I approached them and both of them hugged me.

„You? Missed? Us?“ My sister mocked me. I simply laughed. „I’m gonna go upstairs and take a shower, alright?“ I look at my mom, grabbing my duffle bag that was laying on the ground before. „Sure. Dinner’s gonna be ready in about an hour.“  She smiled at me and turned back to her business.

I quickly went up to my room. After I took a quick shower I laid on my bed and was just checking out social media. Yet again I was tagged in way to many photos with Cameron. One of them being the night in New York. I lightly huffed. „Still an asshole.“ I mumbled to myself.

„Who’s an asshole?“ I suddenly heard my sister say. I looked up to see her stand in my door way. „Huh?“ I questioned her. „Who is still an asshole?“ She repeated herself and slowly approached me until she sat down in front of me on my bed. „No one…“ I quietly said before I let out a sigh.

It was silent for a few seconds. „You’re a senior now.“ I suddenly said smiling at her. She nodded. „Yeah.“ I lightly nudged her. „You not happy to get out of that stupid high school?“ She laughed a little. „Yeah but I don’t know what I want to study yet.“ Her smile looked so sad. „Come on. It’s gonna be fine. You can come study with me in New York!“ I suggested wiggling my eyebrows. She huffed. „No thank you. You probably have so many one night stands!“ She started to laugh hysterically. „Shut up!“ I shouted before bursting into laughter as well.

The laughter slowly died down. „Can I ask you a question?“ She was pulling on her sweater. Did she have the same nervous tick I have? „Shoot.“ I smiled at her. „Do you miss him?“ Of course I do. „Who are you exactly talking about?“ I know exactly who she is talking about. „Y/N… You know I mean Cameron.“ I took a deep breath and just stared at her.

„Of course I do.“ I half smiled. „I miss the old days. I miss him being a normal kid and hanging out with him.“ I looked down to my fingers that were now also playing with the hem of my shirt. „Have you ever met him since?“ I was debating on whether I should tell her or not. She is my sister, why shouldn’t I? „Yeah.“ I nodded. I looked up to see her face she had a small smile on her face.

„I miss him as well.“ She slowly said. „I wish you wouldn’t be broken up sometimes.“ She kept going. „He made you happy.“ I sighed scooting closer to her. „Come here.“ I said pulling her into a hug. „I am happy with or without him.“ I patted her back. „He’s the asshole, am I right?“ She slowly pulled away.

I chuckled and nodded. „I met him in New York at a screening of his new movie. He took me out for dinner.“ I pulled out my phone and showed her the pictures of us. „You hooked up, didn’t you?“ She chuckled as did I. „Yup.“ I said nodding. „And?“ She nudged me. I giggled. „He invited me to his premiere in LA.“ Her jaw dropped. „That’s why you were here!“ I nodded.

„You hooked up again, didn’t you?“ I nodded again. „You guys are just so stupid. Why are you not back together?!“ She said getting up from my bed. „What now? You guys hooked up and nothing?“ She asked standing by my door. „Some people just aren’t meant to be with one another Lia.“ I simply said with a sad smile. „Everyone knows you two belong together.“ She said before leaving my room.

After dinner I basically barricaded myself in my room. I wasn’t feeling festive at all. I just laid around in bed. I thought about the the premiere. He never called or texted. He never really missed me. I was just an easy target to get what he wanted. I was vulnerable. I was stupid. My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my door. „Yeah?“ I looked to the door and saw my mom’s head sticking into my room.

„Hun. Sam’s mom invited us over tomorrow for a little get together. Would you like to come?“ A soft smile was plastered on her face. I nodded. „Sure, why not?“ I turned back and than the door shut. I sighed, grabbing my phone and texted Sam.

Y/N: prepare some good liquor for tomorrow! Sam: already on it lol Y/N: Ethan gonna be there as well? Sam: yup.. Y/N: anyone else I should be aware of? Sam: naaaaah. it’s way more fun if it’s a surprise ;) Y/N: if any of the dallas’ are gonna be there. THAN I’M MOTHER FUCKING OOOOUT.

And she didn’t reply to the last text. With that I just gave in the tired feeling upon me and fell asleep.

I was woken up by my mom shouting at me. „Get up! It’s already 1pm!“ I buried my head in the pillows, groaning. „We should be at Sam’s around 4pm.“ She said before leaving my room. I groaned yet again slowly lifting my head. Better get up than. I quickly went to the bathroom to do my business and plugged in my straightener to heat up.

„What to wear.“ I mumbled to myself walking up to my closet. I went through my stuff and found some lingerie. „This seems so familiar.“ I said holding it up.

Flashback

„If you want a break. Or whatever you wanna call it. I want one last night with you. And I won’t make a move unless you let me.“ I listened carefully. He was talking slow. I just found some lingerie asking myself where I got that from. „Alright. Come over.“ I said and before he could ask anything I hung up. I dropped the lingerie and went to my bed.

Flashback over

I chuckled as I thought back to that night. I decided to wear it because why not? It’s sexy and I would feel good although no one would see it, right? When I put on the lingerie I saw a cute black dress. It would have a tight fit with long sleeves. It seemed ordinary but the tight fit gave it its flair.

