#getting his binder on and taking time to carefully adjust his chests positioning

[lycanr0t]

trans man marcille my beloved

[kakashiswilloffire]

hey friend! i saw you are taking requests and would love to submit one if you're up for it!

would love something fluffy and sweet for kakashi. maybe some lazy day off shenanigans with his s/o and his ninken? bonus points if snuggling in a dog pile is involved at some point. reader can be gender neutral.

thanks and congrats on 100!

thank you so much!! i'm not really a dog person so i struggled a bit but i hope you enjoy!!

ao3

words: 2.4k

warnings: none!

It was the first day off you had both had in nearly a month. Team 7 kept Kakashi busy, if not with missions, then with training all day. On top of that, he was still in the on-call rotation all jonin were required to keep their names in, though his shifts were less frequent due to his status as a sensei. You had recently been promoted, and with that, your responsibilities were upped and you had been asked to step in for one of your colleagues who had recently run into some unexpected health issues. The time you had been able to share at home together had been limited to early mornings and late evenings, and frequently, there had been nights where the apartment you shared had remained empty entirely. Your fiancé had been counting down the days until your schedules finally overlapped, and you had exactly twenty-six hours in which you both had no obligation to the outside world.

You were awoken by the fire alarm screeching and a handful of swear words, followed by a crunching of plastic and sudden silence. Gaze flickering to the side, you noted Kakashi’s two-thirds of the bed empty and grinned, holding back a chuckle.

“Everything alright, babe?” you called out.

The reply came with an air of resignment. “Did I wake you up?”

You brought your arms over your head, feeling your joints re-align and pop lightly as you stretched.

“Not necessarily, unless you need help cleaning up?”

“No!” He replied quickly, and you heard the broom skitter across the tiles, dragging the remains of the smoke detector with it. “Go ahead and go back to sleep, I’ll come wake you later.”

Not one to deny the opportunity to rest after how late you’d gotten in last night, you snuggled back into your pillow with a small smile. It only took a moment before you were drifting off again, although not as deeply as you had been. You were dimly aware of the sound of teapot being filled, the burnt toast smell wafting through the open door, and your fiance’s graceful footsteps as he danced through the kitchen.

Wait.

Danced?

You raised your head up slightly, freeing both ears to focus on the sound of the Copy Ninja’s footsteps. His weight wasn’t distributing evenly on each step and the pattern of his footfalls was irregular. Bringing yourself to a sitting position, you suddenly realized that he was humming absentmindedly in the small kitchen.

Kakashi was not known for his stoicism, but the level of professionalism he established outside of the copy of Icha Icha attached to his palm was carefully maintained even in his downtime. When you went out together for dinner or drinks with friends, he told few jokes and mostly at Genma or Asuma’s expense. Gai’s repeated challenges to karaoke contests, both in locations with and without a karaoke machine, had always been flatly denied in favor of watching you and Kurenai choose the heartbreaker duet of the week to belt out. When you found yourself at the rare club, it only took light coaxing to bring him onto the dance floor with you, but anything more than swaying to the beat was out of the question. As long as he was having fun, you didn’t mind him not joining in the way the others teased him to do, but you had wished that he would be able to let go of his responsibilities long enough to really enjoy himself one day.

You slinked out of bed, keeping your movements as fluid as possible as you wrapped the comforter over your shoulders. As silently as you could move, you travelled into the hallway and through the living room, the smell of something acrid and burnt slowly getting stronger. You flattened yourself parallel to the wall, though not touching it to prevent the noise of the comforter dragging along, once you approached the doorway to the kitchen. He was certainly humming, and you couldn’t repress a grin, realizing he must be nearly skipping from the counter to the pantry from the way he moved. As slowly as you could, despite your excitement, you leaned around the corner to check on the man in the kitchen.

Kakashi was wearing boxers and a binder, his most comfortable outfit when secure inside your shared home. To your delight, he had chosen one of the binders without a mask attached, and you had a clear view of the slightly silly grin plastering his face as he shifted intermittently from humming to light, mumbled singing, punctuated by murmuring the ingredients he was using as he reached for them. He was stationed at the stove, stirring a medium pot and tasting from it in between verses of his song, reaching for more salt or minced garlic to adjust. He closed his eyes, bobbing his head side to side at a line he took a particular interest in, the morning sunlight catching glints of silver in his messy hair.

Taking advantage of his eyes being shut, you whipped back around the doorway into the living room, quickly tiptoeing away. You were so in love, and so happy to see him carefree, your mouth fell open in a silent scream and your hands, corners of the comforter still held in each, flew to your face.

You had to tell someone. No one would ever believe that Kakashi Hatake, master of a thousand jutsu, could be so sweet and cute behind the former ANBU exterior. Quickly, you crouched to the floor, abandoned the comforter, and made the required handsigns, pausing for a moment to remember if it was hitsuji or uma that came after saru, then gently pressed your palm against a squishy couch cushion. With a puff of smoke that evaporated almost as quickly as it was created, Pakkun sat before you.

You brought your finger up to your lips in a shushing gesture immediately. The tiny dog squinted, but nodded his agreement after a beat. This was your third or fourth time summoning him, and the first time you had done with without Kakashi. Animal summons were not your strong suit, and you had never particularly been a dog person, a fact that Pakkun had keyed in to almost instantaneously upon meeting you when you had no more than polite “my boyfriend’s pet” level interest in his paw pads. They were as soft and supple as he claimed, but you didn’t quite understand the appeal of man’s best friend.

You made the simple gestures required to convey that there was something to see and led Pakkun quietly toward the entryway to the kitchen where you could hear the rice cooker being sealed and started. Kakashi had switched to a different song and was now vocalizing the instrumentals softly, occasionally pausing to mime playing the instruments he was mimicking. Your hand found its way over your mouth, your heart melting with the gentle domesticity. Then you jerked away, feeling a soft scratch at your feet.

The pocket-sized grizzled dog glared at you until you bent down, when he pointed upwards toward a mess of hair. You felt a pang of guilt as you realized from this angle, all you could see was the shinobi’s calloused hand pushing silver strands out of his face, the black engagement band glinting dully on his finger. For the wedding in four months, you had managed to arrange custom bands for you both with the Hatake crest engraved into the matte surface. Kakashi didn’t know yet, and you knew that with how mission work was, he wouldn’t get to wear it often, but he would have a piece of his clan’s legacy with him whenever he did wear it.

The feeling of disappointment radiated off of the dog with the headband as you absorbed the fact you hadn’t considered him not being able to see over the counter. After a moment, you held out both your hands cupped together, fingertips resting on the floorboards. Pakkun regarded this, looking from your hands to your face, which you tried to humble appropriately. He sniffed at your exposed palms, then delicately stepped into your arms.

Bringing him up to your chest as you stood back up, you felt him stiffen. Had you moved him too quickly? Were you holding him too tightly? You ran two fingers down the back of his head instinctively and were surprised to find him relax. Kakashi tasted the cloudy liquid from the pot again and nodded firmly, turning toward the doorway. You whipped around, placing your back against the living room wall and clutching Pakkun tightly to your chest. You both held your breath, waiting to see if you’d been caught.

He sang to himself, “almost ready!” and you released your breath. Quickly, you snagged the blanket off the floor and made your way back to the bedroom.

“What’s the occasion?” Pakkun demanded as soon as you had the door shut behind you, jumping onto the bed.

“There is none! It’s just our first day off in a while, and he thinks I’m still asleep!”

Pakkun considered that quietly. “His pa, Sakumo, used to do the same thing. If he thought no one was around, he’d put on a whole concert for himself. Kakashi used to join him, up until his death. Then I didn’t catch him humming again till about a year after Minato’s death. Life had been rough for the poor pup up till about then. But he’s been in there all morning singing to himself?”

You nodded, pulling the gray comforter tighter around your shoulders. You knew your fiancé had been through more than most people should ever have to go through, but to think he might be making a breakthrough with his depression and trauma—to start singing again?

Pakkun made an odd noise that reminded you of a sneeze, then pawed at his eye and seemed to clear his throat. “I gotta tell the others. They’re gonna lose it.”

“Yeah, you should definitely head back and let them know the good news. I’m supposed to be asleep after all, he’ll probably come wake me up in a minute or two.”

The sly dog hesitated, then a wicked glimmer flashed across his eyes. “Or…”

Before you could react, you were engulfed a thin cloud of smoke that smelled vaguely of grass, and your bed began to creak. You jumped up, gasping at the number of variously sized dogs that had appeared in the room.

Pakkun addressed the crew before anyone could ask any questions. “Stay quiet. We’ve got a stealth mission ahead of us. Everyone, this is Kakashi’s partner, the one he’s marrying soon.” He then turned to you and pointed out the pack members in a line. “Bull, Urushi, Shiba, Bisuke, Akino, Uhei, and Guruko.” They were all undeniably adorable, and you’d have to ask your fiancé when he had the time to commission them all matching vests and headbands, but you were still shocked to see so many dogs. Did he really have eight summons? When most shinobi had one, if any?

“Name of the game is observe without being detected. Target: Kakashi. Location: kitchen. Standard formation. Questions?”

With no questions being posed, Pakkun lept up onto Bull’s head and led the way. You marveled in how quietly such a massive dog could move and trailed the pack as they made their way through your apartment.

You heard the timer on the rice cooker ding, then the seal breaking and relished the scent of the steam drifting through the air. There must be a stick of lemongrass in the rice this morning. You could see that Kakashi was beginning to set the table, gathering everything for a cozy breakfast for two.

He was also singing, audibly, with some degree of confidence.

One by one, the dogs all stopped and froze in awe. Akino and Uhei stepped around to the other side of you, and Shiba—or maybe it was Urushi?—popped their head between your knees to try to see. You were surrounded on all sides by the ninken, and you started to feel comforted by their warmth. Together, you all listened to your man serenade chopsticks and bowls as he spun to the small table, breaking into a mock tap routine as the china hit the wooden surface. You felt your head tilt to the right as you let the waves of love rush over you as you watched him carefully adjust the oily, burnt pan in the sink so he could wash his hands.

“Alright, love—breakfast is ready!”

For just a moment, you forgot that you were supposed to be in bed. You didn’t move as Kakashi rounded the corner, freezing when he saw nine sets of puppy-dog eyes gazing wistfully back at him from the middle of the living room, all heads tilted to the right and dreamy smiles plastered on each face.

“Ah! Uh, how long have you, uh…?”

Together, you moved as a pack toward your loved one, tackling him in a ten person hug. When you wormed your way past Uhei, you cupped Kakashi’s face and brought him in for a deep kiss, feeling butterflies in your stomach. He blushed slightly, tracing his thumb along your jawline.

“I love you, and I’m so glad that you feel safe and happy and loved with me,” you whispered fiercely, trying to beam the intensity of your emotion at him without being too aggressive.

He smiled, Sharingan deliberately taking the whole scene in as he lay on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms. Pakkun trotted over to sit on his chest while he brought you in for a firm, tight hug.

“Me too. And I’m glad you got to meet the rest of the clan.” He let the Sharingan fall shut, relaxing against you.

“Would’ve made more miso soup if I’d known everyone was coming over. Have you seen the dog bowls around anywhere?”

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

With Cherries On Top

Chapter 2: The Proposal & The Deal

Summary/Author's Notes: Oh.my.god. the response from part one was fucking WILD. I love you guys so so so much! As always, dedicated to @rae-gar-targaryen. She’s had a bad week, yall, go show her some love. <3 ITS WHAT MAX WOULD DO.

Max explains himself and gets down on one knee to ask the big question. Your trust is tested as he tries to pull a fast one, but he makes you an offer you cannot refuse.

Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader (The Proposal AU) Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: Language, flirting, SEXUAL TENSION, Max Phillips is a bastard man, vampire themes

Chapters [1] [MASTERLIST]

Max finally caught up with you and convinced you to go with him to the immigration office. The entire cab ride across town you were seething. Neither of you spoke, and when the cab parked in front of the Federal Plaza building you got out. Glad to leave him to pay for the cab and top it off with slamming the car door in his face. You heard him growl his frustration but didn’t stop as you stormed into the building and he had to jog to keep up.

"Will you slow down?" He snarled and you ignored him.

How could he be this egregiously shameful? You knew Max was cunning. That he would do anything to make the sale, to close a deal, but this--this was a whole other level, even for him.

In hushed tones, in his office, as you threw your items in your purse, he had explained that he was being deported. That the government had caught him in a technicality of his after-life status versus his human one, and although you agreed it seemed to be a petty place to draw the line, his way of kicking you into the fire with him made you not want to help. Did he deserve to be sent back to Romania? Probably not. But forcing you into marriage? Or an even better term for it would be forcing you into fraud. The two of you were breaking the law and he didn’t even have the balls to ask you first.

The immigration office was jammed packed with multiple lines of people waiting for a free attendant and dozens of others waiting in chairs, looking over reading material and playing on their phones. This was going to take forever. Apparently, Max had other plans, as he grabbed your hand and pulled you both to the front of the line. No one stopped him, no one questioned him as you tried to make your face as apologetic as possible to the people already in line that were giving you dirty looks. He asked for the fiancee visa application and the next thing you knew the two of you were being led into a cramped office in the back and looking over the desk at a very stoic, older, government worker.

“Sorry about the wait, folks,” the older man said as he pulled out a file folder filled with papers. “Busy day.”

“Of course, of course,” Max nodded, crossing his ankle over his knee and giving the man his best smile. “We appreciate you meeting with us on such short notice.”

The older man looked Max up and down slowly and smirked--whatever Max was selling, he wasn’t buying and the realization made you want to lean over the chair and vomit on the floor. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Okay, so, I only have one question for you,” he continued to smirk as he closed your file and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Are you both committing fraud, in order to keep Mr. Phillips here from being deported back to Romania and losing his position as CFO at his company?”

“What!”

“Ridiculous!”

Max and you both scoffed at the same time and shook your heads as you waved your hands in front of you and he rolled his eyes, giving a good-hearted laugh.

“Mr.--” Max looked at the nameplate on the desk as he leaned forward and addressed the man. “Yates. That is an absurd assumption. We are just a couple that want to get married and I assure you, our case will be the easiest one you have all day. So, just tell us what we need to sign and we can get out of your hair.”

You wished more than anything you had the courage to grip Max’s leg and beg him to shut up. His normal bullshit was not going to get either of you any favors with this man and if he didn’t tread carefully, you both were about to be in a world of trouble. You knew you wouldn't last in jail, but Max really wouldn't last in jail. That mouth that never seemed to stop talking would get him stabbed...wait, maybe jail was a good idea after all.

"What makes you think we're lying, Mr. Yates?" You asked, crossing your ankles and moving your legs to the side comfortably.

"A tip that came in this afternoon from a concerned citizen--"

"His name wouldn't happen to be Evan, would it?" Max asked.

"As a matter of fact, it is."

"I knew it. He is nothing more than a very disgruntled employee who is out to get me." Max shook his head and waved it away as if that discredited the tip. "I fired him this morning."

