#i don’t think I spent more than like 6 minutes on any given stage

[parasitoidism]

Half baked is really the right word for forces like it just feels like half of a good game

[shurisneakers]

shut in [7]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, death, implied ptsd, injuries, broken bone, origami and paper planes

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: ONE MORE WEEK !!!!!!!!! ONE MORE WEEK !!!!!!!! also gif is somewhat related except steve isn’t there sorry to crush any hopes

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Is there a reason you’re back so early?”

Both of the men nervously glanced at each other, silently urging the other to talk. A quiet form of encouragement.

“We chec- we checked all the neighbouring towns. All your safehouses,” one of them finally sputtered up after his partner elbowed him in the ribs.

“And?”

“We coordinated with all our guys across the country to look for them-”

“All I’m hearing are a bunch of excuses,” they twirled the gun on its barrel like it was a plaything. “Get to the point.”

“No one knows where they’re hiding,” he finished, swallowing thickly. “We’re still looking though. We just thought-”

“What?” their voice was surprisingly calm. “That your little status update would impress me? That I’d feel sorry for you for working so hard?”

“N-no boss,” his partner finally pitched in, saving face for his companion who opened and shut his mouth wordlessly. “Just keeping you in the loop. We’re close, I can feel-”

“Do you remember what I told you the last time you were here?”

Both of them shut their mouths immediately. Knuckles white, nails digging into their skin as they clenched their fists shut.

“That you wanted them dead,” the first one said with faux confidence. A waver in his voice gave it away.

“Yes, but you’re forgetting the important part,” they tsk’ed, shaking their head, eyes downcast.

They didn’t give anyone a chance to react. They slammed the gun down, swiftly picking it up before taking aim at his partner’s face.

“I said I’d blow your brains out.” They pulled the trigger.

Bits of bone fragment and blood splattered across the first agent’s face. He inhaled sharply, chest rising and falling haphazardly. He had his eyes shut tightly, face away from the carcass slumped over next to him..

“I want every fucking part of this country searched,” they roared, throwing the gun to the side carelessly, leaving someone else to scurry after it. “And since it’s so fucking hard for you to finish two tasks, just get me their location.”

The agent barely nodded, looking like he was about to throw up. His partner’s blood trailed down the side of his face like sweat.

“I’ll kill them myself.”

Hugh Grant was starting to look less appealing on your 6th rewatch of Notting Hill. In fact, he was starting to blend together with the characters from Die Hard and it was becoming difficult to differentiate which part belonged to which movie.

Sam sat opposite to you at the dining table, a set of papers assigned in front of him. The TV was left on, serving as background noise and occasional fillers to substitute the lack of conversation.

“That movie is not making sense anymore,” he stated objectively.

“It stopped after the third time for me.” Your words were hushed, your focus remaining on the swan you were trying to create from scratch.

“If I hear her say ‘I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy’ one more time, I actually think I’ll projectile vomit.” You could tell that his eyes didn’t shift from the screen though. “I can feel the bile. It’s going to happen.”

You only hummed in agreement, more interested in his lamenting than the actual movie.

Although origami wasn’t one of the skills you picked up in the fucking mafia, you still knew a few basic things. The rest you just folded with confidence and prayed it would work.

What other options did you have when you were stuck together in a house with no WiFi?

Sam had made a paper bowl to hold the car keys and the few dollars you picked up from Pierce’s place. It looked like it would fall apart at any given moment, its structural integrity questionable at best.

You had made a small flower that rested on the table in front of you. You were sure it would go missing the minute a draft entered the room.

He had given up after his contribution of the bowl. Apparently his creative expertise extended only towards that and paper airplanes, not that that stopped him. He was folding and manufacturing them with a vengeance.

“How is this supposed to help, Wilson?” you questioned, unable to contain the smile that grew on your face at the sheer number of planes he was making.

“Just because it’s not a decorative marvel-” he shot back in its defence, “-doesn’t mean it’s useless.”

“Oh, yeah? What else can it do other than not fly?” You watched as he launched one of them. It did a loop before falling miserably to the floor.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left. “Besides, your thing won’t even lift off the ground.”

“Yeah, but this one can float.” You held up the swan that you had created. That about concluded your knowledge of origami.

“That’s actually… pretty cool,” he admitted. “Teach me how to make one.”

“A true master never reveals their secrets,” you eluded, placing it on the table.

“I dare you to make another.” Sneaky bastard. He knew you wouldn’t be able to replicate it. He saw you struggle the first time.

“Why, so you can just copy off of me?” you dodged, and Sam narrowed his eyes at you. You followed the same.

Neither of you blinked for a while.

“I’m out of paper,” he finally relented, gesturing to the fleet of planes that littered the table.

“I’m out of ideas.” You paused, looking down at how you’d spent the last hour. “Do you wanna go test these outside later?”

Sam looked up eagerly and you could just tell he was intending on getting competitive. “Hell yeah.”

“I’m going for a run in some time.” You got up to stretch your limbs, shrug off the fatigue that was setting in. Along the way you left the swan and one of the paper planes on top of the mini fridge alongside the car keys. It was cute. “We could do it then?”

“Sure,” he affirmed. “What time?”

“At around 6-” your eyes landed on the clock on the wall before widening, “-shit, shit, shit, I didn't realise it was five thirty. We have a call with Ransone.”

“Phone’s on the couch,” he mentioned to the living room, sitting up straight. “Why are you freaking out? We still got a few minutes to go.”

You pushed yourself away from the table, forcing yourself to shakie off the drowsiness that had begun to set in.

“You wouldn’t get it,” you mumbled, “He gets pissy if I don’t do things his way.”

You grabbed the phone, punching in the buttons and having it at the ready.

You noticed Sam focused on you with knitted eyebrows but not voicing whatever he had on his mind.

“Ready?” you questioned, but more as a formality. You had to do it regardless.

He simply nodded, looking on as you let the phone ring. If he had noticed your antsiness towards the call, he didn’t bring it up.

Ransone picked up on the last ring, not skipping a beat in answering, “Y/N.”

“Hey Ransone.” You switched the call to speakerphone.

“Are you alone?”

You glanced at Sam. He shook his head, arms crossed over his chest, edging you to continue with the arrangement you had planned the day prior.

Ransone trusted you more. He was more likely to communicate openly if Sam wasn’t around.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Where’s the other one?”

Sam silently scoffed.

“He’s taking a nap.”

“Ah,” Ransone’s tone was condescending. “How have things been?”

“It’s fine.” You press your lips into a straight line, not elucidating. “What’s the update out there?”

“Everything is a mess. We’re trying to figure out who attacked you but since there wasn’t anything left behind or any kind of trace, it’s proving to be... inconvenient.”

“Is it safe to travel?”

“What, with your face on national television?” he laughed. “Nah, I’d say it’s a little too early to be thinkin’ of a road trip. Just stay where you are, I’ll tell you when you can come out.”

Your fingers were thrumming at the table rhythmically, peeking at Sam every now and then for anything he found suspicious or wanted you to ask about.

“Listen, we’ve paid off every big guy to keep this under wraps as much as possible but Pierce was an important person. All the higher ups want this to be solved as quickly as possible. They don’t care about sacrificing a player here or there.”

Pinning the blame on you was easy enough. The faster you were put away, the faster they could stage an “accident” in prison so that none of their secrets were exposed. Wasn’t like they hadn’t done it before.

“Others in the business aren’t likin’ us accusing them of attacking one of our own. Our best bet right now is Serpentine but we haven’t gotten anything to prove it.”

You doubted they ever would. Even if they did do it, Serpentine was notorious for being cunning and stealthy in their operations. They made sure there would be no tracks leading back to them.

“So, we’re at a dead-end,” you verified. There was no telling when this would end, your exit looking further and further away. “We’re fucked.”

“No. We’ll just- Y/N, listen to me,” Ransone called out, drawing your attention back to the call.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve always protected you,” his voice was noticeably softer. “Don’t you trust me?”

You felt the temperature in the room drop.

“You said there would be no one there!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ransone scoffed. “I never said that.”

“I walk in there and there’s four people, completely armed.” Forcing yourself to recall it was making your head spin. Maybe you could ask the nurse for a painkiller. “It was supposed to be empty.”

“I think the blood loss is making you delirious,” he chided, looking at the bag of drips hanging above your bed. “It wasn’t even that bad-”

“You’re lying.” The words slipped out before you had the chance to think it over.

“Excuse me?” he tilted his head, tone suddenly sifting to that of warning.

You knew he was. You had agreed to this mission because it was supposed to be easy. It was a break.

“Ivan was there when you briefed me.” You lifted your good arm to point at him shakily. “He knows you’re lying.”

“Does he now?” Ransone quirked an eyebrow, studying his aid who stood in the corner of the dingy hospital room.

A beat of silence passed where Ransone stared at Ivan, waiting for a reply of confirmation.

Ivan only lifted his shoulders in unawareness. “I don’t remember you sayin’ that.”

Your mouth fell agape but you quickly rushed to shut it. Fucking liars. You shouldn’t have expected anything better.

“Told you.” Ransone shrugged. “You’re a smart one, Y/N, so I’m going to let that slide this time. But next time you accuse me of something I didn’t say…”

He trailed off, resting a hand on your broken shoulder. You flinched, jaw clenched so tightly you thought your teeth might break. You tried to imagine yourself somewhere else, desperate to reduce the quivering of your body when he squeezed it lightly.

“You know I’ve always tried to protect you.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your head to meet his eye. “Don’t you trust me?”

A beat passed before you responded.

“I do,” you said through gritted teeth, pulling your face away from him.

“I’ll ask them to up your dosage.” Ransone took a step away from you, dropping his hand. “I’m going to need my best player on the field as soon as possible.”

You didn’t acknowledge his statement. Every part of your body felt like it was going to combust.

Did he really say that no one was going to be there or was it just the injuries playing with you?

“Get well soon,” he offered, one step out the door. “Buttercup.”

“You trust me, don’t you Y/N?” he repeated when you didn’t respond.

“Yes.” You swallowed, gaze falling to the floor.

“And I trust you. You wouldn’t do anything to break that, would you?”

Sam raised his one hand questioningly as if to ask what the hell he was talking about. An intimidation tactic. He had been using it for several years to reinforce your loyalty.

“I wouldn’t.”

There were things you weren’t telling him, of course. Details about that day or where you and Sam were hiding right off the top of your head. More if you thought about it deeply.

“Good,” came his response. “So if there’s anything you need, let me know. I’m always a call away.”

“Thank you.”

“Talk to you soon.” He ended the call there.

You stood there blankly for a while before dropping the phone to the ground and crushing it. Usually you wouldn’t have to do that; removing the battery would be enough. This time you wanted to.

Your chest rose and fell heavily. You loathed him. Yet, you couldn’t fucking leave. 

“Hey.” Your eyes snapped back to Sam. “We still going on that run?”

__

The wind felt good.

Your muscles were burning and you could feel the constriction of your lungs but you liked it. The endorphins were working their charm.

Sam was right beside you, not questioning why there was so much aggression in your movement. You had lost track of how long you had been running. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on that.

The path was paved with fallen branches and roots sticking out, forcing you to hop over some of them to avoid falling. It only annoyed you further.

You wanted to punch something. Or someone. The tension was rolling off your back in waves, and if someone saw you the’d probably believe you were going to commit an act of violence.

It was a while before you felt your steps begin to falter, the need for a proper breath taking precedence over the want to run more.

“Timeout?” you asked Sam breathlessly, slowing your pace to a jog.

“Sure about that, Usain Bolt?” he huffed, slowing his pace to match yours.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed it. “T’was fun.”

Now that you had slowed down, it forced you to come to terms with how much energy you had just burnt out.

“You wanna talk about what’s on your mind or ignore it?”

“Rather not talk about it for now.” The more you thought about him, the angrier you got. And as of late, you had realised that your method of dealing with that anger wasn’t the best.

The air was getting colder. It was getting harder to see what was in front of you, relying on the few rays of sunlight that shone through the treetops. You took a roundabout at your self declared checkpoint, changing course back to the house.

Sam followed wordlessly, but his presence was strangely comforting. Warm.

“Thank you.”

“For...” he trailed off, prodding you on.

“I don’t know. This.” You gestured to the path ahead of you. “I didn’t think you’d agree to it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” His eyebrows knit together in puzzlement.

You didn’t have an answer to that. Probably because you weren’t used to people just doing nice things for no apparent reason.

“How are you so calm all the time? I’ve never seen him get under your skin,” you asked quietly. “How do you do it?”

He didn’t answer straight away. He mulled over it as he dodged broken sticks and upended roots on the ground. You would be fine if he didn’t answer either; as long as he knew that you appreciated it.

“I just realised that everything he put into me was destructive. Actively worked on unlearning it,” he replied after a while. “It took me years to even begin.”

You expected to hear that but it didn’t make it easier.

“I don’t even know how to start,” you mumbled. It was so tiring, even thinking of where and how it began. It was all you knew. All you were taught.

“If I could add something?”

You looked at him questioningly.

“You had a different relationship with him than all of us, Y/N. A deeper one. It’s not easy to forget that,” he pointed out. “But… you’re not him. That takes strength.”

These weren’t new revelations. It was things you had told yourself earlier to rationalise all your actions. You knew it on a surface level but it was difficult to convince yourself sincerely.

You didn’t say anything, just continued jogging with an eye on the ground. 

It felt better to hear it from someone else. A starting point to maybe get to where he was, too.

“I just can’t believe anyone took him seriously enough for him to get this far,” Sam added, a tick of annoyance in his voice. “I don’t condone bullying but someone should have just punched him in the face as a child.”

It wasn’t even the funniest thing you had heard him say but for some reason it elicited a snort from you, soon giving way to a laugh.

His face snapped to yours at the sound of your laughter, a small smile growing on his face.

His brief moment of distraction was all it took for him to not notice the tree root sticking out in front of him. His ankle got caught in the wood, sending him stumbling to the ground face forward.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, halting in your place immediately, dropping to your knees to where he was.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned, turning onto his back. “I think I broke my face.”

“That may be a bit excessive but your nose is definitely bleeding,” you knew this was serious but you were finding it difficult to control your laughter once you realised it wasn’t a life threatening injury.

“Just leave me here to die.” He covered his eyes with his elbow, refusing to look at you.

“C’mon, Wilson. Let’s get you fixed up.” You stood up, offering your hand. He grabbed onto it, hoisting himself up.  “Can you stand up straight? Do you think you have a concussion?”

“World class assassin,” he grumbled, shaking his head to imply he was fine other than a possible broken nose.

“Promise I won’t tell. Your reputation is safe,” you said it humorously but with conviction, hoping to make it less embarrassing for him. Not that you’d let him forget it any time soon.

It took longer to walk back considering how far you had ventured out, along with the fact that you had to guide him as he held his nose in the air to try and control the bleeding.

You pushed open the door to the house, holding it open as he walked in. Sam made his way to the dining room after you told him you’d get the first aid kit for the second time during your stay there.

By the time you returned from the bathroom, grabbing an old t-shirt along the way, he had a single ice cube pressed to the bridge of his nose.

“That’s not going to be enough.” You dropped the kit onto the table, opening the mini fridge. You emptied the ice cubes from the tray onto the t-shirt, twisting it into a small ice pack.

“These are my battle scars.” You could tell that he was trying not to use his nose. He sounded ridiculous. 

“Whatever makes you feel better, Sam,” you chortled. His mouth eased into a half smile and you didn’t get why until you realised it was the first time you had called him by his name. You didn’t acknowledge it, surprised by how easily it slipped out from your mouth when you weren’t actively stopping it.

You gave him a bit of cotton to wipe off the blood that had dried on his face.

“Look up,” you instructed, standing over him so you could assess the damage. He complied, letting you cradle his jaw softly, tilting his head to see if there were any signs of a fracture or anything worse.

It was a bad fall, but nothing he hadn’t been through before in terms of severeness. It wasn’t going to leave a mark.

“Definitely going to bruise but it’s not broken,” you concluded, going over it once more to make sure.

“Thanks, doc,” his voice came softly from below you. Only then did you realise how close you were standing to him. You could feel his breath on your wrist that was still caressing his face.

It felt like eternity, but he didn’t make an effort to move or shove you away. Your eyes flitted down to his lips for a second. If you just leaned dow-

“Right,” you cleared your throat, taking a step back. “Just hold this to your face for a while to reduce any swelling.”

You handed him the makeshift ice pack, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

“Your turn to use the bed tonight, right?” His voice was significantly lower than what it had been a few minutes ago, something you weren’t acclimated to hearing. It only made your face feel hotter.

“Yeah.” You avoided meeting his eyes, using the time to close the first aid kid. “Unless you want it.”

“No, go ahead.”

It was too early to retire for the evening but suddenly you weren’t all that hungry anymore. Apparently neither was he.

“See you tomorrow, then?” you inquired, turning away before he could see you cringe.

“See you tomorrow,” he confirmed, “Good night.”

You just gave him a short wave over your shoulder and physically restrained from walking to the room, shutting the door and never looking at him again. You hoped he didn’t notice or at least never bring it up if he did.

You couldn’t do this. Not again.

Not when you knew the consequences.

Next part

[otptings]

Reunited

✖︎Idol: Park Jisung

✖︎Genre: Fluffffy

✖︎Word Count: 1237

✖︎Synopsis: Tours are hard, but being reunited is all you could ask for

✖︎A/n: edited, the original goes by the name of tour. requests are open for enhypen, treasure, and svt. if you enjoyed this please like, reblog, or donate to my ko-fi in my bio thank you so much

“I miss you.” You held back your laughter at the sight of Jisung puffing out his cheeks in an obvious pout.

“Only two more weeks, then you’ll be back in my arms.”

“That’s boring, why can’t I just teleport there now? Or better yet you teleport here?” Shaking your head at his childishness you couldn’t help but feel the same. There have been more than enough lonely nights to last you for the rest of your days. Nights that were spent looking at all of the various photos and videos that Jisung - tried to-  regularly send you, along with scouring the Dreamies Youtube channel for any videos he forgot to tell you about.

You were more than grateful he was able to experience the tour, especially now that his knee was fully healed, but a miniscule part of you wanted him to be here, wrapped around you like a koala, your favorite habit of his. You’d give anything to be suffocating because of the immense warmth he constantly radiated, your head laying on his chest to listen to his heart beat. The moment when you’d look up at him only to see him already staring back, a sweet smile on his face as he leant down to place a kiss on your temple. Moments you wished you hadn’t taken for granted.

“I miss you more than you know, but I’ve seen all of your performances. You make me so proud everytime I watch them.” A dark blush spread of Jisung’s cheeks. He was weak to compliments. A mumbled ‘he’s on the phone’ was heard before the dressing room dorm burst open, the rest of the Dreamies making an appearance. The boys rushed to the camera, the sound of their screams and greetings making you giggle.

“Don’t think I forgot about you guys, I miss you too.” A mix of Korean and English could be heard, but due to their overexcitement actually understanding was out of the question. Jisung muttered a quick ‘bye’ before the phone beeped, signaling that he hung up. You laughed at his panicked expression before realizing he didn’t end the call with an I love you. Or the next time you’d talk.

Touring makes it hard to schedule things, having an estimated time when you two could talk did help. Giving you something to look forward to between his performances and your school schedule. You had started to get deep into your thoughts when your phone dinged.

Jisungie🐹

I love you ❤️i’ll try and call you tomorrow before practice

A smile spread across your face at his text. Jisung wasn’t forgetful, you don’t even know why you were so worried. Laying back against your pillows you grabbed your stuffed bear, a present Jisung had given you on your 6 month anniversary, hugging it close to your chest, attempting to ignore the empty sensation in your chest that had been steadily growing since he boarded the plane.

Three weeks can’t pass quickly enough.

Stuffing your hands in your pocket you huffed impatiently. You were waiting, just standing there waiting for the aircraft to deplane and the door to open revealing the purple hair boy, for the aching in your chest to finally be alleviated when he held you in his arms for the first time in months.

You felt your breath hitch when the gate doors opened without warning. 6 months, 26 weeks, and 4380 hours without Jisung, he’s finally back. People slowly started to trickle out, and your impatience only grew when none of them were your boys. After what felt like hours - approximately 5 minutes - Mark’s bright blue hair came into view. A mixture of relief and elation rushed through you at the sight of Jisung, his eyes moving rapidly before meeting yours, the same emotions flooding through them.

What you did was stupid, giving the company free ammunition to be mad at you. In your defense NCTzens already knew about your relationship, after 1 year together the company released a statement before Dispatch had the pleasure of creating a scandal. So what if you gave them a few couple pictures to leak.

Jisung met you halfway, his neck pillow laying discarded on the ground, arms wrapping around your waist tightly, as if he was scared you’d leave. That wasn’t a problem, your arms draped over his shoulders, holding him just if not more close. In your brain you could make out the Dreamies cooing over you too, but your attention was mainly on the feeling of your chest finally being full for the first time in 6 months, your other half was back.

You hadn’t realized just how much you missed the feeling of his arms around you, feeling protected in the way he seemed to fully wrap around you. You pulled away only long enough to look up at Jisung, frowning at his watery eyes.

“You’re crying.” Jisung’s hand came to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear you hadn’t realized you were shedding. Giggling, you buried your face back into Jisung’s chest. You refused to let go.

“Are they really crying? Oh my god we’re gonna be here all day.” You couldn’t see the aftermath of Haechan’s dramatic yelling, but you did hear the soft thud of someone smacking his arm - later you found out it was Renjun due to Haechan's whining about how unfair it was.

“It’s young love, they missed each other let them be.” Jaemin began to scold them, protecting his two babies as he always does.

Come on guys, let’s head to baggage claim. Sooner we get there, sooner we can go home.” Jeno’s voice broke through and you finally pulled away, not before he wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you tightly pressed to his side as you walked.

In a total of 37 minutes all 7 of the boys got their bags - including Haechan’s extra bag for souvenirs - loaded them into the van with the help of their manager, and returned back to the dorms, where you were currently curled into Jisung’s side as the other boys were spread out around the dorm, minus Chenle, Mark, and Haechan who were at their respective residences.

Jisung’s head laid on your chest while your fingers ran through his hair, massaging his scalp and listening to the soft sighs that left his mouth, his own hand playing with the bottom of your shirt, fingers threatening to touch the smooth skin underneath.

“I really missed you” Tilting his head up Jisung looked at, relief still evident in his eyes, “It’s hard being so far away from you, I can’t sleep in those different hotel rooms. Of course I have my members, but it’s not the same as having you beside me.”

“You’re back now, and you can’t act as if the tour was all bad. How was it anyway?”

Jisung recounted the tour days for you, making sure to spare no detail of how they convinced Renjun to reenact his voice crack on the stage during the encore, or when they woke Mark on his birthday by pouring water on him and how Haechan was the one to take all of the blame, or when they all decided to gave themselves temporary tattoos with a sharpie and how the makeup artists lectured them for hours while trying to get rid of the black ink - except for Mark who use blue because it was his favorite color.

Tours are rough on both of you, but being reunited is all you could ever ask for.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

“I’m in love,” Piper tells her when she shows up for another fitting. “Have you seen the new Beyonce video?”

“I heard the song.” Annabeth says, “isn’t that enough?”

“God, your whole play-acting thing is too far if you’re pretending to not like Beyonce.”

“I never said that.” Annabeth holds up her hands, “I like the song. But I did not see the video.”

“Well, when you see it, you’ll be in love too, but I will fight you.”

Piper could be scrappy in a fight. But Annabeth had been a champion fencer in high school.

“Kidding!” Piper says at her look. “There’s plenty of them to go around.” She didn’t even start to drape fabric over Annabeth, pushing her onto a muslin covered couch, and then pulling the video on the TV. She didn’t have one of those voice control devices. Because she was friends with Leo, and he was pretty firm on them being evil. “But I do call dibs on the main guy. The CALVES. The thighs. He’s unreal.”

“That good?” Piper went all ways, though as of late she gravitated towards women more often than not, so this was some high praise indeed. 

“Unreal, I am telling you. Like, the hand of God came down and sculpted him personally out of marble.”

Already in her recent watch history, the thumbnail of the video greets them, the song title splashed across the TV screen, weaving between  a very, very familiar set of legs. 

Like, intimately familiar. 

In something of detached horror, she watches the camera pan up, lovingly lingering on every inch of bare skin, following the muscles of his calves (which were unreal) to his knees then his thighs (which Annabeth had spent almost too much time between now), up his torso and his chest (which she knew made for an excellent pillow) to Percy’s face, set in a firm, hard stare. 

And that fucking blue lipstick again. 

She can’t even focus on Beyonce herself, too distracted by the way her hand traces the length of Percy’s outstretched thigh held in perfect arabesque as she gracefully drapes herself over him, crooning softly into his ear.

Annabeth should do that next time. That’s her spot, after all. 

Tearing her eyes away from the screen even as Piper watches, enraptured, she slips out her phone, sending a quick, furious text. 

annabeth: BEYONCE???????

A minute, then he responds. 

percy: oh lol i didn’t realize that came out today 😁

percy: what’d you think?

annabeth: i think im going to kill you later

“Just look at him,” Piper says, pausing on Percy’s form, his arms outstretched, fingers placed delicately around a bar. “I mean--look at him!”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, maybe a little uneasy. “He’s alright I guess.”

Incredulous, Piper swivels her head. “Alright? Alright? Do you need your eyes checked?”

She just shrugs. 

Why is she being so weird about this? It’s just Piper. She’s trained to find symmetry and beauty in bodies. They’ve happily shared crushes and fixations plenty of times before, so why is Annabeth being so weird about Percy? It’s not like they’re… you know… dating or anything. Just hooking up a bit. 

