#did she just. fucking faint and never woke up after the storm passed. honestly i cannot blame the poor thing

[fishareglorious]

Remember that all of chapter 1 and 2 happens in the span of 2 days.

Vertin met Schneider for that short of a time (on Valentine's Day, no less) and managed to have to most whirlwind goncharov ass doomed tragic could-have-been with each another in prohibition era Chicago; has to watch her almost die in her arms; ends up traumatized by oranges because her; then goes into a actual coma after watching her actually die in her arms.

Tender is the Night? WRONG. more like Painful is the Night.

I'm never emotionally recovering from this im suing bluepoch.

[onepiecereactions]

Vice-Admiral Smoker and the joys of administration, OS

Smoker, Tashigi, Garp, Kizaru OS.

Humour.

Warning vulgarity.

2100 words.

English Version

Vice-Admiral Smoker and the joys of administration

Smoker hated coming backfrom a mission. Don't get me wrong, he loves his job! But two things annoyed him the most about these moments.

On the one hand, that meant not going on the sea for at least a few weeks. Indeed, Marineford had established a complex system of turnover of vice-admirals so, with some exceptions, at least 3 vice admirals are always present on the base in case of necessity.

The feeling of freedom, feeling the air on his face, not being locked, that was what made Smoker happy deep inside him. That and the feeling of having helped the citizens and brought some justice back to this damn world, obviously.

On the other hand, returning to base meant a horrible administrative mountain. And just thinking about it, headaches were already migrating through the vice-admiral's head. Luckily, Tashigi was always ready to help him and do some of his duties to let him rest.

So it was with a heavy heart that Smoker set foot on the base for the first time after months of mission. While Tashigi was already rushing into his office with the firm intention of working all night to do her report on time, Smoker was walking mechanically to his private apartments. He threw his dirty jacket on the floor, took a long, hot shower, and get into his bed, already cursing tomorrow's hellish day.

The next morning the vice-admiral woke up in a bad mood. He grabbed his jacket that he had left on the soaked bathroom floor and sighed: it was ruined. As resistant as the clothes made by Marineford are, staying intact when you get cannonballs in your back is complicated. And Smoker, unlike many of the women on the base, hated walking around topless.

So his first resolution of the day was to go find a new jacket. And of course, he was going to ask Tashigi to do it for him. At first, as a man of integrity, Smoker was remorseful about leaving so many of his tasks to his colleague, even if the latter was doing wonderfully. But after several years in Marineford, honestly, now he didn't care.

So he grabbed his den den mushis and called the brunette. After several seconds of waiting, Tashigi did not pick up. Smoker worried, it was very unusual for the young woman who had a reputation for answering even when she was asleep.

He then quickly took two cigars from his desk, threw his dead jacket over his back, and walked quickly to his office.

Misfortune never happening alone, of course, on the way he passed Admiral Kizaru. The latter joined him in his race to his office and took the opportunity to discuss. The Yellow Admiral had the reputation of loving to talk, much to the misfortune of Smoker who loved calm above all else.

"Oh, tell me dear friend, are the holes in the jacket a new fashion? I know that I am no longer very young but still, I don’t understant. Is it to provide a ventilation system? Don't tell me you have a fever my dear friend? Do you want me to call the dear caregivers of the "

Kizaru didn't even have time to finish his monologue when he got the door of Smoker's office in the face. The latter had already crushed his cigars to refrain from hitting the high-ranking officer in the face.

Once he was sure he heard the yellow monkey leave, he got into the chair across from his desk and reached into the second drawer to extract two new cigars.

After a few seconds of enjoying the smoke reaching his lungs, Smoker grabbed the stationary den den mushi of his desk and, as he went to call Tashigi, a note stuck to the back of his device intrigued him.

"Even though I warned you last night, that I sent you an official mail 48 hours before and that I slipped a note under the door of your apartment, I want to remind you, just in case, that I am absent that day until 7:30 p.m. All the captains have a meeting. I wish you a very nice day. Captain TASHIGI. "

Oh shit. For a little Smoker could have cried. It was certainly one of the worst announcements he could receive. No Tashigi. No Tashigi for a whole day! One more day after a mission! All the calls and assignments she receives today will go straight back to him, her boss! In addition to her work he was going to have to do his own! With holes in his jacket.

Smoker decided to go on strike. The schedule for that day was already far too scary to be able to live it. A thousand times he would have preferred to fight against Monkey D Luffy rather than going through it.

He then decided he would do what was necessary. He got up quickly from his seat, crashed out of his office and almost ran towards Building C. It was barely nine in the morning but the Vice Admiral thought he was fainting when he saw the huge queue in front of the door. . Obviously, it was Monday, and those morons in the administrative sector never worked weekends.

He then did like everyone else, walked over to the door to grab a numbered ticket, sat down on one of the few free seats and waited.

To his left was an ordinary soldier, without a shirt and pants, just his underwear. Smoker could smell a familiar scent of magma. Akainu had made his own again during the training of his subordinates.

Smoker looked at his ticket, number 38 and sighed. As he was about to improvise a nap while waiting his turn, his portable den den mushis rang.

"Vice-Admiral Smoker, I'm listening. » He said wearily.

The soldier at the other end of the line looked surprised to find the Vice Admiral and not the Captain. “Captain Tashigi is in a meeting, her calls are being redirected to me. If it's not urgent hang up ". Without further ado, the soldier hung up to the vice-admiral's delight.

1 hour later.

"I swear in front of Gol D Roger that if that damn den den mushi rings one more time I will blow his head against the wall." Grumbled the marine for the third time in a minute.

After an hour of waiting and 15 calls, the Vice Admiral was finally called into the room.

He almost tore his jacket from his back, put it violently on the desk while trying to keep his nerves and glared at the woman in front of him who remained unmoved.

"Vice Admiral Smoker, registration number XXXX, I need a new model 3 series AB size 98 jacket with option 13". Smoker had been clear, to the point, and hardly angry.

The woman, who was well into her fiftieth, looked at him indifferently.

“It doesn't work like that, vice-admiral. She said in a weary voice, as if she was talking to the first moron in the area.

Smoker struggled not to crush his cigars again but revised himself to think it would be difficult to face this without cigars.

"So how do you do in this case?" He asked sharply.

The woman didn't even bother to answer him, she just gave him a form. Smoker thought it was a big joke when he found himself with a five-page double-sided document in his hands.

" Are you kinding me ? Five fucking pages for a fucking jacket? Can't you just write 22 fucking words on a fucking post it note and talk about it? Bellowed the Vice Admiral who was already starting to turn to smoke in annoyance.

"Blblblbl, blblblbl, blbllb" The den den mushi began to ring, straining Smoker's last strength to stay calm.

" It's not my fault ". The woman began in a slow, boring voice.

Blblblbl, blbllblb, blbllb

"If you are too stupid"

Blblblb, blblbl, blbllb

"To complete a simple form"

Blblbllbbl, blblbl

"That even Kizaru gets to"

Blblbl, SCRATCH.

The vice-admiral's den den mushi flew across the room, finishing its course into the wall.

To the slow voice of the woman was added the tears of the den den mushi.

"FUCK OF," Smoker yelled as he stormed out of the room to make sure his fist didn't end up in the woman's face. He went out like a madman and locked himself in his office to try to find calm and serenity.

He grabbed a third cigar and after about ten minutes of relaxation began to fill out the damn form. He was only halfway through when the door to his office slammed open, knocking out the lustrous wood that had already received quite a few knocks.

"Ah my dear friend, I went to the infirmary and got you some medicine to lower your temperature. But beware, this is a suppository! ".

Smoker felt his heart stop beating when he saw the yellow admiral's face in front of his nose.

Blblblb, blbllb

"Oh my dear friend I think someone is trying to reach you on your stationary den den mushi. "

Blblblb, blbllb

"Maybe you should answer, maybe it's urgent, don't you think? "

Blblblbl, blbllb

Smoker had a vision. The den den mushi stuck, smeared with haki, right in the middle of the admiral's face, his nose bleeding.

It took phenomenal self-control for the vice-admiral not to reproduce his impulses. For the second time, he chooses to escape.

He took a pen with him to finish filling out the damn file that had become completely unreadable so much he had massacred it.

He found himself in front of the lingerie door, walked past all the soldiers and walked into the office. He barely had time to put a foot inside when he felt a stapler cross his face with its smoke.

"I DON'T THINK I CALLED YOUR NUMBER!" Yelled the woman who had "briefed" him earlier.

Smoker crushed the doorknob but stayed calm. He turned around, took a ticket from the machine, and sat down in the only seat available: the one next to Vice-Admiral Garp. "

Smoker sighed and prayed to all the gods that this old fool would leave him in peace.

So he settled down next to him and inspected him discreetly. He then realized that the old man's uniform was impeccably worn if the traces of grease were omitted from his shirt from all the donuts he had. But the Marineford hero wasn’t wearing socks.

"Don't ask questions kid." The grandfather simply told him when he met Smoker's gaze.

"Hey Smoker, I heard you're after my grandson. Did you know that when he was young he used to have fun sticking his finger up his nose to eat his boogers? Except that this stupid pirate, as he is elastic, he always ended up bleeding from the nose. Suddenly he would start screaming and running in all directions. Most of the time he would smash into a tree or a wall and fall apart, by the time the bleeding ended. Did you also know he got clean very late? I had to buy him pyjamas with an opening pocket on the buttocks because he never managed to undo his buttons and ended up pooping on himself? Ah and also the time when ”.

Smoker wanted to: die.

Blblblb, blbllbl

A mirage ? a hallucination?

"Vice-Admiral Garp, I'm listening. Ah hi Sengoku, how are you? A fishing trip? Now ? Ah I'm coming. By the way, don't you have pairs of socks to lend me? »And so the Vice Admiral disappeared through the maze of hallways, much to Smoker's delight.

It took no less than forty-five additional minutes of waiting for Smoker to finally put the damn file in the damn good drawer which, by chance again, was in building A and, as it happened, no administrative soldier was available to take the paper which he therefore had to deposit himself.

The same day, at 10 p.m.

"A call for you Vice Admiral Smoker." The bartender handed the den den mushi to the vice-admiral, who took a last sip of sake before answering.

"Good evening Vice-Admiral, I hope you had a good day! » Tashigi began. "I was wondering why you weren't answering den den mushi... I received an official document for you. It involves a fine for "disrespecting an administrative colleague" as well as a two-week ban from returning to the lingerie office. Is everything okay ”.

"I STILL PREFER TO WALK NAKED THAN TO RETURN TO THIS OFFICE".

[ppaperheartss]

Godzilla

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: a lil angst, some swearing

A/N: Hey! I really hope you enjoy this, I’ve worked really hard on it. Inspired by Godzilla by Kesha. Any comments or feedback are appreciated!

-

Bucky Barnes wanted to find peace. His whole life had revolved around fighting and angst and fear, and now he decided it was time for that part of his life to be over. It took him a long time to readjust to a life without meaning, without something to fight for. He spent his days wandering around the compound looking for someone he could spend time with, but most of the time the compound was a ghost town. So he kept himself occupied with therapist appointments, catching up on pop culture and exploring different music genres.

(Rumour has it that Bucky was seen working out to Taylor Swift’s new album, but he always denies it regardless.)

He was proud of everyone else on the team. Sam took on the role of Captain America with both hands and was eager to help the country with the pressing issues which the Avengers never got the chance to handle. Captain America is now the frontface for Black Lives Matter and is tackling gun violence one day at a time. He is making America great again. 

Wanda has taken on the role of training new agents and works very close with orphanages in New York to rehabilitate young people who have led traumatic lives. She even introduced the Pietro Maximoff Foundation which aims to find people that had been injured in all Avenger fights as collateral damage and get them the help they so rightly deserve.

Scott spends a lot of time with Cassie to make up for all of the years that they missed together, and he even has another little one on the way with Hope. Though Bucky isn’t very fond of children yet he’s open to the idea of a miniature sized version of Scott running around the compound and causing havoc. Even the thought of it brings a smile to his face. 