The other man scribbled down a couple of notes and went back to pressing his fingertips together and leaning his elbows on the desk. He heaved a large sigh and suddenly looked very tired.

“Here’s what’s going to happen next, you two. I am going to schedule you an interview for next week. I am going to put you both in separate rooms. I am going to ask you a series of questions that real couples would know all of the answers to.” He said the term ‘real’ in a pointed way and looked directly at you, making your stomach fall to your feet. “And that’s the easy part--”

“Okay, seems fair.” Max started, but Mr. Yates ignored him.

“Then I am going to dig deeper. I’m going to check your phone records, your emails, talk to your friends and family--your coworkers. If anything, and I mean anything, seems out of order or does not match your story, you,” he pointed to Max. “Will be deported to Romania indefinitely. And you, young lady,” he turned and pointed to you. “Will be fined two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars with a minimum five year sentence in federal prison.”

You swallowed so hard it hurt as you felt your vision narrow, your body threatening you with the idea of passing out. You felt like you were sitting inside a vacuum, like a larger entity had sucked all of the air out of the already too small office space.

Prison. It wasn’t enough that you had been at his beck and call for the last five years. If this all went sideways, Max Phillips, in a last act of extreme selfishness was going to get you sent to prison.

“So, that being said, Ms. (y/l/n),” he smiled and crossed his arms as he addressed you. “Do you want to talk to me? Tell me what’s really going on here.”

“What’s really going on--” you started, your heart hammering in your ears so loudly that you were sure Mr. Yates could hear it.

You looked at Max and thoughtp about how you wanted to do this. Could you really throw him under the bus and let them ship him away from his home? Could you match his heartlessness and protect yourself above all else? No. Despite how much he deserved it, that wasn’t how you operated. He had insisted on dragging you into this mess and now it seemed, at least for the time being, you were going to have to play along. He looked at you with those soft, coffee colored eyes, so full of anticipation that you almost groaned. Instead you reached over the arm of his chair and patted his leg.

“What’s really going on is that Max and I are getting married,” you squeezed his knee and saw him give a full body sigh of relief out of the corner of your eye. “We just couldn’t tell anyone.”

“And why not?”

“Because he’s a vampire,” you shrugged. “And we were worried how my family would take it.”

“I see,” Mr. Yates leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms waiting for you to continue.

“And--” you, glanced at Max and back. “Because of the promotion.”

“Promotion?”

“Promotion?”

Both Max and the older man said at the same time and you steeled your resolve and continued.

“Yes, I am in line for a big promotion, and both of us felt if our relationship went public before that it would look unprofessional. Right, honey?” You looked at Max and although you were smiling, your eyes dared him to say otherwise.

“That’s...right, dear.” He nodded, putting his hand over yours on his knee.

Mr. Yates looked at the both of you for what felt like a very long time. You kept your smile even for so long, your cheeks started to ache. The hand you had on Max’s thigh offered a small amount of comfort and you allowed it to ground you, to center your mind as you did your best to look like the definition of truthfulness.

“Well,” he sighed and opened up a filing cabinet and pulled a very large binder full of papers for the two of you. “If that’s the story you’re sticking to. Here are the questions you could be asked, there are about three hundred of them--along with all of the forms that need to be filled out, references we will need, and copies of your identifications. As well as,” he paused and looked pointedly at the both of you. “The marriage certificate.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you leaned forward and took the binder from him.

“Have either one of you told your families about this, happy little arrangement?” he asked as he gestured between the two of you.

Max laughed and shook his head. “No, my parents are dead. Only child, too. It’s a real shame.”

Mr. Yates, chuckled dryly, not understanding how such information could be considered funny. “And what about you, Ms. (L/n)? Are all of your relatives dead as well?”

“Mine?” you put a hand to your chest. “No, no, they are alive--”

“We were actually going to tell them the news this weekend,” Max chimed in and you looked at him in surprise. “It’s grandma’s 85th birthday--we thought it would be a nice surprise.”

You stared at him like he had grown a second head. How did he know about your grandmother’s birthday? The idea that Max paid more attention to you than you thought was sitting uneasily in your stomach, but you continued to smile and nodded in agreement.

“We’re flying up to, (y/n)’s parents house.” Max took the binder as you handed it to him.

“And where is that?”

“Alaska.” You said simply, crossing your legs and adjusting the hem of your pencil skirt, reveling in the way Max’s entire face fell.

“Ah-ah-las-kah?" Max stuttered and glared at you. "Alaska." He cleared his throat and repeated.

You returned his intense look of malice with an overly satisfied smile. It felt good to ruffle those feathers, to catch him off guard and see him out of his element.

“Well, I wish you both a safe trip,” Mr. Yates stood up to show you the door and the both of you mirrored him. “I’ll call to schedule your visa interview after what I’m sure will be a lovely week.”

--

Leaving the federal office felt like you were walking in slow motion. You vaguely heard Max put his bluetooth on his ear and take a call, letting his boisterous voice echo in the too loud, too crowded lobby. Going out onto the street and feeling the cool air on your skin didn’t make breathing any easier as you thought about what just happened. In your trance you almost dropped the heavy glass door on Max’s face.

He hung up the call and started talking like everything was just a normal day back at the office, like the two of you hadn’t just been threatened with the American government absolutely ruining your lives.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said as he put his sunglasses on to protect him against the already very overcast autumn sky. “What’s going to happen is we are going to run up to your parent’s place, act like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend--we can stay in a hotel and that will make it easier to fake. Make sure you use the miles for the tickets--”

“Max…”

“I will pay to have you fly first class, but only, and I mean only if you use the miles. If I don’t get rewards, then we aren’t going.” He pulled his sleeve up slightly and looked at his watch. “Also, please confirm they offer vampire accommodations, because I swear if they put me next to some old hag like last time and I have to smell her O-positive, diabetic, dustiness for six hours--I’m. Going. To. Lose. It.”

“Max--”

He stopped as he realized he had walked quite a ways in front of you and he turned around. “Why aren’t you taking notes?”

Your jaw dropped and you stomped over to him and shoved the binder against his chest with enough force that he stumbled back a step. “I’m sorry! Were you not in that room with me just now? Were you not fucking listening??” You were almost screaming and he looked around quickly before stepping closer and towering over you.

“You look crazy, calm down--”

“Calm down? You have some neve, Max. Some. Fucking. Nerve.” With each word you poked your manicured finger into the middle of his chest, on top of his stupid, yellow tie. He grabbed your wrist to stop you but you yanked out of his grip. “Don’t touch me.”

“Listen,” he took a breath and spoke to you like the ticking time bomb that you were. “You did well back there. That thing about the promotion? That was genius. He really bought that.”

Evan’s words rang back through your head and you took a step back looking at Max. He's never going to promote you. You know that, right? Five years. For five years you had done everything for him. You had done the work of an executive level salesman and made a secretary's salary. And for what? To constantly be missing out on important things in your life? Friends. Family. Dating. You couldn't remember the last time you had actually been on a date with anyone. Everything seemed to revolve around the man in front of you--and you had reached your limit. All of this was asking too much of you.

When you finally spoke, your voice was flat and even. “I meant it. I want that promotion.”

“To what? Evan’s job?” He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I’m the one that is facing a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar fine, and jail time--that changes things. I want Evan’s old job and a thirty percent raise.” You crossed your arms and planted your feet as you held his gaze.

Max moved his bottom jaw from one side to the other, a tick you had often seen and come to realize meant he was mulling over his options. “Fifteen.”

“Forty.” You counter offered the wrong way and he gave a hard bark of laughter. “Okay, fine. I’m walking. You’re screwed. Goodbye, Max--have fun in Romania.”

No sooner did you turn around did Max lunge forward and grab you by the upper arm. “Okay! Okay. Fine.”

“Fine?”

He looked at you pointedly and pulled you into the front of his body. His eyes shimmered for a brief moment and his lips turned upward into a small grin. “Unless--you’ll take something else? Plus, ten percent of course, I’m not a monster.”

You felt as if a small breeze was whispering against the nape of your neck, and you fought the urge to bat at it like a fly. The press of his voice worked its way into your ear and you could almost feel it trying to go deeper. When you realized what he was doing, you gasped and slapped him across the face. “Did you just try and hypnotize me??”

“Ah, shit!” he released your arm and put his hand to his cheek. “Did it not work?!”

“Go to hell, Max!” You turned once again and started walking down the sidewalk, ignoring the faces of the people that were nosily watching your heated exchange.

“Why the fuck didn’t it work--” he mumbled, continuing to rub his cheek and coming to his senses once he saw you putting more distance between the two of you. “Hey!” He jogged quickly and passed you easily in your high heels, turning around so he could look you in the eye. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Typical,” you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“I can’t do this without you,” he held his hands up defensively and gave you an almost pleading look. “I’ll give you the promotion, and the raise. If I’m not at that company, they will get rid of you like that,” he snapped his fingers and you clenched your jaw. “I don’t want to go back to Romania. I didn’t have such a good trip the last time.” He smiled way too large, an action more for the purpose of pulling back his lips so he could gesture to his fangs. “So, will you do this?”

"I have a few conditions."

"Name them."

"We do this my way, and on my terms. This is my family that we are lying to, so we will tell them when I want, and how I want."

"Done. Next?"

"How did you know it was my grandmother's birthday?"

"You think I can't hear every time your family calls and begs you to quit? Even without superhuman hearing--you sit right next to my office." He made a gesture of his hand pantomiming a small distance.

"Fine."

"Fine." You both said one right after the other in shared stubbornness and mutual disdain. "Anything else?"

You crossed your arms under your breasts slowly and straightened your shoulders. “Ask me nicely.”

“Ask you what? I just--”

“Ask me to marry you.”

Max paused and leaned back a bit, rubbing a hand down his face and chuckling like your request was unbelievable. “Uh. Fine. Fine.” He nodded and cleared his throat. “Will you marry me?”

“Like you mean it,” you insisted. “On your knees.”

He gaped at you like a fish out of water. His large hand rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around embarrassed by the idea that any of the hundreds of people on the street could see what he was about to do. He looked at the ground to make sure there wasn't anything obviously sticky lurking on the pavement before slowly getting down on one knee.

"There. Happy?" He gestured to himself and you nodded.

"Oh, extremely."

He sighed and bit his tongue with what he really wanted to say as he looked up at you from his spot on the ground. "So, will you marry me?"

"I believe I said, ask me nicely. Sales. Is. Seduction. Right, Max?" You clenched your fists and brought them into your chest, mimicking his speech from earlier in a most obnoxious way. "Seduce me, then. Really sell it."

Max blew a heavy sigh in the form of a loud raspberry and cracked his neck. He shook out his arms in a dramatic display like he was getting ready to perform and finally looked up at you. His expression was genuine enough. His eyes were warm and his smile small, and he even took your hand and held it out in front of him lightly.

"Sweetheart--(y/n), beautiful, intelligent, decadent, sexy, vibrant--"

"Enough." You said with a frown. "Remember, I'm a person, not a dessert."

He continued as if you hadn't interrupted his string of praise. "Will you please, with cherries on top, marry me?"

You tapped your chin in mock contemplation and gave a single nod. "Okay. Yes. Although I don't appreciate the sarcasm." You let go of his hand and let it fall to his side as you adjusted your purse on your shoulder. "Get me a ring. If we break the news to my mother and there's no ring, she will go bezerk."

"Fair enough."

"See you at the airport, Max."

You walked passed him without another word, leaving the most powerful man you had ever met on his knees in the middle of the New York street.

--

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[amydancepants-peralta]

brand new moon, brand new sun ♥️

From the first time she had presented her parents with a ‘consideration list’ for her upcoming 6th birthday party, Amy Santiago knew she was a Planner.  

It had been a carefully curated form, with possible locations itemised in order of preference (the local park rated higher than their backyard, the planetarium superseded the park); followed by a hopeful guest list - her already neat handwriting deliberately ranking her classmates from Most Likely to be invited (Katrina M) to Least (Kyle D).  

Her parents had been impressed by the work that had gone into it, and that year began her eleven year streak of amazing birthdays surrounded by the universe and the closest of her friends.  It also taught her that preparation led to results, and by the time she was eight Amy had already begun to map out her weeks well in advance.  She had favourite markers, and a colour-coded system for specific events; and as the years wore on and her preferences changed, one simple truth remained:  preparation and planning was everything, and hard work always pays off.

While it was true that the life calendar that she’d put together during her first year of college hadn’t planned or predicted for the undeniable impact that Jake Peralta would have on her life, for the first time in a long time Amy had simply found herself adjusting to the unfamiliar thrill of not knowing.  It had only taken two or three dates for her to realise that being with Jake had changed everything - infinitely for the better - and from the first time she’d stayed the entire weekend at his apartment, and woke up Sunday morning to find that he’d run down to his local bodega purely to buy her a copy of the New York Times so that she could still do the weekly crossword, Amy knew that she was in it for the long haul.  

Jake both encouraged and challenged her, and made her smile more than anybody in the entire world.  He loved Amy, with every fibre of his being, and would happily shout it from the rooftop of every building in Brooklyn if ever given the chance.  And Amy was so deeply in love with Jake - the kind of love that vibrated from every pore, and for the longest time she had truly believed such a thing only existed in the great literary classics.  It’s the kind of love that turns you upside down and inside out and makes you whole: that completes you even when you thought you were already complete.  He was the love of her life and her best friend all wrapped up in one handsome package, and the night that he’d sat beside her, shrugging and giving her that beautiful smile of his before suggesting that they should start trying for a baby, will always remain one of her favourite moments.  

Truthfully, Amy had known that it wasn’t going to happen instantaneously.  Her body needed to adjust to no longer being on the pill for starters, and sometimes good things simply take time.  It was several months before the fear began to creep in, and it took a pregnancy announcement from an officer on the second floor to make their sex a little more scheduled -  a little more time specific - and while The Jake Way had been a lot of fun, it too had not yielded results, and things began to become clear.  

This was a test.  And tests were something that Amy knew like the back of her hand.  It had been a rush of adrenaline, to compile all the information and fill binder after binder with scores of insider tips and tricks.  This was what Amy knew, and what she knew she could do well.  There were calendars and graphs, coloured post-its and ovulation charts and a schedule that rivalled all the other schedules she’d ever put together in her life.  Suddenly, Amy begins to feel in control again - because preparation and planning was everything, and hard work always pays off.  

She tries to shrug off the disappointment when the first test she takes after Operation Pregnancy begins, throwing the stick into the bin and shaking her head quickly when he looks at her expectantly.  Keeps her face positive when she sticks her head out of the work restroom a couple of days later, throwing out a casual nope! that doesn’t sound casual at all to her, and clearly Jake agrees because as soon as the door swings shut behind her he’s pulling her into his arms.  It’s entirely inappropriate for the workplace, but his arms are so tight around her and it feels so incredibly right that for a moment, the buzzing world around them fades away.  He whispers in her ear that there’s always next time, and she can feel herself nodding, pushing the doubts down further as she rests her head against her husband’s chest.  