Piper squints at her, then shrugs herself. “Fine. I don’t have time to get an answer out of you anyway. Come on.”

“Speaking of time,” Annabeth says, following Piper back into the kitchen studio, “I have to head out by 6:30.”

“Oh yeah?” Piper’s head is buried in her belt box, searching for the perfect accent. “What for?”

“I’ve got a show to catch.”

“Kind of early,” she says, pulling out something thin and silver. “Don’t you usually meet Thalia at the ass crack of midnight?”

“Well I kind of want to eat first.”

“Okay.” She cinches the belt around her waist, tight. “Then you’re going to have to help me with this skirt.”

***

Hands aching from hours of macrame, Annabeth walks up to the box office window at the Koch Theater at 7:46, having a handful of second thoughts. 

Old, uppity white couples keep shooting her some particularly intense passive aggressive glares, some of them even venturing into actually aggressive territory, which usually wouldn’t even register on her very short list of things to care about, except that she is feeling woefully out of place. The lady in front of her has ten pounds of diamonds hanging off of each old, wrinkly ear, and the best Annabeth could do was fish out her least-ripped pair of jeans, pairing it with one of her nicer black shirts, the sleeves long enough to cover most of her tattoos. The macrame kept her longer than she had meant, so she didn’t have time to change before dinner, but fuck it, right?

She did also take out most of her face jewelry on the way. But she left the nose stud, obviously. And the tongue piercing. And the industrial, because Percy really likes those, so she doesn’t feel that bad about it. And he hadn’t even told her about this until after she had already given herself the half-undercut, so it’s not like she could do anything about that either.

“Can I help you?” At least this box office worker isn’t giving her the stink-eye. 

“I’m here to pick up a ticket? Should be under ‘Jackson.’” He’d offered to leave it under her name, but this was safer. She doesn’t think her mom is a big ballet person, but she isn’t about to risk it, either.

She slides the ticket towards Annabeth beneath the glass plane. “Enjoy the show,” she says, with a quirk of her mouth that is surprisingly sincere for someone in customer service. 

She’s pretty sure she’d enjoy the show more if she weren’t panicking thinking about getting dirt on their fancy carpets. Her boots are clean, of course, and she doesn’t really care, but she doesn’t want to, like, embarrass Percy or whatever. She’d asked him if she should dress up, but he’d assured her otherwise. “No one’s going to care, I promise,” he’d told her the night before, her lounging in his bed while he did some pushups. “And if anyone says something, let me know and we can kick their ass after the show together.”

“Great. Guess I don’t have to break out the Chanel, then.”

He’d paused, frowned, then huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Like the idea of Annabeth wearing Chanel was hilarious. Like what she’s wearing tonight really is the best that she can do.

Self-consciousness isn’t really a feeling that Annabeth has anymore. She’s spent so many years chafing against expectations, shucking them off when she inevitably failed to meet them, desperate for a place, a crowd where she could just be. In her scene, she doesn’t have anything to prove to anyone, and when Percy is out with her, he doesn’t need any convincing. He likes her. He likes her a lot, she thinks. He likes her enough to let himself be dragged out to every shitty dive bar and shittier rock show in New York City, laughing and cheering and holding her close the whole time. He likes her enough to cart her to his apartment at 4 AM, inevitably waking Nico up from his undead slumber, and leave her with nothing but a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead. And she likes him, too--a lot. Annabeth likes Percy enough to ditch her band t-shirts for a night and track mud on the carpet of the Koch Theater and willingly sit through a performance of fucking Swan goddamn Lake of all things, and it’s only a little scary how much she is willing to do for him after only a few months of fucking him. Because this really isn’t her scene, not anymore. 

The weight of everyone’s stares bears down on her, threatening to crush her beneath them, a feeling she was so sure she’d left behind. 

At least Percy had been thoughtful enough to get her a ticket out of the way in the back of one of the balcony sections. It’s a bit of a hike, but the audience members aren’t dressed quite as nicely as the ones downstairs, and she feels like she can breathe a little easier.

She pulls out her phone, checking her text messages on instinct. There’s a selfie from Percy in his stage makeup (and she’s not going to lie… he looks fucking pretty), with his standard accompanying three blue heart emojis. She can’t help it, her heart skips a beat and she can’t help but smile, even as she rolls her eyes. She’s just about to send him something appropriately sarcastic when another text notification slides in. It’s from her father. 

Hi Annabeth… I was talking to a friend in Boston who said he's looking for a new 

prospective in his architecture firm. Passed your information along. 

Love you, dear

She swipes it away. Deletes the whole text conversation, for good measure. 

Forget about him. This night is about Percy.

A few minutes later, so engrossed in Percy’s program bio (it’s about all she can focus on right now), she doesn’t even notice everyone around her leaning forward in breathless anticipation, until the warm, honey-like sound of the oboe draws her head up. 

Roughly two minutes in, she’s really wishing she had attempted the synopsis. The extent of her knowledge of Swan Lake is a few half-remembered orchestra rehearsals in her teens and reading the Wikipedia article on that Natalie Portman movie a few months ago, and she definitely doesn’t recall there being anything about any Men-in-Tights looking motherfuckers prancing around. They’re sort of bobbing, back and forth, elegantly stepping from one side of the stage to another. Even from back here, she can see the delicate, precise placement of their hands, fingers curved just so, moving through space as though they aren’t bound by the laws of physics.

The fingers, she remembers. She could never get the hang of the fingers. Her old ballet teacher had given up on them after a week, and that had been the beginning of the end for that particular extracurricular. 

Now her fingers tap on her jeans, impatient, far faster than the easy going music on stage. She’s just about to give in to the millennial instinct and pull out her phone, maybe play a round of sudoku, when the dancers motion as one to the back corner, and Percy comes stepping out. His hair is perfectly slicked back, gelled down, any hint of curl beaten into submission, and his smile is small, but white, gleaming against the tanned brown of his skin. She can’t help but smile back, like he could somehow see her. Finally, she thinks, relaxing a little more into her seat. Something to watch.

On his off days, her off days, any day when she would spent the night at his (always at his, never at hers) and wake up wrapped in his comforter and the smell of seawater, she would take the blanket with her and steal into his living room, curl up on his couch with her feet tucked under her legs, and watch him dance. She’s seen him drill these sequences over, and over, and over again, counting furious sequences of sixes and eights beneath his breath in duet with the thuds of his feet on his floor. Most times he would notice her and shoot her a grin, granting her permission to observe the artist at work. Sometimes, though, he would be so caught up in his body, the shifting of his feet and the music in his head, that it was like he couldn’t see her at all. Seemingly alone, he would dance, uninhibited, and she would be struck by a feeling that she usually reserves for specific monuments. Watching Percy dance in his apartment, in his brown tights and black tank top, lost in his own world, is like looking at pictures of the Gateway Arch, or the Hoover Dam, or the Parthenon.

She searches for that feeling now, leaning forward in her seat, eyes hungrily raving his form, but she just doesn’t see it. It’s… honestly, it’s a little boring. She won’t lie. He had warned her it would be something of a slow start, but this isn’t exactly an ADHD friendly medium, and she is losing her patience, just a bit. He’s so reserved, like he’s holding something close to his chest, impersonal as he takes the hands of the female dancers and lets them twirl around him. 

Personally, Annabeth thinks that he looks kind of lost. Maybe he’s just nervous--it’s a big role and he’s a young guy. But he had seemed fine when he’d kissed her goodbye just after lunch. 

The court jester is killing it though. Feeling just the slightest bit guilty, she lets her eyes drift over to him, deciding to watch him for a while instead.

On some level, she does appreciate the skill on display here. Percy can raise his back leg in a perfect ninety degree angle that would make her architecture professors sweat. The girls drift back and forth across the stage on the tips of their toes, weightless and ethereal. It’s mesmerizing, and she lets herself be mesmerized.

Time must slip away from her, because she blinks and all of a sudden the stage has gone from sunny yellow to cool blue, the crowds of dancers having vanished. He is alone on stage. Percy kneels in a deep lunge that makes her thighs ache just looking at him (and for… other reasons), his arms and his attention pointed to the wings, with a… Annabeth squints. When the hell did he get a crossbow?

But everything is swept to the sides when the White Swan tiptoes her way on stage, impossibly graceful, and all of a sudden, Annabeth gets it. 

It feels a little cliche to say, but the way that woman moves on the floor really does remind her of those old, vintage jewelry boxes, suspended in animation, moved by some otherworldly force. It’s amazing. It’s a little terrifying. Sublime is the word that comes to mind as Annabeth watches her. Her arms move with fluidity, perfect curves, her fingers trailing behind her like wings. 

And Percy is just as mesmerized as Annabeth is. As the audience is. 

A few things hit her, in rapid succession. First, that Percy is, actually, a really good actor. His reticence before--he’d been playing a character. He’d been playing aloof and reserved and unmoored, because Percy--Siegfried--whatever--has been waiting his whole life for something to fulfill him, until this singular moment, the moment he laid eyes on this beautiful creature. Second, that she doesn’t need words to understand what’s going on. It’s all there, in every look and gesture and step, as the two characters circle each other, slowly but irrevocably falling in love. And third, that she recognizes the look on his face. It’s the look that Percy gives her when she has been talking for too long and he can’t get a word in edgewise, or when she screams along to the god awful underground bands, three beers in and missing every single fuck she’d ever had, or when she wakes up after him to Percy’s arms around her waist, her hair in his mouth and her head resting against his collarbone. She recognizes it, because that’s the look that Siegfried has for Odette. Because that’s the look that Percy has for Annabeth. Because he loves her.

And fourth, that that doesn’t make her as happy as she wishes it would. 

There’s a cold pit in her stomach for the rest of the show, a turning screw that twists in deeper, minute by minute, with every turn of the dancers. She wastes the next hour trying to puzzle this out, not even pretending to watch the drama unfolding on stage, because it makes no goddamn sense. (Her situation, not the ballet--she managed to skim the synopsis during intermission, her foot tapping incessantly against the blessedly empty seat in front of her.) Things are great between them. It’s been a heady, intoxicating four months, full of bubbles and butterflies, sweet, soft mornings, and some really, really phenomenal sex. This should make her happy. This should put her over the fucking moon, and she cannot, for the life of her, figure out why it doesn’t.

The prima ballerina comes back out as the Black Swan, just as poised and precise as her counterpart, but she’s a great actress as well, because there is something undeniably different about her. Her arms move like rubber, like joints are just an afterthought, wrapping themselves around Percy’s neck and shoulders. She misdirects his attention, drawing his eyes to her wrists, her clavicle, the curve of a leg or the point of her toe. Seducing him. Tricking him. 

Like Annabeth. 

Because try as she might to run from it, Annabeth isn’t who she says she is. She wants so desperately to be this fuck-the-rules, fight-the-power, punk rock princess that she took every part of her that didn’t fit that image and tried to rip it out of her, bloody and struggling. Her trust fund, her two (two!) Harvard degrees, her enriched childhood and her bright and shining future; she took it all out back and shot it, and prayed that would be the end of it. She’s a phony, just like that goddamn Black Swan. Percy is in love with a phony. 

Her sweet, wonderful, devastatingly kind and handsome Percy--she tricked him and made him fall in love with a mishmash of archetypes and aesthetics, distracting him with nose piercings and ripped t-shirts and ugly, deafening noise. 

She’s not surprised that she’s crying when the curtain falls. She’d never known that Siegfried and Odette both died at the end. 

When the cast reunites for curtain call, Percy is given a standing ovation, and Annabeth enthusiastically joins in, wiping the tears from her eyes, smearing her makeup. 

She doesn’t wait for him at the stage door, but sits on the steps of the theater, plucking at her sleeves, aching for a drink and wishing she had had the presence of mind to wear something a little nicer. Percy finds her there almost an hour after the show ended. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

In the dark of night, illuminated only by streetlamps, she can’t read his face--but she can read exhaustion, in every part of his body. “I was waiting for you by the stage door.”

Something in her stomach goes cold. “I… wasn’t sure if I was allowed,” she offers, weakly. 

He smiles, a light in the dark. “Of course you’re allowed,” he says, offering her a hand. “Shall we?”

She knows what will happen next. She’ll take his hand, and they’ll walk to the subway together, fingers intertwined. They’ll get on the 1 train headed north, and Percy will let her rest her head against him, tilting his head back against the window, eyes closed, almost asleep. The doorman will nod at them as they walk up to Nico’s apartment, barely batting an eye at his sweats and her ripped jeans, the two of them sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of impeccably dressed rich New Yorkers. Nico will wave at them distractedly from his office, gulping down his sixth coffee of the night, and they’ll tiptoe into his room, falling asleep in each other’s arms with little more than a good night kiss. 

Which, of course, is exactly what does end up happening.

Almost. 

Annabeth crawls on top of him in his bed, kissing him soft and senseless. She doesn’t know where he’s getting this energy from, but she is not complaining as he slips up inside of her, the two of them rocking each other gently to orgasm, their foreheads pressed together. Shuddering as he comes, he captures her mouth in another kiss, pouring every ounce of love he has in him into her.

A waste, honestly. 

But as far as goodbye sex, it’s pretty damn great. 

She needs to end this, before either of them get hurt. It’s the least of what he deserves, after all. To put yourself out there, to offer yourself up like that, that might be the bravest thing Annabeth’s ever heard of, and surely, Annabeth can find the courage to do what needs to be done.

[hexalene]

What's your wildest cruise ship story?

Oh shit I meant to post this sooner whoops

Uh

I have less “ONE BIG THING” stories and more of like, a series of surreal Events that happened to me over the course of the years and years I went on cruises (my family could go on cruises for free, so we abused the shit out of that for reunions and vacations for a long time)

So here’s a few of those, and I SWEAR TO GOD they’re real, and I might have photos buried somewhere to prove some of them, but idk, that’s like effort.

-I loved wandering around ships super super early in the morning. Like, crack of dawn early. I’d usually go hang out on one of the open floor restaurant areas around the middle of the ship, which had built in window seats you could curl up in. Pillows n shit too. Super comfy. I’d draw and listen to music, ect. One morning, I looked up and saw the Black fucking Pearl from Pirates of the Caribbean sailing by. Did not believe my eyes. It and four other ships, two of which were for non-pirate movies, were being sailed into a bay on the island we were headed to. I did manage to get a distant shot of it when I got on land.

-In 2006 (date relevant) I met two men in two different families, who were not related and had never met, named Tony Stark. As this was before the movie came out, I was left tragically alone with no one to be awed at this strange coincidence with me. One of them was even a dark haired man with a nice goatee.

(The other was a cute chubby grandpa type)

-Given the opportunity to demonstrate how corporations rig the system against the consumer, my father brought me down to the casino level and sat down across from a very fancy claw machine that dispensed iPads and other expensive tech prizes. He told me, “some people will win, and I’ll tell you when they will.”

I was like “okay dad sure” but we sat there for HOURS, and dad would say “okay, this guy will win if he goes for this prize” or “this guy will lose” and finally, “that woman will win an iPad.” Of course, most were losers, but he was DEAD ON every time someone would win. After a while he explained that the machine would only dispense prizes after collecting the money to pay for two more of whatever was won. He’d just sat there and done the math on the people playing the game and when it added up, he’d wait to see what they went for and let me know if they won. It had absolutely nothing to do with skill.

To make his point, he waited, counting out loud the money being put in, before standing up and slapping the button randomly on one of the lower rank prizes. He won an otter box phone case and told me that no one will ever give you the chance to win out at a loss to themselves, so don’t make a bet unless you’ve rigged the game to win. I was 14.

-uhhh what else

-The dance troupe arranged to do shows suffered a tragic undisclosed accident, so the short term bullshit to entertain people in the theatre was an honest to god passenger led talent show. Surreal on its own, but one of the passengers was a contortionist, and ran off to get their suitcase.

Now, they did a lot of fun bendy stuff, very weird, very cool, but they asked for volunteers at one point. I, my sister, our cousin, and two other kids were asked to come on stage. I was the oldest, maybe 12/13ish, my sister and cousin were 9, and the other two kids were between 6-9.

This MADMAN, without straining any of us to bend in any weird or uncomfortable way, managed to fit all five of us into his empty suitcase. I was in the damn thing and I have no idea how he managed it. He then zipped us all up inside and walked around the stage a bit. And it was fine, like not uncomfortable or hard to breath or anything!

I remember getting out of the suitcase clearest of all. We’d all been fit inside so snugly, in this order:

Me, stranger kid 1, cousin, sister, and stranger kid 2. To get us out, he lay the case flat and lifted my sister up. Somehow this like??? Was like those monkey in a barrel toys, we all just neatly unfolded with her, no tripping or falling or anything. That feeling, where one moment I’m staring at my cousins’ feet and some other kid’s elbow, and then I see the dude lift my sister and then all of us just RISE WITH IT and unfold like a flower blooming I have no idea if this makes any sense at all but it felt magical.

- Something bad happened back home, but we didn’t know what. My dad had a business meeting but mom wanted to see the beach. We got off the ship, and like, HARDCORE struggled to find a way to get to a beach, any beach. We were in....Mexico, somewhere in the neighborhood of Chichén Itzá, maybe an island nearby I think? There were some massive ruins somewhere, I remember that much.

While mom hunted down a beach, my siblings and I sat under a giant box fan, near a TV. Something was happening, the employees were changing the channel, trying to find the clearest signal to the American news. I remember looking over at the grainy footage being interrupted by commercials and other signals and piecing together through the static and the employee trying to translate that back home, the 2008 financial crash was happening and that mom’s insistence that we find a beach and have fun was because that business meeting dad had stayed behind to deal with was him trying to make sure we’d still have a house to live in when we got back to the states, and she didn’t know if this would be the last truly carefree time we had before we went home to face the music.

-However, mom’s eternal struggles to find a beach didn’t begin in 2008. The previous trip we’d taken had another Beach Adventure.

That time, it was also just mom and the siblings. I don’t remember why dad was staying behind, maybe a poker tournament or something?

We disembarked and the struggle began. Nothing was in English, other than the scant few signs the cruise ship put out to guide passengers off the docks. However, THIS was not a problem, as I was about as fluent in Spanish as a third grader restricted to the present tense, and this worked well enough to get us around.

There was a massive bus to a beach, just PACKED to the gills with Americans. As we waited in line, a nondescript man came up to us, and said, “that bus will go to a very crowded beach with many other passengers of other ships. I know a better beach, and cheap! I’ll charge only half of what that bus will charge you and my beach is much much nicer!”

You might be thinking that common sense would tell us not to get in a random unmarked car with an un-uniformed man offering an amazing half off deal to a perfect isolated beach in broken English on a largely rural island, wouldn’t you? You’d be wrong.

My mother is a sweet devout catholic lady with a hidden core of raw chaos. Her idea of a nice day out in the snow with her tiny children was to strap us in the back, drive to the massive Schnuck’s parking lot, gun it up to 90mph, and hydroplane/drift like a fucking drag racer across the ice, laughing. Common sense does not exist in any normal capacity in this woman.

We spent an incredibly tense, silent, 45 minutes driving into the wilderness packed into a tiny car with no AC, sweating with heat and nerves as he drove us out in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly the driver pulls over. There is literally nothing but trees and cliffs for miles and miles. Mom is clutching my hand, my baby brother, and her knitting needles. The driver runs quickly to the center of the road, leans over, and picks up a huge tortoise that had frozen up when his car approached. He carried it over to the grass, and pat it goodbye.

Before he comes back Mom turns and looks at me and says, “a serial killer probably wouldn’t save a turtle, I think we’ll be okay.”

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 6 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life.

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 2k

Part 6 - Of Vows and Wrangles

Winter came suddenly this year, and so did Christmas. With all the schoolwork you had been doing for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s in June, the weeks had passed by as quickly as a snitch on the Quidditch field. The holidays were a much-needed break and to see your family again was an even bigger delight.

Elsie did great. She looked like nothing had ever happened to her. No curse, no illness that had almost cost her life. She ran around the house like the years before, excited for the big day to finally come. The house-elves seemed glad to have her and all her shenanigans back as well. Much to your parent’s dismay, but they let most of it slide. They were thankful their daughter was healthy enough to fool around again. And so were you.

Christmas day was as cosy and joyful as ever. You spent the whole day with Elsie and your parents, exchanged gifts and played together. Elsie got her first broom and started her first attempt at flying, which resulted in a knocked over vase, that split into a million pieces, and a crash landing into the fireplace. Some tears were shed and dried again, and a “no flying inside” rule was established, which resulted in another crying fit. Oh, how you had missed it all.

Your mother had waited until the late evening to tell you that the Gaunts would come to visit for lunch the next day. She must have known that you would pepper her with questions again. It was necessary and polite, she said, to invite the future family and show them your interest.

There was certainly no interest to be given to Tom’s grandfather and uncle, but now that you thought of Tom, you had to admit that you missed him. How he had held your hand, how surprisingly cautious and gentle he had been. This memory was embedded in your brain. You would have expected anything but this from him. Anything but that soft and coy demeanour. Those minutes of proximity had told you more about him than seven years of school had. And still, it made you nervous thinking about meeting him along with his family again. They were the ones that must have made him so cold. So you fell asleep, anticipation and tension crawling through your every vein.

The Gaunts arrived in a rush and brought in a whiff of cold air that not even the fire in the chimney could drown out. Tom acknowledged you this time though. Not like months before when they had come to your house. You could have sworn that there was even a hint of a smile on his lips when he laid his eyes upon you. A smile that you reciprocated, rather faintly as well.

Lunch was alright. A lot of forced formalities and small talk, some tired attempts of getting to know the future family. Tom was quiet, as usual, only talked when someone asked him something directly, while Morfin and Marvolo ate so voraciously, the house-elves had trouble filling up their plates in time.

The Christmas spirit was spoiled when presents were brought up. Marvolo asked about Elsie’s new broom and why on Merlin’s green earth your parents would gift such a thing to a girl. He held back his laughter and shook his head when Elsie explained so excitedly that she couldn’t wait to learn how to fly in Hogwarts. Bastard.

Marvolo noticed the look you gave him and seemed to take it as a challenge, so he stared back at you, his filthy grin still in place. His head leant sideways as he waited for you to say something, his eyes squinted as if to tell you to go on and tell him what bothered you. How you would have loved to smash his face against the table or curse him into oblivion. Your teeth hurt from how hard you clenched your jaw. You couldn’t. You wanted to tell him so badly what an awful, disgusting, obsolete excuse for a man he was. But you mustn’t. He still had Elsie’s life in his hands. So you stayed silent when he whispered, “That’s what I thought.”

“Anyway,” your Father said in an attempt to ease the tension. “What are your plans for the remaining holidays?”

“There’s not a lot to do these days, is there?” Marvolo answered. “But now that you bring it up, we had something special planned for today.”

Morfin grinned as he shoved the last spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“And what is that?” Father asked.

“Well now that your little one is doing much better, which I assume you’re very thankful for,” he paused to wait for your parents to agree. “We decided to accept your invitation for today, to bring our mutual pact to the next stage.”

Your Mother quickly told the elves to take Elsie upstairs, while you looked over at Tom questioningly, but he shrugged and shook his head, letting you know he didn’t know what was going on either.

“The next stage?” Father asked. “What do you mean by that?”

“Since we’ve done our part of the agreement already, exceedingly fast and precise might I add, and the wedding is still months away, we want to make sure we will get what we asked for. You see, I respect you and your family of course, but one can never be sure enough. We don’t want to be tricked or exploited. So we’re asking for an unbreakable vow. Between Tom and your daughter.” 

“A vow?” Mother was appalled. “What for?”

“For the marriage of course,” Marvolo said. “A promise that the marriage will be solemnised, that cannot be withdrawn from either side.”

Your breath got stuck in your throat. First the marriage and now this? If you agreed, the Gaunts would have both Elsie and you under their control. Infringing an unbreakable vow resulted in death and they would never stop asking for things if you agreed to this. 

“Marvolo,” Father began and sighed. “Don’t you think it’s enough? That we agreed to do this for the sake of my youngest child? You haven’t broken her curse entirely so you can use her as leverage. And now you expect me to bring my second child in mortal danger as well?”

“There’s no danger if the plan proceeds as we agreed,” Marvolo answered. “The vow can’t harm her if she plays by the rules.”

“She played by the rules,” Mother said. “She still does. Everyone’s been playing by your rules, so why do you want to add the vow?”

“As I said, I don’t want to be tricked. It’s merely a way to protect my family. And with all due respect, your reaction makes it seem like you’re up to no good already. Who knows? Perhaps you’ve changed your minds.”

Protect his family… He would sell both Tom and Morfin for a Galleon and a half if he could. He was paranoid. You were still lost for words and didn’t want to speak, even though a million thoughts rushed through your mind. You knew every word that could possibly leave your mouth right now would be filthy and full of anger, and Marlovo was waiting for you to burst. 

He turned to you. “What do you say, child? Don’t you want to prove your loyalty?”

You sucked in a breath and were about to answer when Tom suddenly stood up. “Enough! I want a word.”

“You want a word?” Marvolo laughed disparagingly.

“Now,” Tom turned to your parents. “Is there a room we can go to?”

“The reading room, right across the corridor,” Mother said and showed them the way.

You followed the three men and your Mother, and watched them enter the reading room. Mother turned towards you.

“Don’t eavesdrop, darling,” she said. “Give them some privacy.”

“Do you really think Marvolo deserves privacy?”

“No. He’s an awful man.”

“He is,” Father said as he joined you.

“We’re not going to let him do this to you,” Mother promised. “You’ve already done enough. Marvolo is out of his mind.”

“He’s greedy,” Father added. “Insatiable.”

You leant your head against the door to the reading room and pressed your ear onto it, trying to hear what they were talking about. Mother motioned for you to stop, but didn’t prevent you from listening.