Parker recently graduated high school and now works with Bruce a lot of the time in their own lab in the centre of the city to continue on with the work that Tony had started. After the whole fiasco with his identity being outed he tends to keep a low profile, taking his time to get used to the spotlight that is everyday life as an Avenger.

Bucky is still coping with that too, honestly. It’s strange walking down a street knowing that everyone probably knows his name and his history, and has an opinion of him, when he has never seen them before in his life. Maybe he has. He struggles with his memory too.

When he was diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety, it was a strange experience. He had a little knowledge on it from his uncle who had fought in war before him and suffered from the illnesses, but it was different knowing about it and being diagnosed with it he realised quickly. He’s cautious around strangers and struggles to speak to someone who he doesn’t know if he can trust yet, but his therapist Dr. Walker says he’ll develop with time. He just needs to focus on his breathing and find something to distract hunsekd. 

And he did. He went from not being able to open up the door for his takeout - which the app to order said takeout took him just a bit too long to understand - to being able to speak at veterans meetings with Sam in front of a couple dozen people. He connected well with the other veterans, especially those who had lost a limb in war, and found himself looking forward to the meetings for the chance to speak to people who shared similar life experiences and didn’t give him a sad look whenever he opened up about his nightmares. Knowing he wasn’t alone gave him a sense of belonging, something that he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He retired from the Avengers and moved to a small apartment in Brooklyn that Sam helped him look for. He even went couch shopping with him, making sure that he bought the deepest and comfiest one there. He didn’t mind, he loved how comfortable modern things are compared to the 30s, but he wondered why he insisted on getting that particular one. That was, until one night Sam came to his apartment blackout drunk and slept there for 15 hours straight. He only woke once to complain drunkenly about how small the blankets were, to which received a pillow to the head.

Bucky enjoys having his own place to live. He wakes up early in the morning to go on a leisurely run through his neighbourhood and watch the sky turn from red to pink to blue. He stops at the cafe at the bottom of his street for whatever pastry is fresh and a sweet coffee.

He then comes home to his cat and plants, and spends his days loving and caring for them. He found Alpine on what could have been one of the worst nights he’s experienced in his normal life. It had been raining heavily for hours and Bucky was walking home from therapy when he was jumped by a group of men. In the panic of it all he lashed out, and having not been in the field for so long he underestimated his strength.

A civilian got hurt in the scrapple, but she was so scared of who he was that she refused to take help from him. The police then arrived and Bucky had to fight his case for an hour in the pouring rain with only a running tee on. It was a witness from an apartment block on the other side of the street who came to Bucky’s aid and explained how he hadn’t started the fight and didn’t hurt the woman on purpose. He walked home in a storm of a mood, his whole body shaking with anxiety and the cold seeping into his bones, when he heard a faint meow come from a dark alley. 

He quickly swooped into action without hesitation, fishing the small creature out of the soggy box it was in and shielding it under his arm as he started to jog home.

That’s how he found himself an hour later sitting face to face with a small white cat with eyes he thought resembled his own in a strange way. He knew he was going to keep the cat without hesitation, he just wondered how something so pure could have made its way into his fuck-up of a day.

He even got a job in a coffee shop for a short while when Dr. Walker felt he was ready for it, so he could work on his social skills and how to control situations positively. He lasted a whole month in the shop and he made fairly good relationships with his colleagues and frequent customers, but he was asked to leave one afternoon as they had had a complaint from a daily customer about him. Apparently Bucky has a resting face that looks intimidating, and made the customer feel anxious. He had a tough time in his head that night. It took him a few days of wallowing in self pity and several conversations with Sam and Dr. Walker to realise he didn’t do anything wrong. He had to accept the fact he couldn’t convince everyone he was a good guy, and this is something he is still learning to accept.

He had felt so much misery over his lifetime that he thought he would never get the chance to be happy again, perhaps this new life would be enough for him. Though, he had to admit, that the fact that the only constant human interaction he had on a daily basis would be with store workers when he went grocery shopping, it was starting to make him feel lonely. It was like he lived on the moon, only watching others live their lives from a distance as he lived his own mundane life. That, of course, was before he met you.

You came shining into his life like a beam of sunlight that made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. There wasn’t a moment where your beautiful smile didn’t grace your face, and the joy on you radiated instantly made his day a whole lot better. You had been neighbours for quite a while before your first interaction, though you would always give him a chipper smile when he passed you in the hallways to which he responded to with a bashful grin.

Bucky woke up with a feeling something was wrong one day, and his suspicions were confirmed when he got a call from the nursing home informing him that Steve was sick. He knew he had to visit right away, just in case, but he didn’t know how long he would be gone and refused to leave Alpine alone. He couldn’t ask Sam, he was too busy being Captain America and a dumbass to properly care for a cat, so he moved onto what seemed to be his only other option.

The super soldier stood in your door frame (which was just too small for him to stand at his full height comfortably in) with a cat carrier in hand, blue bag slung over his shoulder and a desperate smile on his face. “Hi, I’m Bucky. Barnes. Bucky Barnes. Your neighbour. Room 6? Anyway, I need to ask a huge favour of you. I have to visit a friend out of town but I can’t leave Alpine alone - she doesn’t like it at night, and I was really, really, hoping you could watch her for a few days. I understand if you’re busy or have plans, though!”

You listened to his ramblings with an amused smile on your face, hand on the doorframe and leaning forward slightly. “Alpine?” you mused, eyebrow raised slightly.

His cheeks tinted instantly as he nodded down to the now meowing carrier. “Yeah, my cat. She’s two. She’s lovely, I promise. Doesn’t scratch or anything, she’s a real doll. You won’t even notice she’s there.”

You had bent down to look inside the carrier as he continued to ramble, only to be met with remarkable blue eyes which matched its owner’s perfectly. Cooing softly at her, you look up to meet the other pair of striking blue eyes. “Of course I’ll watch her for you. What else are neighbours for?”

He smiles instantly, shoulders relaxing as he lets out a breath. Holding out the carrier to you with his metal arm which you took instantly, he starts, “Thank you so much…”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N.” he repeats, setting the bag at your feet. “My number’s in there if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’m better at calling than texting. Thank you, again, I owe you.” He smiles before waving quickly as you exchange goodbyes, turning on his heel and walking quickly to his car with keys in hand. 

After closing your door you set the carrier down and open it up, lifting out the small white cat into your arms. Smiling fondly, you press a kiss between her ears. You wandered over to your window to see Bucky climbing into his car as he held a phone between his ear and shoulder, and something deep inside of you knew this was the start of something special.

After that first encounter, you and Bucky seemed to be glued to the hip. It started off as a coffee date as a thank you after he got home from the weekend in which you watched Alpine, and you were glad to hear that Steve was well. It then evolved into a home cooked dinner from you the next day because Bucky refused to let you pay for your coffee even though you insisted and you wanted to pay him back somehow. He was always a gentleman with you. 

It then turned into weekly Friday night movie nights to catch him up on what he had missed movie-wise and supermarket shopping together the next morning because Bucky loved shopping in near-empty supermarkets just as much as you. Somewhere along the line you both got keys cut for the other’s apartment and you more often than not spent everyday together, even if it was just spending your hour lunch break from work sitting on a park bench chatting. You both had formed the best friendship possible, so it was no surprise to anyone that you wound up dating. It was meant to be, really. Soulmates. 

But not when Bucky went to the gym, because there was no way you would be caught dead doing physical activities.

You loved being around Bucky; he was sweet and caring and loved to try whatever new hobby you were experimenting with. He would always taste-test your cooking and baking and never say anything mean about it - even that time you made cupcakes and used salt instead of sugar he was quick to force it down and sing its praises. He cries at dog movies and volunteered at the local animal shelter weekly after you informed him one night that he could because he was just desperate for some interaction with the dogs. You were surprised he hadn’t come home with every single dog his first day there because he just wanted them to be loved so much. 

Bucky Barnes was a Saint sculpted by gods who had a heart of gold, and you could never see him any other way. Sure, you knew his history. Hell, you had even written a paper all about him and the Howling Commandos in your college History class, but none of that mattered to you. The Winter Soldier had been gone for over a decade, the trigger words meaningless and the mystery over, and you just wanted to know Bucky. Not his past - not that he could remember much of it anyway - but his and your relationship’s future together and what possibilities come along with that.

-

Bucky loved going shopping with you. He would give you an armful of clothes and make you give him a fashion show, where he would cheer for you and clap obnoxiously and shower you with the sweetest compliments, and you both savoured every second of it. You also had a fairly decent understanding of fashion, so you would help him keep up with all of the trends and keep him looking as gorgeous as he always is. So a Saturday spent together roaming the mall should be the perfect outing for the both of you. If only you could do it alone.

You held his hand tightly in yours, fingers intertwined and palms sweating slightly, but you were sure it was only his that was. You kept him near to know he was safe and coping, because crowds were one hundred percent not his thing. Maybe that’s why recently he had taken a liking to online shopping, because you could still have your famous fashion show in the comfort of his safe, judgemental free apartment. You could feel every set of eyes follow you and the six foot ex-assassin beside you for longer than necessary as they walked past you both, but you kept your head held high. No one was ever going to make you feel bad for loving Bucky. Not now, not ever.

“Oh my God.”

“That poor girl.”

“Stay back, he’s dangerous.”

“Do we just let murderers walk free now?”

You don’t know if the people walking by tried to be discreet with their whispering or wanted you both to hear, but you could hear them so Bucky definitely heard them. Looking up at him as you feel his breathing hitch, you follow his eye line and find a small girl being whisked away by her mother with fear evident on her face. The air around you grew thick, like you could feel his suffocating anxiety grow. He didn’t want to scare anyone, and this sight seemingly pushed him over the edge into a downward spiral.

Tugging on his arm you grab his attention, flashing him a reassuring smile.

“Why don’t we get food? I’m starving.” He simply nods in response, not trusting his voice.

You sit across from him in the booth in the corner of the food court, eating happily as you watch him visibly relax into his surroundings. He has a mountain of food in front of him but you know it’s never enough, and you just grin as he reaches over to swipe some of your fries.

You both talk mindlessly about insignificant things; a jacket that caught his eye, where you’d like to go next, how you both are craving ice cream, oblivious to the numerous pairs of eyes staring at you two. The flash of a camera and a series of giggles catches your attention. You quickly look to Bucky to see his reaction, but just smile at him distracted by his milkshake which has now covered his face. You lean over the table to wipe it away with a napkin before kissing his nose gently, and he smiles happily at you as his cheeks tint red.

“Why don’t we just leave after this?” He looks up at you, and it pains you to see the hope in his eyes at the thought of leaving. “We can go to that ice cream parlour at the bottom of the avenue and have a walk in the park instead.”

You smile at him. “That sounds so much better than shopping, baby. Let me go throw all of this in the trash then we can go.”

“No, I’ve got it. I’ll be two ticks.” He slides out of the booth, pecking your lips quickly as he picks up the trays and walks over to the trash. You still have a smile on your lips as you pull on your jacket and pick up your purse, but it fades quickly when you hear a crash and yells from behind you.

Jumping out of the booth quickly you turn, finding Bucky standing with a now empty tray between a bunch of chairs and a woman draped across the floor covered in the remains of your lunch. Bucky’s shaking as he tries to stammer out an apology. You assume that they’ve bumped into each other, and with Bucky’s strength she fell back hard. 

People had started to crowd around as the woman went into painfully fake hysterics about how he had attacked her, and Bucky just stood there like a deer in headlights. Pushing through the crowd you run to him, grabbing the tray from his hands and setting it on a table. You take his hand in his, holding onto it tightly, and he leans into your touch to try to make his body as small as possible.

A hush settled over the crowd as the woman’s cries turned into whimpers when she realised she had an audience. “That thing just assaulted me! Did you see it? Doing this to a vulnerable woman!”