Two and a half months in she begins branching out, buying a few different brands of pregnancy tests and favouring one that has a panel along the side that simply states ‘pregnant’ or ‘not pregnant’.  It’s a blunt statement, but negative signs have never been welcome in Amy’s life (all these years later, she can still vividly recall the first time she received an A minus), and she’s seen more than her fair share by now.  

As it turns out, the words sting just as much as the symbol.

Birthdays come and go, Halloween passes and so does Thanksgiving, and then suddenly it’s Christmas and Amy still isn’t pregnant.  There are three more officers in the precinct (not to mention their neighbour and her younger sister-in-law), that are pregnant; but Amy definitely is not.  

The morning the thirtieth test gets thrown into the bin Amy climbs into the shower, desperate to wash away the overwhelming sensation of defeat - but no matter how hard she scrubs, the feeling just never seems to fade.  Each attempt burns, like another red mark against her name - a report card filled up with multiple Fs - and she’s so determined to prove that they can do this, but … maybe she can’t.  

Her hands run over the curve of her abdomen as the suds fall down her body and she tenses her muscles, pushing out her stomach and briefly giving into the fantasy that someday - maybe even someday soon - there will be a baby growing there.  Her chest tightens under the pressure of it all and she releases a huff of breath, dipping her head back to let the water run down her face, her tears mingling with the rivulets as her stomach collapses back to it’s regular state.  She feels like such a failure.  And Amy Santiago has never been a fan of failure.

She runs her hands over her face as she dries off, avoiding the mirror but trying desperately to erase any sign of her devastation before leaving the bathroom.  This whole process hasn’t been easy on either of them - she needs Jake’s positivity now more than ever - and while Amy knows that she promised herself never to hide anything from her husband, the idea of admitting that she’s just no good at this was more than she was willing to say out loud just yet.  Still, his careful eyes pick up on the droop of her shoulders - on the frustration hidden terribly on her face - and as her feet pad down their hallway he’s already putting together her favourite tea, leading her to their still new (and ridiculously comfortable) couch.  His shoulder has always been her favourite place to rest, and today is no exception, but the aching no longer seems to fade as quickly.  

She hates what this has become - has genuinely begun to resent the fact that they have to try so damn hard for something that should be so simple.  There are times when she considers throwing in the towel - of standing back and waiting for fate to play it’s cards - and then her mind imagines what their children would look like, and before she knows it Amy is setting another UD alarm into the clock in their bedroom.  

Then time wears on, and failure seems to become the only certainty.  

It was an unfamiliar territory, this regularity of rejection.  She’d never realised that failure had teeth - sharp, pointy little fangs that dug into her skin and whispered in her ear whenever her thoughts would finally grow quiet.  There was an echoing sting to it all, the knowing that deep down there was no reason they weren’t getting pregnant that didn’t lead directly back to her.  Amy wanted to grow a family with Jake - to watch a miniature version of him grow and take on the world.  Another gentle boy with scruffy hair, and the sweetest of hearts that always seemed to be far bigger than his body could possibly conceal, getting the chance to finally grow up in a world made entirely of love.  To give him a sister, and then maybe another brother, and watch them play in the backyard of their house in the suburbs as she and Jake cooked dinner every evening.  It was a future that she could see so clearly - one that seemed so bright that it just didn’t seem fair for it not to happen.  

All of the pregnancy journals and fertility guides remind her that none of this is personal, and that sometimes the human body just finds it that little bit harder to conceive.  But to Amy, this is as personal as it gets.  She’s always been a straight-A student, who excelled at everything, but for some stupid reason her body simply didn’t want to co-operate.

She’d give Jake anything - she’d give him everything, if he only asked.  But this?  This, she cannot seem to do.  And it broke her heart just that little more, every single time they failed. 

*

It takes the suggestion of adding their colleague’s soon to be ex-wife’s brother in law on Facebook so they can ask for conception tips to finally push Amy over the edge, the insanity of it all splitting her heart into two because she simply cannot handle another reminder that she is broken - that her body is broken, and she cannot give Jake the family that he so truly deserves.  

None of this made any sense.  This was a test, and Amy was used to making tests her bitch.  She excelled at studying and revising and learning and winning - but no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard they studied and moulded their bodies into perfectly hospitable vessels for procreation - nothing was working.     

She can feel her chest constricting as she blurts out I’m sorry I’m bad at making babies, and she can tell that her heart is one more word away from splitting open completely, but then Jake shakes his head, and tells her not to say such a thing, and all the reasons she loves him as deeply as she does rush to the forefront.  

He tells her they are a family, just the two of them, and damnit if he isn’t completely correct.  They are a family: a party of two, and it’s smaller than the one she grew up with but it’s filled with just as much love.  There are options, he reminds her, and even though all of this is completely out of her control and that is the worst thing in the world for her, right now none of it seems as bad as it did only a moment ago.  Despite all the heartache that exists within her, Amy can feel herself begin to smile, and it feels like coming home.  

Jake leans in, and his lips are so softly pressed against hers; so gentle and tender, so full of reassurance that truly, he is all Amy needs to get by.  

*

His hand lingers on her thigh for the entire cab ride home.  It’s entirely welcome, and the strong grip of Jake’s fingers on her skin is something that Amy has completely missed, and she wants to tell him but her mouth is far too occupied with kissing her husband.  It’s the sweetest and greatest feeling, this notion of kissing Jake for no other reason than to kiss him, long and hard and sweet and soft and definitely more passionate as they feel the cab take the familiar stops and turns that lead to their apartment.  

She’s missed this - this feeling of making love to her husband, to chasing release and holding their sweaty bare skin tightly against each other in the afterglow.  Of holding each other instead of hugging her knees to her chest, of considering the whole thing to be anything other than just another uterine deposit.  It’s the best night they’ve had in a long time, and part of her wonders if maybe they should have just given up trying a lot sooner.  

And then a week goes by, and her period is a day and a half late, and Amy knows she shouldn’t get her hopes up just yet, but this is how her cousin Mariela got pregnant and maybe they both had just needed to relax before it could all happen.  So she waits until they’re home before telling Jake about the last boxed test, the one that had been shoved to the back so that it was out of sight and out of mind, and he squeezes her hand as she lifts herself up and off the couch.  

When the word Not begins to appear, Amy waits for the crushing disappointment to wash over her, already trying to figure out a way to stall her departure from the bathroom so that Jake doesn’t have to see just how upset another negative makes her.  And the sadness appears - truth be told, it never really went away - but this time, the edges don’t seem as sharp.  Instead, the soft voice of her husband telling her we are a family … you and me washes over her, and Amy raises her head, staring at her reflection in the mirror and nodding at the woman she sees in front of her.  He was right - the two of them were already a family.  A family stronger than some, because regardless of how many times the world tried to pull them apart, they always found a way to come back to each other.  

Nothing about her has changed today, but Amy knows that she’s no longer the same.  It’s a brand new day, and their future now lay claim to a whole bunch of question marks but with Jake, the unexpected didn’t seem so terrifying.   After all, she hadn’t expected to fall in love with the overactive detective that sat across from her for all those years - but fall she did.  Hadn’t imagined their wedding to take place in front of the precinct, with shredded versions of her favourite forms covering the asphalt as she walked down the aisle towards her soon-to-be-husband.  Never dreamed of sharing her honeymoon with anyone but the love of her life.  But all of that had happened, and she wouldn’t change it for anything.  

Maybe they would try IVF.  Or maybe they would adopt - perhaps even foster.  Maybe they’d even become a family of fur babies - hypo-allergenic dogs and cats and some fishes swimming around in a tank.  

(But no guinea pigs.  Definitely no guinea pigs.)  

They would study the options, and plan for the future, but this time the weight on Amy’s shoulders seems far lighter.  Whatever the decision, they would make it together, and the sense of calm that rushes over Amy at that thought suddenly makes the negative test in her hand seem far less personal, and more a fact of life.  She wasn’t in control of this process, and for all the reasons she hates that fact, she loves Jake all the more.  

And with Jake by her side, they can get through anything - because no matter what, they’ll do it together.  

[emptynarration]

Author already had 5 soulmarks -all platonic, thank god- so he really didn't need any more. But there it was, the sixth mark, appearing right on his neck. And clearly a romantic one as well. He doesn't want any soulmates. He wants to be alone. He doesn't want romance, he hates it. But apparently, fate wanted to smother him in love and affection, if he wants it or not. 

~

So yea I had this idea once before but differently so now. Have Author being ABSOLUTELY C O V E R ED in soulmarks!!

Spoiler: He'll have 23 soulmarks.

You can probably figure out who the soulmates already having their mark on him are! :D If you can, you're awesome 💜 (Also decided against explicit sex though... i may add some later. i'm a horny guy im sorry-)

Leave a comment if you liked this please!! 💜

~

Author had a total of six soulmate marks. One was a VHS tape, another was some sort of flower, two of them were an old TV and a receiver connected to it, another was simply a tree, and the latest and newest was of a shooting star. He hated each and every one of them. He didn't want a soulmate, yet alone six. And the worst was, that he was apparently getting new ones still. Considering the sixth he'd just gotten a couple months ago. At least only the newest one was romantic. It were only black outlines, while the rest were black lines with black shading -it meant the one would get coloured, once he found that soulmate. He didn't want to think there was someone he was destined to be involved romantically with though. He didn't like romance.

Just to prove his point, Author often went to random bars, to pick up strangers for a night, to then never return to them again. Fucking around was pleasurable and easy, and he didn't have to think about soulmates or people or anything. So he went to a bar, got himself a drink, and scanned the crowd. Maybe he'd find someone good looking enough he could imagine sleeping with. He never really felt any attraction to people, just going with what he liked aesthetically, so he had a pretty free pick of who he wanted. He spotted a man, short and soft looking, and clearly drunk. Judging from his state, getting drunk had been his intention. Sauntering over, Author decided that was the perfect man to pick. Someone drunk enough they wouldn't notice all the marks on him once he was naked -though most people just assumed he got those tattoos himself.

“Hello there handsome.”, Author purred, leaning against the bar next to the man, golden eyes half-lidded as he took in the sight of the other man from his now closer position. The drunk man shifted to look at Author, a tired sort of expression on his face. “Hello..”, he mumbled, nearly slurred, and Author chuckled lowly. He reached out, brushing stray strands of hair from the man's face and behind his ear. “I think you had enough to drink, haven't you? Let me take you somewhere.”, Author murmured, leaning in close. The man hummed, the smell of alcohol on his breath, and one of his many soulmarks itched. Author ignored it. “Mhh..”, the man was clearly thinking, blinking at Author, fiddling with the glass in his hands. He shifted to turn his body towards Author, and he cupped the man's cheek in his hand, gently running his thumb over the man's lips. “Come on handsome.”, Author pulled back, just to help pull the other to his feet. Glad to hear the man had paid off all his drinks already, so Author could just pull him along with him.

“Wha's your n'me?”, the man slurred a little, but Author could understand him well enough. He hummed as he thought, before shrugging to himself. It wouldn't hurt to tell his name to a man who was too drunk to think straight. “Issac. And yours, handsome?”, he answered, leading his partner for the night to the nearest hotel. No need to drag the stranger through a dark forest to his own home -plus, Author could just leave as soon as he was awake again and leave the man to forget all about this. “Ed-... Edwa-ward. Edward. Ed.”, Edward stammered, furrowing his brows as he tried to think. It was almost endearing in a way, how he had to think so hard just to pronounce his own name. He clearly tried to ask something more, but he was struggling with the words, so Author didn't really listen. Instead, he dragged Edward to the hotel, got them a room, and brought him there.

He let Edward sit on the bed, climbing in his lap and straddling him, wrapping his arms around Edward's neck and kissing him deeply. Edward seemed unsure at first, but when Author ground down against him, he moaned and stopped worrying. Laying his hands on Author's hips, kissing him back as the man moved on top of him. Edward kissed and licked and nipped at Author's neck when he pulled back, making the man moan, his hands moving to push off Edward's jacket, and undo his shirt. Edward's hands were clumsy on Author's skin, struggling with the man's shirt -so eventually Author just pulled back enough to pull off his own shirt, and help Edward out of his in turn. Author vaguely noted the mark in form of an open book on Edward's collarbone, but didn't linger enough to notice any colours or not. He didn't want to know, and he didn't care, so he focused on kissing Edward again, kissing him deeply and hungrily. Edward was sloppy in turn, but he was also drunk.

The man's skin was warm, his body soft, and Author's hands happily explored what laid barren to him. Edward's hands moved over Author's chest, making an unhappy sound when they were met with another garment. “You're drunk enough to not care.”, Author muttered, shifting to lean back and pull his binder off over his head. He shouldn't have sex in it anyways, so he was glad he had picked someone drunk enough to probably neither care nor notice. And Edward truly didn't care, his hands moving to Author's soft breasts, and Author couldn't help the soft breath that left him as Edward's warm hands touched them how he did. He let himself merely enjoy the touches, breathing heavily as he rolled his hips over Edward's, feeling aroused. He moaned when Edward was back on his neck, sucking dark marks onto his skin, pleasuring him further and making him more wanting. Eventually though, Author had to pull back, getting off of Edward. He pulled a condom out of his pant's pocket, before working on getting them off of himself. Edward watched with a dreamy gaze, before he fumbled with his own belt and pants, until he could kick them off.

Author was now only dressed in panties and stockings -because he had felt like them before leaving his home, deciding that whoever he picked up tonight would be a lucky fucker. And Edward was apparently the lucky man who got to see him like this. And Author was pleased to see the man aroused and wanting. Author climbed back into Edward's lap, arms sliding around his neck, and Author kissed him deeply once more, breathing heavily as he claimed the man's mouth with his own. Kissing him felt good, no matter how sloppy it was, no matter how much Edward tasted like alcohol. Author didn't question why.

Their bodies were hot as they were pressed together, Edward's hands exploring Author's body, as the man held himself up, enjoying the touches and kisses. He was eventually the impatient one, pulling at both of their underwear respectively, until he had his night's partner free beneath him. Author was impatient with safety first, but that made the pleasure all the sweeter as he moaned, their bodies melding together perfectly, fitting so well together as if they were meant to be. Author lost himself in the repetitive movements, arms tight around Edward's neck as he moved, and the other man attacked his neck and shoulders, causing more pleasured moans to leave Author. It felt wonderful, making Author forget about all these soulmarks covering him, all these people he was supposedly connected to in a deep and meaningful way. All that mattered, was the pleasure filling his senses, the warmth of Edward's body against his, and the soft lips against his skin.

They reached their climax together, Edward groaning beneath Author, the writer kissing Edward breathlessly, swallowing his moans and breaths. Pulling back once he had no more air in his lungs, Author slumped against Edward's chest, feeling exhausted but happy. They had to move slightly though, Author needing to get off of Edward. After slight adjustments, the two men laid down in bed together. Edward was quickly out like a light, with Author soon following behind -snuggling into the warm embrace the other man so openly gave him. It was one of the best sleeps Author had gotten in a long time, unbothered by bad dreams or nightmares, barely waking up once or twice during the night. It didn't stop him from waking early in the morning, but that was alright.