First, you heard nothing. Silence, then footsteps tipping across the room. Mumbled words that were so washed out you could barely understand what they meant.

Tom’s voice echoed from the walls. “You can’t be serious. Why would you ask for more? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Marvolo answered quietly. You could only guess what he was saying. Something like “Why would I?”

Mother appeared next to you. You grinned but didn’t say anything, knowing you had gotten your curiosity from her. She flicked her wand silently and cast a spell that diminished the sound barrier, so you could hear every word that was spoken inside the room.

“I’m not going to let you go through with this,” Tom said.

Marvolo snickered. “And you think I care what you’re allowing me to do?”

“I know you don’t,” Tom answered. “But I won’t comply. You can’t force anyone to make an unbreakable vow. Not even with the Imperius curse. And you know that.”

“What are you doing this for?” Morfin suddenly participated. “For the girl? You know things will only get worse if you refuse.”

A moment of silence occurred.

“Oh, would you look at that,” Morfin chuckled. “You do like her, don’t you? Well, at least Father’s letter wasn’t in vain then.”

Tom didn’t answer.

“And her? How will you make her fall for you?” Morfin asked. “If you need a little love potion, I can provide that.”

“How dare you bring that up,” Tom spat. “You know I would never.”

“Well, Father,” Morfin went on. “Looks like Tom thinks he can do it all on his own.”

“Now listen to me, son,” Marvolo said. “If you think you can disobey me like that, without any consequences, you must take me for a fool. To say that I’m disappointed is an understatement. Just know that there will be more to it.”

They scurried around. Marvolo and Morfin seemed to leave through the Floo Network. You assumed Tom would follow them but could hear him roaming around the room for another minute until his steps wandered towards the door. Both you and your mother stepped away quickly. Mother fixed her hair and you tried to come off as innocently as possible.

Tom stood in the door frame, chest heaving slightly and the doorknob in his hand.

“Grandfather and uncle left through the fireplace,” he said. “I’ll go too, I just need a minute, if you’ll allow.”

Mother looked at him like she looked at Elsie when she grazed her knee or hit her head. Her eyes weren’t as stern as you expected them to be, but soft and full of pity. 

“Why don’t you stay for a bit, Tom?” she asked. “We still have so much food left from lunch, we could need a bit of help before it goes to waste.”

Tom looked at her and nodded slowly. He must have known that she didn’t invite him to prevent wasting food. But apparently he didn’t care what her reasons were. He just accepted it and you thought that was fair.

“Would you show him around, darling?” Mother asked you. “While I tell the elves to prepare the guest room.”

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[hold-me-sickfics]

14 Days: Taehyung

Hi guys! I’m really happy to be able to post this (somehow my internet came back, and I decided to post while I have it). I hope this is alright, I had a hard time writing it because I’m back home for the weekend and it’s hard to find somewhere quiet lol. I hope you guys like it!

TW: Food, Emeto, Nightmares, Slight anxiety attacks, Bruises are mentioned,  (If there are any more, let me know and I’ll add them in!)

Note: Also, I wanna give some major credit to @thatoneemokpop-02 for all their help with ideas and getting me started. I kid you not, I was entirely blank earlier and in a few texts with them, they had me ready to write! Please go check out their writing, because they’re so kind and amazing and not to mention, they have some of the most well-developed fics I have ever seen. Especially their “You’re my Yellow” fic. I love it!!! <3

Prompt: “What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.” That’s Taehyung’s thought process when it comes to the other members. For the past several weeks, Taehyung has been having relatively frequent nightmares. Only these nightmares aren’t just “bad dreams.” No, they have him waking up gasping for breath, tending to an anxious stomach, and really whatever else bad can happen with nightmares. At first, he had a nightmare every week, but now it’s gotten to the point of every other night. Lack of sleep is catching up with Taehyung, causing him to really need some extra love from the other members. The only thing is, he’s too embarrassed and afraid to talk about them. Luckily for Taehyung, one of the members happens to find out on their own… 

“Ladies and gentlemen, BTS!” The host gestured to the boys who were currently walking on stage.

Once the crowd quieted, the host began talking about BTS’ most recent accomplishments and asking questions to each of the members. As usual, Namjoon translated for them… mostly. BigHit had made a huge deal over them learning English and at least answering one question without Namjoon having to translate. Something about boosting their American support? The boys thought this was rather strange, considering their fans didn’t seem to care whether they spoke in Korean or not, but they did what they were told.

Taehyung watched and listened as the other boys answered their questions in perfect English, and the crowd squealed after every word they spoke. Then, it was his turn.

“Taehyung, let’s talk a little about you. A lot of fans, including myself, were absolutely stunned at your Singularity performance. How did you feel about the song? Any favorite parts in the choreography?”

Taehyung couldn’t breathe. He knew he was supposed to answer in English, but he couldn’t remember the words. Not even the first one.

He said his answer in Korean, hoping Namjoon would cover for him. Namjoon just gave him a look, seemingly saying “I’m not helping. Say what you’ve gotta say.”

Taehyung felt his blood run cold. Everyone was staring and starting to gasp… the cameraman looked worried as to whether or not to shut off the cameras and the members… they were looking at him… disappointed and somewhat angry…

Taehyung woke up unable to catch his breath. He was sweating all over, and not to mention trembling. His vision was blurry with tears.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. He’d had a nightmare every night since Saturday (which was when their manager told them they’d be doing an English interview soon), and it was Wednesday now.  He’d thought about telling the others, but he turned the idea down. He felt too embarrassed about not knowing as much English as they did, and he also knew they were exhausted and he wanted to make sure they got sleep. Or at least, as much as they could get. The boys already weren’t getting home until 11:45 every night, so when Taehyung actually could come home and go to sleep, he’d usually wake up around 2:00 with the nightmare, and wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep after that. Part of this was because of his anxious stomach.

Speaking of which, Taehyung was now frantically pushing his covers off, and covering his mouth. He knew he had about 10 seconds before his late-night dinner would reappear. Luckily, he made it to the bathroom in time, and was able to kneel in front of the toilet. His knees had hit the tile hard, but he figured a couple bruises wouldn’t be as bad as having his dinner projected across the floor.

No sooner than his hands were gripping the sides of the bowl, was his dinner coming up and to the back of his throat. In one retch, he’d brought up a small stream. Followed by another, and another. Taehyung’s stomach was killing him, since he was so sore from having thrown up so much.

After what felt like an eternity, it was over. Taehyung rested his head on the rim of the toilet, and reached up with a sweaty hand to flush it.

Shakily, he stood up and looked himself in the mirror. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, then went back to his bed.

He walked slowly so he wouldn’t jostle his stomach.

Taehyung got into his bed, and pulled the covers up over himself. The warmth felt nice, being as his sweaty skin had felt like ice in the bathroom earlier. He decided to follow his normal routine after this kind of stuff happened…

“Siri, open LanguageGuru.” He whispered, his throat still sore from all the acid.

The app opened, and Taehyung spent the next two hours working on his English. Somehow, he’d gotten lucky, and at 4:30, he’d fallen back asleep. However, since they had to be up and out of the house by 6:00, he had to wake back up at 5:15.

When 5:15 came, he jolted awake, and went to the bathroom to puke again. It had just become part of the routine by now. He threw on a t-shirt and sweats, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair. Each action made his core hurt. Putting on deodorant was one of the worst parts, being as he had to put his arm up and then use his other one to put it on. Every motion felt like his insides had just been squeezed and beaten. By 5:30, he was able to head to the kitchen.

Jungkook just happened to come out of his room at the same time.

“Morning Taehyung!” Jungkook was awake… somehow.

“Morning Kook.” Taehyung’s voice was at a mere croak.

“Woah, hold on are you okay?” Jungkook gently took Taehyung’s wrist to get him to turn and look at him.

“I’m good. Just tired.” Taehyung hoped he’d believe it.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that. Tired is what Yoongi looks like right now… you look sick.” Despite popular belief, Jungkook was actually following in Jin’s footsteps as a lead caregiver for the group.

The maknae pressed the back of his hand to Taehyung’s cheek.

“You don’t have a fever… what else is wrong?”

“Nothing Kook, like I said, I’m just sorta out of it since I didn’t get much sleep.” Taehyung still allowed Jungkook to hold his wrist since for some reason, JK’s touch comforted him.

“I don’t think so.” Jungkook moved his hand from Taehyung’s wrist to Taehyung’s back. He rubbed up and down, and watched as Taehyung leaned into the touch.

“We’ve got dance practice this morning, but if you feel sick, tell me. I’ll get Namjoon hyung to let you come home. Alright?” The concern in JK’s eyes was shining.

“Thanks Kookie.” Taehyung smiled slightly, and then continued walking to the kitchen.

Jin was already rolling with cooking.

“Okay guys, we’ve got 20 minutes till we’ve gotta be in the car. I’ve made toast, and there’s bacon if you can get it away from Namjoon. Taehyung, Jungkook, what do you want to drink?” Jin was pouring “on the go” cups for each of the boys.

“Orange juice. Thanks Hyung.” Jungkook looked over at Taehyung.

“Coffee please.” Taehyung’s bags under his eyes seemed to be deeper and darker than everyone else’s.

Jungkook didn’t approve of Taehyung’s choice, being as coffee in the morning always upset his stomach, but he allowed it, hoping that it would at least make Taehyung feel less exhausted.

By the time everyone had eaten, it was time to load up and head to the studio.

The car ride was torture. Taehyung had developed a mean headache, and felt like he was gonna throw up at the first stop sign.

Jungkook had sat in the seat next to him, since he still wasn’t convinced that Taehyung was as “alright” as he said he was.

They were almost 15 minutes from BigHit when Taehyung’s stomach finally revolted. Before he even had a chance to ask for a bag, coffee and chewed up bacon and toast was spilling down his legs.  Jungkook was quick to put a bag under his chin for the next round, but it didn’t come. That first one and a mean wave of post-vomiting nausea was enough for him.

Taehyung cried, and Jungkook just held him. Jungkook knew he was sick now, and he could prove it. Before he could even tell Namjoon, the leader had already stood up and looked back at them.

“Oh no,” the concern in his eyes was evident. “It’s okay Taehyung, we’ll be at BigHit in a minute and we can get you cleaned up. Jungkook, can you help him get to the showers?”

“Yeah Hyung, I’ve got him.” Jungkook was wiping the leftover vomit from Taehyung’s chin.

“Taehyung, bud, I’m sorry you feel bad.” Jin spoke up, as he came back from the front. He’d brought a water bottle out of the cooler and a paper towel.

Jungkook helped Taehyung sip the water, and Jin dabbed the sweat from the younger’s face.

“Hey, this is Namjoon…” he went on to tell their choreographer what had happened. (It was always a big deal when one of them threw up. That could mean they were catching a virus, and since their trainer worked with other groups as well, he had to be strict about that kind of thing. It was the same way a few months ago when Namjoon came down with the flu.)

A faint noise told Taehyung that they’d been given the rest of the day off, which they were all more happy about than anything.

Then, they got a second phone call.

“Oh hey um-“ Namjoon wasn’t even able to get a word in. Judging by his expression, whoever was on the other end was yelling- a lot.

“Alright. We’ll be there soon.” Namjoon hung up, and then turned to the group.

“That was the head choreographer.”

Jungkook was still holding Taehyung close. He never was one to let a little throw up bother him.

“He’s still bringing us in. Taehyung… I’m so sorry. He’s letting you take a half-hour to clean up but then you’re supposed to join us…” Namjoon knew they weren’t his own orders, but he still felt like the bad guy having to say it.

“I-I’m okay hyung.” Taehyung shivered mid-sentence. “It was just the c-coffee. My stomach didn’t like it. I’m okay.”

How he looked said otherwise, and Jungkook piped up to mention that.

“Hyung isn’t there anything we can do? We’re all exhausted but Taehyung looks like he’s gonna collapse the second he gets off.”

“I’m sorry guys… he sounded serious… I’d talk to him but it seems the only thing he’s gonna do is make practice worse if we keep bugging him.”

The car stopped, and all of the boys stood up. Hoseok had his earbuds in before, but now that he’d taken them out, Yoongi was quick to get him out of the car and explain to Hoseok what was happening before he saw it. Hoseok’s sympathy sickness was not gonna help the situation at all.

Jin and Namjoon got off as well, followed by Jimin who was headed inside to find some clothes for Taehyung to change into when he got out of the shower.

“Taehyungie, can you stand?” Jungkook sweetly placed his hand on Taehyung’s upper back.

“Yeah I’m alright.”

Taehyung stood up, and Jungkook came right behind him. Luckily, the showers were on the first floor to the left, so Jungkook and Taehyung got there quickly.

Taehyung undressed himself, and then stepped into the shower. The hot water helped to soothe his sore muscles. He used the time in the shower to calm down, and try to refocus on his main mission for the day. Staying awake.

“Hey Taehyung, I’ve got your towel out here and Jimin brought clothes and a toothbrush. I’m out here when you’re ready.”

Taehyung knew what that meant. They’d been called back, and Taehyung’s time for showering was over.

He stepped out of the shower, and Jungkook handed him the towel. He got dressed quickly, and he and JK went to the studio.

By the time they got to the studio, the choreographer had already left, and the rest of the boys were already being led by Hoseok in the routines.

“Woah woah, pause it.” Hoseok waved the music off, and everyone stopped for a moment.

“Feeling better Taehyung?” Hoseok asked, walking toward the two.

“Yeah. The coffee just got me a little. I’m alright now.”

“Okay but if you need to stop just tell me. Joon, can you hit play again?”

Namjoon hit “play” and they started practice up again. Jungkook kept a close eye on Taehyung throughout the day, wanting to make sure that he really was alright.

Rehearsal lasted until 8:30 p.m. When it was over, the boys loaded up and headed back to the apartment.

“I’m making supper for anyone that wants it.” Jin got the chicken nuggets out of the refrigerator, and started to put them in the fryer.

“I think I’m gonna go ahead and turn in.” Taehyung both dreaded sleep and longed for it. H knew he’d end up having a nightmare anyway, so he might as well get some sleep while he could.

“Alright, night Taehyungie.” All the boys said their goodnights, except Jungkook who went with him back there.

“You going to sleep early too Kookie?” Taehyung asked, his eyes already heavy.

“Yeah… hey um if you need me tonight, wake me up okay?” Jungkook gave Taehyung a tight hug.

“I will Kookie. Don’t worry. Just get some rest.”

The boys said goodnight, and Taehyung was asleep almost instantly.

---

2:00 rolled around quickly, and as usual, Taehyung woke up unable to catch his breath. He was crying, terrified once again of forgetting how to speak in their upcoming interview. He felt sweat coating his skin, and he was almost at the part where he pukes, then someone came in.

“Tae Tae, it’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here. Breathe.” Jungkook was at his side, holding him tightly. Taehyung didn’t know how he got there, but he was glad to see him.

“J-Jungkook?”

“It’s me. Taehyung, you’re shaking…” Jungkook’s eyes widened.

Taehyung felt the bile rise in his throat, and he quickly went around Jungkook and ran to the bathroom. Once again, he crashed down, and vomit spilled out of him.

Jungkook came up behind him, holding his middle.

“Just get it up Taehyung. It’s alright. I’m here with you.”

The vomiting part didn’t last as long as usual, and Taehyung attributed that to Jungkook being there. Soon, they were back in Taehyung’s room. Jungkook decided to sleep with Taehyung in case he had another nightmare, but they couldn’t sleep until Taehyung told Jungkook what had him so upset.

“It’s that interview on the 25th. I’m- I’m afraid I won’t be able to speak correctly… or at all.”

Jungkook’s eyes filled with compassion.

“How come you didn’t say anything?” Jungkook rubbed Taehyung’s arm.

“I felt embarrassed about not knowing as much as you guys, and I didn’t want anyone to be worried about me since none of us are getting any sleep anyway…”

Jungkook took Taehyung’s hand, and gently squeezed it.

“First of all, I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with this by yourself. I know it must have been scary. But now you’ve got me and everyone else. The truth is, all of us have been nervous about the interview. Or at least, I know I have. But that’s a good thing because it means maybe we can help each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been studying pretty hard, and I know you have too… so maybe we can study together! Then if one of us has trouble in the interview, the other once can step in and help them out.” Jungkook smiled.

Taehyung liked the idea, and agreed.

“Good. We start tomorrow.”

After that, both boys went to sleep and thankfully, slept through the night.

For the next couple weeks, they worked hard together on learning English. Namjoon got them some extra time by firing their old choreographer and hiring one that gave them more time between rehearsals so they wouldn’t burn themselves out.

By the time the interview came, Taehyung and Jungkook both aced it. Including the part where Taehyung introduced himself.

“My name is V, and I’m good boy.”

[storiesbymads]

EIGHTEEN ( joe liebgott . )

Y/N met Joe a few days after she graduated from high school. loosely based off the one direction song.

warnings: none but it gets kinda sad @ the end ig

wc: 4.3k

Graduation was days away and Y/N could feel the air escaping her lungs just thinking about it. She had been dreaming about this day for the past twelve years and it was actually happening. Although, now that it was here, the moment felt bittersweet. She was about to leave all the childhood friends she’d made for a junior college across the country in San Francisco. It was almost too surreal for her to handle. A week from now, she’d be somewhat situated in an apartment she’d only seen once without her parents or really anyone that she knew. She would be starting her life.

The last few days of senior year could not have gone by any slower. Final exams had been the week prior so the classes she was attending were really just excuses for all of her classmates and teachers to get emotional about the time they’d spent together. Y/N counted down the minutes until she could finally get out of there. While some of the girls she’d come to know as her best friends were allowing themselves to shed a tear or two and give close to a million hugs to people they’d shared maybe a conversation with in their time there, Y/N kept finding herself in her daydreams about what her new life was going to be like.

“I cannot believe it’s our last day of high school,” her friend Annabelle said. There were about twelve girls all scrunched up at one lunchroom table in an already overcrowded lunchroom. Thankfully, the number had dwindled slightly over the years and now Y/N at least had enough room to put her elbows on the table when she was eating.

“I know! I’m gonna miss you girls so much,” another girl named Cecile said. Y/N swore she saw the slightest hint of a tear in her eye as she said it. Y/N took a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich without another word.

The amount of nerves surrounding her as she stood on the small auditorium stage astounded her. She attended a small school with her graduating class maxing out around 200 and yet the room felt like it was about to explode. All of the classmates around her were decked out in the signature royal blue of their highschool with bright smiles and hazy eyes from the brightly flashing cameras. Y/N fidgeted with the tassel on her cap as she waited for the ceremony to begin. A few of her friends were sitting a few feet away from her. The deafening heartbeat in her ears stopped her from being able to hear what they were talking about. It wasn’t until one of them nudged her ribs that she realized the lights had dimmed slightly and everything was starting.

The announcer’s speech, thankfully, hadn’t lasted longer than a few minutes and the graduates had started making their way across the stage. Before Y/N knew it, she was walking across the stage and shaking hands with the principal and various other administrators she’d come to know over the years. Her legs were numb and she was surprised--and very grateful--that she made it across the stage without so much as tripping. She even silently thanked her mother beforehand for discouraging her from wearing the three-inch pair of heels in her closet.

“The Class of 1936! Congratulations!” her principal announced as a wave of blue filled the air. There were graduation caps everywhere across the auditorium. It was going to be extremely difficult to tell whose was whose at the end of the day but that didn’t stop a single student from completing the tradition. One student’s cap even managed to land in the rafters for a few seconds before coming down.

It was difficult to locate her parents in the crowd in the moments after. Everything seemed to be simultaneously happening in slow motion and hyper speed since her first step across the stage. She spotted the top of her mother’s head across the room and rushed over to meet them. Both of her parents had been leaning up against the wall near the exit speaking to another couple until they noticed her semi-running towards them. Her father pulled her into a tight hug and made a comment about an eyelash messing with his eye the entire ceremony. She gave her mother a soft smile when he finally let her go. Her parents gave a small goodbye to the couple next to them and joined hands with their daughter on the way out of the highschool for seemingly the last time in their lives.

The sound of her alarm clock buzzing at 6:30 in the morning caused a loud groan to fall from Y/N’s lips as she begrudgingly pulled herself from the warmth of her duvet and into her adjoining bathroom to start her day. It was moving day. Well, technically. Most of her furniture had been shipped out to her apartment a few days prior but today was the official moving date. She had to be at the train station by 8:00 with the last of her belongings. Judging by the fact that Y/N was brushing her teeth with her eyes still very much closed, it was evident that she was very much regretting choosing the earliest departure time to San Francisco available.

Her two suitcases were packed and stacked next to the front door of her parents’ home and she kept glancing at them during the entire duration of breakfast. In her mind, she was going over every item that she needed to bring and checking the mental checklist she’d gone over about twenty times over the past two days. She knew it was overly redundant but she couldn’t bear the thought of forgetting something and not being able to retrieve it until the next major holiday. It was unlikely, though, that she would forget something as her childhood bedroom was practically barren save for the twin bed and the wire coat hangers in her closet.

“Honey, if you look at those suitcases one more time,” her mother lightly scolded. She was glad her daughter was so excited for something but she was still slightly bitter to the thought of her daughter leaving home so soon after graduation.

“I’m sorry! I can’t help it,” she sighed. The plate of eggs and bacon had barely been eaten--mostly just moved around with a fork--and was growing colder by the minute. Y/N knew she wouldn’t be able to eat with the amount of nerves building up in her stomach. She spared a final glance at the luggage

“Your mother’s right,” her father sighed and blew the steam off of his cup of coffee. Y/N was surprised to see the newspaper usually tightly clutched within her father’s fingers nowhere in sight.

“So, what’re your plans for the day?” Y/N asked after a few moments of silence. She had completely given up on her plate of food and had pushed it further towards the center of the table.

“Oh, you know. Mope around the house wishing our baby were still here with us,” her mother said dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from her face.

“Very funny.”

“She’s not joking,” her father chuckled into his mug. It was odd to see him this way. Both of his hands were tightly wrapped around the white porcelain and he still had his reading glasses on rather than the contacts she was so accustomed to seeing. Come to think of it, her mother looked quite strange, too. She was still in her evening robe and had made no effort to remove the curlers from her hair.

“Are you not accompanying me to the train station?” Y/N asked. She watched her parents share knowing glances before they each turned towards her.

“Your father thinks it’s best if we say our goodbyes here. He knows I’ll cry like a banshee if we do it in public and he wants to spare you the embarrassment,” her mother said.

“Oh,” Y/N mumbled and glanced down at her fingers fiddling with the hem of the tablecloth. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Oh Honey-”

“We can come with you if you want!”

“No, no. Dad’s right. Plus, if you start crying I’m sure to start crying and then where would we be,” Y/N allowed an airy laugh to brush past her lips at the thought of her and her parents all crying and smushed together in a dysfunctional group hug.

Due to the fact that Y/N had taken probably the longest nap in her life on the train, her legs felt as stiff as the concrete beneath her feet as she tried (and failed) to make her way out of the station in a normal looking way. Every step looked more like a waddle combined with the luggage that felt ten times heavier getting off than getting on settled on either one of her shoulders.

“Need some help with that, doll?” One of the various taxi-cab drivers asked. It took her a second to locate which one was addressing her but it was easy enough to identify him when she noticed him quickly approaching her with a hand out.

“Uh,” she mumbled. “Yeah-Yes. That’d be great, thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” he sent her a wink as he helped her load the luggage into the trunk of the bright yellow vehicle. Y/N allowed herself to take in the appearance of the man as she got into the backseat and told him her destination. He was quite skinny but that didn’t take away from the overall build of him. In fact, it seemed to make her more attracted to him. His lips seemed to be plastered in a permanent smirk and his hair was way too perfect for him to just have thrown some gel in it and called it a day. It was good enough to land him a hair modeling gig, in her opinion.

“How long will you be staying?” the driver asked and made eye contact with her through the rear-view. His eyes had a mischievous glint to them.

“I don’t look like a regular to you?” she asked with mock offense.

“With that accent? Not a chance, dollface,” he said. They retained eye contact for a few more seconds before his sight flickered back to the road in front of him. Y/N was thankful for the added background noise of the radio at that point.

“You’re actually taking me to my new place,” Y/N said after a few moments of awkwards silence. She found herself fiddling with a slightly ripped piece of leather on the seat beneath her. She felt his eyes on her but by the time she looked back up at the mirror his eyes were focused on the road once more.

“How do you know I’m not a creepy stalker? Now I know where you live,” he joked as he reached a red light. She was able to get a good look at his eyes in the mirror now. The sunlight coming in from the windshield allowed her to notice the swirl of chocolate in his irises. Multiple car honks behind them startled the driver into pressing on the gas a little too quickly, startling Y/N and almost causing her to faceplant into the back of the seat.

“Sorry about that, doll,” he muttered and adjusted how he was sitting ever so slightly and allowed one of his hands to rest on the center console rather than the wheel.

“So, are you?” she asked.

“What?” his eyebrows scrunched together and his grip on the wheel tightened.

“Are you a stalker?” Y/N allowed herself to relax into the seats more. She didn’t really care if he was a stalker. She just never wanted him to stop talking.

“You’ll be glad to know that I am not, Miss…” he voice trailed off, obviously asking for her name.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Joe Liebgott. Nice to make your acquaintance, dollface,” he sent her another wink through the mirror. Y/N felt her heart sink slightly when she noticed her apartment building only a few feet away.

By the time Joe had found a parking spot in front of the building, Y/N could feel her heart all the way in the souls of her feet. She had no idea why she was reacting this way. She had only known this man for, what, twenty minutes? And their one striking conversation had been about whether or not he was a stalker. She had no right to get this attached to him.