After dressing up I straightened my hair and put on some make-up. It wasn’t much though. I put on my heeled boots and made my way downstairs. It was around 3pm already. I just got down when my dad approached me. „You look good hun. Got all dressed up for Sam, huh?“ He nudged me. I simply laughed. „Exactly!“

We were all ready so we simply decided to go earlier. Sam’s family wouldn’t mind anyway. We parked in their driveway and we weren’t the first. There was another car. Probably Ethan’s. We knocked and didn’t really bother to wait for anyone to open the door. We got in and we were greeted by my best friend.

„Sam!“ I shouted as I pulled her in a hug. We laughed at each other embracing each others presence. „I missed you.“ She said, only I could hear. „Same here. Same here.“ I simply answered. „You look gorgeous!“ I said as I pulled away.

We walked into the living room and I came to realize that the other car in the driveway does not belong to Ethan. „Gina!“ My mom said excitedly. „How nice to see you! And Cameron oh my goodness. You are a handsome young man, look at you!“ She said while pulling him into a hug. I just awkwardly stood next to Sam. „I need a drink.“ I mumbled and walked off to the kitchen.

After opening a few cabinets I found some vodka. „Jackpot.“ I said while pouring myself a shot. „Already? You haven’t even had a word with me yet.“ I heard his voice. „Why are you even here?“ I turned to face him. He looked good. As always. „I was invited?“ He chuckled and stepped closer to me. „Okay. Than don’t get anywhere near me.“ I said walking past him.

I walked up to Sam and saw that Ethan and his folks have arrived. „Oh hi Ethan.“ I said giving him a weak smile. „Hi.“ He simply said and brushed his hands on his pants. He was looking around nervously. Was he nervous? „I’ll be right back.“ He said and with that he was gone. „What was that?“ I chuckled. Sam laughed. „Don’t know. Hope he won’t break up with me before the holiday though.“ I nudged her. „Come on. He loves you.“ I smiled at her.

„Yeah. Why would he break up if he loves you?“ Cameron said when he put his arm around my shoulder. „Said the right person.“ I huffed. „And Get your arm off of me!“ I stood next to Sam now getting away from Cameron. „But young lady you look so fine today. I might not resist the temptation.“ He had a smirk plastered on his face. I pretended to puke.

All of a sudden we heard glass clinking. „May I have a word?“ Ethan spoke up. Oh god. Here we go. „I just wanted to say a few words.“ He had a big smile on his face but still he looked horrified. Sam stepped closer to him leaving me alone with Cameron at the side of the room.

„Sam over here. She’s been in my life for a long time now. I’m really glad to be able to call her my girlfriend. I love her with all my life. And I would love to continue to be with her. But I want everyone to know so…“ He paused for a second when he walked up closer to Sam and bend down to his knee.

„Sam, would you make me the honor and marry me?“ He said and took out a little box. Opening it he revealed a shiny diamond ring. My jaw dropped and I immediately covered it with both my hands. I started to tear up. I’m way to girly in this moment. Not good. Sam nodded uncontrollably. „Yes!“ You could hear her squeal. The room was filled with aw’s and applause. „Congratulation.“ Was the expression you could hear through the room.

I felt his hand on my waist pulling me closer to his body. My back leaned against his body. „Wow.“ He mumbled. I simply nodded. His hand was stroking up and down my side. „I-uhm I should go talk to them.“ I stuttered. Why did I stutter? „I should too.“ He simply said not letting go of my side. So we approached them me attached to him.

„Come here!“ I said to Sam as I started to tear up again. „Congrats!“ I mumbled into her shoulder while we were hugging. „I’m so happy for you.“ I was totally gonna cry as was she. Lets be real. We pulled away both of us teary eyed. „Look at them. They have emotions.“ Cameron nudged Ethan. Stupid bitch. I gave him a glare. „Something you’ll never have.“ I walked to the kitchen.

I couldn’t stand him. Why was he here? Why does he do this to me? Why can’t I just- „Again? Really?“ He stood behind me. I sighed. „Pour me one as well. This out there.“ He pointed to the living room. „Makes me want to throw up.“ I chuckled pouring the both of us a shot. „Didn’t know you thought so highly of marriage.“ I teased him. We both took our shot. „Well. If I was with that one girl I love right now. All of that back there wouldn’t make me sick.“ He stepped closer to me.

„Why aren’t you with the girl you love than, huh?“ I questioned him. „I fucked up.“ He whispered pulling me closer to him. „And I would love to tell her that I am sorry for everything I caused her.“ He closed his eyes. „Why don’t you?“ My hand laid on his chest. „She’s not so fond of me at the moment.“ He sighed. „I wonder why.“ I patted his chest and smiled a little. „Lets say I didn’t have the balls to call her.“ He looked down at me with a little pout.

„What do you think? Will she forgive me?“ I looked up to him. „If you explain to her what happened. Than, yeah, maybe she will.“ He smiled a little. „Would you think she’d let me kiss her?“ I giggled and lightly nodded. So he leaned in and our lips met again after starving for one an others touch.

Next Chapter

A/N: Okaaaay. Here we go. Hope you liked this chapter. It’s all over the place with the emotions and pretty much bipolar... Sorry. Tell me what you thought about it always appreciate some feedback! Have a great ass day! Love you :)