He took his time with waking up, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Edward's chest, telling him he was still asleep. He would definitely have a hangover once he woke, and, hopefully, wouldn't remember Author. When he finally decided to be awake, Author rubbed his eyes, shifting away a little. He looked Edward over, his features gentle and soft as he slept so peacefully. It was nice like this, and Author found himself enjoying merely laying here and sleeping next to this man. That was, until it spotted the soulmark on Edward's collarbone again -the open book, the pages yellowed, the cover red. With slight panic starting to build, Author carefully got out of bed -as to not wake Edward- and hurried to the bathroom. He looked over the marks on him, and his eyes widened seeing the shooting star now coloured in with yellows and blues, and a hint of mint. “Oh god oh no-”, he hurried to gather his clothes and get dressed again, fleeing from the room. He did not want to acknowledge that he had found his soulmate, and had just had sex with him. Nope!

So Author fled the hotel, running from his soulmate -his damn romantic soulmate- and all the feelings that brought with it, back to his own home. It would be better this way, he told himself. He didn't need a soulmate, and he didn't want a soulmate. Hopefully Edward would forget about him, forget this had ever happened. Hopefully he wouldn't notice his colored soulmark any time soon, because that'd mean he'd be certain of his night with Author, and would probably remember, and try and fine him. And Author really didn't want that.

He didn't go back to the bar after that. He didn't want to see Edward again, he didn't want to risk the man looking for him there, so he just.. stayed away. He stayed in his cabin, sometimes unconsciously scratching at the coloured mark on his neck. He didn't want a soulmate. He didn't want a partner. He didn't want romance. He tried to distract himself with writing, but every time he sat down to write, his thoughts strayed from what he was writing to instead think about Edward. He wondered what Edward's job was. Hadn't he worn some sort of labcoat when they had met? No, no it mustn't have been. It probably had been closer to a trenchcoat than a labcoat. But that made him wonder, what if Edward was a scientist? (We've all been a scientist at one point in our lifes anyways). Or maybe he was a researcher? A doctor? Or maybe he was something entirely else. Maybe he worked with children? Or maybe he did something entirely else? He really wanted to know, he didn't know anything about Edward, and he wanted to know. But he also really didn't want to know. He wanted to forget all about Edward, and how gentle his touches had been, and how good his sloppy kisses had been, and how soft he had been....

He growled in frustration, head on the table as his hands tugged on his hair. He just wanted to write, but apparently, he wouldn't find peace until he was back with Edward. At least he didn't feel any, urgh, butterflies. The thought alone of such disgusting romantic feelings made him feel sick, and he couldn't imagine anyone actually feeling something like that. He knew they were destined for romance, so all he could hope for was, that he'd grow to enjoy it more when getting to know Edward. He didn't want to get to know Edward though. No! Nope sire, he didn't want anything to do with the man. Except he did, and every day he stayed holed up in his cabin away from him was torture. He was battling with himself, very much not wanting to go, but also desperately wanting to go.

With a deep sigh of resignation, Author abruptly stood up. He'd go back. There was just nothing he could do but try and find Edward again. He pocketed some pens and scraps of paper for emergencies, and made his way out of the cabin. He'd just find Edward, and put his thoughts at rest. Maybe if he just met him again, and told him he didn't want any romantic relationship, he'd feel better. He kept thinking over and over about what he was going to say, chewing on the pendant of his necklace as he walked and thought. He wasn't sure if what he was trying to do would work -he wouldn't even know if he were going to find Edward. But when he entered the bar, the bartender -Jim, someone who knew Author more or less, considering how often Author showed up here- perked up when he noticed him. “Issac!”, Jim called, beckoning Author over. He let the pendant drop out from his mouth, walking over. It was still early, so there weren't many people around yet. Author leaned against the bar, and it was obvious how uncomfortable he was. “The guy you left with couple days ago was around, asking for you. Left me his number, if you wanted it.”, Jim told Author. Somehow, Author wasn't surprised in the least, sighing heavily, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Yea give it to me.”, he muttered, letting himself be given the note. He could just not text Edward. But every fibre of his being wanted to text Edward, to call him, to meet with him again and touch him, feel him, hear him, have him. “Good luck.”, Jim wished him, making Author snort and wave him off, muttering a “yea yea” and leaving the bar again. He stared at the number on the paper, before eventually pulling out his phone. Having no clue what to text, he decided to call, because that would obviously be easier than texting. It rang a couple of times, before Edward picked up. “Edward Ipliér speaking.”, Edward said, and Author briefly wondered if the man was French, judging from how he pronounced his last name. Eeplee-er. How weird. “Hey, this is Issac.”, Author mumbled, not feeling quite as confident as he should've been. What was he supposed to say? He wasn't sure if this was any sort of a good idea anymore, and he really wanted to hang up now. “Issac!”, Edward gasped, and Author grabbed his pendant with his free hand, so he could chew on it while he walked. He wasn't sure if he should go home or not, so he just... walked.

“Yea...”, was Author's lame reply, knowing that was nowhere near as excited as Edward probably expected him to be. “Heard you were searching for me.”. “Yes! Issac I- well.”, Edward cleared his throat, reigning in his excitement. “I noticed my soulmark was coloured in after our... night together.”. Author takes a deep breath. He wasn't sure what else he expected, really. Edward would tell him he was his soulmate, and that it was romantic, and Author knew all of that already. “I don't want romance.”, Author said, quick and easy. Like a bandaid. Crush any hopes before they grew too much. “I'm... not interested in romance.”. Edward was silent, and there was a tiny speck of panic in Author's chest -because this was his soulmate, and he needed to be with him- but he stayed calm. He just said how he felt, because Edward deserved that. “That's... that's okay.”, Edward said softly, after a moment, and Author barely relaxed hearing him speak again. “We can... just be friends? I don't think I'll manage to function without you.”, he chuckled a little, a bit awkwardly, and Author knew exactly how he felt.

“Yeah, I feel the same. I haven't been able to focus on anything at all.”, Author replied, attempting a smile for the sake of how it'd affect his voice. He knew it didn't really work, but well. He tried. “Could... could we meet some time?”, Edward asked, almost hesitantly. “I'd like to get to know you.”. Author hummed softly. He could remember Edward's touch as clear as day, how gentle and loving he had been, how good his fingers had felt on his skin. He knew, once he met Edward again, he would want that again. “Sure.”, he replied simply then, because he didn't want to scare Edward with saying what he thought at that moment. He knew it couldn't possibly drive his soulmate away, but... still.

They agreed on a time and place, and directly the next day, Author was nearly excited to go meet Edward. Somewhere, he thought of this as a date. He tried not to though, because he didn't want this to be a date, even though it very much was, in the end. They met, and they talked. Author got to know Edward -he was a doctor, he was very interested in stars and astronomy, he usually wasn't one for one-night-stands, and was a very kind and caring man. Of course Author also talked about himself, who he was, what he did for a living. Neither mentioned anything about any weird powers they may or may not have. It was nice. They decided to take a walk, and when Author took Edward's hand, the man let him. Author couldn't help the tingles he felt, feeling Edward's warm hand against his own. It was probably because of how touch-starved he was, though he would never admit such a thing out loud just like that. If Edward did take notice of it on his own, he didn't say anything about it.

“This was nice.”, Edward said softly, smiling up at Author. He was happy, he was comfortable with Author, and he had really enjoyed his time with Author. He didn't want him out of his life -he wanted to be with him, though he knew Author didn't. “It was.”, Author agreed lightly. He had enjoyed himself. He had liked just... spending time with Edward. He didn't want to say it out loud, but he didn't want to just cut Edward out of his life anymore. He knew he wouldn't be able to either way, but to never be close to him again? He couldn't imagine it. He couldn't fathom his life without Edward anymore. “Can I call you sometimes?”, Edward asked softly, lightly squeezing Author's hand -still holding it, as they had for their entire walk already. “Sure. No promises I'll reply though.”, Author replied, giving a mischievous grin to Edward, who chuckled lightly in return, smiling and nodding.

They soon parted ways after, bidding the other a good night, with the promise of future texting and calling. Author already knew he'd have to meet Edward again, would eventually show him how to find his cabin, because he wanted Edward to be close to him. He also knew he'd have to tell Edward about his other marks, his other soulmates he had, the ones he may or may not know. Well, so far he did know them, he simply... didn't want to. Not that they were horrible people -not worse than he himself was at least- but simply because Author didn't want to have them as soulmates. It didn't help that two of his soulmates were also soulmates with each other. So he preferred to stay away, and merely partake in a group chat they had. Which they specifically had for him, because even not having contact with his platonic soulmates was grating on him after a while. He hoped Edward would be okay with it. Of course he would be, he was his soulmate too after all, but... well. Author couldn't help the spark of anxiety it brought, the thought of Edward hating how many soulmates Author had. It'd be fine. Next time they met, he'd tell him.

[allicekitty13]

Chapter 2 of Platform Ballerina’s

AO3 FFN

"Allice!" Bella looked up from her book in exasperation. "For the last time, settle down, or you can wait for Em and Rose outside!" Allice had spent the past hour dancing in the kitchen of Edward and Bella's apartment. Bella, who was lounging on the couch trying to grade papers, found this distracting.

"I swear to god, I work all day dealing with teenagers only to come home to find you acting like you live here. Honestly, sometimes you make me wonder if you're actually twenty-six considering you could give my students a run for their money in the immaturity department.

Allice rolled her eyes, hit pause on her playlist, and skipped over to the armchair adjacent to her best friend. Sitting on her knees, she leaned forward to face the other girl. "Hey, Bells, why do you hate fun."

This comment warranted a full-on belly laugh from Edward, who'd been watching the girls bicker for the past hour, earning him a glare from his fiance. Edward raised his hands in defense and turned back to his laptop. Bella rolled her eyes and closed the binder she'd had open on her lap. Placing it carefully on the end table to her right, she turned to face Alice, "Why are you here, anyway? Don't you have an entire house you can burn off your seemingly endless supply of energy in?"

"It's lonely without Em and Rose there."

"Ok, but why our tiny apartment. You could go spend time with your sister."

"Cynthia thinks I'm annoying." Alice shrugged, adjusting herself in the chair to hang upside down.

"I think you're annoying." Bella scowled.

Edward once again chucked at the girls' back and forth. "Come on, Bella, give her a break, you love having her here. The two of you would be lost without each other, and you know it."

Bella groaned and was about to make another comment when the front door opened, and in stepped Emmett and Rosalie. The latter of whom made her way to the refrigerator to grab a can of soda. "Sure, Rose, just make yourself at home in my apartment and help yourself to whatever you want." Bella glared from her position on the couch.

Rosalie rolled her eyes as she plopped down on the couch next to the angry woman. She popped the tab on the can and took a long swig of Diet Coke before speaking. "So, I invited some dude to come to the haunted house with us tomorrow."

Edward, who had given up on getting any work done and had long since shut down his computer at this point, gapped as the blonde in astonishment. "That's very kind, and unlike you, Rose."

"Look at my girl playing nice and making friends." Emmett joked, wrapping an arm around the blonde and placing a kiss on the crown of her head.

"I will uninvite him if one more person in this room calls me nice," Rosalie warned.

"Rosalie, you're so mean and scary." Alice placated her, sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of her. "Now, will you please tell me more about the new friend?"

"He's new in town, and told me he was looking for a job and new friends." She shrugged before turning her attention directly to Alice. "He's tall, blonde, southern." She paused for suspense, noting the small girl's widening eyes. "And. His name is Jasper."

Alice felt her stomach drop in disbelief and stared wide-eyed at the blonde. She bit her lip and pulled her legs tightly into her chest, burying her face in her knees to hide the enormous grin threatening to burst across her face. She stayed in that position for what felt like an eternity. It was possibly finally happening after a decade. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream, to jump and dance. She wanted to run a mile; she was flying high. Instead, she sat unmoving, thinking back on her most frequent dream.

She's walking into the bar and sees a man sitting in the middle of the counter. He's tall blonde, and devastatingly handsome. She struts over to him, smoother than she's ever moved in her life, ignoring every other customer wanting her attention. She leans forward against the counter and looks him dead in the eyes and hold our her hand. "Hi, I'm Alice."

"Jasper," He replies in a smooth southern drawl taking her hand.

Jasper shows up in other dreams and understands her and appreciates her for who she is. For the broken soul, she hides behind an overly bubbly facade. He's her friend because he genuinely likes her. It's not because he's friends with her bother and feels compelled to like Ed and Rose or because he takes pity on her like Bella. Her dreams don't always come true, though they do more often than not. But she had faith in this man's appearance and the changes he would make to her life. She can have someone to genuinely lean on and turn to.

"Alice?" She's pulled from her thoughts by Bella's concerned voice. She doesn't know when she had knelt down next to her on the floor, but she's there looking at her with eyes filled with worry, hand on her shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. "Are you Ok."

She looked up at her friend with watering eyes and a genuine smile. "I've never been better."

[imagineaworlds]

You Absolute Dip -- Steve Harrington

Written by @rune-of-a-writer

Request: “can you do an imagine where steve has liked reader for a while but hasnt told her so, then when in his fight with billy she jumps on billys back to get him to stop hitting steve. then when they all go in the tunnels to burn it he confesses to her”

Warnings: Violence. Cussing.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve had liked you for a while, but there had never been a good chance to tell you. But now, seeing you on top of Billy Hargrove’s back like some kind of bull rider, now seems like his only chance.

Words: 2,225

Listen To: Nervous (Acoustic Version) by Gavin James

Gif Creds: @stevrogers

The first time Steve Harrington saw you, was freshmen year. You were in the library with a group of your friends, crowded around a single library table. You guys had managed to cram roughly eight chairs around the table, all of your papers, binders, books and pencils strewn across the table (nobody knew whose was whose anymore). But even in the crowd of rowdy 14 and 15 year olds, you stood out. You could no longer stand being smashed between your two friends, so you had elected to sit on the table instead, earning shouts of protests from your friends.

But to Steve? To Steve it was like seeing a queen on top of a throne. Your head was tilted back, your (h/c) hair catching the light of the library windows perfectly as you laughed, your (e/c) eyes shut. It was like something out of a god damn renaissance painting. Steve was frozen, unable to move as he simply stared at you, your back turned to him as you dodged a couple pencils being tossed your way from your friends. That was the day Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High School, decided he had just found the most perfect person and wanted to be your best friend.  

And that he did. After a few weeks of talking, working on projects and homework together, going to and from school together, you and Steve had become nearly inseparable. He had never told you about his crush on you, or the way the light hit your hair so perfectly that day. It just never seemed like the right time, he didn’t want to risk the friendship that the two of you had built if you didn’t feel the same.

But then the Upside Down had happened, dragging the both of you into it. The first year, Steve had no idea about any of it until he had shown up at Jonathan Byers house looking for Nancy. When he found the two of them together, he had essentially given up on the idea of him and Nancy being together and using her as a way to distract him from his feelings for you. But, before he had a chance to leave, the Demogorgon had shown up. After that attack, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of whatever was happening in Hawkins.