“You know,” he started. “I could give you a tour of the city if you’d like. You know, since you’re new and all.” He flashed her a million-dollar smile as he handed her the two pieces of luggage from the trunk.

“I think I would really enjoy that, Joe.” Her heart was beating so fast it could have jumped right out of her chest and made it back to her parents’ house before she was able to get inside her new apartment.

“Great,” he said. He opened up the passenger side of the cab so that he could reach into the glove box. He pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and began scribbling on the blank side of the receipt he had just pulled out of the compartment before handing the small piece of paper to her. In very messy handwriting, she noticed he had written Joe (not a stalker, he promises) followed by a phone number and a smiley face below all of it.

“I’ll make sure to call you, Not-a-stalker-Joe.” Y/N’s face had heated up an extreme amount and she hoped that Joe wouldn’t think anything of it.

A few days passed before Y/N worked up the courage to actually call Joe. Maybe it was the fact that it was eleven o’clock at night. She always had been braver when she was tired. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t been able to get the cab driver out of her mind since he dropped her off at her place. Especially at night when she was alone with her thoughts. He got her head spinning and her heart racing without even being in the same room as her. She could only imagine what it would be like when she took him up on that tour offer.

“Hi, is this Joe?” she asked as politely as she could. She regretted calling the second he picked up.

“Depends…” his voice was raspier than it had been a few days ago. There was a possibility that Y/N had woken him up. “Who is this?”

“Y/N,” she said. Her nerves were skyrocketing at this point. The past week or so had not been easy on her heart.

“Who’s the stalker now?” he chuckled lightly into the phone. She heard rustling from the other side and assumed he was moving around on his bed. Having the phone by the bed seemed like a smart idea to her and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of moving hers there.

“You gave me your number, you know,” she said, twirling the cord around her finger.

“For a tour of the city. Not a late night rendezvous,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I can call again in the morning.” Her face was burning with embarrassment; the pressure managed to trail all the way down her spine, it seemed.

“No, doll, don’t worry about it. It had been a pretty boring night anyway,” Joe sighed. Y/N could imagine him running his hand through his hair. Then the image of running her hands through his hair popped into her mind.

“So, about that tour?” she asked. She really hoped she wasn’t being too forward. He was the one that offered.

“You up for it? Tomorrow’s my off day so you called just in time,” he said.

Y/N was barely able to sleep an hour that night. She didn’t know if it was the nerves (it was) or if it was the seemingly endless downpour of rain outside. After her fifth wake up, she decided trying to sleep was a lost cause. She slipped out of bed and out of her bedroom into the open concept of the rest of her apartment. The clock on the wall beside her stove let her know that it was edging on 4:15. Somehow, she managed to turn on her coffee pot and actually make herself some in her zombie-like state. She felt the liquid warm her right down to the tips of her toes.

Around 7am Y/N was beginning to regret skipping out on anymore sleep. Her eyes were droopy and she could barely keep them open long enough to read more than a paragraph on the morning paper. She figured this would be as good a time as any to start getting ready. She probably should’ve worked out a better plan with Joe before hanging up last night; she had zero percent of a clue as to when he would be picking her up that morning.

Y/N’s shower lasted longer than usual due to her starting the whole ordeal by just standing under the hot water with her eyes closed for about ten minutes. She’d even let her mind wander to thinking about Joe being in said shower with her but quickly shook the thought away as she began applying her coconut scented body wash. By the time she was finished, the originally scalding water was beginning to grow cold and Y/N was practically shivering trying to push the hot-water knob past its limit.

She decided to fix herself a third cup of coffee after getting dressed to aid her in doing her makeup in a way that wouldn’t make her look like a raccoon. A few years ago she had tried to do a Smokey eye after about three hours of sleep and she was not going for a recreation of that this morning.

9am was beginning to roll around when she heard a knock on her door.

“Morning, doll,” Joe said when she opened the door. He had his hair slicked back and a collared shirt left unbuttoned about three buttons.

“How’d you know which apartment was mine?” She chuckled lightly. She could have sworn he hadn’t followed her up to her door the previous day but she could’ve been wrong.

“I watched from my car to make sure you got in okay. I was really hoping I remembered which door it was and didn’t go knocking on some old lady’s door,” he said and ran one of his hands through the gelled hair. Y/n glanced over the balcony of the complex to see the bright yellow taxi parked in the exact spot it was in yesterday.

“That was very sweet of you, Joe,” both of them had a slight red tint to their faces as they made their way down the stairs and to the taxi. He opened the door for her before jogging around the front of the car to get in himself.

“The best tour of your life begins now,” he said before starting the car up.

“So how old did you say you were?” Joe asked after about twenty minutes of awkward silence.

“18. You?” Y/N said. She really hoped he wasn’t 37 or something or this whole ordeal would have gotten really awkward really fast.

“21,” he said and turned down the radio knob ever so slightly. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how nice his fingers looked. “Now our first stop…”

It had been months since Y/N had first met Joe but she swore it felt like the pair had known each other forever. She felt more comfortable around him than anyone else she had ever met. They went on one or two more dates after their tour before Joe asked her to be his girlfriend. Everything between them was moving incredibly fast for Y/N’s usual tastes but she couldn’t be happier at the given moment. Joe made her feel alive. Her fingertips burned with every touch and her insides were practically doing backflips any time he complimented her or so much as held eye contact with her.

“Good morning doll face,” Joe said with his raspy morning voice that Y/N adored more than anything. She groaned with displeasure at being roused from her sleep but she gave him a soft smile when she finally opened her eyes. Joe was running his fingertips lightly across Y/N’s bare back as the thin sheets of his bed covered their lower halves. Her hand moved from being placed at the top of his abdomen to gently stroking his jaw. There was the faintest of stubble growing in and she would never tell him how much she really loved it.

“Morning, handsome,” she mumbled into his chest. She began trailing kisses from his chest up to his collarbone and back down again. Joe used his free hand to stop her antics and pull her face up to kiss his lips this time. In a few short moments, Joe was able to flip the pair of them to where he was resting over Y/N with one of his hands beside Y/N’s shoulder to support his weight and the other securely positioned on her jaw.

“That was a very good way to wake up,” she said and ran her thumb across his slightly swollen lips. He let out a soft laugh before poking her in the side and laying down on the bed beside her.

“I think I’m going to go get a shower. Care to join me?” He asked with a smirk. They had showered together before but it had never ended with them cleaner than when they entered.

“Not today, baby,” she said, which earned a very over exaggerated groan from Joe as he forced himself out of bed and into the connected bathroom.

She, too, pulled herself out of the bed and grabbed Joe’s button up off of the floor and buttoned it up just enough to cover all the necessities. She heard the creak of the hot water knob as she exited the bedroom to make herself some much needed coffee. Neither had gotten the recommended 8 hours of sleep and she was wondering how Joe was able to be so animated about everything already.

Their one-year anniversary came around faster than anything that Y/N had ever experienced. One day she was living in her parents home desperate to graduate from high school and now she was living in her boyfriend’s apartment (unbeknownst to her parents) and celebrating a whole year of dating. And it had been the most magical year of Y/N’s life.

“More wine?” Joe asked her as he pulled himself off of the couch. Y/N whined slightly as her side was hit with a gust of cold wind.

“Yes, please,” she said and handed up her empty wine glass.

“You got it, doll,” he sent her a wink and went into the kitchen to fill both their glasses. Y/N couldn’t help but watch him the whole time. She never thought that she’d be this head over heels for a man— especially this far along in a relationship. Before Joe, the longest she’d had a boyfriend had been about two months and they barely even talked during that time.

Joe glanced over at her from the kitchen just barely making eye contact with her before Y/N shifted her gaze to the record player in the corner of the room near the small television. It had been playing static for about an hour now but the both of them were too comfortable to care enough about flipping it.

“I love you, Joe,” Y/N said after a few more moments of silence. There was a loud crash in the kitchen that caused her to surge up from her seat and rush over. Before she was able to bend down to clean up any of the broken glass, though, Joe pulled her in by the hips to smash his lips against hers.

“Say it again,” he said when he pulled away with the biggest grin Y/N had ever seen.

“I love you, Joe.”

“I love you, Y/N/N. So much,” he pulled her in for another kiss, sidestepping around the broken wine glass to set her on the kitchen counter and placing himself between her thighs. His hands trailed from her hips to rest on the sides of her knees.

Almost four years had passed since then. Joe was set to leave for boot camp this afternoon and Y/N was barely functioning at this point. He had become such an integral part of her life since she arrived in San Francisco. She had no idea what she would do if he didn’t come back to her. Hell, she barely had a clue what she would do if he did come back to her. She knew nothing would be the same after all of this.

“I’ll write to you whenever I get the chance, baby doll. I promise,” he mumbled into her hair. Y/N had not left his side once in the past week and she didn’t plan on leaving it until he was on that train.

“I’m going to miss you so much, Joey,” she said.

“I know. I’m gonna miss you too.”

“I’ve loved you since I was 18 years old, Joe. I’m 22 now and somehow I love you more and more each day. Promise me you’ll come home to me,” she said. There were tears beginning to leak out of the corners of her eyes. He wiped one away with the pad of his thumb.

“I promise to try as hard as I can to come home to you, baby doll,” he said and pressed another kiss to her hair.

[lynelovespopculture]

THE  CHILLING ADVENTURES OF ZELDA CHAPTER 14-A SPELLMAN FAMILY SOLSTICE

 Faustus and Zelda had a long recovery in front of them.  Faustus had only awakened 1 hour before his wife so they were healing at the same time. They both were assigned to complete bed rest for the next 3 weeks. In that time, they rested, snuggled together, and watched the defeat of Blackwood video numerous times. They both agreed that there was no foolproof way to get rid of Blackwood forever; they had to just keep their guard up and hope for the best. Zelda also told Faustus how Lilith had reclaimed hell for herself and found happiness with a new Adam. After the 3 weeks of bed rest, Faustus and Zelda were up and around and just in time to help celebrate Sabrina’s 18th birthday. (Since this was Sabrina’s last year at home before college, new rules were set. Thursday nights were family dinner night, absolutely no excuses for not attending, and Sunday was family movie night.)

Later that week, Faustus and Zelda managed to find some time to sit down with just the twins to have a serious talk about the adoption. Zelda explained that this adoption was less about guardianship, as the twins were almost 17, but more of a show of commitment to be their mother. Zelda nodded with understanding when they told her that they wanted time to think about it. Yet, there was 1 issue that the male twin didn’t need to think about at all. Just like his sister, Judas wanted to forget about his life with Blackwood. Soon enough, he confessed that he hated the name of Judas, so with his parents’ full support, changed his name to Jacob.  It wasn’t long at all until he was used to the family calling him Jake. 3 days later, Faustus took Zelda for a romantic dinner in the fanciest restaurant in town. As they clinked their wine glasses together, Faustus explained that it was the 1st anniversary of him being free from the curse. Hearing this, Zelda re-clinked the glasses.

“To the first of many, many years,” She smiled.

They went home, and make wild, passionate love before drifting off in each other’s arms. Late that night, Zelda turned around and found herself alone in bed. She caught Faustus at the entrance of the attic, which Ambrose and Jake now shared.

“I still can’t believe we’re all home now,” Faustus whispered as his wife linked her arm with his. With a kiss, Zelda led him back to their room, where they made love for the 2nd time that night.

  Their 1st solstice all together as a family was a very special one. LJ and Jake were both all smiles as together, they handed Zelda a gift. After wrapping it, Zelda gasped, for the box was filled with papers, but not just any papers. On top were the half-filled adoption papers and beneath that, were papers for legal name changes. The twins explained that not only did they want to be adopted but they were also ready to become Spellmans. All the family couldn’t agree fast enough. Zelda did a pretty good job of blinking back her tears of joy, or she did, right up until the twins called her ‘mom’ for the very 1st time. This happened right after Zelda gave LJ and Jake their Yule present. A thick photo album filled with pictures of their birth mother, Constance, at every stage of life so the twins could look at it whenever they wished.

In the new year, after Hilda and Dr. C celebrated their 1st anniversary and Zelda filed the paperwork for the twins’ adoption and name changes, plans went full steam ahead for LJ and Jake’s joint dark baptism. Jake kept it simple, by picking Jacob Faustus for his baptismal name. LJ’s was longer. LJ explained that her name was to be Letitia Judith Constance Zelda.

“To honor both my mothers.” LJ smiled and Zelda kissed the girl on the head, blinking back happy tears once more.

The baptism, attended by family and coven alike, went off without a hitch. For the next few months, the Spellmans’ lives were blissfully quiet and uneventful. Their lives revolved around work, school, and most importantly, each other. On April 2nd, the whole family gathered to celebrate Cordelia’s first birthday. They threw a party, of course, with cake and gifts but it was Faustus and Zelda who got the best present that day. It was later that night after they readied Cordelia for bed, they sat Cordelia down in front of her crib as they did for the last 3 weeks. It was normal when Cordelia pulled herself up to the crib with her tiny hands but then something new happened. Cordelia took her hands off the crib and took her 1st few unsteady steps towards Zelda. She playfully touched her mother’s cheek before saying her 1st word loud and clear. “Mommy!” After kissing her daughter silly, Zelda turned Cordelia around so she could walk to Faustus. The baby took 3 steps before she stumbled on the 4th and would have fallen but Faustus managed to catch her. He was rewarded with a giant smile. “Daddy!”

 Spring and summer flew by and before anyone knew it, it was September again. Everyone came out to see Sabrina and LJ, who graduated a year early, off to college. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. When she was 3 and big enough for a big girl bed, Cordelia was given Sabrina’s room by her still at college cousin. The following year, Hilda, Faustus, and Sabrina convinced an uneasy Zelda to allow Cordelia to attend mortal kindergarten, just like Sabrina before her. Cordelia’s parents sat her down and explained to her not to talk about witches or use magic at school. They also kept their promise to the witch’s council, to keep them updated on Cordelia’s magical development. Yet, there was little to report. The baby who cried the devil out of the house was growing up as normally as any other little witch, except for a slammed door or a few floating items. Her powers were at their strongest when her emotions were at their peak.  One afternoon, Cordelia wanted to play outside but Hilda explained she couldn’t because it was raining, hard.

“I don’t want it to rain!” As soon as Cordelia stamped her foot, the sun came out. Hilda stared wordlessly, yet Cordelia didn’t even seem to notice. It was on the 1st day of school that Cordelia met Erin, Emily, and Erica Warner, mortal triplet girls who quickly became her BFFs. Meanwhile, with his youngest now in school, Faustus was feeling a little lost.  Ambrose and Jake formed the perfect team to run the funeral home together and the rest of the family were busy with their own thing. 1 night, Zelda suggested her husband should return to teaching. Zelda knew she got through to him and was waiting for Faustus to ask her to return to the academy. So, she was shocked when he told her he gotten a job at Greendale middle school, teaching 7th grade. Theo Putnam was also a new teacher.

 It was a cold night in the late December of Cordelia’s sixth year that the child awoke with a start.

“Who’s there?” She demanded with the greatest demand she could mutter as she sat up and looked around the darkened room. She looked around and saw nothing, yet she felt someone was nearby. Cordelia sighed, this wasn’t a new feeling. She pulled back her blankets and got up. Might as well go to the bathroom while I’m awake. She thought.

“Hey, Salem.” Cordelia petted Sabrina’s familiar on her way back to bed. Then she picked up her favorite doll, tucked it under her arm, sighed as she laid down, and closed her eyes.

 The next thing she knew, sunlight tickled at Cordelia’s eyelids. 1 quick look at the clock and she jolted out of bed and down the hallway. Her own school had let out for Christmas yesterday, but the academy was a year-round boarding school that demanded much of its headmistress. Cordelia felt that she spent less than 10 minutes with her mother all week. Maybe it was still early enough to catch her. She stopped short in her parents’ doorway. Not only was no one in here, but the bed was made and everything was neat, suggesting that both her parents left long ago.

“It's not even 9 yet! Well, so much for that idea.” Cordelia muttered as she headed for the steps. Downstairs, Cordelia found her brother fluttering back and forth before the front door as if he was preparing to go out. “Where’re you going, Jake?” she asked from the stairway.

Jake looked up, pausing as he put on his coat. “Good morning, Cordy. Mom just called, she needs someone to fill in for her with the choir ASAP.”

“Mom’s already at the school?”

Unfortunately, Jake was too busy to notice the sadness in his sister’s tone. “Yeah. Bye.”

Cordelia was left to frown at the closed door when the wonderful smells finally reached her nose. Those smells only appeared when someone special visited. Now wearing a tiny smile, the 6-year-old ran into the kitchen and hugged the visitor from behind. “Hi, auntie H!”

Hilda, who was baking, half-turned and gave her niece a 1 arm hug. “Hello, darling.”

From his stool 3 feet away, Ambrose waved. “Hello, cousin.”

“Hello, another Spellman who no longer lives here.” Cordelia teased good-naturedly and Ambrose laughed. He and Prudence had only moved into a small apartment together downtown 3 months ago.

Meanwhile, Hilda wiped her hands on a towel. “It’s cereal alright for breakfast?”

Cordelia smiled and nodded. “Yes, please.”

“So, Cordy, how did you sleep?” Asked Ambrose.

“Good! For the most part.”

Ambrose and Hilda exchanged a look. “For the most part?” repeated her aunt.

“Ghostbusting again, cuz?”

Cordelia gave Ambrose an annoyed sideways glance. “No, Ambrose. Ghostbusting would imply that I actually see the spirit.”

Ambrose was now confused. “Wait, you don’t see the ghosts? Ever? But you had this problem for a while.”

“Since before feasts of feasts as I recall,” Hilda added.

“I don’t understand. If you can’t see them, how do you know they’re ghosts?”

Cordelia shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know, it’s just a feeling. Most girls my age are scared of ghosts; I just want them to make up their minds! They should show themselves, tell me what the problem is so I can help or just let me be so I can sleep at night.”

Hilda and Ambrose both had nothing to say so they just stared at the girl. Cordelia sighed, what was needed now was a change of subject and she found it on the serving tray. “Who pops popcorn this early in the morning?”

Ambrose sprang to life. “Oh, I almost forgot!  I was supposed to bring out the cranberries and popcorn to Dr. C and Uncle Faustus. They finally setting up the Yule tree!” Ambrose grabbed the tray and rushed out of the kitchen.

“Well, I got to go too,” Cordelia announced.

“Why?” Asked Hilda.

“Because my bowl of cereal was on that tray!”

Hilda laughed, shook her head, and returned to her baking.

 “I swear, we get this tree up later and later every year.” Faustus sighed.

“Well, we’re busy men,” Dr. C assured him. “Me at my bookstore, you at the middle school. Here comes Ambrose, at last.”

Faustus smiled as the younger warlock rushed in. “We were beginning to think you’d forgotten us.”

“I’m so sorry that it took me so long,” Ambrose said.  “Aunt Hilda and I got to talking and then Cordelia walked in.”

“Oh? Cordy’s up?”

“I sure am!” The child was right on Ambrose’s heels. She was closer to Dr. C so she greeted him first. “Hi, Uncle C” She hugged him and then went over to her father. “Hi, Daddy” she giggled when Faustus kissed the cheek of his youngest child. The 2 men went back to trying to steady the tree, as Ambrose found a chair and began to thread the popcorn and cranberry strings together. After reclaiming her breakfast, at last, Cordelia sat on the sofa and asked about the only thing on her mind.

“How long ago did Mom leave for the academy this morning?”

“About an hour and a half to 2 hours ago” Faustus answered casually. “Why? Do you need her?”

Cordelia frowned. “No, I don’t need her per say, but I do miss her. It’s like I barely have seen her this week.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Faustus soothed his daughter. “While it’s true that Solstice demands more of the high priestess’s time than normal, all she has to do is get through today and perform tomorrow’s midnight mass then Zelda will be free to spend the rest of the holidays with us.”

“Don’t forget when we go get the girls tomorrow.” Dr. C added. “Zelda would never miss that.”

Although both LJ and Sabrina left for college 6 years ago, the girls were still away for their education but for different reasons. Unlike Jake, who left a year after his sister and cousin and return 2 years later, business degree in hand. Poor Sabrina was having a tough time, having changed her major 3 times. On the flip side, LJ had not only completed university in record time but was enrolled in 2 different medical schools. When done, LJ would not only be 1 of the few female witch doctors, she would also be the 1st witch doctor trained in mortal medicine. With a sister on her way to glory and her mother already in the history books as the 1st high priestess, Cordelia was extremely proud of her family and sometimes wondered if greatness lay in her future as well.  Having finished her breakfast, Cordelia now lay the now-empty bowl on the coffee table and went to the old cardboard box that held the tree decorations.  After a few seconds of digging around, Cordelia was able to her favorite one. It was a diamond full moon on 1 side and the other side was a picture frame. The picture itself was taken on her 1st solstice. It was of Zelda, Faustus, and Cordelia herself, when she was still just a baby. While Cordelia stood admiring the photo, Dr. C lost his balance on the step stool and bump into the girl, causing her to lose her grip on the glass moon and it smashed on the floor.

Dr. C rushed to the child’s side. “Oh Cordelia, I’m so sorry!” He hugged her.

Cordelia put on a brave face. “It’s okay, uncle C. We have lots of others.”

As they spoke, the fragments of the glass moon float up in the air and magically fixed itself.

“But this 1 is your favorite,” Faustus held it in the palm of his hand. “I know because it’s my favorite too.”

Cordelia smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

  Putting up the tree nearly took all day. Cordelia was excused because right after lunch, the Warner triplets called their friend to come with them to go to the mall to see Santa. Cordelia was gone all afternoon and returned just in time for dinner yet her mood seemed to change. She was quiet and seemed angry. At first, Hilda thought her niece was annoyed because Zelda called to say that she was too busy to come home for dinner.  Then, in the middle of supper, Jake knocked over a glass of water. On the other side of the table, his baby sister jumped up in horror.

“You should be more careful!” She shouted before she ran out of the room. Faustus and Hilda found Cordelia in her room pacing back and forth before her bed. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry!” She muttered to herself.

“Cordy? What’s wrong?” Faustus asked.

His daughter looked up, frowning. “You should have told me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“THAT OUR KIND CAN MELT!!”  Cordelia shouted.

Faustus and Hilda exchanged a confused look. “Cordelia, love,” Hilda said gently, “what exactly did you and your friends do this afternoon?”

Cordelia sighed. “After the trip to the mall to see Santa, Mr. Warner invited me back to their house for hot chocolate and it was there that Erin, Emily, Erica, and I watched a movie.”

“What movie?” Her father asked.

“The Wizard of Oz.”

Both Faustus and Hilda felt instant relief. Hilda left to go inside the bathroom while Faustus took his daughter by the hand, guided her to the bed, so they could both sit down.

“Darling, while it’s true the mortals have short lives, while we witches can live for centuries and centuries. Surely, we can’t live that long if we are in danger of something as common as water.”

“But in the movie-“

“The movie is not real. It’s pretend, make-believe. You remember when you, Mommy, and I had our talk about make-believe?”

Cordelia nodded. “I remember, but it’s so confusing! After all, mortal parents tell their children that witches are make-believe.”

Faustus nodded. “That’s true but I can prove I’m right! Think back to every mass you attended, all the times Zelda took you with her to the academy, have you ever, after all that time with the coven, even seen a green witch?”

“No. Hey, wait  a second, I didn’t tell you that the witch was green! How did you know?”

Faustus laughed. “The Wizard of Oz is a very famous movie and you’re not the 1st witch to get spooked by water after seeing it. I guess you could call it a witch childhood rite of passage by now.”

“Your father’s right,” said Hilda, coming toward the bed, glass in 1 hand. “When your cousin Sabrina saw that movie, she reacted the exact same way you did. That’s when Zelds and I came up with the test.”

“Test? What kind of test?”

“Come here and I’ll show you.” When Cordelia didn’t move and kept staring at the glass, Hilda tried again. “What’s wrong? Don’t you trust me?”

This softened Cordelia immediately. “Of course I do, Auntie H.” The child got off the bed and came forward and Hilda knelt down to look her niece in the eye. “Now just give me 1 of your fingers.” Cordelia offered up a finger. Hilda took it and put the tip of the finger just under.  “Now, how does that feel?”

“Wet.” Was the child’s only reply.

Hilda laughed. “Yes, it’s wet, but what else? Does your finger feel like it is going to fall off or melt?”

Cordelia smiled and shook her head.  Hilda smiled. “Good, the test has worked in our favor yet again.”

“Thank Hecate!” Faustus added. “Can you imagine how foul our world would be if none of us would be allowed to bathe?”

Cordelia laughed at her father’s funny face as Hilda kissed her brow.

  A few hours later, Faustus turned down the bed as Cordelia got ready in the bathroom.

“Cordy, have you brushed your teeth yet?”

“Doing it right now, Dad.”

Faustus couldn’t resist. “With water?”

First, there was silence then came a low moan. Faustus smiled to himself.

Cordelia switched off the bathroom light and walked more into her bedroom. “Hecate, I’m dumb,” She muttered.

When she was close enough, Faustus put his arm around his daughter. “You are not dumb. You, my girl, are 6. Considering how you speak and behave most of the time, it’s easy to forget how young you are.”

Cordelia gave a half-smile. “Still young enough to be read to?”

“Not very subtle, miss Spellman.”

Cordelia giggled and crawled into bed as Faustus grabbed the book on the nightstand. Some little girls like fairy tales, most, at least, like a story with a plot. But most nights, Cordelia favored spell books, especially the Latin ones, even though Cordelia didn’t speak the language. She said it soothed her faster. Tonight, Faustus only read a page and a half before Cordelia was fast asleep. He tucked her in and tiptoed out of the room. The next thing Cordelia was aware of; someone was arranging her blankets. Her 1st thought was that the troublesome ghost was back but she was instantly awake when she saw who it really was.