A few people murmured agreements to her accusations, and it only made your blood boil more. 

“Bucky is a person, not a thing,” All eyes turned on you, and you only stood taller to secure your confidence. “and he wouldn’t harm a fly. I’m sure this was all just some sort of accident.”

She scoffed as she was helped up to stand from a few bystanders. “He’s a criminal. He knows nothing but hurting people. Just look at that,” she gestured to Bucky’s metal arm that he was now trying to hide away behind his body. 

Just as you tried to defend Bucky, the crowd started getting rowdy again and you felt a tug on your hand. Looking back you see a mortified looking Bucky with glistening eyes. His voice is so weak you almost don’t catch what he says.

“Just leave it, Y/N. Please. I want to go home.” You nod quickly, fixing your bag over your shoulder and delivering the woman a scowl as you turn and practically run out of the mall together. You didn’t want to make a scene, because it always affects Bucky worse. 

The car ride is silent, you in the drivers’ seat and Bucky bouncing his knee beside you, eyes shifting around frantically. You sit in the parking lot of your apartment block for a while, Bucky’s head on your shoulder and your hand running through his hair softly as he finally lets himself go. You stay there until his shoulders ache and he can’t find anymore tears to cry. You hold him close as you walk to your apartment, and he sits on the bathroom counter as you run a warm bath. You drop in his favourite bath bomb, and that at least brings a smile to his face.

He finally begins to relax as he sinks into the warm water and you sit on the edge of the tub, treading your fingers through his hair gently. It’s quiet for a while, but both of your minds are loud. 

“I wish they would see you like I do.” Your voice cuts through the air like a knife. He sighs, shaking his head. 

“They never will. Why should they? I’m a monster.” Bucky sounds weak. He’s tired of living like this, scared that he’ll make one wrong move and his face will be plastered all over the news. 

“You’re not a monster, Buck.” You keep your voice steady. “You're the kindest, sweetest person I know. I don’t care about your past at all, and I… I love you.”

You weren’t planning to tell him you loved him for the first time, but it just seemed right in the moment.  He’s quiet for a while, and you begin to wonder if he actually heard you or has fallen asleep from the warm water and lavender. 

Bucky takes a deep breath before he speaks again. 

“I love you, too.”

You can’t control the smile that takes over your face and you lean forward, planting a kiss on his head. You hear him smile and he moves to see you. The water swishes as he moves. A wet hand cups your cheek and you lean into the touch, watching his eyes stare at your feet as he struggles to get his words out. 

“I love you so much it hurts. I wake up in the morning and see you laying beside me, and I know that I’m where I’m supposed to be. I just don’t want to screw it all up.” He finally meets your eyes. They’ve turned a stormy blue, and you can see all of his emotions swirling around them. 

You turn your head to the side and kiss the palm of his hand, your fingers still running through his hair gently. He leans in, the tension escaping his muscles. He sighs as he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours. You smile at him, pecking his nose quickly. 

“You could never mess this up. You’re my soulmate. Now, how about we have that ice cream now?” the two of you share a knowing smile. 

You squeal as Bucky pulls you in for a hug, both of you laughing as he soaks your clothes and peppers your face in kisses. 

-

“This is wrong, this is all wrong. I told you I should’ve worn a tie! Even Steve agreed with me on that one! I look so stupid wearing, why the hell am I wearing a leather jacket to meet your parents? Can we turn back? I’ll change quickly. Let me cut my hair. Is it too long?” Bucky pulls down the passenger mirror to inspect himself, his forehead creasing as he tries to perfect his already styled hair. 

You sigh as you reach over from the steering wheel and take his hand, bringing it over to kiss his knuckles gently. “You look great. It doesn’t matter what you wear. They’ll love you no matter what.”

He grumbles a disagreement as he sinks back in his seat, changing the song playing through the car radio until he finds a depressing song to play to match his mood. You had noticed he did that a lot after only a week of dating. Whenever he’s happy you will almost always hear Michael Jackson or Queen playing from wherever he is in the apartment, and he had downloaded Spotify’s Sad Songs for whenever he felt down. 

You reach over and change the song quickly, which earns a sharp look from him. You scoff, but you both know that it’s not malicious. “Calm down, Buck. You’re just nervous. We’re having a barbecue, not a fancy meal in a fancy restaurant.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t want them to hate me. Would you leave me if they hate me?” He sounds like what a sad puppy would if it were able to speak. Stopping at a red light, you turn your body to face him. 

“I love you, okay? Nobody will ever come between us, not even my parents. Just flash them that charming smile of yours and they’ll have you hooked.” He smiles bashfully at you, and you grin as you kiss him quickly. 

After that the ride is short and sweet to your parents’ home. Honestly, you didn’t know how they were going to react to Bucky. You hadn’t told them who he was specifically, just that he was your handsome boyfriend who you loved very much. They had always been accepting of whatever life choices you made, even when you decided to drop out of college. They just wanted you to be happy. And Bucky made you happy, so that means they should accept him. 

You held onto his hand tightly as you walked up the driveway, and before flashing him one last reassuring smile you knocked the door. The air was tense and time seemed to stretch as you waited for one of your parents to open up the door. Even you were becoming slightly nervous. 

The door handle jiggles before the door flies open, and you smile fondly at your mother standing in the doorway. Bucky smiles too, though it’s a nervous one. 

It had been so long since he had felt any parental love - he thinks about his family everyday - and as selfish as it sounds he was hoping he could use this as an opportunity to finally have a stable father figure in his life. From the stories he had heard from you, he decided you had lived the life he had always dreamed of. Family trips, game nights, going out for special meals together. Even just the little things, like how you called them every night to say goodnight. He craved stability in his life, and this may be one way he can achieve it. 

She looks between you both, the smile on her face fading the longer she looks at Bucky. Just as you open your mouth you see her eyes flit downwards - straight age Bucky’s metallic hand. He adjusts his hand to loosen his grip on yours and swallows dryly. A strangled gasp escaped her lips before she grabbed your empty hand roughly, tugging you inside and scrambling to lock the door behind you. 

“Y/N! What were you thinking, bringing that monster here!” She searched your face as if she was hoping to find bruises under your makeup, and your blood boiled. 

“What the hell?” You shouted at her. Reaching back you feel for the door handle, but she takes your hand in hers before you can. 

“Do you not watch the news? He’s dangerous.” She pulls away, staring at you like you were crazy. “Has he been lying to you?”

“I know exactly who he is mom-”

“Then it’s… it’s Stockholm Syndrome. I’ve read about that! I think I’m using that right.” she says. You scoff at how ridiculous she’s being, fully conscious of Bucky standing behind the door. She only frowns. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. That’s my boyfriend that you just locked outside.”

“Whatever’s you’re feeling isn’t love, honey. I’ve heard everything about him. Did you know he attacked some poor woman in a food court a few days ago?” There's a tinge of pity in her voice, and it only makes you more angry. 

“Oh my god,” you moan. “He is my boyfriend! That’s the James that I told you about! And you just slammed the door on his face and called him a monster.”

Her movements falter as realisation dawns on her face. She actually loves the monster, is what you assume she’s thinking. You turn and swing open the door, only to see Bucky seemingly frozen in place in shock and mortification. He just blinks and stares at you, and you just want to swaddle him up into a blanket and hold him close right on the spot. 

You reach your hand out for him, but he flinches back and stumbles down the steps. 

“Th-This is all wrong. I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have come.” He sounds weak, like a child after being scolded.

He stands there looking lost, like he wants to run away and never come back but is also too scared to turn his back on you. He isn’t leaving you, just the situation. He doesn’t know what to do. Will you hate him for this? Are you angry that he isn’t standing up for himself? But he doesn’t want to shout what he wants to say. He wants to be calm. He’s learned how to be calm. How can he learn to be calm after everything he’s gone through, but no one else can?

Your dad comes to the door and you know things will only get worse. You step down to stand beside Bucky, holding his hand tightly. 

“Y/N, what’s going on here? Who is that man?” Your dad seems just as confused about the situation as you are. 

“Mom just- ugh. I can’t believe this is actually happening.” You didn’t want to cause a scene, just because of the sheer fact that your mom knows about what happened the other day so if one person sees this who knows what it will be escalated to in the media. 

“She ruined today. Today was supposed to be amazing and she messed it all up because she didn’t want to give Bucky a chance.” 

“Sweetie, look at him,” your mom began to defend herself. “Can you blame me? All I know is that he is a killer with an arm made of metal. He could hurt you!” 

“Like you are?” She stared back at you in shock. “You took one look at him and decided he was a monster. He’s a person just like us, and he deserves to be treated like one. I’m sorry, but I can’t stand here and allow you to treat him like that. I love him and he loves me, and that’s all that matters.”

Your dad calls on you as you storm to the car, but you don’t listen. Slamming the door behind you, you push your foot in the ignition and drive away as soon as Bucky gets in the car. 

Bucky doesn’t know what to do. Normally he knows how to help you, but he’s never seen you like this before. You’re shaking, and he doesn’t know if it’s from anger or fear. Fear that you’ve lost your parents? He’s so lost and feels terrible that he can’t help you. 

It takes about fifteen minutes for you to stop seeing red and finally slow down to the speed limit. It was like something else took over your body and you were watching from five feet away. Everything happened so quickly. What actually just happened. Are you in the wrong? Maybe you should’ve told them about him before. You don’t want to have to but you know you should have. Explain it. Him. Bucky. 

Looking over you see him half smiling patiently at you. He’s the one hurting right now, but he’s hiding it so he can be there for you. You don’t mean it, but the look he gives you when your lip trembles causes the floodgates to open. 

He manages to reach over to the wheel and guide the car off the side of the road when the road begins to get blurry from tears. 

“I’m so sorry, Bucky. I didn’t know she was going to do that. Never in a million years did I think she’d do that! She-she’s horrible and nasty and-”

“Y/N, please.” Bucky reaches out and holds your hand, his other reaching up to wipe the tears off of your face. “You don’t mean that.”

“But it’s still not okay.”

“I know it’s not,” he sighs. “I just thought they would be more like you.” He smiles weakly at you. 

“So did I.” You sniff as you lean over, resting your head against his shoulder. His lips instantly reach down to kiss your head gently. 

“Let’s leave it for now, and you can call in a few days. Maybe we can convince them to come around to me. I know you want them to like me.” Bucky’s voice doesn’t sound as hopeful as his words, but he wants this for you. You’ve always had a good relationship with your parents and he doesn’t want to be the reason it’s all messed up. He knows he’s not worth it. Well… yes, I am worth it, he forces himself to think. 

He knows his worth in this relationship. He knows he means so much to you. You mean the world to him. He hopes you know that. But he knows how much your parents mean to you, and he would never want to make you choose. That’s selfish of him. 

You look up at him and smile. “You know I love you, right?” 

He smiles back. “You tell me everyday.” He bends down, capturing your lips in a kiss. 

Bucky still had a long way to go with his recovery, but you made everyday easier. He couldn’t imagine his life without you anymore. You were the reason he got out of bed everyday, the reason he cared for himself, the reason he smiled. 

Who knew Godzilla could fall in love?

[asphodelsandpomegranates]

Always Be There (Collin Hoskins [Blindspotting] x Reader)

@terrazure   cause I promised them I would. 

You'd been there for Collin through thick and thin. You'd been there for Miles as well. But most of the time you'd always been there for Collin. You'd met him when you three were in college and they'd been skipping classes just hang out at the park and 'busting rhymes'. It hadn't been too hard to miss them, especially Miles – loud mouth that he is. Shouting at the tops of their voices, making some people gawk at them. You'd been fascinated by them. Just watching them let the words come out of their mouths so easily, as though they were saying it off by heart. When they'd gotten close to you, Miles had stumbled a little, trying to think of what to say next. Then, for some reason, you'd cut in. The two males stared at you. And from that moment, you'd been friends. Even though, you had been friends with the two, you'd always felt closer with Collin. Soon the friendship had grown into a one sided love for the male.