And now this year, it had returned, but more fearsome than ever. You knew more about what was happening than you did last year (last year, Steve mainly filled you in on everything and constantly checked in to make sure you were okay) and you now found yourself in the Byers living room with Steve and the kids. You were all trying to figure out how to divert the attention of the Demidogs so that El and Hopper could get to The Gate safely, when suddenly a loud engine sounded outside.

“Oh no, it’s Billy,” Max said, dashing towards the window to quickly peek outside. Sure enough, the blue camaro pulled into view, quickly pulling to a halt. “He’ll kill me if he knows I’m here.” Steve looked up, making eye contact with you. Putting down his dish towel he made his way outside quickly without saying a word.

The kids huddled onto the couch, peeling back the curtains to look outside. You on the other hand stood by the door, looking outside it’s small glass window. You couldn’t hear what was being said, but there was anxiety in your heart regardless. Then suddenly Billy looked at the window, causing Steve to whip his head around and the kids to duck down.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered, “hurry up, get into the kitchen,” you told them, quickly ushering them into the kitchen just as the door slammed open. Turning around you saw Billy looking between the five of you before his eyes landed between Lucas and Max.

“Well well well,” he mumbled, “Lucas Sinclair, what a surprise. I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max?” he asked, stalking towards Max and looking down at her.

“Billy, go away.” she stated quietly.

“You disobeyed me,” he whispered, ignoring her request, “And you know what happens when you disobey me. I break things,” and with that he whirled around, grabbing Lucas by the collar and shoving him against the case holding multiple antique pots. The kids cried in various protests as you watched carefully, anticipating Billy’s next move.

“Since Maxine won’t listen to me, maybe you will. You stay away from her. Stay away from her!” he yelled out, pushing him even harder into the cracked case, “You hear me?”

“I said get off me!” Lucas called out, lifting up his knee to hit Billy in the groin. Lucas dropped to the ground as Billy fell backwards, a grunt leaving his lips.

“You are so dead, Sinclair! You’re dead.” Billy threatened, but before he could advance on Lucas any further, Steve had walked into the house, grabbing Billy from the back of the shoulders and tossing him to the side.

“No. You are,” Steve stated, emotionless before raising his fist and punching Billy clear across the face. A gasp left your lips, eyes wide. It wasn’t the first time you had seen Steve get violent-he’d done it multiple times and had actually done it a few times for you. But Billy was much stronger and much more unpredictable than the other guys Steve had fought. Billy reeled back, a high pitched laugh leaving his mouth as blood steadily dripped from his nose.

“Looks like you’ve got some fire in you after all, huh? I’ve been waiting to meet this ‘King Steve’ everybody’s been telling me so much about.” Billy hysterically declared, sauntering towards Steve. You moved your body in front of the kids and positioned yourself so that at any moment you could jump into the fight.

“Get. Out.” Steve deadpanned, placing two fingers on Billy’s chest and gently pushing him back. Billy looked at him for a brief moment before taking a swing. But Steve was prepared, ducking out of the way. When he came back up, he got another punch into Billy’s face. The kids cheered as Billy continued to laugh, Steve’s punches pushing him further into the kitchen and against the sink.

This however, was a mistake because it gave Billy the resource of a glass plate. Grabbing the plate, Billy was able to hit Steve over the head with it, causing him to stumble. Dustin’s “oh shit” was very prominent along with your shout of panic. Steve no longer had the upper hand. Billy managed to herd Steve into the living room, grabbing Steve by his shoulders and pulling him close.

“Nobody. Tells me what to do,” he stated firmly before head butting him and tossing him a few feet into the foyer. Billy stalked forward, straddling Steve’s waist and began laying punch after punch. This is when you saw your chance.

Shoving the kids behind you, you ran forward and jumped onto Billy’s back. Your elbows wrapped tightly around his neck, ensuring you wouldn’t be thrown off and your knees hooked onto one another beneath his thighs. Billy lost his balance, falling off of Steve.

“What the hell, you stupid bitch!” he yelled out, trying to move his arms in a way to grab your sides. Your nails dug into the sides of his neck, searching for his pressure points. When you found them, Billy had simultaneously decided to reach up and grab your hair tightly, pulling your head forward. A screech left your lips, but you didn’t let go. Instead you dug your fingers even harder into the pressure points as you sunk your teeth into his ear.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled, his voice week and staggered before seconds later falling unconscious, his face red and blotchy. You stumbled off of him, breathing hard and reaching up to rub your head.

“Jesus (Y/N), are you okay?” Steve asked, having pushed himself up and walking towards you.

“Yeah, I’m alright, are you?” you questioned, talking the final steps towards him and reaching your hand up to gently swipe at one of his various bleeding cuts. He didn’t flinch even though you knew he should’ve.

“I’ve been better,” he joked, slightly leaning into your touch as you wiped away more blood. “Come on. We may as well go burn that thing you kids were talking about. We don’t have much time left,” Steve said before leaning down and grabbing Billy’s keys out of his pocket.

Once you all had arrived to the hole at Merrills Farm, you jumped out of the car and began to ‘gear up’ (which consisted of bandanas, torn up t-shirts, goggles, adjusted vacuum cleaners, and the like). Attaching a rope to the hood of Billy’s car, you allowed it to dangle down into the hole, the kids using it to climb down. Once they were succesfully in, Steve gave you a reassuring smile before climbing down.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into,” you muttered before shaking your head and following after him. Inside the Upside Down was dark and grim. There were white flakes floating all around and brown roots and vines attached to the walls and flooring. “Jesus,” you whispered, looking around in awe.

“Stay close to me, (Y/N/N),” Steve said near you ear, grabbing your hand, “We don’t know what’s down here.” you nodded, gripping his hand tighter, appreciating it’s warmth compared to the coldness of the Upside Down. You pulled up your black bandana as you and Steve took the lead, the others following behind.

The further you guys walked, the harder it got to breathe. Looking behind you, you noticed Mike, Dustin, Max and Lucas were all very concentrated on their maps and talking with one another on what was going to happen with Will and El. Steve noticed this too, letting out a shaky sigh and slowing his pace a little.

“Hey,” he suddenly said quietly, catching your attention and pulling down his red bandana.

“Hey there,” you giggled back, causing him to laugh softly. “What’s up, Harrington? Not having second thoughts are you?” you joked, pulling your bandana down as well.

“No, no. I’m not leaving these little shits,” he stated, looking behind him with a fond look, hidden behind his goggles, “There’s something else. Something I’ve been meaning to say. Since freshmen year.”

“You’ve had four years to say something and you’re just now choosing to say it?” you questioned jokingly, raising your eyebrow.

“I know, I know. But I don’t know how this night is going to end,” his hand gripped yours tighter, “You know that day in the library, when we first met?” you nodded your head, “I didn’t actually need a pencil or help with Earth Science.”

“Oh? Well then what did you need?” you questioned, confused.   

“I needed you to know how beautiful you looked, sitting on that table and the light hitting your hair. And how beautiful you looked everyday after. And tonight, when you jumped on top of Hargrove for me… I fell even more in love with you than I thought was possible. I needed you to know that incase something happens tonight,” Steve said quietly. He wasn’t looking at you, but his hand never left yours. You stopped moving, looking up at him. Steve’s heart started beating even faster thinking he had fucked up, that he had just ruined everything. That he had just been killed. Not by a demogorgon or a demidog or even by Billy fucking Hargrove. But by his best friend, the girl he’d been in love with for almost four years.

“Steve? Steve. Steve Harrington!” your voice yelling his name suddenly brought him out of his thoughts and he looked down at you with fear and sadness. “You absolute dip,” his lips couldn’t help but turn up at the affectionate insult, “you should’ve told me. If you had told me, both of us would’ve been spared the heartache we’ve dealt with the past few years.”

“I-wait what?” Steve said, confused.

“Of course I like you too, how could I not? You’re one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. Each time I would have my heart broken you’d come to school the next day with bloodied fists, roses and tickets to see whatever movie was playing. You’re the most handsome guy in Hawkins, you try your hardest at everything, and if you’re not good at it you don’t give up. You care about almost everyone regardless of what’s going on with their life. Of course I love you too. And frankly I’m insulted that you think I wouldn’t,” you stated, your last sentence coming out in mock betrayal.

A happy chuckle left Steve as he grinned down at you, letting go of your hand. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. Standing on your toes, you leaned up and wrapped your arms around his neck, the two of you sharing a passionate kiss, your bandanas around your neck.

“Oh my god, what the hell!” Mike suddenly called out, looking up from his map, seeing the situation. Steve broke away from the kiss and looked over your head, giving the youngest Wheeler a grin.

“Come on, you little shits, we have stuff to burn.”

[livinglifelikeyashould]

Jake and amy short fic idea : amy is pregnant and is desperate for a cig from the stress and turns to jake for help ..... too much? 😂

Okay, first of all, thank you for the prompt! Second of all, when I got this ask, it was like 11 PM where I live and it’s now 2 AM and I haven’t stopped writing, haven’t even read through it but there it is, it’s out of my hands and it’s probably gonna be a bit incoherent, so sorry for that. A few notes: this got away from me, lol, I don’t know if 3k words is your definition of ‘short’ but well; I have no clue about pregnancy, so sorry if this is terribly inaccurate, I tried with my limited knowledge and my sleep depravity. Anyways, putting it under a read-more so it doesn’t crowd people’s dashboard and I hope you like it! :)

Being pregnant sucks.

It’s a fact Amy hadconsidered well while making her five-year plan binder but she had always knownthat she wanted to raise a family with the right person and leave her own markon the world through her two amazing children (Amy refuses to go through theinsanity her mother went through that was raising eight children, seven of which are boys; she shudders each time shethinks of being pregnant for that long andthe research and organizational hell it would be to re-plan her wholebinder) that were going to be on the top of their classes in school, graduatewith honors and then take over the world in their own way.

She had put possible careers for herchildren in the binder but then scrapped them, deciding that she should behumble about their future and only be a supporting mother who only gave aslight nudge in the right direction whenever necessary.

(The other reason wasthat Jake had let out such an offended noise when he found out, that Amy wasmore or less forced to admit that maybe she had went a little overboard.

Maybe.)

Amy had planned herpregnancy even before her and Jake got together and she was determined tofollow her Life Plan meticulously despite all the obstacles that got in herway.

Namely: Jake going to WitSec, the precinct nearly getting shut down, her own fears of jeopardizing herrelationship with Jake because of her aspirations to become a sergeant, Jakegetting wrongly convicted and going to jail, her working tirelessly to get himout…

Thank God, she had thebrains to put extra time intervals in her binder and Plan in case those type ofthings happened.

Anyway, Amy and Jakehad prevailed and had finally gotten married just in time to fit the assortedtime interval she had planned out and the next logical step was, of course,starting their own family.

It had been a coupleof years after tying the knot when they started trying – Amy had wanted tosettle in her new job as a Sergeant and Jake had no qualms about letting her doso – but when they did, it had happened very fast.

As in, two-weeks-very-fast.

(It’s in our blood, mija, her mother hadsaid, as if that gave any explanation.)

Nevertheless, Amy wasprepared with all possible pregnancy books and binders she had put togetherwith her husband’s help and while they had been shocked at first, the sheer joybubbling inside their chests had quickly taken over and the excitement of beingfuture parents was almost tangible whenever they looked at each other.

The first few monthswere not that bad, aside from the morning sickness and adjusting to her strangecravings at ungodly hours of the night, but Amy hadn’t been very fazed sinceshe had done her best to study her pregnancy books. However, as the monthsadvanced and her belly grew, her tolerance for exhaustion drastically droppedand she couldn’t keep reading those books without falling asleep after 15minutes. Amy would wake up an hour later, get frustrated about how 15 minutes is not nearly enough time toabsorb valuable information, Jake! and how this baby growing inside of herwas making her life so difficult.

Jake would then giveher a meaningful look, accompanied by a small smile and Amy would start feelingguilty about blaming this little peanut that was half her and half Jake thatshe had come to love unconditionally even before it was born and she wouldapologize profusely to her belly while stroking it gently.

(This was also veryoften accompanied by crying uncontrollably about how Amy was going to be aterrible mother which would prompt Jake to grasp her hands and tell her in hismost earnest voice that she was going to be the awesomest mom ever and I’m gonna be the coolest dad ever – point is,Ames, we’re gonna be great parents. Amy would then reluctantly smile andsay with a watery chuckle that awesomestis not even a word, Jake to which Jake would reply with something along thelines of you’re gonna be such an awesomemom that you deserve a new word.

She would then kisshim and demand a foot rub.)

Amy was ecstatic abouthaving a kid with Jake and her pregnancy was filled with magical moments.

But this one that shewas experiencing at the moment was, decidedly, not.

As soon as Amy hadwoken up, her fingers were itching to solve something which was very uncool ofher brain since she had started her pregnancy leave two weeks beforehand. Jakehad developed this ability to sense whenever she got too fidgety and anxious,so whenever he came home, he would walk her through his own cases and ask herfor a fresh perspective. It worked, since that itch usually appeared some timeduring the day, most often the afternoon when she was bored out of her mind, soshe didn’t have that much time to dwell on the fact that she couldn’t workbefore Jake came home.

Feeling that itch in the morning was new.

And inconvenient.

(As lots of things that come with this pregnancy, Amy’s mindsupplied which annoyed her even further.)

She was determined notto spiral, though, so Amy forced herself to be positive and go about her day asusual before she could get her hands on a new case from her husband in theevening. It was a positive thought that filled her with energy she didn’trealize she could have, so her hopes went up and her morning was spent with asmile on her face.

Of course, all badthings happen after lunch and Amy cursed herself for not preparing for thebarrage of disasters that occurred during the afternoon.

At her seven monthmark, Amy often had cravings not only during the night but the whole day, sowhen she laid down to watch some daytime TV, she knew she was going to get upto the kitchen at least five times.

She knew what she wasgetting into by laying down, is what she’s saying.

At getting up numberseven in the span of an hour and a half, Amy banged her head on her kitchencabinet (because she had forgotten to close it at getting up number five, butwho cares) which caused her right foot to reflexively fly out forwards and herbig toe getting slammed on the kitchen island.

Amy didn’t bothermuffling her following scream.

Jake’s calm voicechanted in her head In, out, in, outand after a minute of deep breathing, the worst of the pain had passed and Amyforced her eyes open. She then registered that her toe was slightly bleedingwhich was going to stain the carpet and that thought was enough to send coldshivers down her spine. She retrieved a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, somecotton and band aids from the bathroom cabinet before sitting carefully on thetoilet seat. Soaking the cotton in the peroxide, Amy stretched her right legout and then strained to reach it but no matter how much force she put behind heractions, the cotton ball she was holding couldn’t even reach her toe becauseher belly was in the way.

Her belly was in the way.