“Mommy! I missed you so much today!” Cordelia sat up and threw herself into Zelda’s arms.

Zelda kissed her brow. “I’ve missed you too, little one. I didn’t mean to wake you, but your father told me that you had a scare today.”

“That’s not important,” Cordelia dismissed. “Will you come with us to pick up LJ and Sabrina tomorrow morning?”

Zelda nodded. “I will, but I must get back to the academy by early afternoon at the very latest.”

Cordelia frowned. “But tomorrow is the day before Solstice. You always spend it with us.”

“I know precious but we’re so behind this year. I mean, the church is not yet decorated or prepared for midnight mass yet.”

“How about I go with you? That way you could get your work and we could still be together.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No! Wait! Don’t go yet.” Cordelia grabbed her book. “Read to me.”

“It’s late, Cordelia.”

“Please, Mom?”

Normally, Zelda would have held firm but she felt massively guilty about barely being home lately. Zelda sighed and took the book. “Move over.”

An hour later, Faustus went to look for his wife and found Zelda and Cordelia snuggled up together, both fast asleep. Faustus went to Zelda to whisper to her. “It’s late, my love. We’re going to have to leave for the airport, well, in just a few hours now.”

“Mmm,” was Zelda’s only reply.

It was only then that he saw the book. “Did Cordy get another story out of you?”

Again, “Mmm.”

“Dearest, are you asleep?”

“Mmm?”

Faustus smiled. “That’s what I thought.” Gently, he put 1 hand under Zelda’s head and the other 1 under her knees. Then he carried Zelda out of Cordelia’s room and back to their own bed.

 Even though they had only been home a few weeks before for feats of feasts, Sabrina and LJ’s homecoming was a joyful one. At the airport, there was much hugging and kissing, done by all the family. The morning flew by with all their laughing, talking, and catching up. After lunch, most of the family went to the church with Zelda to help set things up, yet Sabrina went for a different reason. All Sabrina had to do was wait for an opportunity to talk to her aunts alone. She got 2 and chickened out both times. Fed up with her own failure, Sabrina teleported herself back to Spellman’s kitchen and groaned.

“Just tell them, you coward!”

The loud whistle of the kettle startled Sabrina. She turned and saw Faustus at the stove,1 of his eyebrows rose. “Something wrong, Sabrina?”

She could feel her eyes watering. “Yes.”

Faustus said the 1st thing that came to mind. “Are you changing your major again?”

Sabrina shook her head. “No, I’m not changing my major. I’m not going back to school at all!” There, she finally said it.

For his part, Faustus got out 2 cups and saucers, poured the tea, and sat down at the table with Sabrina.

“I can’t seem to bring myself to tell Auntie Hilda and Aunt Z. I wasted 5 years, 3 majors, and all that money. My aunties are going to be so disappointed.”

In an effort to comfort his niece, Faustus took Sabrina’s hand in his. “All your aunts have ever wanted for you is to be happy.”

“I tried, I tried so hard.” Sabrina’s lip quivered.

“I know,” Faustus soothed. “Maybe this could be a blessing in disguise,” he suggested. “Maybe, by taking a semester off will help you relax and figure out for sure what you really want to do.”

“But I was sure all those times I change my majors,” Sabrina stressed.

“You know, 1 of my favourite teachers once told me that the secret to professional success is to pick something that you love and are good at.”

“But I don’t know what I’m good for a job.”

“What about helping people? You’re good at that.”

“But that could any career.” Sabrina pointed out.

“How about a therapist? I would be lost without mine.”

Sabrina smiled. “A therapist? Me? You remember I’m the one who causes most of the problems around here?”

“Oh, that was when you were a teenager,” Faustus dismissed. “You’re grown up a lot since then. Besides, if nothing else, the outlook of a half-mortal, half-fallen angel raised by witches is bound to be interesting.”

Sabrina laughed. “True. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks, Uncle Faustus.”

He was shocked. “You’ve never called me uncle before.”

“I know but it’s high time I did.”

 “Dad? I’ve been wondering something for a long time, but I’m not sure how to ask.”

It was late that night and Faustus was readying Cordelia for midnight mass. In his opinion, she looked great. His daughter was wearing a new red dress, her white winter tights, and shiny black Mary Janes. He was now adding the finishing touch of a ribbon in her red hair, exactly like her mother’s. “Cordy, don’t be scared. You know you can ask me anything.”

“Okay, Dad, don’t you believe? I mean, I know that Uncle C isn’t a warlock, so it makes sense that he doesn’t share our faith, but why don’t you believe?”

“But I do believe, sweetheart. I was baptized the night after you were born.”

Cordelia seemed confused. “You were?! Then why don’t you ever attend mass?”

Faustus sighed. “You have to leave in a few minutes and it’s a very long story and I promise that someday we will discuss this in greater detail, but for now all I can tell you that when I was high priest, before you were born, I did things that I am deeply ashamed of. The coven has since forgiven me but I am still weary of being near them.  I do attend mass, in fact, I’m there every week, but I don’t sit up front with the rest of the family, I actually like to sit in the very back pew. I also like to be the last one to arrive and the first one to leave. I like it when the coven doesn’t even notice me.”

Cordelia thought for a moment and then said, “Are you sorry about what you did?”

“Oh, Hecate, yes! I’m sorrier than anyone can ever know.”

Cordelia shrugged. “Then the coven has to forgive you. It’s just good manners.”

Faustus hugged his daughter, grateful for her innocent logic.

   A little later, Cordelia found herself at the church, sitting in the front pew with Hilda, Sabrina, Ambrose, and the twins while Prudence sang in the choir. Even at 6, Cordelia felt proud that it was her mother who performed the service, glorious in her white and gold robes. During the middle of the service, Cordelia took advantage of her end seat and looked toward the back. Sure enough, she found her father, who waved at her. After mass, Cordelia stayed behind to help clean up and help her mother say goodbye to the coven. When they drove home, there a raven haired woman near the stairs. Cordelia didn’t know who the lady was but, judging the way her mother was gripping the wheel, Cordelia guessed her mother did.

“Is she the one who keeps bothering you?” Zelda asked.

“No, I don’t think so. Mom, who is that?”

“Go inside and get dressed for bed, Cordy. It’s late.”

Cordelia did as she was told but she did pick up some bits of dialogue.

“Bright solstice, Zelda.”

“What are you doing here, Lilith?”

“Come now, surely I’m allowed to check up on my son’s future bride.”

That was all Cordelia heard. 10 minutes later, Zelda came into Cordelia’s room to kiss her daughter goodnight.

“Mom?  I heard you and that lady talking. Who’s getting married? Prudence or LJ?”

“No one in this house is getting married!” Zelda declared firmly.

Zelda went to bed mad and woke up even angrier. “I don’t get it, Faustus.” She said to her husband as they went downstairs for breakfast. “We heard or seen nothing of Lilith these past 6 years and the 1st thing she mentions is that stupid marriage contract that I signed in invisible ink and can’t possibly be binding. Lilith knows that! What game is she playing at?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Faustus answered honestly. “Whenever it is, we’ll deal with it together like we always do. Today is solstice. It’s time to celebrate that and the fact that this is your 1st day off in weeks. Then, later on, tonight, I get to show you how terribly I and our bed, have missed you.”  He kissed her hard before they walked into the kitchen, hand in hand.

 According to tradition, the family waited until sundown to gather round the Yule tree and start exchanging gifts. Half an hour later, the get together was in full swing, with music, talking, and laughing all filling the air. It was about this time that Faustus gave Zelda a small blue ring box. Inside was the 6th annual charm that Faustus gave his wife every Yule to go on the bracelet that he had given her on their 1st Solstice that they spent together as a married couple. However, the meaning of this year’s charm was lost on Zelda.

“A white rose?”

Faustus nodded. “A symbol of eternal love.”

Zelda gave a sly smile. “Yours or mine?”

Faustus laughed and stroked his wife’s cheek as he received Zelda’s thank you kiss. Then Faustus stood up and grabbed a skinny gift from under the tree. He passed it to Cordelia.  “Speaking of jewellery, here a little something from your mother and me.” Cordelia smiled as she took the gift and unwrapped it. It turned out be a golden chain with a crescent moon attached, not unlike her own birthmark. She looked up at her parents from her place on the floor.

“I love it! Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom.” Cordelia got up and hugged both her parents.

“May Hecate bless and keep you, my Cordelia.” Zelda smiled at her daughter.

“Amen.”

“Oh, it seems we ran out of music and could use a new Christmas CD.” Hilda sighed.

“I’ll go change it since I’m up.”  Cordelia offered and journeyed to the stereo but before she got there, she passed a window and froze.  She looked very upset.

It was Hilda who first noticed her distress.  “Cordy, darling? What’s wrong?”

“It’s her,” Came her niece’s reply. “The ghost that keeps up me at night. She’s right outside.”

“How do you know? You said you never saw her.” Ambrose pointed out.

Cordelia shook her head. “I never did, but I always felt her just as I feel her now and I’m looking straight at her.”

Faustus got up to collect his daughter.  “Come sit down, sweetheart.  We’ll figure all this out later.” Yet just as he put an arm around Cordelia, he looked out the window and saw the ghost too. “Constance?”

“Faustus, may I see you out in the hall for a minute?” Zelda asked as she rose.

 “I think we should let Constance in.”

Faustus couldn’t believe his ears. “What?  Zelda dearest, what are you saying?”

“Well, I think it’s perfectly oblivious why she’s here.”

Faustus nodded. “Yes, she’s here to ruin our family solstice.”

“No,” his wife disagreed, “I think she’s here to see her children, the twins, as is her right.”

“I think you’re giving her too much credit. Don’t you remember how she behaved the last time we made contact with her? You had to bar her from the house!”

“That was over 6 years ago. Maybe she changed.”

“Changed?!” Faustus sneered. “Then why has she  been  bothered Cordy for over a month?”

“Why don’t you go out there and ask her yourself?”

“Fine, I will,” Faustus agreed. “But you’re coming with me.”

A moment later, Zelda and Faustus stepped out onto the frozen porch. Constance was right before them.

“If we allow you into this house, will you abide by its rules and customs?” Faustus asked.

Constance smiled as she nodded. “I will.”

“Come in. You are welcome.” With those simple words, Zelda broke her own spell.

The whole family was shocked when Faustus and Zelda returned with the ghost. Hilda was the 1st to recover.

“Um, Ambrose, Prudence, Sabrina, Cordy, could you come to help me and your uncle C in the kitchen?”

“I think I’ll join you.” Zelda turned to join the family, but Constance called her back. “Please stay, Zelda, there’s something I would like to say to you too.”

“Ok.” Zelda was unsure as she slid into her chair next to Faustus. The twins were sitting on the sofa. Zelda noticed that the twins were holding hands, something they only did when they were really anxious.

“Is it true?”  Jake asked. “Are you really our mother?”

“She’s only our birth mother,” his sister answered him, “Zelda is our real mother.”

“LJ, please!” Zelda didn’t mean it, but her mothering tone came through.

Constance didn’t seem to mind as she stared at the twins and smiled. “You are both so beautiful.”  She touched LJ’s face. “My daughter on her way to becoming a witch doctor!”

Jake lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not a genius like LJ.”

“Are you happy, my son?”

“I am.”

Constance smiled. “That’s all that matters.”

“And we’re safe,” LJ added.

“That’s right,” Jake agreed. “Blackwood is no more.”

Constance smiled. “I know; I’ve been watching you. I’ve been watching all of you.” Constance turned. “Which brings me back to you, Zelda Spellman. I have something important to say to you. Thank you. Ever since you dispatched with Blackwood, you have done everything to make sure that my children felt safe and loved. I can never thank you enough for that.”

LJ got up and walked to Zelda’s side. “Why would even doubt her? She cared for us when we were babies. I mean, this is the same woman who whisked me away at birth and loved me when she didn’t have to.”

You must understand,” Constance stressed. “The last time I saw Zelda; she was heavily pregnant. I thought that she would prefer her own child and become a petty and jealous stepmother to the 2 of you. Just” Constance sighed and cast down her eyes in shame. “Just as I did with Prudence. Happily, that didn’t happen. She loves you as if you were her own.”

“I love them because they are my own,” Zelda said gently, “Just as Cordelia and Prudence are. Perhaps you would have learned this if you’ve survived but a mother’s heart can never be too full.”

“Wait,” Jake was confused. “If all you wanted was to have a peaceful heart-to-heart, then why have you been bothering Cordy all this time?”

Constance looked startled.  “Have I?   I didn’t mean to. Please apologize to her for me.”

LJ leaned in to whisper in Zelda’s ear.  “I guess the divine child’s powers can pick up a rogue ghost better than we can.”

Zelda’s focus was elsewhere at the moment. “Constance, you’re glowing. You’ve never looked better.”

The ghost blushed like a schoolgirl. “Am I? Well, I guess being at peace agrees with me then. You see, I recently re-met a friend from childhood on the other side, and he has been helping me to put aside my anger and bitterness. I’m starting to see things differently now. Zelda, I understand that you didn’t set out to break up my marriage, Faustus’s heart was yours long before I came around. It’s perfectly fine that my children have 2 mothers, as long as they are loved and protected.”

Sensing that her time was up, Constance kissed both her children and turned to leave when

“Wait.” It was the 1st time Faustus had spoken since they had all sat down. Now, he stood and when to the ghost. “Constance, I have never seen you speak so tenderly or behave so kindly. I just to say I’m sorry. We never were a love match but I could have been kinder to you during our marriage. Not pressuring you for a son, been more of a comfort during your miscarriages. Enjoy the happiness you have now; you certainly deserve it. Bright Solstice.” He gave her a peck on the cheek. The lights flicked and then the ghost was gone.

It was when Constance was gone that Jake fell on his knees before Zelda. “We love you, bonus mom.”

LJ hugged her. “We sure do.”

Faustus watched this touching scene for a moment and then turned his attention to the hallway.  “Okay, guys, you can come out now. Don’t think I don’t see you spying over there!”

The guilty gang filed back into the living room and the Solstice celebrations continued.1 hour later, the room was quiet as Ambrose read Charles Dickins’ A Christmas Carol aloud. Fearing that she would too big to do it next year, Cordelia grabbed her favorite blanket and settled herself on Zelda’s lap. She was going to ask if she was too heavy when her mother held her closer.

“Hecate, bless us, everyone,” Cordelia whispered.

[moral-turpitudes]

Deal with the Devil: Ch. 10

(gif creds: @shallowthinkersunite​)

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Violent Descriptions of Death, Fighting, Explosions, Guns, Knives, Angst.

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Isla Maxwell (OC)

Word Count: 3,315

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | *7* | 8 | 9 | 10

The clock struck 7pm as the townspeople milled about on the cold, damp roads. The sounds of cars and incessant chatter filling the entrances to the race track as everyone trickled in.

“Everyone knows the plan right?” Isla asked, getting silent nods in response while checking her knives and the rounds in her gun.

“Aye what if we make it? Can we get drinks after?” John asked, Nick elbowing him in the shoulder.

“You really can’t think of anything else right now? Jesus.” Nick said, his hands shaking slightly as he grabbed a handgun and grenade.

“If we make it through we will. Focus on our targets and not dying though, please.” Isla said, wrapping her coat around her where a machine gun was concealed. Snow was falling sporadically as they made their way to the back entrance, the skies creating a gray fog over the dirt covered path.

As they stalked forward, Thomas looked straight at the doors for anyone standing guard. With a quick motion, he put his hand out in a fist to stop the rest of them from walking ahead and quickly got his gun ready, holding it out and aiming through the fog.

The shots pierced the air at a blinding pace, going through two of Mosley’s security members before they could return fire. Their blood coating the white-washed bricks as they fell limp in front of the door.

As they neared the back entrance, Isla looked up to see some of her connections perched atop the roof, giving her a quick nod as she stepped over the bodies and went inside.

The area was dark and smelled of hay and horse manure, which was typical for a day spent at the track. But what wasn’t so typical was the four men in the distance, barely blinking an eye as they heard the commotion down the hall.

“Oi! You aren’t allowed back here! Go to your seats!” They yelled through the dark room, the lack of light working to Isla’s advantage. She quickly grabbed two of her knives and flung them as she stalked forward, their blades sticking in two of the men’s bodies like darts in a dart board. The other two quickly ran after her, attempting to grab her before being shot at close range by Arthur, who’d came in from where the tunnels were.

“Anyone down there besides our men?” Thomas asked, crouching down and slitting one of the men’s throats to silence him as he wailed in pain.

“There were two but I got ‘em. It’s so loud in here you can’t even give a bloody command.” He said, looking out at the rowdy crowd that was forming in the stands, Isla’s connections getting in their places near the stage and blending in.

“Right, so that leaves around sixteen of them.” Nick said, looking down the vacant hall where Mosley’s room was located. A faint shot rang out from above as music started playing, the band looking weary as they played for another night in a row.

“Sounds like your sniper got one.” Thomas said, walking down the hall with Isla following, not wanting to waste any time.

“Back!” He yelled, his arm shoving her behind him as they dashed around the corner, four of his men walking out of his room and down the hall towards the stage.

Thomas looked at her and nodded as she got her knives ready, John and Nick keeping an eye out towards the stage as they hastily prepared for anymore attacks.

“I’ll get them from behind.” Thomas said suddenly, tilting his head to another hall that led around to where they were. Isla caught on and nodded, taking her coat off to adjust her revealing dress and quickly retrieve the pocket watch. She put on a worried face as she walked out from the corner, her hand gun concealed under her coat as she stalked near them.

“Excuse me...I must’ve gotten turned around. I have this watch Mosley wanted me to give back after last night. Is his room this way?” She asked pushing a stray hair behind her ear, their eyes carving into her as she adjusted her dress, dangling the watch in front of her. In the distance she could see Thomas aiming and nodding for her to duck down.

She flicked the watch off her hand haphazardly, sending it to the floor with an audible crack, and bent down quickly to pick up the glass shards as the bullets ripped through the men. The loud noise sending Mosley’s door flying open as three more of his members came out, each pelted with bullets as Thomas shot them.

John and Nick ran over to help her once it was clear, kicking the ruined watch out of the way before they all sprinted down towards the stage.

“He goes on in five minutes.” Arthur said, closing his watch as he stalked back towards the tunnel once again.

“Fuck.” John said, pacing the area as the time ticked down.

“I looked in his room. He’s not there.” Thomas said, walking away from the bloody mess.

“When the snipers see me nod, they’ll know to take him out. We could just wait him out in the crowd.” Isla said, her plan only half working as reality set in. Mosley cheated death before, so it was only fitting if he avoided it this time.

“John, you and Nick stay here. Take out any men you see, except Mosley.” Thomas said, taking Isla’s hand and leading her out the back entrance and around to the front where the last few followers were heading in.

They kept their heads down as they crept in, Isla pulling him to the side when she found a couple of her connections standing in the vacant halls.

“He’s about to go on. Take out as many of the members out as you can, we’ll be in the stands. Tell the others.” She said to them quickly, clutching Thomas’ hand tightly as her nerves set in, scanning for open seats just out of Mosley’s sight.

Once seated, Isla looked up and saw the snipers faintly as the night closed in. The cold air creeping in amongst the crowd as the eerie music started up.

The lights dawned on the stage as his followers clapped. Mosley coming out with a smug expression as he spoke.

“Thank you everyone. Tonight has started off a bit unsettling, given the attempt on my life once before, but don’t you worry. I have protections in place now more than ever. You are all safe here.” He said, smiling his wicked smile as some of the crowd shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. The sight made Isla’s stomach churn as he continued his speech, knowing some of them would follow anything he said without questioning it.

“You’re pale, are you alright?” Thomas asked, noticing her face changing color.

“He makes me sick.” She said, eyeing her men in the crowd as they watched Mosley speak, their guns nestled in their coats, ready to shoot at a moments notice.

The crowd grew more rowdy as he went on, Thomas fleetingly looking at his rival as he spoke, careful not to show his face too much.

“What’s going on?” She asked, ripping her eyes away from Mosley to see Thomas staring at him.

“Oh...just thinking. I can’t believe I couldn’t kill him last time.” He said, mentally tearing himself apart as she clutched his hand.

“He’s a hard man to catch, we’ll get him this time.” She said, focusing on her men in the crowd. Mosley’s passionate shouts erupted from the stage as his followers stood and clapped, the music blaring from the trumpets and other instruments near them.

Behind the stage stood Alfie and a couple of his men, blocking the view to the back portion where John and Nick were. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she saw him, he was a welcome sight after all, even amongst the chaos.

“Well if Alfie got here that means they got through alright. I wonder how many are down now.” He said, looking up at the snipers, only the tips of their guns poking out from the roof.

“At this point as long as we get Mosley that’s all that matters.” She said, watching as Mosley waved at the crowd. Her eyes narrowing as she scanned the area.

Thomas gripped her hand, getting her attention as he nodded in the corner where some of her connections were. They were fighting a few of the members and one of them waved back at the members sitting near the stage.

“You see that?” Isla asked.

“Yes. We have to go.” Thomas said, slowly getting up with her following his lead. He pushed through the crowds frantically as they made their way towards the back of the stage, their eyes adjusting to the darkness and chaos that was ensuing as Mosley spoke.

As if on cue, the rest of his men came in except for the ones in the crowd, a hail of bullets flying through the air as Thomas shoved her behind him and led them around the corner.

“Fuck!” Thomas shouted as he got his gun. Aiming from behind the corner as Alfie and his men shot at the others.

“Go find Arthur and the rest of our guys Tommy. I’ll take these ones.” She said, loading her gun and shooting from beside him, the loud recoil almost shattering both their ears.

“No.” He said, helping her into the main area where Mosley’s members were firing. Alfie was fighting one of them and the others were knocking each other senseless amidst the gunfire.

As the light came in from the stage, Isla saw two men lying on the ground, their eyes open and breathing shallow as they bled out on the floor.

Her heart sank as she crouched near them, realizing it was Nick and John.

“No! No....you both have to stay with me!....Please...” She said, her eyes welling up with tears as she clutched onto them, anger rising within her as she grabbed their weapons, shoving their grenades in her coat pocket.

Before she could move away from their bodies, Thomas grabbed her hand, putting it up to his face.

“Look at me aye? They’re gone. You couldn’t save them alright? Keep going.” He said, his heart tearing at the shock and anguish on her face.

“We have to end this.” Was all she said before she got up, walking past Alfie and shooting at whatever moved. She saw fire whenever she looked at his members, their faces menacing as she pulled the trigger. There were now two of Mosley’s members left, excluding the ten of his men sitting near the stage, blissfully unaware of the carnage that took place behind the scenes.

“Isla wait! Wai-“ Thomas started to say before a sharp pain hit him in the shoulder.

Isla panicked inside as she shoved him out of the way, causing them to fall onto the dark wooden floor.

“Tommy? Tommy! Hey!” She said looking into his eyes as he searched hers.

“Don’t you fucking die on me.” She said, tearing a strip of fabric from her coat as she tied it around his arm.

“It’s just a shot to my shoulder I’ll be fine, love. Go on I’ll be there soon.” He said, wincing as she tied the last knot.

“You better be.” She said, looking into his eyes for a moment before she headed off towards the tunnels.

Her footsteps clamored along the damp floors, echoing as she ran into the darkness. As she made her way down she was dragged forcefully against a wall, a hard punch landing straight to her jaw as she tried to wrestle free.

“Let me go you bastard!” She yelled, grabbing at the mans arms and eventually wrestling her way free. The man swinging as she dodged him.

In a swift motion she retrieved her gun, shooting the man without hesitation, sending him falling back. She looked around after that, scanning the long tunnel for any signs of movement and finding none except a heavy set of boots running in the distance.

“Isla! It’s Arthur! I heard you! You alright?” He asked, almost running into her as her eyes adjusted.

“Y-yeah. Are there anymore down here?” She said panting, looking around and over Arthur’s shoulder.

“No, you got the last one. C’mon we have to get back to the stage.” He said, leading her back to where she’d left Thomas. Her heart dropped as she looked to where he’d been, seeing the blood smeared on the wall of where he once sat.

“Where the fuck did he go? Tom?” Arthur asked, panic in his eyes as he walked towards Alfie and a few of his men.

“Oi! Where did he go?” He asked.

“I’m afraid he went out to the crowd I think. Had a mad look in his eyes mate.” He said, following Isla.

“If he doesn’t make it love...you can always-“

Isla turned on her heels and slapped him, her eyes blazing as she spoke.

“Don’t you fucking say a word. Just do your job.” She said, pulling her machine gun out from around her, the grenades securely put away in her coat as she walked towards the stage.

The crowd was roaring as she crept along the wall, his members in the stands clapping and yelling along with him as his voice carried throughout the track.

“I told the guys near the entrance. The snipers will know.” She heard a voice say behind her. She turned with her gun raised up, only to be met with a pair of blue eyes.

She sighed as she lowered her gun, walking towards him with tears in her eyes.

“How’d you get over there? You’re hurt.” She said, looking at him as he tightened the tourniquet around his arm.

“I ran and snuck through some hallways, made it to one of the upper floors and managed to snag one of the snipers attention.” He said.

“So they’ll know when to shoot?” She asked.

“Yes. Now c’mon. He’s lived far too long already.” He said, sneaking back into the room near Arthur and Alfie and his men, the rest of their small band of connections all gathering there.

“How many have we lost?” She asked, looking at each of their worn faces.

“Three people. They were killed in the fight that happened near the entrance.” One of the hitmen said.