Then two things happened that completely changed your life.

First, you'd found out that Collin had gotten himself a girlfriend. The night you'd met her, you'd tried your best to be happy for Collin but it didn't work. You complained of a headache and said your goodbyes. Ashley, Miles' girlfriend, said she would go with you. In the taxi, she got you to confess your feelings for him.

Then the world flipped again when Ashley told you about Collin's arrest. You hurried down to the station to find him in one of the holding cells. Val, his so-called girlfriend, had not set foot inside. After your visit, you stormed off to find Miles and almost beaten him to a pulp, shouting curse words at the top of your voice, berating him, screaming that Miles should have been in that jail cell with him.

“Some bloody friend you are!”

“(Y/N), I'm sorry. It just got out of hand.”

“Out of hand?! Out of fucking hand!?!?”

The shouting had escalated and had become so loud that it woke Ashley's son. You'd ran out in tears.

Since Collin had convicted, you visited him when you were able to. Sometimes with Miles, or Ashley, just sometimes alone. It made you happy to see that he was okay. To know that he was safe. According to Miles, Val never visited. Not that you were bothered by this. Just to know he was fine and doing as he was told in order to get out, you were happy. Once he was out, you happily went to see Collin out of prison. As soon as he was near, you hugged him for dear life, not wanting to let go. You both went to the safe house for him to get settled in and the next day, you both went to see Miles, Ashley and their son.

As time went by, and for Collin it seemed too slow, you helped him get back on his feet; although you'd not been happy when Collin had landed himself a job in the same vicinity as his ex.

Collin deserved better.

On the last day of Collin's probation, everything spiralled for you. Again.

You were sitting at the kitchen table with Ashley as she calmed herself down. Thankfully, Sean was in bed asleep.

“Why the fuck would that moron bring a gun into this house?” you asked, incredulously.

“Fuck knows why.” Ashley hissed, wiping away her tears. “Stupid hipster wannabe trying to act tough, thinking a gun is the best option.”

“The gun wasn't loaded was it?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Shit.” you breathed. “Why didn't Collin talk him out of it?”

“You know what Miles is like: goes in one ear and out the other.”

“So, they're both getting rid of the gun?”

“Yeah. I hope so, anyway.”

Suddenly, you both heard the front door slam open and closed and the hurry of footsteps.

“Babe?”

It was Miles.

“What have you done now, you asshole?” Ashley snapped.

You both looked round to see Miles standing there, a few cuts on his face and hands. And he was alone.

Ashely's eyes widened at the state he was in. “What the fuck?”

Ashley bounded over to him. You looked behind Miles, right at the doorway, waiting for Collin to follow on behind. But as the seconds passed, Collin never showed up.

“Where's Collin?” you asked, not taking your eyes off that one spot.

“He walked off after we argued.”

You stared at Miles. “And you didn't follow him?” Your heart was racing, your stomach churning into knots. “You mean that he's still out there?! With that officer?!”

“(Y/N), I'm sure he's fine. He's just...”  

But what else Miles said you didn't hear. Everything was muffled, Miles talking, the every now and then traffic that went by. Your breath was becoming hitched, uneven, too quick.

You were hyperventilating!

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), can you hear me? Look at me.”

You tried to hold on to Ashley's voice as the panic attack rang through you. Your vision was obscured...

...Then everything went black for you.

                                                 *****************

You woke up in a small room with a curtain shutting off the outside world to you. But you weren't alone. Ashley was there, sitting at your bedside. She glanced over at you and smiled when she noticed you were awake.

“Morning, sleepy head.” she chirped.

“H-hey.” you said, groggily. “What-what happened?”

“You passed out on us, sweetie.”

“I passed out?”

“Yeah, you had us worried.”

“Where's Miles?”

“Staying at home with Sean.”

“And does Collin...?”

“Yes, I rang him when we got here. He's worried but he's coming to see you tomorrow...if you're still here.”

“And he's o-okay?”

“Yeah, he's fine. He's home, safe and sound.”

You nodded.

The doctor came in with Ashley on his heels and checked you over. He told you that the fainting spell had been brought on by stress and resulted in a panic attack enough to make you pass out. They also wanted to keep you in for overnight observation until you were better.

You said goodbye to Ashley as you were being transferred to a small ward and slept well knowing that Collin was safe.

                                               ***************

The next morning, you woke up to find a sleeping Collin by your bed. He was leaning over at your bedside with his head on top of his folded arms. He looked so peaceful. You shuffled onto your left side, being careful not to disturb him and gently ran your fingers through his braids. But sensation made him stir.

He blinked his eyes awake and looked up at you. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry. Didn't know I fell asleep.”

“It's okay. Are you okay? What happened last night with you and Miles?”

“We got into an argument and I went off home. I just...I just reached boiling point and...”

He trailed off. Noticing his discomfort, you cupped his cheek and soothed it with your thumb.

“And then Ashley called me when I was home and I've been nothing but worried.”

“You don't have to be worried about me, Collin. As long as you're safe--.”

“But I do anyway. (Y/N), you've always been by my side. You've always been a good friend to me, (N/N). I honestly don't know how you can put up with me.”

“With a lot of alcohol.” you teased.

Collin laughed at your joke. After a small comfortable silence, he spoke again.

“(Y/N), there's something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“I...I...I really don't know how to put this but...since I was in prison, I've...I've started to feel something for you.”

“You-you mean?”

“I think it maybe more than friendship.” Collin said. “I know I've put you through a lot. And I can't believe it's taken me this long to figure it out.”

You slowly sat up, your body aching with lack of movement from the night before. You stared at Collin, bewilderedly what he had said. “You-you—?”

“I understand if you don't feel the same way.”

“Don't feel the same way?! Collin, I've had feelings for you, longer than you had feelings for Val. I've loved you since we'd left college. When you introduced me to Val, I was heartbroken. Didn't you even notice how off I was that day? Ashley could see it a mile away. But I still wanted to be near you despite you and Val being together. Did it not even occur to you when I always coming to prison, no matter what day it was, I was always came? I had to know if you were okay. When you were locked away, I was constantly worried for you. Throughout this whole parole, I've been worried about you. Almost making myself sick because I still loved you and I was always thinking of you. I've been terrified that I was going to lose you again, and since that guy got shot I've been scared shitless because I thought you'd be next.”

You could feel tears coming down your cheeks as you spoke, your vision blurring but it didn't stop you from talking.

“I was scared that I wouldn't see you again if that cop saw you, recognised you and put bullets in you. I've been scared that you would never feel the same about me. That you loved Val, more than you loved me. So, yes, Collin, I do love you--.”

Collin sprang in his seat, moving in towards you and hugging you, tightly. The tears spilling from your eyes and you clung to him, desperately. He was hushing you, stopping you from crying.

“Don't make yourself even more ill, babe. I'm not really that worth it.”

“You've always been worth it.” you whimpered, trying to steady yourself to breathe calmly.

When he managed to calm you down, you pulled back a little, allowing Collin to brush the tears away with his thumb.

“And so are you, (Y/N). I'm an idiot for not realising sooner.”

“You're not an idiot, sweetie.”

“Yeah, but I'm yours.”

Giggling at his terrible joke, you pulled him in for your first kiss.

[eddiespagheti]

What Amy Forgot Chapter 7

When Amy wakes up in a hospital, she thinks she's 27, about to start working in a new precinct. She's actually 37 and married. Now, with a life she has no recollection of and a husband she no longer knows, she must uncover the pieces and find herself once again.

The Rest

When Amy remembers it years later, she faintly remembers the close feel of the gun against her temple, her heartbeat accelerating like a lion running after its victim. Which, she mused later, made Romero the lion but he wasn’t chasing, no, he had already caught up to it.

She remembers slowly standing up from the bed, being careful not to startle him as he gripped her arm tightly and told her not to try anything. The slight thump in the floor of the baby book, now long forgotten. The names she had read floating out of her brain and lightly hitting the ceiling, like deflating balloons.

Her eyes darting around the room in pure staggering fear, looking for her gun or for anything that could offer her a form of protection. Don’t try anything, he says before half dragging her to the living room and Amy finally coming to her senses and wrestling away from him.

Everything is like in slow motion, as if her whole life is lagging, feet dragging through the clay.

Then, when he tosses her against the dresser and she hits her head against it, everything becomes painfully clear.

He looms over her, gun waving as he shrieks. She’s not really paying attention. She’s still in shock because he’s real. He’s real and he’s here and he has a loaded gun.

“Anybody there?” he asks after a moment, kicking her leg making Amy fall to the floor on her elbows. She gazes up at him. “Where’s Jake? Where’s that little weasel?”

“I don’t-I don’t know.” She shakes her head. He grunts and Amy blinks away from him.

 What is she going to do? How is she going to get out of here safely? How does the gazelle try to escape from the lion’s jaws?

Then, the sun moves through the curtain, illuminating the precision knife she uses for her scrapbooks thrown under the bed. She gets an idea.

“Where’s he gone?”

“I don’t know.” She says again but she’s distracted, she’s trying to figure out a way to get the knife without him noticing. He doesn’t notice her eyes going to the bottom of the bed or the three feet between her hand and said knife.

Still, his face darkens like a storm approaching water.

“You know, I told myself that I’d stay away for a while, I never really meant to hurt you. My problem is with Jake, not you, but he’s a slippery little eel. How do you catch a little eel? By getting Mrs. Eel. But what do you do when Mrs. Eel tries to escape?” he pauses. Amy looks up at him, her left hand slowly reaching under the bed. “Do you a) let her run? Or do you b) push her down some stairs because she’s really pissed you off by running away?”

Amy swallows thickly, remembering his thick hands on her shoulders and the BANG as her head hit the railing.

“I felt sort of bad when I saw you at the bottom of the stairs, all pale and barely breathing. I felt so bad that I even called an ambulance. ” He laughs, waves the gun around. “But, look at us now.” He grins off into the distance, slightly distracted and Amy takes a chance. The knife edge digs into the floor as she slowly drags it up. It makes a noise, like a scratch, but it goes unheard by Romero.

And before he sees her, she stabs it as hard as she can into his leg. It feels like cutting into raw chicken and she cringes but doesn’t stop until it’s jammed into his leg.

He lets out a hiss of pain, cursing loud enough to shake the door off its hinges. She knows she’s hit a tendon from the gushing blood and the loud curses that continue streaming through his mouth.

“You fucking-“ he begins and points the gun straight at her but before he can shoot, she twists the precision knife, making him fall onto his knees in pain. A loud crack sounds as he falls onto his knees. As he falls, he presses the trigger, the bullet grazing her shoulder and hitting the dresser behind her. Amy doesn’t let go of the knife, despite how much he tries to wrestle away. The blood runs down her hand as she twists it again, as if she’s unlocking a door, or perhaps locking one.

Her own shoulder bleeds onto her shirt, making the purple dark but she can hardly feel it. She can hardly breathe as her heart beats in her ears.

He lets out an ear-piercing scream and scurries to grab her, no doubt to finish putting that bullet in her shoulder or maybe in her head but she crawls away. She makes it to the kitchen with him ambling behind her, his leg makes it hard for him to walk and Amy hears as he drags it behind him.  She imagines the blood trailing after him like a trail and shivers.

As she makes it to the door, he shoots off the gun again. This one misses her terribly, hitting the refrigerator instead. He’s losing blood, a lot of it, and Amy knows he’s very close to passing out. Still, she runs. She makes it out to the hallway, Romero now running after her slower. His threats are quieter, duller, the intensity oozing out of him in red, thick blood.

Her shoulder starts to ache now, the pain like a pulsating heart. The blood drenches her top even more now, now going down to elbow. She’s dizzy, too and knows that she only has to outrun him. He’ll be down soon, she knows he will.

Black spots appear in her vision. She blinks tightly and they’re gone but the edges of her vision remain blurred.