Amy could feel hernostrils flaring and the faint sound of her mother’s reprimanding about it howit isn’t good for the baby for her to get angry flowed somewhere from behindher.

“I know,” Amy gritthrough her teeth.

Great, now I’m going insane.

After 10 minutes ofbreathing exercises and imagining new binder smell and laminating the list ofnames she and Jake had come up with, Amy felt calm enough to try a creativesolution that more or less got the job done.

(She threw the cottonball on the floor near her foot and pulled out some serious moves to roll hertoe around it and clean the wound.

Amy had never been soglad to be alone than in that moment.)

It took her nearlyhalf an hour of rolling her leg, cursing in both English and Spanish andsweating profusely but in the end Amy had a band aid on her toe and thebathroom was a mess. She took a small break during which she triumphantly grinnedat her toe and then set about cleaning the trash that she had piled up.

Amy thought cleaningwould calm her down as it had always done but she was exhausted and the jobtook her twice as long as it normally would which only served to feed thered-hot ball of anger in her stomach. She felt dirty and tired, her toeslightly throbbed in pain and the weight of her belly screwed up her center ofgravity even more than usual.

She wanted to cry.

Amy didn’t letherself, though, since she was a strong woman who was taught not to depend onanybody, so she sucked it up and took a quick (ish) shower which was colder than she would’ve liked but it wasn’t enoughto break down the wall of determination she had built around herself.

She managed to layback down on the couch to watch Ellen, onlyto find out that she had missed it.

By three hours.

The urge to cry hither even more intensely than before.

However, the urge tosmoke was even bigger.

Amy started pacing theliving room until her hands started shaking and her knees screamed in protest.She sat down reluctantly on one of the chairs at the dining table but couldn’tkeep herself from biting her nails.

Once the idea ofsmoking a cigarette (just one would beenough, she told herself) invaded her mind, it refused to go away. Amy hada big problem and she didn’t know what to do about it.

She didn’t know forhow long she sat there when she heard the telltale click of the door unlocking.

“Babe, you will not believe this case Sarge assigned metoday, I mean, it’s like Inception levelsof mind-blowing, you’re gonna—“

Jake froze when helooked up and saw his wife at the dining table, biting her nails obsessively, amanic look in her eye and her hair done in small braids.

Oh no.

“Babe?”

There was no reaction;it was like she hadn’t noticed him entering or she was just too anxious to evenlook up at him. Jake left his keys on the table before shrugging off hisjacket, satchel and sneakers, leaving them by the door to deal with later. Hetook a tentative step forwards but then moved back to the mess he left andstarted arranging his things in their designated spots, knowing that if Amy wasat Level 4 of the Santiago Panic Scale as he suspected, she would get even moreanxious as soon as she merely glanced at his items on the floor.

When he was confidentenough that his things were in relative order, Jake padded quietly over to Amywho hadn’t ceased chewing her nails. Just as he was about to say her namesoftly and reach out to her, her frantic gaze snapped to his and Jake nearlyshit his pants at how terrifying hiswife looked at that moment.

(Thank God, she hadn’ttaken out the braids yet because then Jake couldn’t guarantee what would’ve orwouldn’t have happened in his pants.)

“Jake!” Amy nearlyshouted, fighting with the table to stand up quickly. Jake immediately moved tohelp her but she shooed him off and he took a step back. “Hey, aren’t youearly? I feel like you’re early, maybe you aren’t, I don’t know, pregnancy screwedup my sense of time.”

“Ames—“Jake started,but Amy cut him off abruptly, grabbing his hoodie with both hands and pullinghim close, her belly slightly digging into his stomach.

“I. Really. Need. Tosmoke.”

Jake blinked.

“What? Why? You haven’thad a craving in forever!”

Amy huffed out afrustrated breath, leaning away slightly from her husband but didn’t loosen hergrip on him.

“I just… I had themost awful day and it’s never been sobad but I’m really tempted to take out that box of cigarettes in the toilet you’vebeen hiding from me—“

“Wait, you know aboutthat one?” Jake demanded in a high-pitched voice but Amy continued as if hehadn’t uttered a word.

“–and light one so Ican stop feeling like, like… this andI need you to stop me.”

Amy’s quick speech wasaccompanied by frantic movements of her eyebrows and a pleading look in hereyes and it was so… Amy that Jakecouldn’t help but grin down at his wife. Her pupils darted left and right tohis own and he could see how worked up she was, so Jake gently pried her handsoff his hoodie, enveloping them in his own before giving them a reassuringsqueeze.

“Ames.”

Her eyes stoppedflitting around and with them her entire body visibly relaxed but the tensionwasn’t gone yet.

“I need you to listento me carefully, okay?” Amy nodded.

“Good,” taking a deepbreath, Jake walked them over to the couch and sat, Amy reluctantly followinghis lead. “Babe, if there is one person strong enough to overcome anything inthe name of their child, it’s the mom. And you’re already an example of that, Imean, how many things did you give up already? Going to work, solving cases,Trivia Newton John, smoking?”

“Jake…” Amy startedexasperatedly but he cut her off quickly.

“I mean it, Ames. Youcan do this, you’re one of the strongest women I know, the strongest even, but don’t tell Rosa or my mom about that.”

Amy let out a smallchuckle and Jake felt his grin widen and his courage expand.

“I can’t pretend toknow how hard it is to be pregnant but it’s my job to help you in whatever wayI can as your husband and our baby daddy.”

“Don’t call yourself ‘babydaddy’,” Amy deadpanned.

“Roger that,” Jakenodded. “Look, don’t give up now, okay? We’ve got a little ways to go and Italked with the Captain and he agreed to give me the last two months off.Apparently I stacked enough vacation time and it won’t be a problem.”

Amy’s expressionshifted to concern and uncertainty.

“Jake, are you sure? Idon’t want you giving up working for me.”

“I’m not giving upanything, Ames. There’s no place I’d rather be than at your and our baby’sside.”

That red-hot ball ofanger and anxiety in her stomach quickly morphed into that warm feeling Amy alwaysgot whenever Jake was being his usual supporting self and said something soromantic that her toes involuntarily curled. It spread through her chest, allthe way to her joints and she tilted her head to the side, an affectionatesmile lacing her features along with the tears she had been fighting to keepback, although they were not tears of frustration anymore. Jake was looking ather in wonder, his expression so unbelievably soft and his eyes sparkling warmly, that Amy didn’t hesitate inuntangling her hands from his, only to cup his face with them and leanforwards. Jake didn’t miss a beat and met her halfway, considering the factthat she would have had trouble reaching with her belly in the way. The kisswas gentle, just a soft brush of their lips but it was somehow just right andboth of them looked at each other with matching smiles when they pulled away.

“Thank you,” Amy said,her voice barely above a whisper.

“Anytime,” Jakeanswered before clearing his throat and smirking slightly. “Now, will you tellme what happened today that got you so riled up?”

He shifted back,making space between them and leaned down to grab her feet and put them in hislap without breaking eye contact. As soon as he looked down, though, Jakeimmediately noticed the haphazardly put together band aid on her right foot’sbig toe and his eyes widened comically.

“What the hellhappened? Oh my God, are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere else? Let me see,”Jake almost shrieked and Amy lifted her hands up to stop him.

“I’m fine, Jake, it’sa long story.”

Her husband glared ather for a moment but she didn’t back down, going so far as to lifting up herchin in defiance, before he sighed in defeat and went to work with his massage.Amy bit back a satisfied moan – Jake really was good at foot massages.

(She would tell him ina quiet but filled with mirth voice the next night when Jake’s wrappedprotectively around her beneath the warm covers of their bed but at that exactmoment Amy didn’t want to be reminded of her bad day – she just wanted to spendsome quality time with her dork of a husband.)

“You were telling meabout a case? Something about ‘Inception levelsof mind-blowing’?” Amy questioned with an excited grin on her face. Jake shookhis head at her avoidance of the subject but said nothing, opting to quicklyretrieve the case file from his satchel and passing it to his wife who had amild look of annoyance on her face.

“Jake, I told you notto bring home case files from the precinct. Captain Holt will be sodisappointed!”

“It’s fine, he won’targue with a heavily pregnant Amy Santiago,” Jake deadpanned and Amy laughedheartily. “Okay, okay, you ready for this?”

“I was born ready,Peralta.”

Jake grinned.

“Okay. Get this: ajewelry store was robbed at around 4 AM yesterday and it had only one exit anda gajillion security alarms.”

Amy faked yawning.

“I was promised ‘Inception levels of mind-blowing’, Jake.”

“I know, hear me out.Crime techs reported that there were signs on the exit door being forced open… from the inside.”

Jake stared at hiswife in anticipation, his mouth open in a wide grin and his eyebrows lifted sohigh on his forehead that it had started to hurt.

Amy was silent for afew moments before almost shouting in a high-pitched voice, “Whaaat?!”

And so Amy’s awful dayended with bouncing theories about an impossible case with her husband whomanaged to not only bring her dinner without her noticing but also continuingwith his massage on her feet and making her laugh in-between with hisimpressions of possible suspects.

God, she loved him so much.

[salty-dracon]

TMX- Chapter One (rewrite)

The school bus wheeled forward on scratched rubber tires, rumbling over the dirt. 

Do you ever wonder why we live?

Brooke stared at her yellow reflection in the metal before boarding. Her blue backpack bounced behind her, stuffed to the brim with binders and papers.

Do we just make up meaning for our lives? What defines living? Enjoying ourselves? Procreation? Or is it truly pointless?

A cool breeze blowed a few tendrils of her red hair in front of her brown eyes. She brushed the hair out of her dark brown eyes as she went to pick a seat. 

What does my life mean to me?

The last thing she heard was the sound of a truck honking.

The last thing she did was turn around. 

The last thing she saw was a truck, twice the size of the school bus, barreling towards her, with no time to stop. 

...

...

...

Brooke’s eyes opened. 

The light blinded her back into closing her eyes. It was then that she realized she was curled up in the fetal position, her body full of feeling. Carefully she pried her arms away from her body, checking her joints to make sure they could still move. When her arms were sufficiently mobile, she wiped the goop off her eyes and opened them again. 

The thing in front of her was spotlessly white. As Brooke examined it closer, she realized it was a flat piece of plastic with a latch on top. She undid the latch with shaking fingers, and jumped back when the plastic fell in front of her, revealing a shiny black screen.

A... tray table? With a screen behind it?

Brooke uncurled her legs. She realized she was sitting on a similarly white leather seat. As she glanced around, she saw a window to her left. The view was of a golden sky, with little white clouds here and there. There were no trees, houses, fences, or even ground to be seen. As her ears adjusted, she heard the gentle clicking of train tracks under her feet. 

Am I on a train?

As Brooke looked to her right for answers, she was startled by the tall form of a... Julien wasn’t sure whether they were a boy or a girl. Perhaps neither. Their face was pressed against the seat in front of them, and they were snoring lightly. Across from both of them, there was a slightly shorter boy curled up in a brown trench coat. 

Julien tried to glance at the other passengers. There were people of many races and skin colors in the car. Brooke reflected on the fact that she must have been one of the lightest. 

“Woah!“ 

Brooke jumped back when she heard the voice. 

The person next to her opened their eyes. They pulled back their blue-dyed bangs and yawned. “Hey, what the fuck?”

“I don’t know!“ Brooke shouted. 

The boy in the trench coat gave a small mumble of restlessness. 

All around them, people were starting to wake up. Brooke was sure she heard someone call someone else’s name from the front. They began to talk to each other, Brooke realized with surprise, in perfect English. 

“Nikolas, you’re okay!“

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.“

“But we both died in that explosion!“

Brooke sat down. 

“Julien.“ The person introduced themselves. “I’m a they. Got it?“

“Okay... “ Brooke held her hand out. “Brooke. I’m a she.“

“Nice to meet you.“ Julien waited for a few seconds before asking “Fuck, you’re kinda cute.”

Brooke did not know how to answer.

The boy in the trench coat shot awake. “Woah! Woah woah woah! Where are we?!” He glanced around the train car. “Are we in a train?”

“Hell if I know.“ Julien held their hand out. “Julien. How ‘bout you?“

“Arthur.“ Arthur shook their hand.

Arthur’s outburst seemed to awaken more people. Within twenty minutes the entire train car was talking to each other and introducing themselves. 

“Brooke. I’m from Long Island.“

“Where?“ Julien asked. 

“Long Island. New York?“

Julien looked confused. 

“America?“

“But you’re speaking French.“

“I’m speaking English, and so are you!“

“I’m pretty sure I’m speaking French, Brooke.“

“Nope, she’s speaking English,“ Arthur said. “At least, that’s how I hear it.“

“Well, I’m from France, so if that changes anything-“

“I’m from England.“

A bell rang in the car, interrupting everyone’s conversation. A woman in a white robe appeared at the front, smiling brightly. “Hello, everyone! Welcome to the Heaven’s Express! I will be your conductor today, and I hope everyone is enjoying the trip to heaven.”

“Heaven?!“ Arthur exclaimed. “Are we dead?!“

“In short, yes, you’re dead.“ The woman kept smiling, as if it were perfectly normal. “Every single one of you is dead.“

Gasps arose from the car. 

“But please don’t worry, everyone! You’re going to heaven, which means you’ll be here in a land of total paradise, yay!“

“Go fuck yourself!“ Julien shouted. “Bitch!“

“Language, dude.“ Brooke punched their shoulder.

“Please, may all of you enjoy the conveniences of Heaven’s Express! If you just undo the tray tables in front of you, you’ll see a system that’ll help you wash away the last traces of guilt you feel. You’ll know that everyone is okay! The system also allows you to order any food you’d like, so... “

As the lady rambled on, Brooke touched her screen. A list lit up, displaying a number of different words: “English, Francais, Espanol...” Brooke selected English. Another prompt appeared. “Please enter your full name.“ Brooke typed in the letters carefully- “Brooke Alice Malone“. One click of the “enter” button later, and she was greeted with a picture of herself boarding a school bus, with the words “IS THIS YOU?” underneath. Brooke selected “Yes.”

The screen changed. Another list displayed itself, except instead of being different languages, it was names. Martin Malone, Alicia Malone, Kelley Malone, Ariana Smith, Katrina Maston... 

All the names of people she new. 

Brooke selected her mother’s name, Alice Malone. The screen turned black for a moment before playing a video with audio. 

An office cubicle. A hand with veins popping out reached for a picture in a frame. A picture of Brooke on her sixth birthday, with a little sparkly party hat, hugging her father. Next to it was another picture of Brooke- her senior picture, where she wore her mother’s favorite pink dress. Two drops of water fell onto the picture, shielded by glass. 

A view through Mom’s eyes? 

“Is this... “

“Every one of the names in this list thinks about you.“ Brooke turned around to find the woman in the white robe leaning over the back of her chair. “This is a view through their eyes, so you can see how they cope. Though they grieve, as you will find out later, it won’t matter to you.“

Brooke sent an angry frown in the direction of the woman before staring at Julien’s screen. They were crying at something. 