“Alright. I lost my two so that makes five. Let’s just finish this alright? For them?” She asked, hearing what seemed to be the closing music to Mosley’s speech. He stood there with his arms open as if summoning something from above, basking in his own glory for all to see. He stayed there looking down at his notes and dismissing the crowd, before going back to his weird meditative state. Forever relishing in the fact that he managed to pull off one of his largest rallies yet.

“He’s been yelling for half an hour. I think it’s time we shut him up.” One of the men said. Alfie smirked and grabbed his gun, patting Thomas on the back as they glanced at Isla. She looked forward to this moment for ages, knowing all the pain and suffering she went through would finally be worth it.

With a deep breath, she got her gun ready and walked towards the open area near the stage, watching as the followers left in droves. Waiting patiently until the place was almost empty before giving any orders. As the last groups dispersed, she gave a quick few nods to her allies above. As she did so, she looked back at Thomas one last time before she headed towards the stage. The rest of the small crew following after her as they went towards the heavy curtains. The thick fabric being the only thing separating good and evil.

The sounds of bullets fell from above as the snipers aimed at the men below. Their shots taking them out one by one, narrowly missing Isla’s other connections who helped hold them at gun point at their seats.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Mosley opened his eyes at the podium to see his men slaughtered, hearing a slew of footsteps behind him as he turned around. He was soon met with Thomas shoving him to the ground, using his cap to slice his face as he pinned him to the ground.

As his beating ensued, Isla looked around for any other threats, making sure the others went to scope out the place.

As she looked back, her heart raced as she realized this was the moment she trained for.

“You...you can kill him. Go ahead.” Thomas said, breathing heavily and slamming his head into the floor once more before getting up, leaving Mosely a bloodied, battered mess.

She nodded at him, Thomas’ hands were shaking slightly as he wiped his bloodied knuckles on his shirt. Watching as she stalked towards him with her knife.

“I’d shoot him but it would be too quick.” She said aloud.

“Why would you want to kill me sweetheart?” He asked between painful breaths.

“You killed my whole family in a fire remember? All for your stupid party. You fucked with the wrong family though Mosley. Now you’re going to burn.” She said. Slitting his throat slightly so he bled out slowly. The floor turning a slick crimson under her boots as she backed away.

She pulled out a grenade, stepping off the stage.

“Everyone out!” Thomas yelled as they heard everyone scattering out the door. A wicked smirk playing at her lips as she let the pin go. She hurled the grenade onto the stage, grabbing Thomas’ hand as they ran towards the door. The explosion causing them to drop to the ground just outside of the track. The debris from inside the track mixing in the air with the snow that fell frantically outside.

As they sat up on the cold ground, they watched as the flames grew higher. Illuminating the winter sky as the sounds of guns went off in the distance.

Moments later they heard cheers and footsteps running towards them as they shared a cigarette, the shock of the evening not yet snaking it’s way into their bones.

“So uhm...what now?” She asked, smiling as everyone made their way over to them, her eyes still fixed on the flames.

“I say we get drinks...” Arthur said loudly as the fire rumbled through the building before them. The rest of them walked on, leaving Thomas and Isla to themselves along the dirt path they’d walked only hours ago.

“I’ll have to agree with Arthur. Do you want to join?” Thomas asked, a playful smirk gracing his features as he helped her up.

“I will only If your family doesn’t completely hate me, I didn’t exactly give them the best first impression.” She said, walking next to him.

“There’s always room for second chances.” He said.

“Let’s hope so.” She said, holding his hand as they walked towards the car and to whatever else awaited them.

It was in these moments after the chaos that she always dared to hope. Knowing this could one day happen again. But as she grappled with that reality, she knew one thing was for certain. One of their main enemies were gone, never to reign over their lives again. And with careful steps she cautiously looked towards a more hopeful future, knowing that the flames couldn’t touch her. Knowing that despite all the pain they suffered through, that their world would never be the same. That there may come a time where they’ll have to fight again, but for now they could rest easy knowing that justice was served and that her particular deal wasn’t done in vain.

[flow-green]

19-08-2021

 “I think I’ve never had more chaotic year than this one,” I confessed one evening when we drove in a car somewhere. My SO gave me a warm look and I checked to the back seat where my Charlie-baby was sleeping. If somone would have told me year and a half ago that 2021 will be a true turnaround in my life, when I will throw away all the life chains and take full control, I would have rolled mye eyes and gotten back to my endless vicious circle of career. I think ever since 17-years old I have followed the norms the society has set up: graduate high school, sprint through university, meanwhile make sure you work so you won’t get drowned in depts, get a job for your field of interest, in the meantime take some loan for some random house and if you have a moment, please, make some babies. Ever since I was a child, I knew right away: that’s not me. I don’t know what it is that makes me want to break these frames. But, oh well, there is no point to raise my voice for my own good as all the other people around me are nicely stable in the system. Some of my exes are on the same line: if you are not a parent by age 31 and do not own a gorgeous house in the suburbs while paying a sickly huge loan, meanwhile ignoring your family, friends and hobbies to make ends meet just so you could work yourself to deah by age 40, then you are a loser.

Few weeks ago in Saaremaa, while tipping my toes and feet into the warm and comforting waters of Estonian sea, I realized where I have drifted with my life. Only now I have started to realized that, f**k me sideways, I am actually a living human being. A LIVING person. I LIVE.

About 2 months ago, near summer solstice, I finally felt the finalizing ticking in my brain that pushed me gently to the edge of unknown. “Will you?” the life asked and motioned me to jump. “Or will you stay here forever, wondering what’s down there?” And so, with shivering hands, I clicked ‘send’ button on the mail that delivered my resignation letter to my boss. Done. Over half a year full of mental terror and a slow suicide will come to an end. At this point I had insane regrets. How am I supposed to throw away an opportunity and 6-year long career just because I do not want to live anymore? Now you’re probably thinking I am being a drama queen and overexaggerating. Oh, dear god, no. There were days, where everything started to tumble down in one go: my love life, my family relations, friends and work relations. On these days I switched myself and my phone off, listened to some serious melancholic tunes, sat alone for hours or drove around with a car and now, admitting for the first time: I hoped that something will happen and I do not need to live here anymore. I admitted this once also in my therapy, that I have frozen up while driving, not really giving a damn about my leg on gas pedal and about the speed.

I am once again a fat, useless, lazy, clumsy, slow and unorganized. Blessed with sore black eyes, a girl with unstable nervs and flaked nails. And all this just to give myself to a work which does not appreciate any sacrifices I make.

And I did it. This is MY life. My path and my decision, I ain’t going anywhere and even if I do, I’ll go with a smile on my face and as a queen for a day.

Few days ago I realized with full heart that this was one of the most important decisions in my life. I went for a run, as I have started to pick it up again. I went and set a goal to run approx 20 minutes. I had time. No rush. Only responsibility waiting for me was one project to improve a home page of our fresh company, but there was no strict deadline nor a passive aggressive boss-lady stalking my every move and making sure I am around even off-hours. So, my 20 minute run became to a 1 hour run, which was successful, nicely progressive and easy. I enjoyed every minute, because I was present. I had nowhere to hurry. I did not worry about the future or the past. I was just excisted. And I breathed.

I think I have cried more this year than in total for all past years. In my 9 to 5 appartment cubical lifestyle I always pushed away everything that demanded at least some movement out of comfort zone. For exaxmple I always closed in when my ex partner had an idea to do some changes. Well, true, his changes did not comply with my dreams. I did not want to get a huge loan to buy a house and sprint out 2 babies just because ,,Martin and Marge had their second kid in their gorgeous house and Martin is only 1 year older than me.” OK, is nice for them I guess? Every time these silly arguments started to come up, I switched myself off into my safety bubble, all alone. I let no emotions, chaotic situatons to influence myself and I just slowly flew on my laid down path, with eyepatches on. I always knew I want something different. I wanted to fight and be heard. Every time there was a conflict at work, with a friend or family member or with a partner, I eliminated it in the early stages and just ignored the rest.

And when these eyepatches were finally removed, everything else followed. I had no pink glasses or filters for emotons. Real life was there for me, but not always in a bad way. Real life offered everything, you only had to have guts to reach out and take it, with all its plusses and minuses. Take it, dominate, take responsibility, but don’t just float by. Get yourself togeter, notice, do, learn and experience. If not now then... when?

This half of a year has thrown so many obstacles and opportunities on my way and I have caught most of them. I guess one of the most difficult period was spending some insane time at a house in the middle of nowhere, without any water or normal comforts. This has made me appreciate small benefts of our everyday life.

I think I have mentioned this earlier as well, that February and March were probaby the hardest months this year. I was given a challenge to overcome and boy, it was tough. Namely, I got pregnant. As a woman who has never wanted to become a mom due to several and long reasons which I will not discuss today, I was in a cocmplete shock. I felt happy, scared, angry. Why now? Universe has its twisted sense of humour and it turned out that the pregnancy is not carriable for medical reasons and abortion is a must. I did not have a single day to stay home and mourn and endure grief. Oh, no, they needed me back to work ASAP. So I ignored the pain of loss and carried on with even more enormous work tempo to keep up. This period started a chain reaction which pulled me cruelsomely to the edge of the cliff. Work does not sleep, it waits impatiently. Even on these two horrible days I had to go through with the process, I did some work since I had become irreplacable.

All the emotions sealed up just blasted out as soon as some smaller bebble hit my bicycle. I cried hysterically, screamed. There were no days where my eyes weren’t bloodshot and with dark underlines.

In some sort of a sick twisted way I felt good, since I was needed, everything depends on me and I am sure it will get paid off nicely in the end when I have worked until my nose bleeds. In this tunnel vision I did not realize that skipped recovery and unresolved grief had made me this maniacal, delusional self-centered zombie, who lived for her workdays. All my free time I spent worrying about next work day. I did not notice anymore how my mom is doing, how are my friends and what is my partner up to. Every time we went off to one of our van trips I just existed somewhere in my thoughts about how much there is still to do. And it’s even more sadder, that I did not even notice myself anymore in the free world.

“Yea, but how would you go on?” was the main question I was asked when with a shaky voice I admitted that I need to quit my job right now and don’t want to take such responsibilities for a while now, only for myself. Everyone can do it. If there is a will, there is a way.

I am happy that I have at least won almost the entire battle with eating disorder, although I have to admint I am not proud over the inner criticizm about my body, which has grown 8 kg heavier since last summer. This means I still have days I hide under baggy clothes and just wait until these dark thoughts pass. There are days where I absolutely veto going to the beach because ‘it’s cold’. Actually I am reminding myself of that year where I had a killer six-pack, hip bones and tiny bikinies fit me so well, but now I look more like a curvy, slightly soft female not nearly showing signs of being physically active. Although, I am now in that golden zone where my weight is not going up nor down almost at all, no matter how much or little or what kind of foods I eat (plant based always of course). I guess it is positive, my body has found it’s perfect zone, but I--- don’t really like it. This mentality here is something now that I have to work with, with all my spare and peaceful time.

Since 25 July I am (f)unemloyed. And happy. I have made sure that I will be secured, will not be homeless and have food and I have a first step of a plan prepared. Priority for now is to help myself out of this destructive black hole that influences not only me but other close ones as well.

I don’t have black shadows under my eyes anymore. I sleep deep, without any random wake ups, I finally have time and motivation to cook, bake and test out recipes that have been collecting dust since forever. From day to day I get back to introduce myself to my long lost hobbies like kite surf, reading, writing, drawing and yoga.

I have finally startrd to realize that next to me there are people that I love unconditionally and to whom I have shown insanely rude attitude. Have you ever felt that re-falling in love again? I am currently feeling it with tripple multiplications, because I have once again fallen in so much love with my dog, my boyfriend and my hero on this topsy-turvy road, my family, friends and life itself.

I will not even take a glance anymore to that 100 promises I made earlier this year. Life is just so much different with completely new challenges. If anything, then I can mark this time period here as my new and fresh chapter for my life.

[mcwriting]

Starstruck (10; finale)

honestly this could be read standalone if you haven’t read any other parts of this story but it would definitely help with context

Here it is!! It’s been over a year coming with lots of ups and downs and hiatuses and it’s finally here! I’m so thankful for everyone who’s been on this journey with me and the people who have joined along the way!

Please don’t hesitate to stick around! Message me, ask questions, make requests! I’ve got big things coming and I’d love to add you to my taglist ;)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Setting: LA

Word Count: 3228

Warnings: Mild language, a little bitty bit of angst but then fluff

Rating: K+

                            __________________________________

You woke up at 8 Friday morning excited for the day ahead. You turned your head to see b/f/n still asleep on the other side of your bed, so you grabbed your phone and scrolled through social media.

It seemed like Tom had gone quiet on social media, and therefore people seemed to tag you in less things about him.

After about an hour, b/f/n finally rolled over and stretched.

“Well hello there,” she said, voice somewhat raspy.

“You ready for today?” you immediately asked. A sly smile crept on to her face.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The previous night had been spent pampering yourselves with facemasks and deep hair conditioning, so you felt your skin and hair were prepped for getting made up that afternoon.

You started off the morning with breakfast, then hung out for a while. After lunch, you go to work on your hair.

B/f/n helped you get bouncy curls and you pinned her hair into a low updo. It took another hour to get your makeup done in full glam. You didn’t skimp out on glitter and highlight.

Finally, it was time to get dressed. B/f/n suited up first, wearing a red gown with a layered tulle skirt, then you put on your blue dress. 

You said your final goodbyes to your parents and headed to the venue. 

                             __________________________________

Tom, Harrison, and Harry were rushing around the house getting last minute finishing touches from Christine, who’d been available to come style them and would keep it on the down low.

“Tom stop squirming! I’m trying to get this curl to lay right!” she exclaimed, fawning over his hair.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t sit still! I’m so nervous!” he explained in reply. 

They’d all explained to her the main gist of what was going on, so when Christine stopped to look right at Tom, he knew she was about to say something serious.

“Okay look at me. I’ve known you for how long now? I’ve never seen you this nervous. It’s going to be okay, Tom. No matter what happens you’ve got a great group of people to support you. You’re going to go out there tonight looking incredible and you’re going to tell the girl how you feel. You got this, man. I believe in you.”

Tom smiled at the encouragement and nodded.

“Yeah, alright. You’re right. I’ve just never felt this way before and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You literally talked two multimillion dollar corporations into coming back together just for the character you play while drunk. I’m pretty sure you’ll handle yourself just fine tonight,” she winked, finishing everything off with some hairspray.

“Okay perfect. Now Tom, you better not mess this hair up since I worked so hard to make it lay just right. Oh, and go get Harry for me. I don’t want him having an afro tonight.”

                             __________________________________

You and b/f/n arrived a few minutes after doors opened and found your other friends already right inside taking pictures. You all fawned over each other’s wardrobes and got plenty of photos together.

You happened to miss the “ The Brother’s Trust” logo on the poster listing off the night’s sponsors, though you probably wouldn’t have known what it was anyways at first glance.

Inside, you all found a table to set your things down at while you hung out on the dance floor before the actual dinner.

As more people, young and old, showed up, the dance floor became more crowded and it was fun to let loose with your friends. What you didn’t know about was the commotion happening behind the scenes.

Tom, Harry, and Harrison pulled into the back parking lot of the venue and looked around nervously. They weren’t quite sure what to do next, so Tom called the event coordinator he’d been in contact with for the previous week.

They were directed to come to the kitchen door to be let in, so the boys sprinted across the lot to avoid anyone seeing them. The door flung open and they were quickly ushered through the kitchen into an office.

The coordinator introduced herself, then requested for them to stay there until the dinner began. Someone brought them food to eat as people in the main room started getting off the dance floor and heading to their own tables.

You were happily seated around the table waiting for your meal when a woman came onto the stage.

“Good evening, everyone. As the food is being served, I just want to thank you for your support through purchasing tickets and for the generous sponsor donations. It’s well appreciated and will be put to good use. Here in just a little bit we will be bringing out our different surprise guests, so please, sit back, enjoy and I’ll be back in a little bit to announce the first guest.”

Your table was filled with chatter over who could be speaking. There had been rumors spread about different celebrities and business owners that might come, but it had been pretty well kept under wraps.  

The first people were a band that came to play a few songs while people ate their appetizers and who promised to return to the stage later after the dinner portion was over. 

Next as everyone enjoyed their entrees was a talk show host who made everyone laugh like they were in a comedy club.

As the desserts went around, the lady from before came onto the stage again.

“Well I hope you all enjoyed that. As the desserts are going around, I’d like to introduce our final surprise guest. This person has, through his family’s charity trust, generously given a large donation to this organization. I’ve asked that he would come just say a few words as the dinner came to an end. So everyone please give a warm welcome to Mr. Tom Holland!”

There were claps and cheers all around you, but you just took a sharp gasp, glancing around and blinking furiously to make sure this wasn’t a dream (nightmare?). 

You were frozen as you watched him step out from behind a curtain and take a microphone from the woman, waving as he scanned the crowd. He was wearing a grey suit with navy accents. 

You looked to your friends who looked at you with wide eyes. B/f/n avoided eye contact.

“Good evening, everyone and thank you for the warm welcome,” he began as the cheers died down.

You again looked at b/f/n.

“Did you know about this?” you whispered accusingly. She looked down with guilt. “Oh even worse. You had a part in this, didn’t you?”

“Y/n, I can explain-” she began, but you cut her off.

“No, you know what? Save it. We’ll talk about this later,” you spat, turning back to face the stage where Tom was. If you could just make it through his little speech, then you could drag b/f/n outside to figure out what the hell was going on.

“I’m so honored to have been involved in this and am excited to see where the money given by the brother’s trust will be used.”

He continued to scan the room until his eyes finally locked on yours.

“And, um. I,” you looked away and he cleared his throat. “Excuse me, um, I’m excited to get to meet all of you after the dinner has finished…”

You realized he was still looking at you when you looked back up. You couldn’t handle this like you’d thought, so you tossed your napkin on the table and grabbed your phone, quickly trying to run out without too many people noticing.

Of course, Tom saw it from his place on the stage. He looked at b/f/n who put up her hands and gave a head nod towards the door, then got up to follow you.

“Anyways, I’ll let you get back to your desserts. Thank you all again for your support tonight,” he quickly finished, rushing off the stage to more claps and cheers. 

“Y/n just ran out, what do I do?” Tom asked hurriedly to his brothers from backstage.

“Figure out how to get out there! Where was b/f/n?” Harrison asked.

“She followed her but I don’t know how much time I have. We need to figure out the best way to avoid the crowd!” 

In the lobby, b/f/n was pleading with you to stop and calm down. You whipped around to face her, eyes misty.

“I can’t calm down, b/f/n! What the hell is going on?! How- why did you do this? I thought you said this would be the perfect night to move on and have fun, but I can’t really do that when you’re in kahoots with the guy who broke my heart! I mean what were you thinking!”

“I was thinking about you, y/n! You’ve been so depressed these past few weeks… I know you have feelings for him whether you want to admit it or not. I saw the way you smiled when we talked about that cologne the other day, and the way you get that longing look when you see a picture of him. Neither of you are over each other, and I couldn’t stand to see you like this any longer.”

“What happened to never hiding anything from each other again, huh? You didn’t think to, I don’t know, warn me before tonight that he would be here? Considering that I’m sure you’ve known about this for a while.”

“Oh come on, y/n. You wouldn’t have come tonight if you knew Tom was going to be here. He and Harrison and Harry begged me to keep it a secret so that you two would be able to have a real conversation. Tom wants to see you. Bad. Look, I’m sorry that it caught you off guard, but this was the only way I could think to get you two together.”

You sighed, still stewing over everything. 

“Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have come. But that would have been my choice. I don’t know that I want to talk to him after what he did to me. What could he even want from me, other than to mock me for not having clout or something?” You paused again. “This was supposed to be a fun night, but now all I want is to crawl in a hole and hide forever.”

B/f/n looked down again.

“Like I said, I’m sorry we did it this way, but I knew you’d say no if I asked. He’s had a change of heart, y/n. Could you please reconsider? I mean… he’s right there,” she gestured behind you and you turned around. 

There he was, in the flesh. Flanked by his brother and best friend. You crossed your arms and looked at b/f/n again.

“I’ll give him five minutes, but I swear if he does anything funny we’re leaving, okay? Promise me that.”

B/f/n looked between you and Tom’s group.

“Absolutely. Five minutes.”

She walked over to them and said a few words, Tom essentially keeping his eyes on you. She then gestured for you to follow them through a couple halls to a secluded room, leaving only you and Tom to talk.

“What do you want from me, Holland? I’m sure b/f/n told you, but you’ve got five minutes to explain yourself before I get the hell out of here.”

“And that’s all I need, y/n,” he pleaded. “I just want you to know how sorry I am. For everything. I’m sorry that I dragged you into my life unwillingly, I’m sorry for humiliating you and shunning you on a world stage. I’m most sorry for leaving you. I truly am.”

He looked down, ashamed. You were still mad, but felt a little pang in your heart.

“And that’s just supposed to make everything okay? I thought you were cool after the time we spent together. I thought I could trust you. But no, you had to listen to those awful people who you pay to be awful and go out and tell the world all about me. You chose the life of stardom, but I didn’t get that choice because of your cowardice,” you spat.

You knew somewhere in the back of your mind that you were being harsh, but everything you’d kept inside since he left was finally bubbling up again. He nodded his head in agreement.

“This doesn’t make it okay, at all. I didn’t think about the negative effects it would have on you before I put your name out to the millions of people who follow me. I was stupid and careless. And as far as my management goes, well, I fired them. After your speech went viral, what you said finally clicked. You helped me realize what dicks they were and the dick I was for listening to them.”

You stood up straight when he mentioned the last part, looking at him suspiciously.

“You- you did?” you looked around the room, even though no one else was there. “This isn’t another one of their little set ups?”

“No, no absolutely not. Do you really think they would have let me come here under their direction? Y/n, I came here because I know I messed up. Big time. I want to fix that, I want to be friends with you and I don’t know… maybe something more? I realized in these past few weeks that I am really and truly infatuated with you. And you can say no and I’ll walk out of your life for the final time, but I just needed you to know that I like you, a lot, and I’d like for you to be in my life in some way or another.”

You took a heavy breath and furrowed your brows, processing what he’d just confessed. 

He’s here, on his own accord, for me? He cares? Is this an act still?

Tom took your long pause as a no and started to walk off.

“Wait, Tom.”

He turned back to you, eyes hopeful. You breathed deep again before speaking up.

“What you did was wrong, and it hurt, but I want you in my life, too. I’ve never met anyone that I felt so comfortable with so quickly. I don’t know why… I don’t know how… but, I like you too. No matter how much I pretend to hate you for what happened, I could never find a place in my heart to actually hate you.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, instead shaking your head, wondering what had convinced you to finally admit that out loud.

“You mean that? You actually like me too?” he asked skeptically. You couldn’t blame him.

“Yes, Tom! I like you! I can’t help but spread the cologne you gave me over my sheets, or smile when a fan tags me in one of a bajillion of those fan edits they’re always making! I think back on the conversation we had that night at my house and I wonder what made me so against being a fan of yours from the beginning. I like you Tom. I just can’t believe that you like me, too.”

He gave you a watery grin at your explosive confession.

“Can I do something that I’ve been wanting to do since the night I fell asleep right next to you?”

You had a pretty good idea of what he was suggesting, but played dumb anyways, stepping forward so that you were about a foot away.

“I don’t know, can you?”

He rolled his eyes and closed the gap between you. One of his hands found itself resting on your waist as the other reached to tip up your chin. Your own arms instinctively grabbed his jacket lapels.

The last thing you caught before closing your eyes was the way his sparkled, and then your lips met.

You felt like you were back in bed laying on your side facing Tom when he told you about his own home and family and you explained your passion for dance. It was like the next morning when you first smelled the remains of cologne woven into your bed sheets as he gripped you in his arms. It was like holding his hand in a disgusting public restroom as the adrenaline of running from the paparazzi waned.

He felt like home.

When you pulled back you were really finally starstruck. A big smile rose to your lips, as did his. 

You couldn’t contain yourself as you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him again like you’d never done with anyone else, one hand gripping his curls.

He laughed as you pulled away, letting go of you to smooth his hair.

“My stylist is gonna kill me if she knows my hair got messed up,” he joked. This time you were rolling your eyes.

“Maybe I do remember why I didn’t like you before…”

He laughed it off and pulled you into a hug, which you happily reciprocated. You didn’t realize that it had been five minutes until b/f/n burst through the door, trailed by Harrison and then Harry.

“Alright did you two solve your issu- Oh. Well then, looks like our work here is done boys,” she joked. You and Tom blushed.

That is, until Harrison pulled your best friend into his own arms, picking her up and spinning her around. You and Tom looked at each other, then them, and then Harry suspiciously. Harry just tossed his hands up and shrugged. 

“Are you two trying to steal our thunder?” you taunted after he set her down and they were lost in each other’s eyes. It was their turns for their cheeks to redden. 

“Well the only thing I’ve learned on this trip is that I should have stayed home. Maybe then I would’ve at least had Tuwaine to caress me,” Harry deadpanned, causing you all to laugh. “Well come on, then, we should get back out there. We did promise to mingle.”

Tom panickedly looked at his watch.

“Yes! Right, we should get back out there. You all go ahead and we’ll be right behind,” he said. They all left, b/f/n wrapped under one of Harrison’s arms. You were happy for her.

“So… ready for me to formally introduce us to the world together?” he asked you, holding out his forearm for you to grab.

“Not really, but this time I have you by my side,” you replied, snaking your arm around his. He smiled as you began to walk with him. “By the way, I see you matched the suit to my dress.”

“Oh you like it? Well you’re looking like a real stunner in that…” 

Your voices faded into the background as you entered the room as Tom and y/n. Y/n and Tom.