She’s at the stairs, about to start climbing down when he catches up to her, his thick hand wrapping around her mouth as she begins to call for help. His eyes are dark storms, a hurricane destroying everything in its path.

Jake, Jake, Jake, she thinks.

“You think you’d get away from me a third time?” he says throatily. Amy tries to wrestle his hand away from her mouth, her blood soaked hands streaking his with red. He presses the gun to the middle of her chest and she drops her hands.  “You think I wouldn’t push you down those stairs? Stab you with this knife just like you did to me? Think I wouldn’t put another bullet in you?” He pauses, teeth glowing as he breathes through his mouth harshly. She can tell he’s in tremendous pain. “Because of Jake I got six months in solitary and ten more years added to my sentence.”

But you got out, she wants to say but can’t. The only sound is the dripping of blood from his leg and his harsh breathing.

“You want to know what I did during solitary? I thought of everything that I would do to Jake once I got out and I crafted a plan.” He shakes his head. “Jake doesn’t deserve an easy exit, doesn’t deserve one big hit and that’s it. He deserves to be chipped down little by little until there’s nothing left but rubble.”

Someone in one of the apartments laughs at something on TV and Amy calls out to them help, please help. Call Jake or Rosa. Anybody.

“It wasn’t easy to get out.” Romero shakes his head. “But once I did and I found out about your little wedding, I made sure it didn’t happen. And then you two left in hiding.” He laughs a booming laugh, eyes un-focusing on her face.  “It was hard to find you, you know? But, a buddy of mine remembered you from the hospital.” He pauses, fakes sincerity. “Sorry about the baby, by this way.”

This is the final thing Amy needs before she kicks him in the leg. As he stumbles, Amy reaches out and pushes him. He rolls down the stairs, dropping the gun with a clack. Amy races down and grabs it before he can. He groans from the stair landing and Amy can tell that the knife has edged deeper into his leg.

“Goddamn it!” he grumbles, teeth grinding in his pain. He looks very pale, all the color siphoned out of him. Is this how he saw her those months ago? Pale and in pain at the foot of the stairs?, she thinks.

With shaky hands and an even shakier voice, she says, “Romero, you’re under arrest.”

When Amy awakes at the hospital, she sees Jake asleep at her bedside. She isn’t sure how she woke up here. All she remembers is her neighbor , Mr. Tatum, finding her over Romero’s almost passed out body and his shaking hands as he called 911 after she ordered him to. Then, after that, everything is blurry. She has a slight headache and she figures she fainted. Her bloody clothes have been exchanged for a blue hospital gown and Romero’s blood on her hands is washed off. But, still, she feels the sticky sensation.

Jake’s chest rises as he sleeps, his arms are crossed on his chest tightly. The tightness in his brow tells her that he fell asleep worried, probably terrified. Her heart aches at the thought of him arriving and finding her passed out by the stairs with her bleeding shoulder.

She deliberates for a second and slowly stands up, careful not to move any of the cables attached to her. Her finger traces over his features as he sleeps. She knows she should feel relief at the thought of Romero being gone, of him and his horribleness leaving them alone finally, but she’s a little scared. Because, in the trees, there’s always another monster but, as she looks at his calm sleeping face, the fear in her chest dissipates. Because, no monster if ever that scary without him by her side.

He wakes shortly after that and as they share her green hospital provided Jell-O, he tells her that Romero was gone. This time for good. He told Amy of arriving and finding Mr. Tatum crying over her fainted body. He was holding her gun and making sure that nobody got close to her or Romero as the police arrived.

“He’s honestly traumatized.” Jake adds.

Amy makes a mental note to send him a basket of fruit as thanks.

He pauses as he speaks and says, “You stabbed him in the tendon, you know?”

Amy grimaces, remembering the sickly feel of his blood gushing down her wrist and the twisting of the knife.

“At least he’s away.”

Jake nods and his face turns worried. “It was so scary to find you like that. Blood all over your hands and just…” he trails off and shakes his head. “Just, I got dejavu to what it probably was when, you know…”

Amy nods, takes his free hand. “Yeah, I know.”

“I didn’t see you that time until the hospital and seeing you there with blood all over you, makes me glad I never did.”

Amy squeezes his hand. “Want the rest of my Jell-O?”

Jake’s face conveys his relief and he nods, polishing off the rest of her Jell-O while she takes a nap.

It takes her a while before she can move her arm without grimacing and another three months before they take bandage off. He grazed a bone and they warn her that she’ll feel the pain once in a while, especially during the cold times. Amy rolls her eyes; yet another cruel reminder that those ugly moments existed.

Holt puts her back on the street after weeks of her begging him and six strongly worded letters stating her case. But, Jake telling him “Don’t be Captain Lame, sir!” is probably what did it.

As she showers, she glances at the scar in her arm, tracing it with her finger. The scar on her upper arm is a few inches below it and Amy connects them like a constellation. The Wounds of Magnitude, she names it.

The blood of Romero remained in the crevices of the wood flooring in the kitchen. They told her he wouldn’t be able to walk anymore without limping. But there wasn’t a whole lot of walking in thirty years solitary.

Her mother stops by one afternoon, a few months after the sentencing, and helps her tidy the living room. They hang balloons around the apartment, banners, and her father even brings one of his prized wines from his wine collection along.  Albeit, dragging his feet slightly. Jake arrives from work and his eyes gleam at all the decorations, their friends, and Amy’s joyful face.

“Happy birthday.” She tells him and kisses his cheek.

The party isn’t the real present. The real present is an envelope tucked into deep into her drawer. It’s been there for two weeks and sometimes when he isn’t home she opens and stares at it to make sure it’s real. She put it off until his birthday, knowing that’d she’d really nailed the gift this year.

Later, when it’s just the two of them and he’s drifting off to sleep she whispers to him, “Do you want your real present now?”

“Now?” he mutters back, almost asleep. “I’m kind of tired but I can probably wake up. Just give me a minute.”

“Not that.” She says and rolls her eyes. She rolls out of bed and walks to the drawer, her hands find the crisp envelope in the bottom.   Meanwhile, Jake sits up, rubbing his tired eyes. There’s a million butterflies in her stomach, making a home out of it and she’s very close to throwing up or passing out. Maybe both. She hands it to him, her hand shaking with excitement. Jake starts to open it but stops.

“Did you get me Mets tickets?”

“Nope.” She bounces back on the bed tucking her chin into her knees. She watches with fascination as he reads the letter. His eyebrows furrow as he reads it once and then again. She’d done the same before and she understands the look on his face.

Then, when he looks up it’s the clouds have cleared. “We’re off the waitlist.”

It’s not a question but Amy still says, “Yes.”

He reads it again, eyes dragging along the three sentence paragraph.

 Mr. Peralta and Mrs. Santiago-Peralta, we’re pleased to tell you that you have been taken off the waitlist for the Nicholas Huck Adoption Center. Your caseworker, Hannah, will assist you through the process of adoption. If you have any questions….

Jake’s quiet for a second and then when he looks up, Amy can see the emotions in his eyes. Joy, happiness, excitement. “I thought I’d be sadder about turning 41 but,” he shrugs. “this is the best birthday ever. Beats that time my Uncle Scott took me to Coney Island.”

Amy grins.  “Best birthday ever?”

“The best.” he grins and reads the letter again.

“Adopting a younger child is a relatively long wait.” Hannah says a week later, the words come quickly from her mouth as if she’s said this again and again to hopeful parents. There’s a wrinkle in her eyebrows, too, as she thinks of the older kids who didn’t take their eyes off the two of them as they walked around the adoption agency.

Amy’s not paying attention. She’s staring out the window, out at a little girl with wild curls. She’s about eight with dusky skin slightly darker than hers and observant eyes. She’s swinging slowly on her own, big black book in her hands. Her eyes move quickly as she reads. The wind moves her hurricane of  hair and she sweeps it back with one motion. Amy remembers seeing her when they toured the agency. She looked up, saw them: young, green and eager, and looked back to her book.

Amy stomach drops at the thought of how many couples she’s seen to know exactly what they wanted.

Jake and Amy had spoke about the adoption and had settled on a younger child. Ideally, a baby. But now, Amy was rethinking everything.

Amy turns to Hannah. “What about an older kid?”

Jake’s eyebrows raise at this but the determination in Amy’s eyes soften his eyes and he nods along. “Yeah, an older kid.”

"Older kids are not usually as sought after as babies and most of them end up spending their time here or in foster homes." she pauses. "A lot of kids have gone through a lot in their lives."

Amy looks at the curly haired girl again and imagines the pain and the heartbreak. Although Amy’s own heartbreak is different, she feels for her.

Amy looks away from the curly-haired girl and into Jake's eyes. "So have we."

“Are you sure about this?” Jake asks her quietly when Hannah leaves them alone for a second.

Amy nods almost automatically. “Are not up for it, Peralta?”

Jake smiles, his hand settling on hers. “With you? Anything.”

Amy squeezes his hand.

Her name is Liliana and she’s eleven, about to turn twelve in three months, she explains in her quiet voice. Every so often, she looks up to make sure they’re still here and listening. Jake almost melts on the floor when she says that she’s seen Die Hard.

Hannah tells them her backstory: abandoned at two at a church, bounced around several foster homes, almost adopted once but the process was stopped when the couple found a baby. After that, she’s been staying at the Center where Hannah says she’d probably stay till she turned eighteen.

“I love her.” he says when they’re walking back to their car. “I seriously love her.”

They tell the squad later that week that they’re going through with the process.

“Terry is proud of his children.” Terry says with tears in his eyes when they tell them her backstory. “And Terry already loves his little niece.” Boyle sobs even more and tells that Nikolaj will be her best friend.

“Even better, I can see it now: us as father-in-laws.” he squeals. “You’ll be a Boyle cousin, Jake!”

“Yeah, that’s never going to happen. ” Jake says and shakes his head. “We haven’t even been approved for her adoption yet.”

“That agency would be stupid to not let you two be parents.” Boyle says.

“I agree.” Holt adds. “I think you two will be spectacular parents.”

“Thank you, sir.” Amy replies.

“Of course, it helps that the little girl isn’t biologically related to Amy because then maybe she’ll have a chance of having actual friends.”

“Thank you, Gina.” Amy says with an eye roll.

“I can take her on my bike.” Rosa says with a smile from the back of the room, her feet resting on the table. “ Better yet, when does she turn sixteen? I have an old bike I’ve been restoring-”

“Maybe we should hold off on her meeting you guys.” Jake interrupts, scared for Liliana and setups by Boyle, motorcycles given by Rosa. But, his heart swells. Is this feeling in his heart what every parent feels when they think of their kids?

They take her out weekly to dinner and she eats everything, including all her veggies. She doesn’t complain at all. The process of the actual adoption is long and her twelfth birthday comes and goes. Jake and Amy take her out for pizza, along with two of her friends from the Center. For her present, they buy her pink, glitter flats that she sits in her lap and stares at during the ride back.

When the papers go through and they go down Steward Street instead of turning towards Howard, Amy’s heart nearly bursts. Amy had already cleared out her office as a room for her. Jake surprised her and painted it Liliana’s favorite color. They almost went crazy picking out furniture and curtains. Terry spent a whole weekend drawing constellations on the ceiling, using glow in the dark paint so she’d see them before she went to sleep.

Liliana looks around with awe at the room and sets the little belongings she has in the drawers. Including, her birthday flats still as new as when they bought them.

Jake worries about her a lot, checking in on her almost hourly. Most of the time, she’s reading in Amy’s old childhood rocking chair. Other times, she’s napping.

He whispers to her at night, “She’s really quiet.”

"Yeah, and you talk way too much." He glowers at her playfully and Amy lets out a smile. He did talk too much, just nervous ramblings as Liliana stared blankly at him. They were entertaining and honestly, a little pitying. "Let's hope it catches on."

She starts school that August at the middle school five blocks down. Amy’s mom picks her up most of the time, commenting to Amy how Liliana does her homework almost immediately arriving home.