“Shit, man... “ they muttered. “I wasn’t that fucking nice... “

Arthur watched his feed with seemingly no reaction. But all around the car, people were watching their feeds and crying.

“Excuse me?“ someone called out from the front. “How long do we have to watch them?“

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry I mentioned them at all.” The conductor’s voice sounded sad and concerned. “You all look so unhappy! Heaven is paradise, you shouldn’t be sad like this! Come come, turn them off. Here, I’ll turn them off myself. Let me just-“

The statement was met by angry protesting from the people. 

“Okay, fine, fine! I’m just saying, you don’t have to worry about earth anymore! Release your sadness! Forget about your parents and friends! None of them will matter in a few hours!“

There were more angry shouts.

The conductor sighed and walked away. As she turned around Brooke caught the sight of wings on her back. 

“An angel in heaven.“ Arthur smiled. “I wonder what kind. She’s probably mid-tier, since the lower levels of angels look like spinning rings.“

“What?“ Brooke asked.

“I read lots of mythology. Greek, Norse, Christian, Chinese, Indian... ooh, Nigerian too! And Philippine!“

“So how did you die?“

“...I think I choked on some food.“ Arthur said.

“I was hit by a truck.“

“Beat over the head with a nail bat. Ouch.“ Julien pointed to the back of their head. “What’s the backpack for, Brooke?“

“Oh, this?“ Brooke pulled it out. “It’s my backpack. It’s got everything in here. Like pens, pencils, a compass somewhere... “

“Wait, does that mean-“ Arthur rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a Swiss army knife. He beamed with joy when he rubbed his finger along a series of monogrammed letters. “Yes! It’s still here!“

“Oh, that looks dangerous... “ The woman in the white robe suddenly appeared behind Arthur in a puff of white smoke. “You shouldn’t take that into heaven.“

“Why not?“ Arthur pointed to some blue plating on the side. “See? It’s got my name on it! It was my birthday present this year!“

“Still, it’s dangerous, and we don’t want anyone to get hurt... “ The angel’s eyes shifted to Brooke’s backpack. “Oh, and all that stuff! You shouldn’t-“

“Hey, shut the fuck up.“ Julien snapped at her. “Brookey can take whatever she wants, got that?!”

“I’m just saying, even if you don’t use them, someone else might-“

The crowd began to protest again, especially the battle-scarred ones. To their outburst, the angel sighed and walked away again. 

“We are really ruining that lady’s day,“ Arthur muttered.

“Fuck that lady.“ Julien leaned back against Brooke’s chest. “No one touches your shit, Brooke. Not on my watch.“

“Are you... hitting on me?“ Brooke blushed. “You’re awfully bad at it, just so you know.“

“Am I?“ Julien laughed. “Wow. So, like, can I get your number in heaven or something? Did I do it right that time?“

Brooke chuckled. 

The next twenty hours of the ride went on as such, with Brooke, Arthur, and Julien conversing amongst themselves and with others around them. All the time, the light outside the train car grew brighter and brighter, until, at last, they arrived. 

...

The first vision of heaven they received was a giant train station, with marble as white as snow and so clean that you could see your reflection. The pillars were made of marble as smooth as a seashell, and towered up to the sky, so high that no one could see the top. People dressed in different garments, with strangely colored hair and wings, talked to each other. Brooke’s heart pounded as she saw them. Their faces were all beautiful, serene, and perfect. It was almost scary.

“Are they looking to board?“ Arthur asked.

“Attention, everyone!“ The conductor appeared again, at the front of the car. “Before you exit the car, I want to stress a few important points! First of all, if someone grabs you, let them. They’re your guardian angel, and although you might not recognize them, they know you better than even you might. Second, once you meet them, you’ll want to make eye contact with them. It’ll help later on. And third, please stay on good terms with them! They’ll be your servants, best friends, and husbands and wives for the rest of eternity. And fourth, you may leave all of your belongings here on the train. You don’t need them, and we can put them to good use. Thank you all for riding Heaven’s Express, yay!“

The doors at the side of the cars opened. Immediately, people began to pile out. Most of them took their guns, backpacks and other objects with them, much to the conductor’s chagrin.  

“Got everything?“ Julien asked. “Let’s just wait for Arthur, and then let’s head out, okay?“

Brooke zipped her backpack and glanced at Arthur. 

Arthur appeared to be frozen with fear. His hand was slipped inside one of his pockets. 

“Hey,“ Brooke said. “Is something wrong?“

“My Swiss Army Knife. I can’t find it.“ Arthur’s voice was shaking.

The conductor sighed. “Your guardian angel can just-”

“No, you don’t understand.“ Arthur turned to the conductor. “My dad gave it to me for my birthday. It was the last thing he gave me before he-“

“Like I said, your guardian angel can just give you a new one.“

“But it won’t be the same!“ Arthur exclaimed. “Because-“

“Arthur, we’ll help you.“ Julien sighed and stretched their arms. “C’mon.“ They kneeled on the ground and looked around as more people shuffled off. “Brooke, help me, will ya?”

Brooke nodded and hopped over the next seat. She kneeled on the ground and peered between the moving legs and train car seats. “I can’t see it.”

“You’re wasting time,“ the conductor urged. “Your guardians are going to get worried.“

“I don’t give a shit.“ Julien watched as the last person left the train car. “Shit, it’s not here.“

Arthur’s hand reached inside his other pocket. He gasped and pulled out his Swiss Army Knife. “Oh.”

“It was in your pocket? Fair enough.“ The conductor sighed. “And since your backpack’s-“

Brooke picked her backpack up with an angry frown.

“Geez, fine, fine.“

Together, they exited the train. A few seconds after Brooke’s feet landed on the ground, the train puffed quietly away. 

“She said our guardians were waiting for us,“ Arthur whispered. 

“Over here!“ “Julien!” “Welcome!”

“Angels… ” Julien muttered, as they saw the source of the voices.”

One of them was a short woman with blonde hair and purple wings in a white Greek-style dress. The second was a taller woman with darker skin and chocolate brown hair in a lacey black gown. The third was a man with golden-orange hair in a white suit with golden and red accents, with orange wings unfolding behind him.

“Arthur! Come on!” The blonde bolted forward and embraced Arthur, who looked shocked at the prospect of being hugged so suddenly. She kissed his forehead and danced him around. “Ohhh, I missed you so much!“

“Julien.“ The brunette tenderly wrapped her arms around Julien, smothering them in many layers of dress. “Welcome back home, my dear. How long has it been?“

“Brooke.“ The golden-haired angel kneeled in front of Brooke and took her hand. “I’ve missed you for longer than you could comprehend. Welcome to heaven, my dear. My name is Grey. I hope we’ll be good friends.“

“Grey... “ Brooke whispered. “It’s... nice to meet you too.“

“We met once before, you know. But we were destined to separate. Thank the lord you’ve made it to heaven.“ He embraced her and kissed her cheek.

“Okay, okay... “ Brooke pushed him away. “That’s enough.“

“Your eyes are beautiful, you know.“ He pulled his chin towards her. “Can I take a look?“

“What?“

“Look at my eyes, darling… ” He leaned closer. “I’ve always dreamed of gazing into those eyes.”

Brooke’s heart pounded when she heard his words- not out of love or excitement, but out of pure fear. Somewhere the back of her mind, she recalled the conductor’s words. 

“No!“ She pushed him away. 

Gray seemed shocked. Even the other two angels stopped doting on Julien and Arthur and stared at Brooke.

“No?” Gray asked.

“Sorry. It’s been a long ride.” Brooke pinched the area between her eyes, as if she had a headache.

“That’s absolutely fine. I apologize for troubling you.“ Grey smiled. “Come now, we should leave. Night will be falling soon.“ He led her towards a large door at the end of the hall.

“Wait.“ Brooke pulled him back. “I want their phone numbers.“

“Whose?“ 

“Arthur and Jule’s.“

“You don’t need them.“

“Yes I do! I want to chat with them and stuff!“

“... I understand. There is no such thing as a cell phone in heaven, but as long as I know the names of their guardians, I should have no problem contacting them. And I believe their names are Amelia Victoria Fisher and Lucia Constantinou.“

The two winged women nodded in response.

“Goodbye for now, then?“ Julien smiled. “Can I get a hug?“

“Of course.“ Brooke ran up to Julien and embraced them. They were joined by Arthur, who almost knocked all three of them over. 

“Soon, right?“ Brooke whispered.

“Yeah. Soon.“ Julien squeezed them both tighter. “Hey, don’t let go of your shit, okay?“

“I certainly won’t.“ Arthur whispered. “And when we meet again, we’ll have fun, right?“

“Of course.“ Brooke said.

After a tight squeeze, they released each other. Brooke and Grey exited out of the train station into the world outside. 

As Brooke walked off, she couldn’t help but feel that despite their location in heaven, there was something dangerously wrong with the world they now lived in. She glanced up at Gray, who smiled back down. Something was wrong with him, too. Perhaps it was just her heart, trying to right itself from the shock that she was dead.

...

“That’s it?!“

Brooke stared out at the expanse before her. They were standing on a narrow paved road, surrounded on both sides by completely still water. In the distance stood a city. Beyond the city, the sun set, creating a palette of orange and red in the sky.

“Heaven is made of many planes. This is only one of those many.“ Grey pointed further down the narrow road. “This is known as the commonplane of Elysium, one of the six domains of heaven. Down the road, many humans are enjoying time in the marketplace with their guardians.“

“And that?“ Brooke pointed to the city in the distance. 

“That was simply built for show. Many humans complained of the lack of scenery. The city is inhabitable, but unused.“

“Okay... “ Brooke sighed. “So then what?“

Grey sighed and turned around. Once again, he kneeled in front of Brooke. 

“I can hear it in your voice. You’re nervous and impatient for rest. As your guardian angel, he who has possessed nothing but love for you since the day you were born, I promise you that everything will be okay as long as you stay with me. I realize you know very little about me. You only know my name and appearance. I know you barely trust me. But I’ll provide for all of your needs, and I’ll care for you. Please, my dear, no matter what transpires, do not fear me.“

Brooke sighed. “So now what?”

“Taxi?“

Brooke heard a screech of wheels. She glanced to her side to find a taxi where one hadn’t been moments before. Grey opened the door and motioned her in. Brooke climbed into the taxi, followed by Grey. Brooke was nervous to see that the windows of the taxi were entirely blacked out.

The driver’s seat was blocked out by a curtain. “Name?” a voice said.

“Grey de Aur.“ Grey said.

“You have arrived at your destination.“ 

Grey opened the taxi door. When Brooke stepped out, she could not believe what greeted her eyes.

[friendlylocaldk]

Snapshots 53-57

LIII. The Hollow

She wakes at a bonfire and groans as she pulls herself into a sitting position, she lost count of how many times she’s been run through by swords and halberds or impaled by arrows that sneak through gaps in her armour. There’s a brand on her shoulder and it burns every time she wakes at a bonfire. The burnished plates of her armour scrape across one another and the sound runs through her. She checks that she has her sword and that it’s in good condition and that her shield isn’t too dented and then she leaves the bonfire and is charging at maddened hollows who only know that they have to kill her. They all revive as well when she does and she pities them for they have long since lost all traces of their humanity and she knows that one day she will too. The splashing of water fills her ears and it seeps into her boots but she doesn’t stop as she rolls past another hollow before cutting them down, she still feels guilty. She’s wandered this world for countless days and nights and has seen golems made of crystal that try to crush her, a woman who’s half spider and only wished to protect her sister, so she pledged her allegiance to a pale woman who’s surrounded by eggs and can barely move, a woman who speaks in a language she cannot understand. She kneels before her and offers up the dregs of humanity that she finds and prays that she can complete the work of the pale woman’s sister.

LIV. The Hunter

He walks the streets resplendent in a navy coat embroidered with silver patterns. The moon hangs low over the city and men and women driven mad by bloodlust prowl the streets. He’s dispatched every night to run them through the heart and prevent more people from turning but those afflicted grow fangs and drink the blood of their victims until there is either none left or it splatters the floor and walls. Often, he returns to the barracks worn out and coated in blood but also plagued by images and nightmares of those he’s killed. Many were friends or other hunters with eyes that are unfocused and misty. Some days he gets to the barracks and drinks himself into oblivion so once he passes out no faces haunt him. He knows it’s futile now though, as a cold breeze courses through the cobbled streets and the clinking of windchimes follows thereafter. There are few humans left in this city and some hide by night in their houses with salt and holy water sprinkled around each entrance, others try to flee the city and they often fail, succumbing to the creatures that roam the city and join their ranks. He listens carefully as he strides through the streets, hearing the scratching and clawing of the creatures as they clamber ever closer. His swords are drawn now, made of silver, drowned in holy water and glinting in the moonlight. Anything that attacks him won’t walk away and the street will be covered in ash come the morning, when the sunlight burns the previous night’s atrocities. He’ll not know this though as he’ll be seeking solace in the bottom of the bottle and praying that the hunt will end.

LV. The Fool

Inhale. Exhale. Remember to breathe. They mentally repeat that phrase for an hour, head in hands, staring at their jeans. Their chest feels tight, their binder probably isn’t helping. They feel sick, they should’ve stayed at home. But they wanted to be brave and figured that after five years they’d have dealt with it right? Turns out they hadn’t and now they need to get home before they start crying in earnest. They’re already crying though and the tears drip onto their jeans, they run their hands over the keys in their pocket and once they make it home they stumble up the stairs and crawl into their bed. Their breath comes in gasping breaths broken up by occasional sobs, they hate this. They hate that they’re so affected by what happened, even after so long. Their skin feels like it’s covered in bugs and it takes everything they have not to take a scalding shower so they feel clean and less disgusting. What did they do to deserve what happened to them? They pass out not long after getting into bed again. They wake feeling like a zombie, a warm zombie albeit it due to their thick duvet but numbed to everything and not all there yet. It’ll take them a few hours maybe days before they feel less numb and don’t want to cry because they feel like a coward. But then their partner did say that it’s okay not to be brave sometimes.

LVI. The Queen of Peace

She recalls her husband, before he went mad with grief over losing his son, he’d been a kindly man who was loved by all, but then he lost his son and had sequestered himself away for six years. She gazes over the rolling field, spying the opposing army, the smoke rising from their fires and the green and white banners with a black fleur-de-lis in the centre and her chest tightens. Her husband is sat in the tent behind her, silently listening to his councillors telling him not to let his wife go to war. She’s been driven away from him though, having donned golden armour in every battle for six years and having led men and women to victory or death. She earned the moniker the Queen of Peace after countless battles, ironic really given she’s anything but. She used to be kind once, she’d wear navy dresses sometimes but also breeches and a navy doublet and her husband wouldn’t let anyone say a word against her. She clasps her banner, it’s not her husband’s anymore, it’s hers. A navy background is emblazoned with a green trident. With an incline of her head her army charges forward and so does the opposing one. They meet violently in the middle, men and women crashing against one another, the whinnying of horses and grating of steel on steel fills her ears. She’ll be fatigued, drenched in blood and coated in mud when the battles over and surrounded by dead comrades and enemies but the Queen of Peace will triumph as she always has and deserters will spread stories of a bloodthirsty queen and her relentless army.