It’s not often a girl can say she’s fallen for a big time celebrity and that he’s felt the same way back, but there you were. And it’s even less often that his and hers best friends fell for each other, too, but there they were.

And you were facing a starstuck world together.

The end.

                            __________________________________

A/N: ugh this makes me soft. Thank you all again for reading and please please please hang around! I’m not planning on going anywhere just because this is done!

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[momentsuspended-intime]

Finding light in the darkness.

*Trigger warning* This post mentions suicide, overdosing, crisis team, alcohol, drug abuse, and other scenarios people may find triggering or offensive. Please proceed with caution.

Don’t be afraid of change, it is leading you to a new beginning. The pain you feel today will be the strength you feel tomorrow. Every day is a new beginning. Take a deep breath and start again.

Sitting in my living room, empty boxes of codeine surrounding me, this is it I thought, all the pain was going to end. Finally.

I texted my ex, I messaged my friends, all saying goodbye and how sorry I was for causing so much turmoil. I felt broken and defeated, I just wanted it all to stop. My head was racing, I just wanted all these thoughts to stop going round and round my head, was a little peace too much to ask for? Suddenly my Mum entered the room her face was pale. “What have you done?!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. All I could do was look at her and apologise, I had a momentary lapse where I hadn’t considered my next steps. One of my friends had messaged my Mum in a panic; my ex was on the phone, I could hear him crying but I just felt numb.

My Dad then raced into the room “Why would you do this, Victoria?” “Not my baby, please no” Those words will haunt me for the rest of my life. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen my Dad cry, but this was different. In that moment I thought “had I made a mistake?” but I still felt numb. Maybe it was the 60 codeine tablets I took or the adrenaline pumping through my body but all I felt was nothing. It had been like that for weeks now. This empty feeling inside me, like a black hole, sucking out every little piece of love and emotions I had. I didn’t realise it at the time but I was suffering with Borderline Personality Disorder, but I’ll get to that later.

Suddenly I was in the back of an ambulance, ECG hooked up to my body, and I’d spend hours in the hospital, being seen by different Doctors and Mental Health Nurses. My parents were pushing to having me committed. The hospital didn’t do anything; they sent me home and in less than 24 hours I’d be back in the hospital after a second failed attempt at taking my own life. 120 codeine tablets in total over 24 hours. Thank god I’m alive writing this now. I’m not a religious person but I must have someone looking down on me, keeping me safe.

You might be wondering how I got to this point, you see I’ve always known something wasn’t quite right, I could never put my finger on it but I never felt ‘normal’. Whatever normal is anyway. My head had always been a chaotic place for as long as I can remember, I always felt things so intensely, but that was normal right? I never knew any better. I would say goodbye to my ex after a lovely weekend together (he was in the RAF so I only got to see him on weekends) and I would have been crying hysterically, like he was being deployed for 6 months but in reality I’d be seeing him again in 5 days time. Minutes later in my car with music blaring I’d be singing and dancing along to the radio, like the previous few moments never happened. Something that would annoy the average person would make me fly into a fit of rage; my family described it as like walking on eggshells when they were around me. Too scared to say certain things out of fear of how I would react.

Anyway I’m digressing here, but the point is I always knew something wasn’t right with me. So what happened to make me feel so low? I had a week from hell. I’d been fired from my job by e-mail, basically told not to come in the following Monday. I was heartbroken, I was a photographer for a Cigar and Whiskey company, and I’d studied Photography at University. I could do that job in my sleep but that e-mail hit me like a tone of bricks. Later that week I would find out that my Nan had stage 5 terminal kidney disease and a couple days later my boyfriend of 3 and a half years would break my heart. It was traumatic, we’d spent 4 lovely days together and on the Sunday he woke up, looked at me and ended it. Just like that. I still remember the stabbing sensation in my stomach when I instantly knew something was wrong. An hour later I was driving 4 hours back from Buckinghamshire, crying my eyes out, reality had not yet set in and I couldn’t believe this was really happening. I still remember hearing Lizzo on the radio “If he don’t love you anymore, just walk yo’ fine ass out the door”. How ironic.

The day after my stint in the hospital I find myself sat in a room at the Crisis Centre on Northgate Street, waiting to be seen by a Psychiatrist and Mental Health Nurse to discuss what needs to be done. I’m angry, exhausted, confused and want anything but help. One of the Mental Health Nurses looks at me and says, “If you’re going to kill yourself, you’re going to do it anyway”. That was it, I went super saiyan, how dare he say that to me! These people are supposed to be here to help me, I know I didn’t want help at that point but how could someone in authority whose profession it is to support and care for those in a crisis say something so repulsive? That would be one of many unsavoury experiences I’d have with the Mental Health services.

After finally speaking to the manager (I promise I’m not a Karen), we all agreed that at home treatment would be best for my situation and me. Over the next few weeks I would be seen by the Crisis team every day. Every damn day I would have to explain in intricate detail what had happened and how we got to this point. You see with the Crisis team you don’t see the same person every day, they’re all on shifts, so each visit I would meet someone new and be expected to open up to a complete stranger about how I was feeling. When in a crisis a person needs consistency, the chance to build a rapport with someone and to feel like they’re being listened to. Not judged for being in the position I found myself in.

After many visits with a Psychiatrist and members of the Crisis team they came to a conclusion, I didn’t realise just how life changing this revelation would be. I had Borderline Personality Disorder. Suddenly everything fell into place; intense and unstable emotions? Check. Feeling empty and angry? Check. Impulsivity? Check. In total there’s 9 different symptoms for BPD (I’ll cover this in a future post), and I had all 9.

If you’re wondering what Borderline Personality Disorder is exactly then let me give you a brief outline, of course this is one of the most misunderstood and often stigmatised mental health issue a person can have. In simple terms BPD is a condition that affects how you think, feel and interact with other people. People with BPD experience a pervasive pattern of instability, both in the way they view themselves and with interpersonal relationships.

BPD isn’t a fad, it isn’t quirky, it can be soul destroying and it almost cost me my life. Experiencing a break up, losing a job and finding out a loved one is ill was just too much. Just one of those things can cause someone with BPD to lose control, they say things come in threes and for me it was true. To a ‘normal’ person a break up is hard, unless you’re lucky enough to part ways as friends, for me it felt like someone had died. That might sound dramatic but it was true, I didn’t realise but my ex was my FP (favourite person). People with BPD often have a FP, someone they rely on and put on a pedestal, and this person can do no wrong. My problem is my FP broke my heart.

Now don’t get me wrong I know it takes two to tango, I wasn’t a saint but in my defence I didn’t realise I was ill. I was moody, never wanted to spend time with his family, argued over every little thing and I wanted him all to myself. I didn’t realise it at the time but I was obsessed.

I spent the next two weeks at a friend’s house, drinking and getting high. My head was a mess, thoughts racing; I just wanted a moment of calm. I thought I was making myself feel better, trying to forget all the chaos going on in my life but I was just making everything worse. I wasn’t facing these problems head on, I was masking them and I didn’t realise it but things were about to erupt.

During this time I was a train wreck, I was drinking at every moment I could. Taking the dog out so I could nip to the shops and down a bottle or two of Lambrini in the park (how classy, right?). My problem was during this time drinking would make me disassociate; I’d become violent and angry. At one point I found myself in the back of a police van, but I’m not ready to talk about that yet.

I had reached rock bottom, my family stood by me, and god knows why- I gave them every opportunity to disown me and kick me out of the house but they never did and for that I am eternally grateful. I knew something had to change, I HAD to change. I couldn’t keep going on living like this, surly there’s more to life than this?

I decided I would quit drinking and get my life back on track. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but anything worth having in life isn’t. I decided to try and raise money for NSFT (Norfolk and Suffolk Foundation Trust), at this point I had been discharged by the Crisis team and I was now in the hands of NSFT. This is when I met Allison, my Mental Health Nurse and things finally started to change for the better.

I started cycling 30 miles every day, I reached over 500 miles but due to health reasons I had stop. It’s my aim to re-start my little goal and hopefully add to the £250 I’ve raised so far. I started engaging with NSFT; I had weekly meetings with my MH Nurse, Allison and went to Recovery College, learning ways to cope with my diagnosis and my recovery.

During this time I started feeling better, I was given a cocktail of medications such as antipsychotics and anti-depressants and slowly the real me was starting to come out.

2 years on I feel like a completely different person. I’ve rebuilt my relationship with my family; I’m one year sober and living in a beautiful new house. Treatment, medication and personal growth have changed me. Just yesterday my Sister was saying she could finally see the real me, the one that had always been there but just needed some nurturing (and treatment) to help shine through.

I’ve made many mistakes in life, I’m sure you’ll hear more about these in future posts but I decided I wanted to give back and use my experiences to help other people. You see I’ve always felt lost, like I never knew who I was as a person or what I wanted to do in life but I’ve finally found my calling. Last November I enrolled on a course and now I’m studying to become a Mental Health Nurse myself.

During my recovery I found that talking to someone who has lived experience of mental health issues utterly valuable. They understand you in a way no one else does, you have this shared connection. So I decided I wanted to take my lived experience, mistakes I’ve made, everything I’ve learnt over the past two years and try to help someone else that’s going through a Crisis.

I started volunteering at a Mental Health Charity called Together, working with the service users to offer them some support and it gave me a real taste of how it would be to work as a Mental Health Nurse and help someone who really needed it. Unfortunately lockdown hit and I had to stop volunteering.

I’m still working on my online course and hopefully by the end of the year I’ll be a Peer Support Worker and from there I’ll be able to join a course to specialise in Mental Health Nursing. For the first time in my life I have a plan.

What happened to that angry girl, who was moody all the time and argued over every little thing? I can say proudly that she no longer exists. Now I’m confident, happy and feel motivated to get as much out of life as possible. I’ve even started dating again! I’ll occasionally feel my mood flip quite quickly but I’m better at managing it now. Like any other illness you learn to live with it, this time though I’m not letting my diagnosis define me.

My relationship with my family has never been better, of course it’s not easy to forgive and there’s some things you can’t forget but my family have never held the things I’ve done against me. The past two years have been really tough but I’ve learnt a lot about myself as a person and the type of person I want to be. It hasn’t been easy writing this blog post, I wanted to give an honest and raw account of what it’s like to experience the darkest point of your life and what it’s like to rebuild from the ground up.

If you’re experiencing a hard time just know my inbox is always open, you’re not in this alone and I promise you things will get better.

Until next time.

Victoria Jane x

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming Pt 26

CW: Noncon - Shock Collar - Pain - Petplay - Drugs - Kidnapping  - Manipulation - Consent Violation 

2 Years Ago

“Morning Z.” A woman’s voice pulled me from my sleep. I blinked a few times to clear my eyes and saw Briar standing in the doorway holding a plate. “Oh dear. Were you actually sleeping last night? I’m really sorry I woke you up, you need all of it you can get.”

Briar was one of the few people I’d met that I could actually stand. She joined the Society about a month before I did and had been one of the few people who seemed genuine. For better or worse she had taken an interest in me after Eos had recommended I work here. She was nice and helpful, but it also meant enduring her quirks.

"Hello Miss Briar, how are you today?"

She sighed. "For the last time Z we're equals here. Briar is fine. It feels strange for you of all people to be calling me by a title."

"The Society has been pretty strict on titles, I'd prefer to keep to them while we're in one of their buildings."

"Z, between the two of us you're the one with an epithet. You should be a higher rank than you are. You're very good at what you do."

"The epithet is just a joke at my expense. If I was capable of doing things your way I would."

“I see. Epithets are a pretty big honor to have. Only like what, 7 percent of members have one? Why do you feel like it’s a joke?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Psychoanalyze me. Leave that for whoever's in your file for today.” Briar was nice, but she stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. It seemed like she was digging for something when I talked to her. She was a psychologist before she joined the Society. From my own experience with psychologists they made it a habit to stick their noses where you didn’t want them too.

Briar went silent for a moment before changing the subject. “So who is it today?”

“Some rando who decided to look for the Society.”

“Reporter?”

“No.” I couldn’t manage to suppress a sigh. “A kinkster that doesn’t really get what this place is about. Unfortunately for her it’s a bit too late to back out. Could I have a minute so I can get dressed?”

“Sure, I’ll be waiting outside.”

I looked at the clock, it was already two in the afternoon. I didn’t think it was that late already, apparently I did fall asleep at some point. It’s not like I’d gone outside much recently, I mostly kept to myself and daylight didn’t easily reach a place this deep.

I put on a pair of my favorite jeans and a black t-shirt and I was ready. A lot of the other breakers liked to dress up, find a theme to their work. One girl here dressed as a latex nurse. One guy loved his heavy goth look. Briar loved leather. I mostly kept it casual. I didn’t see why I should need some gimmick for my job.

I opened the door and motioned to her to come with. “Alright, lets go.”

“Nuh-uh. Wait.” She put out an arm to bar my exit and motioned for me to back up. “Here, have something to eat before you gather your equipment.” She placed the plate she was handing onto my desk. Just some toast and jam.

“I could have gotten something to eat myself.”

“I’m sure you could have, but were you going too?”

“Maybe? I kind of have a lot to take care of.”

“Uh-huh. Did you eat anything yesterday?” I hated when she did this, I could feel her looking me over like she could pick out something I did to prove that I was lying to her. I’m not sure why she cared.

“Fine!’ I was getting exasperated. I took a bite of the toast. “I’m eating it. Happy now?”

“Happier. You need to take care of yourself.” I was bracing myself for another lecture, but she went quiet. “You really leaving at the end of the week, Z?”

“Mhm. Today’s lucky capture will be the last one I’ll have to do. Got a house lined up and stuff. We’ll see how it goes. Plus... she’ll be done today.”

“Oh, right. If you want some help with that later on let me know. It’ll be easier with two people. If you ever want to talk about it you know where I’ll be.”

“I don’t have anything I need to talk about. Have a good day Briar.” I heard a bit of a sad sigh when I walked away from her. I had other things on my mind, I didn’t really have time to think about her five hundredth attempt to get me to talk to her about something. I flipped open the file

Name: Kim Raum

Height: 5’ 5

Eyes: Grey

Hair: Blonde (Bleached and Dyed)

Former Job: Tech Firm Manager

Reason for Capture: She stuck her nose where it didn’t belong and learned too much. She has been designated a liability.

Additional Information: We’ve searched through her computers and phone and evidence she is already a submissive who fantasizes about being owned by another person. She has a particular interest in being a petgirl and has fantasies of being a fox girl. She has masochist tendencies. We believe it is these tendencies that got her onto a trail of rumors about the Society. Others involved have already been captured and brought to the auction house.

We did not bring her here for her own pleasure. She is here to be punished for her transgressions. We recommend either Miss Briar or Z for this task due to the particular needs required. A complete break is requested.

Known Fears or Phobias: N/A

Chosen Breaker: Z

Chosen Fate for the New Capture: Sold at Auction.

Breaker Percentage: 3%

Breaker Notes: I sent out an invitation to the target via a Society Member working in a kink dungeon she frequents to visit the Auction House. The member is known to her and she agreed to the “full experience” which included a “fake” kidnapping where she will be secured on an evening walk by a capture team lead by Jude. I have orders for her to be placed in my usual room where she will be under the belief that this is just a sex club of some sort. In order to expedite the process she was given something to fill out so she knows what kinds of activities she may experience here.

It was going to be a long day. We occasionally caught some reporters or friends of those we captured snooping about. If the Society felt it was safe to move against them we’d capture them. I’m not sure we ever came across someone who was looking to join willingly. They really had no idea what we were about.

I went to the preparation area and picked out the things I wanted. It was always the same list. I found my method effective enough I didn’t see a reason to change it. I filled out an order for it to be set out for 7 P.M., when I’d be meeting the person I’d be spending time with for a few days.

I got a message informing me last minute this session would be recorded as it was my last one. It was for record keeping as I had yet to have a recorded session. I sighed and returned to my room. I spent the remainder of my time trying to act in front of my mirror. I felt I was a pretty bad actor, but I only needed to be so convincing. My alarm went off at 6:45 and I made my way to the breaking chambers.

I opened the door and saw the occupant go from looking around the room to pretending to be asleep. I rolled my eyes and entered the room. They were shackled in my favorite device. It was similar to a chair you might see in a gynecologist office, but the stirrups could lock and the arms could be locked up near their head. It gave me full access to their body.

“Good evening Miss Raum, I know you’re awake.”

“What gave it away?”

“I saw you looking around.”

“That was more of a rhetorical… anyway. Are you Z? Where you the one who sent me that message?”

“I am. One of the perks of working here is getting a one night voucher you can give to someone. It’s a pretty special gift. I didn’t have anyone I wanted to give mine too so I asked Aiden if he knew anyone who would appreciate it. He dropped your name.”

“Guess I’m just lucky. This place is exciting. Have you seen the place up front? There's an entire stage, what’s it for?”

“This is the Auction House Miss Raum, the stage is the most important place in the entire building.”

I saw her eyes go wide. “Like you guys actually auction off people here? How does it work? Is it just like for some activities tonight or something?”

I smiled at her. “You’ll learn in due time. If you’re good for me you might get to see it yourself.”

“Aww… I have to be good?” She flashed some puppy dog eyes at me.

“Good is a relative term. Believe me, you’ll know if you’re being bad. But we have to go through the formalities before we really begin. We try to keep the Auction House pretty immersive, but we have to check in first. What is your name?

“Kim Raum.”

“Miss Raum-”

“Please just call me Kim.”

“Alright. Kim. Kim, do you remember the safeword you were given before?”

“Traffic light system, I got it.”

“And you know my particular area I work with?” I circled around behind her. I reached into the refrigerated portion and pulled out a knife and a pair of scissors and placed them in my pockets.

“Aiden said you like ‘sensory stuff’ and said it would be better to talk to you about it than him spoiling the surprise.”

“Pretty much. I hope it’ll be something you remember. Are you wearing the clothes I requested?” I stood behind her as we talked. Every movement mattered since this was being recorded.

“I might have worn something nicer had I realized what kind of upscale place this was, but I wore what you asked. Clothes I didn’t mind losing. Jude already showed me where to go to pick up new clothes after this. I have to admit, the immersive experience has been pretty great so far. Kidnapping team is quite fantastic.”

I gave her a smile. It’s interesting hearing someone so happy about a trap they willingly walked into. “You know what to do if it gets too much. I’m sure you know what to do if you want more as well. Just say your name and that you consent and we can begin. You can always revoke it at any time.”

“My name is Kim Raum and I consent to this.” I slipped a blindfold over her eyes. This always worked best when they couldn’t see.

I wrapped my arms around her from the back. I pressed the button on the switchblade and it shot out, grazing her cheek with it’s icy tip. I felt her tense up a bit. A great start.

“Oooooh nooooo. Are you going to hurt me? That’s terrible.” I could hear a bit of a laugh. I’m glad she was enjoying herself for now.

I walked around to the front of her, dragging the tip of the knife down from the side of her wrist to her waist as I walked by. Light enough not to draw blood. Hard enough to feel the cold sharp blade. “We’ll see. Your clothes are in my way.”

I pulled the pair of scissors out of my pocket. I felt her shiver as the metal touched her stomach. I held onto her shirt as I slid the scissors up her stomach, the scissors slid through the cloth like it was a hot knife through butter. I managed to bisect her shirt and bra with one motion. A lucky move to be honest, I usually had to make a second cut for that. With a few more swipes I cut down the sleeves to the center before I pulled the tatters off of her and threw them to the side.

I moved down to her pants and did the same thing. A single gliding cut up each pant leg and I could pull them off. I didn’t catch her panties with them unfortunately. The scissors had warmed up at this point so I placed them off to the side. I flicked open the knife and traced it over her as I studied them.

I decided to take the risk. I held the knife close like I was going to cut them off. Then with one motion I instead grabbed them and pulled, tearing the fabric and pulling them off. 

“Whoa.” “Yeah, I’m kind of impressed in myself to be honest. Wasn’t sure if it would work and it would have been embarrassing if it didn’t.” I walked back over to the cart and placed the knife and scissors back in the refrigerated compartments. “How about we switch it up a bit?”

“Got more settings than cold?” She did enjoy poking at me. I wasn’t sure if that really made me feel better or worse about what I was building up to.

I gave her a little chuckle. “A couple more at least.”

I placed a few things on a tray and brought it over to her. A wand vibrator, two lotions, some swabs, and some latex gloves.The vibrator came with an attachment so I could hook it to the chair. I put it on it’s lowest setting and placed it snug against her. “I like to introduce a bit of pleasure to go with the pain.”

“Oh? Were the scissors and the knife not supposed to be the pleasure portion?”

“I can see you were the right person to give that voucher to Kim. I’m sure you’ll appreciate what else we’ll be doing.” 

I slid on the gloves and applied a dab of the bottles to each nipple. I began rubbing it in and listened to her moan. Soon enough their effects began to work and she squirmed a bit. “Something wrong?”

“Probably not, just a little surprised. A tiny bit chilly on one side but the other side is a bit hot.” It was a neat little concoction. One side was a special mixture of a pepper the Society cultivated. The other side was a mint extract of some type. It wasn’t too bad without the full mixture.

“How’s it feeling?” I whispered into her ear.

“It’s an interesting feeling. Surely you can do a bit more though?”

Just the opening I was waiting for. I turned the wand up to a higher setting and walked back to the cart and picked up the items I needed for the main performance. Another lotion bottle, a spray bottle, a syringe, a vial, an enema bag, a jug of ice water, a special rubber gag and a hood. Everything she needed to be comfortable for a few hours. I removed her blindfold so she could see the tray.

“Is that a syringe?” I could hear the caution in her voice.

“Indeed it is. The Society creates a lot of their own drugs among other things. This is a particularly fun one I think you’ll enjoy.” I held up the syringe and filled it with the contents of the vial.

“Red. No.” She paused for a second to moan as the vibrator continued to do its work. “Red. No needles. No drugs.” She sat there, expecting something to happen. I was just searching for the best place to inject it. “What the fuck are you doing?! Stop!”

“What was that Kim?”

“Are you deaf I said re-” When she opened her mouth again I lifted the spray bottle and sprayed the contents into her mouth. “What the hell was-” she was interrupted again when she suddenly screamed and began to thrash in the chair. I felt a smile touch my lips but I quickly wiped it away.

I grabbed the rubber gag and shoved it into her mouth. It was an oval gag meant to keep the wearer’s mouth pried open but wouldn’t let them bite down all the way. It helped protect the tongue.

I grabbed her by the hair to pull her head to the headrest. “Look at me.” Her eyes darted towards me, wide. I could see she was afraid now. She knew the play was done. “Kim, that's a special spray made with a pepper that’s cultivated by our group. It’s called a Hellfire Kiss. I’ve obviously never tried it myself. I’m not really into spicy things. But I’m told it's over as hot as a Carolina Reaper but I’m afraid I don’t really have a reference for how hot that is. Be good and I’ll share something I have that’ll neutralize it. Be bad and I’m sure I can find other places you really don’t want this to touch. You’re shackled to a chair right now, you have nowhere you can escape to. Nod your head up and down if you want to be a good girl.”

She was still trying to break out of the chair, but she vigorously nodded her head up and down. “It’s so easy to be a good girl Kim, I’m glad you’ve decided to work with me.” I jabbed her with the needle and injected the substance. It was quite the lovely mixture. A special stimulant that helped the user take more of a beating before they would lose consciousness. It also intensified sensations, making everything she was feeling even more intense.

I pulled on another pair of latex gloves and squirted the lotion into my hands. I ignored her crying and applied the lotion to her nipples. She gasped as the full effect of the lotions started. The other two on their own were nice for sore muscles. If either was mixed with this one it intensified their effects. I was told that it was fairly safe but the sensation would keep intensifying for a while. As the seconds ticked by her thrashing renewed and unintelligent babble left her mouth.

It was easier not to acknowledge it. She would have to get used to not being acknowledged in any meaningful way.

I inserted the enema plug into her none too gently. I had things to do today and didn’t want to spend much more time here. She made a small noise of discontent at the feeling but started begging again when I started to fill the bag. I just kept ignoring her. It didn’t really matter what she wanted or what her thoughts on anything were anymore. It was time she learned that. I watched as it started to run into her. The water was just barely above freezing. It would be pretty painful. Beyond just being filled to the brim with water that cold it would cause pretty horrific cramping.

“Almost done. Then you can sit on your own for a few hours and think about how you willingly came here.” I placed the earbuds in her. They just played loud static. I wanted her to focus on the sensation. It was best to make sure every sense was being used.

I took one last look into her eyes before I pulled the hood over her head. It covered her eyes but left a place open for her nose and mouth. I opened the spray bottle and dipped some swabs in the mixture. I held the bottle up to her mouth and gave her another spray, resulting in a new round of screams. I went over to the table and picked out a plug for the gag and inserted it, forcing her to breathe through her nose. I heard her whimper as the first round of cramps spread through her. I took the swabs and swirled them around her nose. I watched her fingers curl as she tried to reach for her face. This method kept it around longer. She’d be breathing it in for awhile.

With that I was done. In a few hours she’d pass out and someone else would clean her up. I’d be repeating this activity several times a day for the rest of the week and hope she broke before the end of the week.

I looked back at my last victim. Anyone else would have drawn out what they were doing. Slowly breaking them over time until they acknowledge their new lot in life. But not me. I did my best to overwhelm them with sensations until it was too much for them. She was a sobbing mess now but soon she would break and be fine. I broke them as quick as I could to protect them from anymore suffering.

I was a figure of mercy.

I cared for them.