Her mother adored her from the first glance. Now, every week her mother came to teach her how to knit and her father played chess with her.

“She’s very precious.” Victor tells her later when Liliana is asleep. “Don’t let any Jake get on her.”

“Well, jokes on you because we have weekly Die Hard marathons.” Victor grumbles under his breath. Amy knew her father loved Lily as soon as Lily said she knew how to play chess. He loved her even more when she bested him thirty minutes later. She was quiet around him but she listened diligently as he spoke to her about chess. He didn’t speak to her like she was a child and Amy could tell that she liked it.

Amy usually drops her off in the morning, helping her comb her hair into a braid and ironing her uniform. One day, however, Jake is the one who drops her off and at noon, they come home smelling of popcorn.

“Jake, isn’t she supposed to be in school?”

“Yeah, um.” Jake glances back at her. Liliana looks down at her still unscuffed shoes, the wild curls in her braid unraveling. Jake shrugs. “We wanted to watch the new Thor movie, okay?” Amy glares at him but he shoots her a pleading look. I’ll explain later, it says and Amy sighs.

“How was it?”

Liliana looks up Jake, who nods to her, and she says, “It was really funny.” The smile on her face grows. “We saw Hulk’s butt.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “We saw Hulk’s butt, Ames. How cool is that? Isn’t that way funner than school?”

“It’s actually ‘more fun’; ‘funner’ isn’t a word.” She corrects. “Which you’d know if you went to school instead of looking at Avengers’ butts.”

Jake sticks his tongue out at her and Liliana hides her smile.

Later, when Liliana is watching TV in the living room, he tells her the truth. “Her nails were digging into the door, Ames. I didn’t have any other choice.”

“You think she’s being bullied?”

“No.” Jake hesitates. “I think she’s scared.”

“Of what?”

“That we….” he trails off. Amy’s eyes soften.

“That we won’t come back for her.” Jake nods. “She still has to go to school. We can’t homeschool her, Jake.”

“I know.” He sighs. “But, just let her take the rest of the week off.” She starts to talk but he cuts her off. “It’s just two more days. I’m off tomorrow and then both of us are off the day after. I’ll tell her school that she got the flu and I’ll pick her homework so she still does it. Then on Friday, we go out to eat, all three of us. We can talk about school and everything else then. We’ll assure we’re not leaving her and maybe, even talk about a children’s psychiatrist.”

Amy thinks it over. In the kitchen, she can hear Liliana quietly laughing at something on the TV and her heart swells. As if they would abandon her. She loves her with her whole being. She loves that Liliana loves going to the museum, bringing her sketch pad with her and sketching as Amy looks at the paintings. Jake deserved credit for the sketch pad, finding her doodles in old napkins. He went out and bought her four new pads, pens, pencils, charcoal, paints. Liliana was taken aback and didn’t touch them for days but now had gone through two sketch pads.

Amy loves that she loves to draw as much as she loves to read.

She loves that she adores Rosa and loves Captain Holt, who didn’t know how to act around her at first but who now bought her books weekly, knowing her to be a voracious reader.

Amy loves braiding her hair, making her lunch, just being her mom.

But now, Amy sees all the clues. How her bed is always made first thing in the morning, her still-new shoes, her quietness which Amy mistook for shyness. Everything. Everything that she was doing to ensure that she would stay here, that she wouldn’t be a burden. She didn’t want to be returned like some malfunctioning appliance; she wanted to stay. She liked it here.

Amy’s heart soars.

“Okay.” Jake begins to quietly cheer but Amy’s finger to his face quiets him. “But, no more decisions like this without my input.”

He nods. “Of course.”

“I mean, we’re her parents and this is a-“

“Parents.” He says and smiles widely. Amy’s smile mirrors his. “I just-I got goosebumps.”

“She is our daughter now.”

“She doesn’t call us mom or dad, though.”

“Jake, it’s been like two months, give her time.”

Jake nods slowly and then his face lights up. “My daughter beats your dad at chess weekly.”

Amy sighs and rolls her eyes but the smile remains on her face.

Damn right, she does.

Liliana listens carefully as they talk to her.

“I’m seeing one, too.” Amy assures. “I had a”-she looks over at Jake-“pretty bad accident late last year and I had to see one to deal with that.”

“What kind of accident did you have?” she asks.

“I fell down some stairs and forgot Jake, my whole life.” Amy says. “But, I remember him now. It was scary and I tried to hide. I didn’t want to face a lot of things but, I’m stronger now.” She finishes with a smile. “There’s still a lot of memories that are really blurry and I probably won’t remember them but that’s okay. Jake and I have made some pretty amazing memories.”

Her eyes grow slightly misty and Jake squeezes her thigh from under the table.

Liliana listens carefully and looks down at the table.

“And you’re one of them.” Jake adds. Liliana looks up in slight surprise.

“Point is, we’re your parents now and we’re not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to be a quiet little mouse.” Jake says. “Yell at us if we do something that makes you mad, scuff your shoes, don’t make-”

“Jake-” Amy interrupts.

“-your bed every morning. Just be a kid, Liliana.” He finishes and Amy nods along. She thought it was going to go somewhere else but like always, he’s surprised her.

“I like making my bed.” Liliana says after a brief pause. “And I hate when people call me Liliana. Can you just call me Lily?”

“Yes, Lily.” Jake emphasizes.

“And maybe in the future, if you feel like it, you can call us ‘mom’ and ‘dad’.” Amy says slowly, hoping to not startle her. Truth be told, she was bummed that Lily wouldn’t call them ‘mom’ or ‘dad’ but the saddest part was that Lily probably didn’t know what it was like to have a parent.

Lily nods, and takes a french fry, dipping it in ketchup. She pauses and Jake nods encouragingly . “Can we stop by the art store later? I need another sketch pad.”

“Of course.”

“We’ll get you twenty.” Jake adds and Amy shoots him a look but smiles softly at his eagerness. He loves her.

“Thirty.”

When school lets out, they go down to Boston to see Jake’s parents. So far, they’d only seen Lily once in person but Karen bonded over her over art stuff, blabbing off for hours. Roger, on the other hand, went on a long tangent about meeting Picasso when he was younger. Jake later told her that her father thought he saw Picasso but it was probably just some bald man.

Amy feels like hell most of the trip and spends most of it in the guest room while the four of them play games in the kitchen and watched films.

Lily comes in to the room when she’s trying to rest off the headache. She walks carefully up to her and sits next to her.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sick.” Amy opens one eye, looking into her observant eyes.

“I don’t think you’re sick.” She says slowly.

“I don’t like Rodger but not enough to pretend to be sick.”

“I think you’re pregnant.” Lily says. Amy sits up automatically.

“What?”

“We learned in health class that when you’re pregnant you get really cranky and you throw up a lot.” Lily shrugs. “You threw up on the airplane and you haven’t left the room once.”

“That’s not possible.” Amy says. “I can’t…” she sighs. “the doctor says there’s like a ten percent chance I’ll ever have kids.”

“It’s still ten percent.” Lily says with a shrug and then her eyes darken. “If you have a baby, does that mean-“

“It doesn’t mean anything. It probably isn’t even true.” she says, reassuring her worried face. For the millionth time in her life, she curses her almost-adoptive parents. Still, she can’t remember her last period  but she does remember not taking her birth control pill one night. “Put your shoes on; we’re going to the grocery store.”

Lily waits in the Walmart restroom as Amy sits in the stall and worries during the three minutes. She knows it’s probably just a bug—Hitchcock was sick last week—but part of her wished it was a baby. Still, ten percent was too slim of a chance. She knows she won’t be heartbroken if it’s not true. She has Lily, she has Jake.

Her phone dings as the three minutes come to an end.

When Amy comes out, Lily raises her eyebrows in a told-you-so way.

Amy wants to smile at the direct Jake-like movement but she rushes into the stall where she throws up again.

 Amy glances over at Jake but he’s frozen, staring over the doctor’s shoulder as he speaks. The doctor’s voice is low, apologetic, and Amy looks down at her fingers.

 She feels numb, but she’s felt this way for months, ever since she stopped being Amy Santiago and started being Beatriz Lopez. Beatriz Lopez wasn’t an officer, she was a homemaker with a knitting obsession. It was hard to be Beatriz but as the numbness settled in, she wondered if large parts of her no longer were Amy but Beatriz.

 And now, she didn’t know who lost the baby. If she was supposed to mourn as Beatriz or as Amy.

 But, as she looks at Jake once again. She knows who he’s mourning as. Jake, simply Jake.

It’s hard not to tell Jake about the pregnancy but she has to be sure and she’s 37, any pregnancy at her age would be high risk.

When Amy turned sixteen, her mother dropped a packet of birth control pills onto her bed. “You’re a Santiago; you can’t walk down the street without getting pregnant.” At her look, she added, “Better safe than sorry.”

Years later, Amy would look back at that moment with a cruel ironic outlook.  She’s in a daze on the way back to precinct. She finds Jake in the evidence room going over some files.

His back is turned to her, the hunch of his shoulders looking like a sloping hill. He turns at the sound of her boots.

“Hey, babe. How was the dentist?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Jake looks up from his file at once.

"What?"

"Yeah...I'm pregnant."

"When did you find out?"

"In Boston." She says walking over to him. "I thought Hitchcock had gotten me sick but..." Amy trails off and shakes her head. “The doctor confirmed it today."

“You’re pregnant.” He says slowly, as if not understanding the word. “Like, there’s a baby in you?”

“Yes.” She says. “Your baby.” She doesn’t even notice him wrapping her against him until she’s in his arms. He holds her tight against her, breath rustling her hair.

"Jake," she pulls away and tries to sound as serious as she can. "It's extremely high risk. There's a big chance it won't really happen."

"I know. I know." he grins and then he says, "We're having a baby."

When baby Elias is born, Amy watches as he coos in her arms. His eyes are all hers but even in his miniature state, she can tell the rest of his face is all Jake.  When Jake first carried him, she was sure he was like ten percent away from crying.  She had already done all her crying during the labor; she was all cried out.

The door opens and Jake walks in, Lily holding his hand. She looks hesitant, holding a big, blue bear reading It’s a boy. She was still anxious about the baby, despite how many times she read to Amy’s belly. Maybe, like Amy, she thought it was like a distant dream but here it was real and whole.

“Hi, there.” Jake coos down at the baby. Lily stays back, watching with guarded eyes. Amy signals her over, feeling for her little almost-thirteen year old heart.

“Come meet your little brother.”

Lily looks down and her face melts. “He’s cute.” Elias yawns, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. Jake’s eyes soften as he looks at both of them.

“My two kiddos.” Jake says, settling his hand on Lily’s shoulder.

Lily rubs her finger against his cheek and Elias’ tiny baby cheek dimples.

“You want to carry him?” Lily nods almost shyly, dropping the bear to the bed and holding her arms out. Amy lowers him into her arms and watches in wonderment as Lily perfectly positions him in her arms. Elias yawns again.

“Am I going to share a room with him?” she asks.

“For a little while.”

“I don’t mind.” Lily says. “I can take care of him. I took care of the babies at the Center.”

“You don’t have to.” Amy shakes her head. She wants to cry at the fact that she's’ trying so hard to not be a burden. “Just be his big sister. We’ll worry about the rest.”

Her mother comes to take her home and Lily’s eyes don’t leave her baby brother until the door is closed.

When it’s just her and Jake, she looks down at Elias’ now-sleeping face.

“I think it would’ve been so much harder.” She says quietly. “If I had my accident after them both.” She looks up at him and Jake is paying close attention. “I would be devastated to forget them.”

“I know.” Jake pauses. “That was one of the hardest times of my life and I was stupid to think having them around would be easier.” He shakes his head. “I think of all those times that I stayed up late thinking that you’d probably never remember me. If I had the kids with me, I’d probably go crazy if you didn’t remember us. I think I’d be more devastated for them.” He pauses. “I went down that scenario so many times. What I’d do.”