LVII. The Mountain King 

Wind whips through the massive hall, hewn of stone and freezing. The Mountain King is an imposing man and few visit him. His beard has greyed now to the colour of stone and like the mountain his face is weathered but he’s still larger than any human. A child stands before him. He laughs delighted to see someone, a deep rumbling laugh that seems to shake the stone hall. The child looks up and the Mountain King realises that the child is terrified. He, himself looks old, he notes as he spies his reflection in a puddle, but then he’s as old as the mountain. The hall is silent again apart from the splashing of water into the puddle and the child is crying, asking him to allow him through his great halls because he got lost and his mother said if he got lost in the mountains to seek the Mountain King. He’s shocked for a moment, he’s believed for eons that he was merely a myth but this child’s mother seems to know otherwise. The Mountain King pulls himself from his throne then holds out a hand for the child to take. He knows the mountain like the back of his hands, he hewed many tunnels once upon a time, back when the mountain was young so that people may pass through after having found the door to his halls and asked politely. He hears the wind whistling through cracks in the various doors that conceal tunnels and it’s comforting to him, as is the occasional splash of water falling through cracks – it reminds him of a Lady in The Lake and he wonders briefly if she’s still around. When he reaches the door he’s looking for, he pushes it open gently and is blinded briefly before his eyes adjust and then he gestures for the child to head on home. Before the child does, a young girl he realises now, she plucks a flower and presents it to him and he tucks it carefully behind his ear and then she’s running back to her home. He retreats back to his hall the door slamming closed behind him and once back upon his roughly hewn throne he falls back into a slumber.

[amydancepants-peralta]

sweater weather

Surprise, Kasia @kamekamelea!  I am your writer for @b99fandomevents Fall Fic Exchange ... and I’ve rolled with your prompt of adapting the lyrics of Sweater Weather, by The Neighbourhood.   I really, really hope you enjoy!  

sweater weather (also on AO3)

Jake’s hands tap impatiently along the edge of his car’s steering wheel as he makes his way downtown, his eyes turning to the clock on the dashboard at regular intervals.  The roads are relatively quiet, and staring at the numbers one more time, his foot presses a little harder on the accelerator.

He was running a little late, because he always was, but this time Jake had the legitimacy of a work-related issue up his sleeve.  The perp that he and Boyle had been building up a case on had, in a moment of what the criminal Kaminski called weakness, but Jake and Charles called stupidity, decided to rob the bodega around the corner from their precinct, in the middle of the day.  There had been so many credible eye-witnesses, most of whom worked within the nine-nine, that compiling statements had taken much longer than either of them had anticipated.  So much so, that time completely ran away from Jake, and if he hadn’t glanced at his watch half an hour ago, his tardiness could have been a lot worse.

This afternoon was another Santiago family gathering - this time to celebrate Amy’s niece Mariela, who was turning seven.  Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away, and he and Amy were hosting the family meal this year - their first time hosting together as husband and wife.  There were notes and binders and recipes on every surface of their apartment, all in aid of Amy’s carefully scheduled preparation of the meal, and he would move hell and high water to make sure nothing about this year’s gathering would end in disaster.  

A smile begins to appear on Jake’s face as he thinks about his wife - about the woman that not so long ago would have appeared way out of his league.  There was a time when Thanksgiving - hell, all of the holidays, really - represented nothing but just another reminder of everything he didn’t have.  But now, with Amy, he had a family.  And what’s more, he had hope.

The sun catches his wedding ring when he swivels the car into park and he fiddles with the band, ring twisting as he checks his appearance quickly in the rearview mirror.  Even after all these years, he still wanted to look his best for his in-laws - and being late and unkempt would only set him back from the recovery he’d made since the evening of ‘and another thing’.  Adjusting the collar of the sweater he’d thrown on back at the precinct, Jake gives his reflection a quick shrug, locking up and heading towards the party.

There was a slight downwards slope in the park the Santiagos had chosen for their festivities, giving Jake a vantage point as he approached.  The sound of fallen leaves crunching underneath his sneakers was soon drowned out by the contagious squeals of children playing, familiar voices calling out ‘Tag, you’re it!’ as they race around the playground attached to the picnic area.  He spots Amy quickly, her smile standing out amongst the other adults as she pushes one of her nephews on a swing, and Jake feels tiny butterflies begin to hatch in his stomach at the sight.  One day, someday soon, that might be Amy with a child of their own.  

Seventeen weeks and one day ago, he and Amy had been at Shaw’s, enjoying some post-work drinks - which in itself was nothing particularly momentous.  And to this day he can’t explain it, but one minute he was at the bar ordering drinks for himself and his wife, and the next minute he was turning around, watching her laugh with friends, and he knew.  

That it was time.  For them to start trying - to actively attempt to start a family of their own.  It was as non-sensical as a crossword puzzle leaning him towards marriage, but this epiphany was as strong as the last.  He’d pulled her from the bar less than an hour later, waiting until they were in the comfort of the four walls of their home before telling her how he felt.  Her smile could have lit up the night sky, and by the same time the next day, there was a carefully laid out binder taking pride of place on the desk in their bedroom.

And sure - there was definitely an added bonus to Mega Organised Sexy Times, if only for it’s guaranteed increase in regularity (not that there was ever any problem in that department).  But there was more to it than that.  There had always been love between them - even in their most passionate moments, it was still about making love.  Now, there was this added sense of anticipation - that maybe this time would be the right time, and that soon their family of two would become three.   He’d be lying if he said that his fears had gone away completely - but he knew, more than anything, that this was his chance to fight away his doubts.  Break the cycle, and prove to himself - and anybody that cared to listen - that he was not his father.

As he nears closer Amy looks up from her nephew, face lighting up in a bright smile when she notices his arrival.  She’s wearing the same dress she wore to the moonlight cinema last month (the selfie of them at sunset still holding prime position as his lock screen), covered in a denim jacket he’s seen a hundred times before, but she still manages to surprise him with her beauty.  And he hopes that his heart never fails to skip a beat like it has right now, as she relegates Swing Pushing duty to somebody else before heading in Jake’s direction. 

It occurs to him as he slows down his pace, meeting her halfway, that he had always loved the idea of holding the world within the palm of his hand, but nobody could ever have told him that the world would one day come in the shape of just one person.  

Amy leans in for a kiss when she’s finally in front of him, wrinkling her nose when she pulls away, and he knows its because of the Pumpkin Spice latte he had earlier at work.  Jake loved the drink, and she decidedly did not, and the first time he’d had it after they had started dating, it had led to her instigating a Total Kiss Ban.  It had lasted a total of three hours.  The compromise, as so declared that day, was a compulsory follow-up mint, and he pats the empty pocket of his jacket in way of apology.  

The wrinkled nose smooths and she gives him an affectionate eye roll, one hand moving from his neck to his shoulder.  “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“No place I’d rather be, babe.  I’m sorry time ran away from me, though.”

Her hair swings with the breeze as she shakes her head.  “I heard about Kaminski from one of my officers.  Hard to believe he could have been so brazen.”

“Idiotic is the word I prefer to use.”

She giggles, and no matter how many times he hears it, he still feels a flush of pride run through him.  “Same, same.” she responds with a smile. 

He’s about to ask her how everything was going when nine-year-old Mason comes running up to them, the dirt smeared across his face doing nothing to conceal his smile.  “Tio Jake, Tio Jake!  You gotta come see this fort me and Josh made!”

“A fort?  Heck yeah, I gotta see this!”  Jake feels Amy’s hand slide down his arm with a quick squeeze as he follows Mason towards the pre-built picnic table area, where an obvious extension fortified by spare chairs and blankets had been created.  There’s a sense of fulfilment that runs through him whenever he gets called Tio Jake - for the longest time, he had been certain that he would never been anybody’s Tio.  And honestly, he’s never been happier to be proven wrong.

His hand lifts one of the layers of the fort (only a Santiago gathering in at outside space could result in such an abundance of blankets), eyes widening at the contents inside - action figures! there are SO many action figures in here! - and he turns to Mason with a grin.  “This is awesome!”

“Yah-huh!” He nods in agreement, grabbing Jake by the hand and pulling him into the fort with little regard for the height difference between Jake and the roof’s structure.  Quickly, Jake ducks to his knees, desperate to avoid anything that could compromise the integrity of such great craftsmanship.  

It’s another half hour before Mason and three other Santiago children Jake had been playing with are called away from the fort, tiny legs racing towards the central table at the promise of pumpkin pie.  Retreating from the fort, Jake talks to David briefly, trying his best not to notice the perfectly grown moustache Amy’s brother had begun to grow in support of Movember, simultaneously squashing any secret plans he had to try and grow his own.  Despite Amy’s not-so-secret love for them, there’s no way he could cultivate such a look (besides, the undercover department of the NYPD actually had some perfectly acceptable fakes that were readily at his disposal).

Amy rescues him shortly after, deftly brushing off conversation of David’s upcoming Captain exam by telling him that their mother needed him for a specific duty.  He departs in a haste, and she winks at Jake as he leaves, whispering that no such job exists, but she could tell that he’d had his fill of David for the day.  She drops a chaste kiss to his lips, and Jake knew that she loved that he wasn’t the biggest fan of David’s, purely because she wasn’t.

A cool breeze cuts through the surrounding trees, their limbs bending to submission while the once swept-up leaves begin to break free of their piles, and Amy shivers slightly.  Instinctively Jake wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer and smiling as she eagerly snuggles her head into his chest.  Her face burrows into the fabric of his sweater, chest expanding as she breathes him in, and Jake’s smile grows bigger at the sight.  He can still remember their first night together, how amazing she looked with her head against his pillow, the tiniest of smiles on her face as she mumbled that it smelled of him.  He knew he was a goner then, and he still is now.  

Amy lifts her head, blushing when she realises she’s been caught out, and Jake throws her a wink, tightening his grip around her shoulders.  This was his favourite time of the year, the cooler air inviting snuggles at all hours of the day.  Lazy sleep-ins wrapped up together encouraged - if not demanded - by his drowsy wife.  Hot chocolates on the regular, extra marshmallows floating along the top of his mug without prompting.  

The idea that someone like him could have moments like those for the rest of his life, still seemed crazy.  But Amy was the only person Jake could imagine building a life with.  

There had been a lot of opportunities, over the past few years, to worry about what was to come.  Speed-bumps that had been thrown at them by the universe:  tests that came in multiple forms, all with the same purpose of pointing out what they already knew - that no matter what happened, Jake and Amy would always have each other.

He’d spent countless hours with his toes digging into the sand of the beaches of Florida, back turned from the world he refused to an active part of.  Kept his eyes trained on the coastline, forever wishing that a way to walk on water would present itself on command.  If there was ever a chance to walk away and start all over again, it was in that overheated state with it’s ridiculously cold pizza.  But whenever Jake felt at his lowest, his mind would turn to Amy, and how he knew she would be working on solving their case right at that very moment, and the memory of her smile - the one reserved for solving the most frustrating of puzzles - became his calm in the storm.  

And so he waited, for six long months.  And she never left his mind for a minute.

The brick walls of the prison cell that made up his home for eight weeks had been cool to the touch, the bricks just porous enough for Jake to be able to feel the anguish cries of previous residents whenever his hands rested against them.  This time, he had two photos of Amy to keep him centred, positioned by his side just as she would have been at home, and by the time his freedom had been restored he had committed to memory every single pixel.  And then, by the grace of all that is good, the real thing was standing in front of him in Shaw’s, offering to buy a free man a drink, and he knew that their forever needed to start as soon as possible.

And now, they were on the cusp of starting life’s biggest adventure together.  There was so much left unknown about what their future could bring - one child, or many (although Amy drew the line at replicating her and her seven brothers).  Perhaps they would raise a family of crime-fighting geniuses - the perfect combination of his determination and her brilliant mind forging an unstoppable team of protectors of justice.  Or maybe they would be creators - dancers, chefs, singers and writers … all or none of the above, there was one thing that Jake knew that they would be.  And that was happy.

Moving behind Amy, Jake takes advantage of their height difference by wrapping his arms around her, pulling her back closer to his chest as they stand together, watching the Santiago cousins retreat from their parents and return to playtime.  Amy’s hands are quick to rest against his, and even quicker to retreat under the cuffs of his sweater, soft fingers brushing against his skin, seeking warmth.  He lets out a soft chuckle, burying his nose into her hair as she squeezes her hands around each forearm, and his grip tightens ever so slightly.  

Perhaps if he had known while in that strange Floridian universe where ATVs were standard modes of transportation and his hair represented a porcupine; that afternoons like this were waiting for him in the not too distant future, he would have tried a little harder to play the role of Larry Sherbert.  Or maybe he would have jumped onto the next flight to New York, Figgis be damned, denying the universe any chance to keep them apart when together was so much better.

There are just some things he’ll never really know for sure.  His future with Amy was not one of them.  

Her thumb begins tracing patterns along the edge of Jake’s arm, and Amy’s touch brings Jake’s head back out from the clouds, focusing on the present as he hums in contentment.  

“It’s a pretty great view, isn’t it?” Amy asks, the smile on her face growing as she watches her niece Amelia tackle an unsuspecting Mason from behind.

Jake cranes his neck, watching his wife watch the children play, and her smile makes his.  “The best,” he replies, and the tone in his voice makes her turn slightly until their eyes meet.  Her face turns red as she blushes, one hand sneaking out from underneath his sleeves, pulling on the zipped edge of his jacket until they join in the middle for a gentle kiss.  

She sighs softly as they part, hand quickly returning to it’s original position as Jake rests his head against Amy’s.  They’re silent for a long moment, before his wife breaks the silence.

“You want to go back down to the fort, don’t you?”

His lips twist into a grin.  “I really do.”

She laughs, the sound of her giggles vibrating through to Jake’s chest as she pulls away from their cuddle.  “Go on, then!”

“You’re the best Ames,  iloveyousomuchokaybyeee!”  His hands squeeze hers quickly as they part, throwing her his happiest smile as he runs back towards Fort Santiago.

* * * *

Amy watches with a contented smile as her husband chases her nieces and nephews around the park, their excited screams bubbling into laughter as they near the now impressively large fort.  There were a lot of things for her to be thankful for this coming Thanksgiving, but having Jake in her life was always going to be the top of her list.

She flicks the inside of her wrist slightly, eyeing off the time displayed on her watch’s face, and begins to plan their polite exit within the hour.  This afternoon had been great, and time with her family was always important, but her period was five days late and there were nine different brands of pregnancy tests burning a hole in her purse.  She wanted to go home, sit with her husband on the floor of their bathroom, and find out together if all the things they had been dreaming for were finally about to come true.

She’d never been one for big adventures, until Jake had stumbled into her life, and now she can’t think of anything greater.  Because with him by her side, she could take on anything.

The two of them were about to become three - she could feel it in her heart of hearts - and Amy couldn’t wait for their adventure to begin.