“What would you do?”

“Nothing.” Jake says quietly. “I thought that if you didn’t remember me, I’d help you fall in love with me again. But, if you found someone better, I wouldn’t stand in your way.”

“I think I’d do the same.”

He snorts. “As if. I’d live a hundred lifetimes and still fall in love with you.”

Amy smiles. “You said that to me before.”

“And I meant it then and I mean it now.”

“I wouldn’t remember her first Christmas with us or the first time I met her.” Amy says quietly.

“Falling in love with her.” Jake scrunches his nose up and smiles at her. “Or her adorable lisp for the first weeks.”

“Or his first kick.”

“Or the first time she called me ‘dad’.”

Amy laughs, “You cried like a baby.”  Amy find his hand and threads their fingers. “The first time she called me ‘mom’, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t stop smiling.”

Jake glances at baby Elias. “Want to count his toes again?”

“No.” she says. “Let’s count his eyelashes again.”

“And, how are things?” Dr. Ramirez asks her.

Amy shrugs. “Pretty good. Elias is walking now.”

“No new memories?”

Amy shakes her head. “I have tons of good ones now. Lily joined the soccer team and Jake took so many the pictures of her. “

Dr. Ramirez smiles. “And the fogginess? It doesn’t bother you?”

That’s what Dr. Ramirez called her missing memories, the ‘foggy’. Those memories hadn’t returned and while she grieved them before, she didn’t mind anymore. Going through that terror and that heartbreak made her stronger. Made her and Jake stronger.

“No, because everything ahead of me is clarity, I’m sure of it.” She thinks back to Romero, to her accident, to her father’s heart attack a few months prior. “There’s bad clarity and there’s good clarity and I’m glad I have Jake’s hand to guide me through it all.”

Amy passes her Lieutenant's exam when Elias is four. Lily, a sullen teen girl now, even pushed the bangs out of her face to attend the party. She was going through a straight phase and flat ironed her hair daily but the edges around her temples curled.

She’d been hanging a lot with Rosa and Lauren now that they were engaged and she thought that Lauren was the coolest person ever.  

Rosa corners her. “Hey, is your kid trying to steal my fiancée?”

Amy rolls her eyes, adjusting her uniform. “Leave her alone.”

"It's okay. I get it." Rosa lets out a half-smile. “I remember when I was sixteen and I had a crush on Mrs. Montevideo. She was so hot for her age.” Amy raises her eyebrows, noticing the similarities between her daughter and Rosa. It never crossed her mind but now it’s painfully obvious.

“You think...“ Amy trails off and Rosa shoots her a look.

“Duh.” Rosa shrugs. “Just don’t pressure her. Let her figure it out on her own.”

“Okay.” Amy nods. “I can totally do that.” Amy glances at the corner of the room at Lily and the stars dancing in her eyes. She can see her in five years, working her way through college, her curly tresses probably colored some outrageous color that Jake would think would look super cool but secretly hated. Elias would be nine then and soon enough it’d be his turn to be a sullen teen. She almost groans but instead, she smiles.

Jake and Elias are in the other side of the room talking to Holt. The chevron on Jake’s uniform had happened two months prior and he wore it well. Elias notices her and lets go of Jake’s hand and runs over to her. He wraps his arms around her legs tightly.

“I’m tired.” he moans quietly and Amy picks him up, pushing his thick brown hair away from his forehead.

“We’re almost going home, bud.” She kisses his forehead and meets her husband’s eyes from across the room.

She remembers thinking that she wasn’t the same Amy that Jake fell in love with and how stupid she really was. Was the loss of a few memories going to erase the years the had together? The loss? The tragedy? There was always going to be something there.

It’s like he said, a hundred lifetimes and I’d still fall in love with you. Amy hugs her son tighter.  He smiles from across the room and makes his way over to her. She extends her hand and their fingers mold together.

Screw a hundred.  She’d live a million lifetimes and she’d still fall in love with him.

 I think everything leads to something, one way or another. I think that there’s paths we’re walking down, little doors that taunt us and doors that we mistakenly open in order to find that perfect one.

 And honestly, every single door probably leads me to you.

Excerpt of Amy Santiago: A Life in a Binder by Jake Peralta.

[khymer-vulture]

Power came back on, was expecting it to come back in the morning or something o:

also currently typing another short story, and got ideas for Hunter’s Moon AU side stories.

Set after Covering Our Tracks

To combat boredom, it never hurts to let the playful side out. Zack and Ray enjoy a small moment of innocent behavior.

Another day, another time spent traveling, both Zack and Ray have taken shelter in an old, foreclosed home. The yard was littered with thick foliage, which made it easy to sneak around and kick the back door open to allow themselves in.

 Since the property was foreclosed, there was still some of the furniture left, it did make things easy for the pair to find a place to sleep. There were no beds, but there was a large couch in the living room, and Zack was no stranger to using one as a bed.

 The pair did a quick inspection of the place to make sure no others found any other points of intrusion to make themselves at home. To their relief, it was just them.

 “That’s that…” Zack grunted.

 Without hesitation, the man dropped his scythe next to the couch and plopped himself onto the cushions, Ray watched as he was quick to make himself comfortable and lazily kick his boots off to the side.

 “Is there room for me to fit in?” Rachel asks.

 Isaac turned his attention to Ray, then reached a hand out to her, the girl raised a brow as she placed her hand in his. In his true and brash fashion, he quickly yanked Ray closer to where she landed on his chest, then slid his arm down to scoop her up onto the couch with him. Ray was startled by this action, then huffed as she saw the sly grin on the man’s face.

 “Problem solved, now get comfortable.”

 Rachel didn’t complain, Zack always seemed to offer himself as a spot for her to sleep on whenever a place to sleep was too small or uncomfortable. Deep down, she kind of liked it, the man’s body warmth and the sound of his heartbeats always seemed to lull her to sleep when they were like this. The girl quietly snuggled against him to get herself comfortable, she often heard the heartbeats quicken for a moment, before slowing back down to a normal pace. Once Zack sensed that Ray got comfortable, he brought his hand to run his fingers through her hair, he couldn’t understand why he often did it, possibly playing with her short and silky strands was sort of addictive to him and gave him peace of mind.

 It was only a short matter of time until he too allowed himself to succumb to sleep.

 Hours ticked by like seconds, and the night was eventually chased away by dawn. However, the house echoed with the sounds of rain pounding against the roof. Zack slowly opened his eyes, the house was still quite dark, but it was dimly lit from the haze of clouded sunlight. The gruff man carefully maneuvered himself to get himself up while Rachel continued her rest, then he walked over to the window to see just how hard the rain was pouring.

 Pools of water formed in the untamed yard as rain continued to plummet by the bucket load, seems like they were stuck inside until the weather cleared. Zack grumbled to himself as he sat near the window and kept watch, either on the weather or for any potential prying eyes.

 Rachel woke up as soon as thunder cracked loudly, she quickly sat up as the sound startled her, then heard the faint sound of Zack chuckling.

 “Getting jumpy?”

 “When did it start to storm?” she asks.

 Zack lightly shrugged, “Probably while we were sleeping, fuck if I know…all I know is we’re stuck here for a while.”

 The rain wasn’t going to stop with the snap of the fingers, they were at the mercy of the weather, and even time itself.

 To combat boredom, Rachel decided to explore the house a little bit to see what she could find. Even if it was of use or not, she just needed an excuse to do something to pass the time. As, she eventually returned to the living room, she noticed that Zack switched spots, he was no longer sitting near the window, but back on the couch. Maybe interacting with him for a bit would help pass the time.

 Zack was resting his eyes for a moment, it seemed something to do besides recklessly smash anything in sight to tackle his impatience, but he soon felt hands and arms on his shoulders. The man was startled for a moment, and pulled Rachel’s arm down, feeling her tumble onto his lap.

 “What the fuck were you doing?” Zack grumbled.

 “Sorry, I wanted to see what you were up to, I was getting a little bored…”

 “So, dangling on me like some kind of little monkey was a good idea?” Zack asked.

 “Sorry…” Ray apologized again.

 Isaac lightly rolled his eyes as he helped her back onto her feet, then decided to give her side a playful squeeze, feeling her flinch underneath his slight grip – yup, still ticklish.

 “Why do you keep doing that?” she asked with a huff.

 “It’s funny,” Zack quickly answered, then squeezed her other side.

 Ray quickly grabbed at Zack’s hands and tried to hold them away, if it entertained him, he was going to keep doing it, and she knew that all too well.

 “How’d you like it if I did it to you?” Ray asked.

 “Psh, good luck…pretty sure I ain’t ticklish, like you are,” Zack retorted, then quickly slipped a hand free to get her again.

She dodged this time, then she squeezed at his side to get a reaction, but she got nothing. Ray could see a large a sly grin on Zack’s face from her attempt at getting him back. It was also a grin that said, I know your weak spot and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

 “Nope, nothing.”

 Ray tried again, now getting his other side.

 “Not even a little bit,” Zack replied, then returned the action back at her, “Can’t say the same for you.”

 Rachel fidgeted again, hearing the man let out an amused laugh, she heard it before, but a playful laugh like his sounded so pure to her ears. She grabbed the man’s hand once more to stop him, Ray was so weak against this man of unnatural strength, but he appeared so entertained by her attempts to try and retaliate physically against him, even if she wasn’t being entirely serious. He quickly slipped his hands back out from her grip, then quickly wrapped an arm around her to put her in a small hold as his other hand ruffled at her hair.

 “You still need to grow this back, dammit,” Zack said with amusement.

 Ray grumbled as she tried to free herself, Zack’s grip was firm, but surprisingly not rough. The man felt Rachel squirm, he chuckled to himself as he let her go, he couldn’t fully understand what he was doing but he wasn’t ready to stop – it was a good alternative to cure boredom.

 “Give up yet?” said Isaac, he was trying to goad her into attempting again.

 There was that sly grin again, Rachel was compelled to try and wipe such a smile off his face, Zack felt the girl try to tackle him, but he lightly pushed her small frame down onto his lap without breaking a sweat. Ray tried one more time to squeeze at his sides to get a reaction, but instead she just saw Zack raise a brow.

 “You’re really asking for it,” Zack warned with a devilish grin.

 “Please don’t.”

 “Heh, or you’ll what?” Zack asks, raising a hand up, ready to grab at her.

 Ray couldn’t answer, she couldn’t keep his playful assault away, he was too strong, and she couldn’t retaliate because he had no weakness like she did. She grumbled as she grabbed the bottom of Zack’s hoodie and hid her face underneath, Zack raised a brow, then snickered at her response.

 “You’re fuckin’ weird, Ray…” he mumbled with amusement in his voice.

 Ray slipped out from Zack’s hoodie and looked up at him, then felt his hand mess with her hair again.

 “Honestly, I never thought I’d see myself actually play with someone…” Ray quietly rambled.

 “Is that what we did? I thought you were trying to kick my ass and did a shitty job at it,” Zack asked with a grin.

 “Rough housing kinda counts as play,” Ray answered, “I know I wouldn’t win in a fight against you. I mean…I…I wouldn’t want to fight you…but play fighting was kind of fun…”

 Zack leaned against the couch as Ray got comfortable as she rested her head on his lap.

 “Huh, never really played before…but watching you struggle was pretty damn funny,” Zack said with a quiet laugh.

 Ray huffed as her hand slid under Zack’s hoodie and squeezed at his side, this time, she felt him flinch.

 “Ah, you cheater…you had extra padding,” Rachel responded with a huff.

 Zack responded with sticking his tongue out at her.

 “Oh, how should I know? Your damn hands are cold, plus, I don’t let people go grabbin’ at me.”

 “Just me?” Ray asks.

 Isaac stayed quiet, then brought his hand to cover her face in slight annoyance. He noticed the sound of rain had finally ceased, then let go of the girl as he carefully got himself up to go look out the window.

 “Looks like it finally let up, about fuckin’ time,” Zack spoke, then turned to Ray, “hey, get my scythe…we’re headin’ out.”

 Ray glanced to the weapon that laid on the floor beside the couch, and did as she asked. Once Zack was given his scythe, he brought his hand to gently pat her head.

 “So, are we going to get some money or food first?” Ray asked as they headed to the broken door.

 “Definitely food, messin’ with ya’ has made me hungry,” Zack quickly replied.

 The man heard a faint chuckle from Ray, then felt her lightly shove him, he rolled his eyes lightly as he nudged her right back. If toying around with her like that counted as play, he wouldn’t mind doing it again, it was fun after all.

[ecotone99]

[SF] Primordial

The project was known as Tenebrosity Vestige, and was launched and funded by the government in order to determine the origins of a singular, highly concentrated, and geologically enigmatic space rock. Said rock had been collected by the International Space Station's debris collection system. We knew almost nothing about this piece of space debris, bar the little that we were told before the tests began. Allegedly once the large rock had become trapped within the collection system, it immediately began to interfere with the solar power source used by the ISS. Furthermore, the energy emitted by the stone, which was contained and brought back to the surface, had caused the decay and even complete absorption of the other space detritus that had found itself within the collection tank.

They sent the object, hereby known as the Relic, was outsourced to a lab in rural Georgia, where I worked at the time. We had possessed government objects before, but we quickly realized this was a volatile specimen that had apparently reacted strongly to the Earth's atmosphere. Creating minute, infinitesimal antimatter waves every now and then, as a shackled beast ready to break its bonds. I was a researcher, a geologist. Belinda Fraser, she was more of an experimental scientist who felt restrained by the bounds of simple theory. Everett Canning, there was a talented scientist. He was a stricter and somewhat uptight British physicist who had hopped the pond specifically to work cases like this. There were others, of course, but we three were the triumvirate, I feel.

Belinda had transferred over several months earlier, and felt a kinship. Both of us were women of color in a field that was typically male-dominated. We were pals in the workplace, though she was more of a risk-taker within her research. She had been on a flagship venture in the Star Mountains of New Guinea, searching for new energy signatures close to the Hindenburg Wall, and was given a grant by the government to work for them. Canning on the other hand was a verified genius, but had found little recognition in his home country and had petitioned the US government for a job, which they gave him quite eagerly. We handled various cases, depending on the type and the science needed, and worked with numerous consultants and so-called “mercenary” scientists to get the government the results it wanted. It was my third year as a lab-based staff member at Marshall Labs, the day we began Tenebrosity Vestige.

Early in the morning, before the crack of dawn, we were at the lab speaking with tidily dressed and tight-lipped government agents who rather begrudgingly handed over the metal containment device that had been our Relic's home for the past three days.

Once we were in possession of the thing, the Relic was moved into a secure containment location reinforced with hardy and nuclear-resistant alloys and a multitude of safeguards, where we mapped it using infrared and extracted energy. Tedious work, but brilliant results, more often than not.

"It's beautiful. Just beautiful. I can't wait. Honestly. This could be the one. Something to do for everyone, you know? Let’s just skip the whole process and heat it up or something."

I glanced at Belinda.

"That right there. That's exactly how you get a Raiders of the Lost Ark situation. You want your face melted off?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly in mock amusement, and continued to read the energy charts. The virtual representation showed a chaotic storm of molecules, as molecules degraded and regenerated almost constantly. Canning beckoned to an assistant, who flipped a gauge, turning the Relic around on its exposed display. The energy seemed highly tempered, and again I thought of the metaphor of a caged beast. Simply what, however, was the trigger for such a powerful release?

"Still wanna crack that thing open, Dr. Fraser?"

"Like a kid on Christmas morning. I really, really do. All this talk of aliens and dark matter and we could possibly have something very similar right before our eyes."

"And if we all die? If this alien material somehow kills all of us?"

"At least we find out, right? I know the risks, so do you. Everyone here knows the protocol for working in a government research facility. We all knew that we were going to find some enigmas, did we not?"

"I can understand that. Dr. Canning, do you feel as elated as Fraser over here?"

Canning pursed his lips slightly, his eyes fixated upon the Relic.

"Ladies, in front of us is the most unexplained thing that I as a scientist have ever seen. Other researchers would kill for the opportunity to even test on that thing for a minute, and here I am mapping it for energy. If there was ever a religious experience in science, then this is it right here."

"Religious experience, hmm? So, you admit that this is like Shroud of Turin of the scientific community? Or Voynich? "

Canning barely registered Belinda’s statement, and began running a detection program in order to map each of those small antimatter waves. The waves were once again, as infinitesimal as our government handlers had told us they were, yet now they were as frequent as they were minuscule. Each second there were wave pulses, back and forth like a pendulum. The Relic had a rhythm, it seemed, akin to a heartbeat, or a clock. But a rhythm, nonetheless, which made it feel more human.

“Feels like a machine, not like a natural mineral. Like an artificial heart, beating into eternity, to put it somewhat poetically.”

The percussion continued among the symphony of mechanical whirring. The more I looked at the Relic, it felt more and more cosmic, and I agreed with Belinda. It felt machine-like, constructed as if an automaton.

Belinda and I sat in the break room, coffee in hand, scones on the table, after we had finished another round of observations. The hot lab was being prepared so that we could see which kinds of energy the Relic would react to. There was still a sort of childlike wonder about a new substance or material, lest of all not mentioning the alien material we had in the other room. It matched to no energy, no nuclear isotope of any element on earth. It exuded no traceable characteristics of anything we had seen or studied in Marshall Laboratory. It was beyond reason, in a sense.

Belinda took a small sip, her bangs falling gently over her forehead. She put the coffee down, and picked up a scone.

"So, in a sense, we don't know what the fuck it is."

I smiled slightly, the taste of coffee still lingering in my throat.

"Not a clue. At least we'll get to bombard it with whatever particles we can. I'm going to hypothesize here and say that it'll react to nuclear energy. I have never seen a mineral like this in my research. Not in any scientific journal, nor any theories. It truly is an alien material."

"Looks like we'll get to step into the hot room. Bombardment and observation has always been my favorite part of the process. We can find out how the world has woven all these elements together to react in different ways. One must wonder how our common elements and energies react with something like this...alien. "

She ran her hands over a scone, brought it to her mouth, and took a small bite. We sat in silence for a moment.

“This could be the big one, you know. All these years of research and training. And we’re in here sipping black and eating scones, while what could possibly make our careers and our legacy is pulsating in that room.”

“When the big one comes, you never know how you’re going to act. Sometimes the big one is just like any other day.”

“But sometimes you can feel it. I won’t call it scientific instinct, because that sounds way too pretentious, but there are days when I know we have a discovery on the horizon. It’s usually when the government sends us specimens. But you knew it was something special, didn’t you? When they woke us up at 3:30 and dragged us to the lab?”

“Yes, I’ll admit I had some pangs of excitement. Tenebrosity Vestige makes it sound quite intimidating, does it not?”

Belinda gave a little laugh.

“Of course. Like a big bad alien, ready to tear out our collective hearts.”

We chuckled slightly, before she looked at her watch.

“Going to go dump this at the lockers and compose myself. See you in there.”

I gave a small salute, and Belinda picked herself up off of the chair, promptly dropping the coffee on to the floor. There were a few exclamations and some tuts of sympathy from some passing research interns.

“Shit. The big one, and I just dropped half a cup of coffee and broke a decent mug.”

After prepping for an hour-and-a-half, clad in bulky containment suits, we entered the so called "hot room", a location where we could bombard a specimen with a smorgasbord of particles. Nuclear, thermal, really whatever we wanted. Belinda trudged through, pushing the glass door, which sealed behind her with a gentle sigh. She went over to operate the high-definition microscope, while Canning, several assistants, an older scientist, and I went over to the control panel to begin the bombarding process.

Belinda gave the OK, her lips pursed up into a nervous and faint smile. My heart was pounding as well, as I pushed the button, beginning a thermal energy bombardment. I saw the hands of the machine retract, and everything for several seconds after was silent but the contraption's mechanical hum. The Relic began to contort and expand and shrink and liquefy and solidify in the course of seconds, as a fine purple mist began to rise up and obscure our vision of the bombardment.

"Holy shit,'' I whispered under my breath.

"Canning, tune it down a bit."

He obliged, and the Relic began to retract once again and retain its original form.

Canning began fiddling with another panel.

"We need to do that again, cameras weren't rolling properly. More gusto this time, I say."

I glanced through the glass door at Belinda, who gave the okay once again.

"Start."

The machine's hum reached a crescendo just as the Relic expanded massively, and like a gunshot piercing the silent streets the glass wall which protected Belinda shattered with intense force, as the phasing Relic began to twist into a semi-humanoid shape, and causing the machine arms to be stripped back against the walls.

"Fuck, fuck!"

Canning turned the machine all the way down.

"Go alert the fucking system, now. Do it!"

"Belinda! Dr. Fraser, are you alright!?"

My voice was muffled by the thick visor of the containment suit as well as the breach alarm's shrill whine in the backdrop. I hurried over to the room, where thick smoke was pouring out in billows. I heard a scream from within, and it made my heart drop. It sounded less than human, like a cry, a shriek, the bellowing of a dying animal. Wrathful, sad, defeated, victorious, as fluid as the Relic was under bombardment.

"Canning, do we have the permission to get the fuck in there and help her!?"

He held me back slightly, his gloved hand on my hood.

"She’s compromised!”, he yelled. “We need to go get some EMT equipment first, it isn’t safe here!”

I stood in place, my heart pounding, ears ringing from the siren.

"Dr. Ross. Did you fucking hear me? We need to leave, now. There's nothing we can do for her right now! She’s compromised, you know that!"

I stepped forward slightly, pushing the glass door back slightly. My heart was pounding out of my chest.

"Dr. Ross, are you fucking insane!? This is protocol, not some stupid observation game!"

The screaming came in from within the room once again, and as the smoke cleared I vaguely saw the silhouette of the being inside. Humanoid, yet haggard and twisted, hands bent in unnatural angles. She walked out of the room, the containment suit having fused to her skin. Or what was left of it. Her flesh had been flayed into a morbid headdress, the containment suit's remnants fused to her body like armor. Her face had been torn off to reveal an empty space that seemed almost infinite, save for the mouth, which was open, the same scream echoing. "She" put her hands to her face, and contorted backwards, and lurched forwards as Canning and I backed away slowly. As she did, her torso spilled the charred remains of her viscera, as she tumbled over and began to convulse on the floor.

"Oh my fucking god. Oh my fucking god, who the hell is that?"

I whispered under my breath.

"What the hell is that?"

"help me. please, help me. i'm still alive here for the love of god help me help me please."

The scream again, loud, primal, guttural. The sound of flesh slowly being ripped, cells dying in seconds in such a massive rate that what was left of her torso and legs had begun to liquefy and decompose at the same time. "She" reached her hands up to what was left of her slowly devolving face, attempting to keep hold of her skin, grasping at features that were no longer there. As she did, her fingers too were breaking down quickly.

Canning turned to me.

"She's far gone, doctor. We have to go."

Reluctantly I backed away, pushing the door in front of me and wincing slightly when I heard the seal lock shut.

“Come back and help me you fucking cowards help me!”

She began to scream again, clawing at her fused body, as she burst into flames. The Relic began to ooze out of her open face and mouth, solidifying once again. Sitting perfectly still and solid next to her mangled and unrecognizable body.

But we were not there to hear her last words. We had fled already, after the momentary shock of such a grotesque sight.

Allegedly, government research on the Relic (which was kept after the incident in an extreme lockdown), revealed it to be an energy seeking organism of sorts, which fused to whatever molecules it came in contact with after activating via an energy release. It had been attracted to the sun, and was traveling towards it when it was caught in the ISS collection apparatus. Who sent it? What sent it?

We do not know.

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