[esperantoauthor]

Title: Express Yourself Author: Esperanto (@esperantoauthor​) Rating: T Status: Complete (129,413 words) Tropes/Genre: slow build, friends to lovers, AU S2 canon divergence, romance, friendship, light angst

Summary: When he was 4, he didn’t notice it. When he was 6, he hoped he could outgrow it. When he was 14 he thought he could ignore it. When he was 16, he tried hide it.

When Blaine is attacked for being different, he transfers to a new school where he meets a cadre of misfits called The New Directions, who seem very impressed with his singing and very curious about his past. Blaine just wanted to fit in but maybe he will find something better: his voice.[A canon-divergent story in which Blaine transferred to McKinley rather than Dalton after being attacked at his old school.]

Teaser under the cut. Read it on Ao3.

Chapter 1: Starting Over

Blaine woke up on the morning of the first day of school with butterflies in his stomach. They were the result of that confusing mix of anxiety and excitement that he had learned to associate with performing on stage. For his junior year of high school, he would be starting at a brand new school and he was determined to make a good impression. This year would be different. This school would be different. He would be different. Or, you know, less different… more normal.

After a hot shower, Blaine washed his face and then studied himself in the mirror. The scar on his face had faded until it was barely noticeable. Blaine smiled, feeling reassured that he would not stand out because of it. He had stayed out of the sun all summer long and rubbed special anti-scarring cream his mother bought him into it every day to make sure that by the time he started school in the fall, no one would be able to tell he had spent 4 days in the hospital last May.

The smile on his face faded a little as he remembered why he would be attending a new school this year. His parents, overprotective as usual, had insisted that he could not go back to Bath High School with the same boys who had had given him that scar. He had listened with his ear pressed to the door as their raised voices argued with his principal about an “unsafe learning environment” until the principal had agreed to call around to the other Allen County High Schools and see if he could arrange for Blaine to have a waiver to attend from out of district.

Luckily, the principal at the nearest school had signed off on the waiver without much fuss. Blaine knew very little about McKinley High School. He had been there once for an away game when the Bath football team played McKinley. The football team had been okay but their cheerleaders were truly impressive. His best friend, Elaine, had whispered in awe that they had won something like five national championships in a row.  Blaine had turned to google for more information and from what he could find the cheerleading team was McKinley’s one and only claim to fame. It had taken some digging, but Blaine had found one other nugget of interesting information about his new school: an article from a local newspaper about the McKinley High Glee Club winning at Sectionals last year. Bath didn’t even have a competing show choir but choir had always been his favorite class. Blaine bounced in excitement at the thought of being part of a small, exclusive group that competed and had actually won something. I wonder if you have to be a senior to get a solo, he wondered.

“BLAINE!” his mom yelled up the stairs, shaking him out of his thoughts. “If you want breakfast you’d better get down here, pronto!” Shit, I can’t be late on the first day.

Blaine pulled open his closet door to survey the outfit he had carefully laid out the night before: red pants, white collared shirt, and a black sweater. Thank you, past Blaine! He shimmied quickly into the pants and took a few moments to adjust his collar before grabbing his school bag and running down the stairs, two at a time.

“Blaine!” his father admonished, “What have I told you about running down the stairs like that? Do you want to end up back in the hospital?”

Blaine grabbed a plate of food and, with a mouth full of eggs, shrugged sheepishly at his dad. His father wrinkled his nose at him with disgust. “Alright, alright. I can see you are in a hurry to get to school. We will discuss this later.” Blaine carefully loaded his dishes into the dishwasher, leaned over to kiss his mother on the cheek, and saluted sartorially at his father before striding out the door.

—

Blaine parked the Prius in the McKinley High School parking lot and stopped to take a deep breath. He pulled a red folder out of his backpack and reviewed the school map and schedule the guidance counselor Ms. Pillsbury had given him last week when his parents had brought him to register. His father had done all of the talking so Blaine hadn’t really managed to ask any questions but he was pretty sure he could figure it out. He checked his hair in the sun visor mirror and nervously fussed with it. He closed his eyes and imagined a balloon slowly inflating and deflating as he took a few more breaths. You can do this.

Blaine hopped out of the car, settled his book bag over his shoulder, and avoided making eye contact with anyone as he entered the school. He managed to find his locker again and stow some of the extra school supplies he had brought before heading to English class. He arrived a few minutes early so he had time to survey the room and strategize about where to sit.

This was always an important decision for Blaine and if things were anything like his old school, the seat you chose on the first day could well be your seat for the rest of the year. Sit in the first row and everyone thinks you are a teacher’s pet or a show off, including the teacher. Blaine hated to be called on by the teacher in class so sitting too close to the front was dangerous. On the other hand, sit too close to the back and when it was time to pair up for partner work you got stuck with the slackers. So Blaine settled for a spot on the far right side of the room, right in the middle row of chairs. Yes, this would do nicely. He could blend right in from this spot.

Things had been going pretty smoothly until Blaine showed up for U.S. History to see written in large letters on the blackboard, “Please sit according to the seating chart.” Shit, shit, shit. Of course, the teacher had arranged her class in alphabetical order which put Blaine right in the first row between Desmond Adams and Rachel Berry. A girl with dark features and pristine posture primly settled into the seat next to Blaine and held out her hand, “Hi, I’m Rachel Berry. You’re Blaine Anderson. I saw that on the seating chart. You must be a transfer because I’ve never seen you before and they don’t let freshman take U.S. History. Are you a good student, Blaine?”

Blaine’s eyes widened and he felt something tighten up in the pit of his stomach. People who talked fast always made him nervous. It was even harder to rely on his strategies with someone who talked a mile a minute like this girl. On the other hand, she had managed to circumvent one of Blaine’s least favorite social interactions, introducing himself, so that was a big plus.  

Blaine reached out his hand to shake hers and nodded in response to her question.

“Excellent, then you should partner with me for any group work. Desmond is a complete parasite when it comes to group projects; never again.” Her voice shifted down to a conspiratorial whisper, “I think he smokes pot under the bleachers.”

Rachel seemed intense but Blaine was starting to think that might work in his favor. She clearly did not mind doing most of the heavy lifting in a conversation. Blaine looked for signs that she had noticed the fact that he hadn’t spoken a single word to her but she seemed completely oblivious. This was as good as he was going to get for a project partner so Blaine flashed her his most charming grin and nodded his agreement.

When the bell rang for lunch, Rachel turned back to him and studied him carefully. “If you don’t have anywhere to sit at lunch you can always sit with me and my friends. We may not be popular but it is better than sitting alone.” Before Blaine could respond, she had skipped off out of the classroom.

She might be the easiest person to not talk to that I’ve ever met.

[continue reading on Ao3; about halfway through the chapter]

[amydancepants-peralta]

6 & 77, if you can please 🥰💕

Okay hi @jacobperaltaz!  I’m very sorry this is so late … but I think my mind went into self-isolation for a bit there.  I hope the length of this makes up for my tardiness 😬

(big thank yous to @amyscascadingtabs, @fezzle and @b99peraltiago for all your help with this!  It takes a village! 💕)

(6: I love you & 77: Fuck, I have to be drunk to deal with you.)

the nine stages of a pregnant Amy Santiago

The level of tiredness that Jake Peralta feels tonight seeps all the way through to his bones, his eyelids held open by imaginary toothpicks as he rocks back and forth, soothing his son back to sleep with the steady rhythm.

It was only four weeks ago that, in what seemed like a mili-second but in actuality had stretched on for hours, Amy had given birth to their son.  And there have been many, many great moments in Jake’s life, but standing in a hospital room, gripping his wife’s hand as they both heard their son cry for the first time, will forever and always hold the top spot in his heart.  

The transition to home life had been challenging, like all life with a newborn is, and when baby Leo had let out his trademark cry half an hour ago Amy had groaned from her position next to Jake, legs clearly feeling heavier than cement as she attempted to raise herself out of bed.  But Jake had recognised this particular cry as the ‘my diaper is no longer clean and I demand a replacement’ cry, and had mumbled to his wife that it was his turn before stumbling towards the nursery like a half-awake zombie. 

(Truthfully, as far as Jake was concerned; any late night call that didn’t involve the boob needed to be his turn.  He and Amy, after all, were in this together - no matter what.)

Jake had changed the dirty diaper like the pro he’d become long before Amy had even given birth (turns out there were some advantages to having a Type A, over-preparing wife); and after lifting his son back into his arms and breathing in that incredibly addictive ‘new baby’ smell, he had started walking around the room, taking in all of the photographs and keepsakes that made it all so tastefully decorated.

Stopping by the changing table and picking up a framed photo of a selfie he and Amy had taken on their honeymoon, Jake twists to show the photograph to his son, pretending that even though his eyes are almost all the way closed, Leo can somehow still see what’s being held in front of him.  “This is your mama, baby boy.  She is literally the greatest person you’ll ever know, and you may not realise this just yet, but you have totally hit the jackpot by having her as your mother.  Just like I did all those years ago, when she shook my hand for the very first time.  I didn’t recognise the sparks until much later, but I’ve felt them every day since.”

From his warm and snuggly position within the crook of Jake’s arm, Leo lets out a tiny sniffle as fatigue begins to overtake his tiny body, and Jake’s heart squeezes at the sheer sweetness of the sight.  Settling in to the upholstered rocking chair that had been a gift from Amy’s parents, Jake uses his socked feet as leverage against the hardwood floor, moving the chair to replicate the same rhythm as before while he watches his son fall asleep in his arms.  

The world could take away all of the arrests he’s made, wipe out all of the cases he’s solved; and Jake wouldn’t care one bit.  This bundle of perfection right here, is the greatest thing he’s ever done.  

The Peralta curse didn’t stand a chance of survival in this home.  

“You, me and Mommy, bubba.  We make a dream team,” he whispers, glancing over at the baby monitor quickly to make sure his voice hasn’t woken his sleeping wife.  He can hear the gentle snores that only come out when Amy is really tired (the same ones that she is ADAMANT don’t happen, ever), and smiles in silent victory before turning his attention back to his now sleeping son.  The frame that Jake had just held in his hands is still resting along the edge of the table, and he takes in he and Amy’s happy, relaxed faces - a picture of total contentment after spending an entire day on a white sandy beach with absolutely no interruptions from their captain.  

Despite everything that they’d been through together, Amy Santiago still manages to amaze him every day - and watching her transform her body for nine months, purely to create a safe growing space for their child, only made Jake fall in love with her all the more.  

Especially because - much like her drinking scale - each month had brought about a new, different version of Amy.  And though she may not be in the right frame of mind for Jake to tell her all about it just yet, he lets the memory of it all wash over him as his son sleeps happily in his arms.  

Month One - Emotional Amy

It all begins on one seemingly innocent evening, as Jake walks back into the living room after calling his mother.  From his path, he can see Amy’s shoulders are bouncing with the steady movements that he knows only belong to those all-consuming sobs that happen so rarely, but were truly the worst thing in the world for him to see.  

With his phone landing on a spare pillow as he casts it aside, Jake makes his way towards his wife, enveloping her in his arms without a second thought as he presses gentle kisses against her hairline.  

His shirt is soaked through to the shoulder within seconds, and after a long few minutes the shuddering begins to slow.  Having spent the last few moments casing the scene in front of him, desperate to find the cause for such devastation (and frustratingly, coming up empty), Jake casts careful eyes towards Amy, raising his eyebrows in silent query.

Wiping her hand along the bottom of her nose, Amy rolls her eyes in mock amusement.  “Ugh, I don’t even know where that came from.”

Jake’s eyes flit towards the TV screen, ignoring the advertisement for life insurance as he turns his attention back to Amy.  “Honestly babe, I have no idea either.”  He waits for a moment, listening as her breath begins to return to normal before continuing.  “Wanna talk about it?”

She shrugs, mirroring Jake’s quick glance at the TV before shifting her position, resting her head against her husband’s chest instead.  “It was nothing, really.  Just some dumb ad.”

Ahh.  Nodding, Jake wraps one arm around Amy’s waist, letting his fingers splay out along her side.  “Was it the bank one again?”

Amy shakes her head, burrows in a little further.  

“The broken coffee machine that reunites the long-lost friends?”

Another shake.

“Ohhh, it’s gotta be the detergent one then, right?!”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Amy looks up at Jake, resting her chin against his chest.  “It wasn’t any of them.  I can’t even … you’ll just have to wait and see it, babe.”  Her head drops down again, one hand reaching underneath to grip Jake a little tighter from her position.  “Just stick around, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Ames.”

It only takes one and a half more ad breaks before the offender returns, in all it’s tear-jerking glory:  the Chevrolet Equinox - packed in with an all time high towing capacity.  

Jake feels the deep breath run through Amy’s chest as the thick wheels sling mud across the screen, a supposedly tough voice muttering it’s way through specifications that Jake truly has never really understood as his attention turns towards his wife, all the tell-tale signs of a imminent crying session flashing bright and loud.  In confusion, he blinks back towards the screen, making sure that he is, in fact, still watching an overpriced advertisement … for a CAR … before turning back to Amy, his arms instinctively wrapping around her as the tears begin to fall.  

“I mean, they must have just worked so hard on that car … and look at it, it’s so … so … strong!”  Sighing, Amy rests her head against Jake’s shoulder, nestling in for the long haul.  “An all-time high.  Their parents must be SO proud.”

Nodding, Jake runs his hands back up and down Amy’s back, temporarily unable to speak as the price of the car flashes up on the screen before merging into an ad for Cheerios.  Briefly, he remembers to add cereal to the shopping list, then glances down at his desolate wife.  

They’ve been together for so long by now that the notion of Amy crying at a commercial was not a new one - but an ad that doesn’t even have a tugging at the heartstrings kind of moment?  Rather, was chockfull of unnecessary testosterone and way-too-shiny-to-be-realistic vehicles?  That was entirely new territory.  

Her eyes are relatively dry by now, and she’s humming along to an ad for jelly, but Jake still doesn’t understand what just happened.  Cars aren’t designed to break people’s hearts (and okay, maybe coffee machines and detergents weren’t supposed to either, but you can see the angle they’re going for).  And then, with a glance to the right, he picks up on the packet of hormone tablets still resting on the kitchen bench after Amy had taken one right before dinner.  

Smooth solve, Detective.  Amy had mentioned there may be side effects, and really Jake had just nodded when she’d said it, because honestly after the plethora of pellets that the two of them had digested during all those months of trying, side effects no longer seemed to concern him.  

Perhaps, these reactions were going to be slightly more noticeable than the others.  (Although, just quietly, he does miss how soft his hair felt during those months.  If only he could figure out which of the 389 different tablets had been the cause.)

Amy looks up at Jake with a grin as the opening credits to Property Brothers begin, and without hesitation he leans down to place a quick kiss against her lips.  She was making her body jump through so many hoops; all in the hopes of being able to start a family with him, and there really won’t ever be a way for Jake to describe just how thankful he is that somebody like Amy Santiago could fall in love with him.  He’d do whatever he could to make her happy, and consoling her through a few extra tears seems like the least of the world’s problems. 

She sighs against his lips, pushing up slightly for another kiss and smiling, resting her head against Jake’s chest entirely as the episode begins.  It’s turning into a night just like all the others, and he could have a thousand more and still never get enough.  

And so with the coming weeks, Amy cries.  When Jake notices they’re nearly out of butter, and buys two extra from the store because they’re on sale.  When he pulls an extra blanket over to the couch, before she’s even sat down.  She cries when one of her newer officers hands in an arrest report, and it’s so neat and so thorough that she’s able to approve and pass it on to Holt without any need for corrections; and cries when the local fruit shop has avocados on sale.

There are times when Jake wonders if maybe they should speak to their doctor, but then he reasons that if Amy isn’t concerned, then he shouldn’t be.  And a few weeks later, when she holds up a positive test and beams at him like the brightest sunshine in all the world, things finally begin to make a little more sense.  

Month Two - Always Hot Amy

There is absolutely no secret to the fact that Jake considers Amy to be the single most hottest woman he’s ever met.  Holding the ability to turn him on with a simple flick of a button, Jake has long since been an admirer (and frequent worshipper) at the Altar of Amy.  

But five weeks in to what they eventually discover to be her pregnancy, Amy’s hotness level have skyrocketed to a record-breaking high - literally becoming the Hottest Woman in the World: Ultra Sweaty Edition. 

“Uhh … babe?”  Jake begins hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“So I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, because I am absolutely a fan of what you are wearing, but … how are you not freezing right now??”

Amy looks over at Jake, furrowing her brow as she glances down at her current outfit of just her underwear and Jake’s favourite blue hoodie.  Shrugging, she looks over at her husband, seemingly noticing for the first time that he’s covered head to toe in socks, jeans, sweater and a beanie.  “Wait.  Are you cold, babe?”

Chuckling, Jake reaches out a hand towards Amy as she walks towards him, taking in the slight sheen of her perspiring skin and tucking it away for future reference (honestly, it’s a testament to her power, that even covered in sweat Jake still finds Amy beyond attractive).  “I mean, you’ve cranked the air-conditioning into Antarctica Mode, so … yeah, a little.”

Her fingers slide against his skin, toying with his wedding band before dipping beneath the sweater to touch his back, and oh she’s warm, so very warm.  He sighs, and she smiles, and there really can’t ever be a doubt that Amy Santiago is just … everything.

Pushing herself onto her tippy toes, Amy juts her chin forward in a silent request for a kiss, and it’s a demand that Jake is only too happy to oblige.  “I’m sorry babe,” she mumbles against his lips, impossibly warm hands scaling slowly up to the centre of his spine.  “We can turn it back up.  I’m pretty sure I’ve still got some sponges in the cupboard somewhere from last time.  Those things were surprisingly absorbent.”

Shaking his head, Jake wraps his hands around Amy’s waist, smiling as she jumps from the cool touch of his still kind-of-freezing hands.  “No way, Ames.  There’s a teeny tiny version of the two of us growing in there, and we need to make sure they stay nice and warm.”

Her teeth bite into her lower lip slightly, bridling the same excitement that washes over her face whenever Jake mentions the fact that they were most definitely having a baby.  It’s the same giddiness that bubbles up inside his stomach at the thought, and there are days when the anticipation of it all is just too much.  

Amy’s palms flatten against his back, and she presses herself against him in a move that they both know is going to end well.  “I guess that just means that I’m going to have to find ways to warm you up then, detective.“

In a few weeks time, when she’s finished compiling the First Trimester Pregnancy Binder and researching the heck out of the remaining two, Amy will come to understand that it’s an elevation of her hormone levels and an increase in her metabolism that had brought on the sudden need to perspire with every passing minute.  She still steals her husband’s hoodies - because within the four walls of their apartment, all of Jake’s jackets belong to Amy - and on her days off he will often come home and find her wrapped up in that and little else.  It may or may not become his favourite sight to come home to (soon to be taken over by the sight of her cuddling their son, and then playing with their toddler while she struggles with the growing bump of baby number two … the list goes on, but you get what he means).

In the meantime, Jake perseveres by jumping at any chance to duck down to their local bodega - if for no other reason than to thaw out for a minute - and slowly Amy’s body learns to adjust to the changes without perspiration.  

And then, the morning sickness comes.  

Month Three - Life Kinda Sucks RN Amy

Month Three almost hits them like clockwork, waking Amy up early one morning with the overwhelming need to vomit and giving her mere seconds to react before it will be too late.

By day six, they’ve got the routine down pat:  Amy makes a run for it as soon as the nausea hits, and Jake heads into the kitchen for a cool glass of water; resting it on the counter next to the sink before settling in beside Amy to rub her back in the way he knows she loves.  Her toothbrush is forever at the ready, and on their days off Jake will run a bath while she brushes, using the camomile scented bath bombs that his wife has always loved until one day the scent begins to turn her stomach all over again.  

Each day from then on becomes a process of discovery, each playing the game of Whats Going To Make Amy Throw Up Today, in which neither of them are ever really winners.  

It takes them several trials, but eventually they figure out a safe routine for their drive to work each morning - Amy in the passenger seat with the window cracked open at exactly 23%, the radio set on low volume to her favourite NPR station and her hand resting against Jake’s leg as he drives 7 miles below the limit.  Her hand squeezes his knee every time he shifts to hit the brake, and he grips it right back once the car is parked and they slowly walk into the precinct.  

She keeps up appearances, refusing to be considered as anything less than an asset to the workplace, but in both her and Jake’s desk drawers there are an endless supply of Saltine crackers - one of the few things that her morning-sickness-ravaged stomach seems to be able to keep down.  She learns to avoid the area surrounding Boyle’s desk at all costs, and to take the stairs whenever possible because the dipping motion of the elevator coming to a stop makes her stomach feel as though it is literally turning inside out.  

Her body is starting to give away the signs of a life growing inside her, and so Amy starts carrying boxes everywhere and choosing larger-than-necessary outfits, all in an attempt to conceal what must be so obvious to the rest of the office.  And even though the urge to burst out the good news every single time they walk into the bullpen, the fear of something going wrong is just too strong, and so they wait.

(And pretend it’s totally normal for Amy to be running to the ladies room multiple times for the first three hours of every day.  Or for Jake to check up on his wife at increasingly regular intervals.)

(Okay, maybe the second one is actually completely normal.)

Within the secured familiarity of their home, Amy falls apart every afternoon, pointing out just how tired and frumpy and over it she is, knowing that she can complain to Jake without ever feeling judged.  She loves being pregnant - and genuinely cannot wait to meet their little one - but right now, with the constant dizziness and the need to pee every other damn minute, it’s hard to feel anything but BLAH.  

And every afternoon without fail, Jake takes Amy into his arms, absorbing all of her frustrations and giving her nothing but support in return.  Sometimes they go for walks around the neighbourhood - sharing secret glances of elation every time they pass another couple with a baby in a stroller - and sometimes, he sets up the living room with a pile of blankets and a list of documentaries, all of which Amy has been dying to see (and maybe there will be a sneaky action movie thrown in, just to spice things up).  

He holds her through the night when she needs it, and in the morning he’s by her side once again, holding back the hair that escaped her messy ponytail.  They were in this together, and though temporary, moments like these never seem so terrible when you share them with the one you love.

Even when the one you love suddenly has unquenchable cravings for sour gummies mixed into yoghurt with granola on top.  Or - and this is the truly strange one - for VEGETABLES.  

Month Four - Life is AMAZING Amy

Jake’s fingers toy with the peeling edges of the sticker on his bottle of Heisler, laughing at Gina’s anecdotes as she finishes up a story about spending an afternoon with one of her fans.  The squad had gathered at Shaw’s tonight to celebrate Terry’s birthday, and it was turning out to be a pretty great night - if for no other reason than how glowing Amy looks as she chats with Boyle a few metres away.

By the grace of all that is good, the morning sickness seems to have finally held itself at bay, and if the adorable little shimmy that his wife made when she slipped into her new floral dress earlier tonight is anything to go by, Amy was finally starting to feel a lot more human.

Lifting the bottle up to take a quick sip, Jake savours the taste as it lingers on his tongue.  He hadn’t done much drinking in the last few months (because if Amy can’t drink, then he can’t drink, hashtag SOLIDARITY), but Amy had encouraged him tonight, buying the first round as she reminded him that the more you drink, the more I can kiss off your lips later - and honestly, Jake’s never taken a draft as quickly as he did at when she handed him a bottle.  Truth be told, he didn’t intend on drinking a lot - he and Amy had an ultrasound appointment booked for mid tomorrow morning, and the anticipation of getting another glimpse of their baby was far more appealing than any drunken adventure could ever be.  

His attention turns back to Amy - because in all honesty its never too far away from being on her anyway - and when she laughs at something Charles says he cannot help but replicate her grin with his own.

The redhead across from Jake clears her throat loudly, far too pointed for it to be anything but a deliberate protest, and he grins sheepishly.  “Sorry, G.”

With a roll of her eyes, Gina tips her almost empty glass towards Amy.  “Don’t get me wrong, boo.  It’s great that you’re having a mini pantsuit-wearing baby with your wife, but you two are still so loved up it’s almost sickening.”

The sheepish grin turns smug, but he doesn’t care.  He and Amy are all loved up, and it’s ridiculous and stupid but also the happiest he’s been.  They’re creating a family, of their very own, and life is awesome.  He looks back over at Amy, catching her eye this time, and she grins when he winks.  The nights have gotten cooler, and he’s discovered that the feeling of falling asleep with a (sometimes naked!) Amy snuggled into him, the bump of their tiny but growing baby pressing up against his back, is truly the greatest thing.  Even more so, when he relinquishes the Little Spoon role and wraps Amy up into his arms, leaving his palm flat against her stomach so that he can hug their future child just as much.  

(Seriously, if anybody had ever thought to tell him how great it is to be the Big Spoon in that situation, he would have put his hand up on Day One.)

Gina clears her throat again, and Jake shrugs.  “I know.  It’s a little much.  But … this right here is proof that not all Peralta’s are lost causes, Gina.  And you’re wrong about the pantsuit wearing, by the way.  Our baby is clearly going to be a mini McClane slash Harry Potter … or Hermione, depending on how things go.”  He drains the bottle, letting it hit the table with a heavy thud.  “Point is, baby Peralta-Santiago could be a nerd or a badass or both, and it will still be super-mega-loved.”

His friend is in the middle of replying, “Plus, Iggy will always be an option for cool lessons” when Jake notices that Amy is now within hearing range, and walking towards him with a giant smile on her face.  Shuffling over slightly to give her a space to sit, Jake lifts his head slightly to receive Amy’s welcoming kiss as she leans across the table.  

“You’re totally right, babe.  Our baby is going to be a nerdy badass.  And I think that’s awesome.”  Her warm eyes slide over to Linetti.  “Hey, Gina.  Saw you sitting here with my handsome husband and thought I’d come say hi.”  

Gina nods, and Amy looks over at Jake, biting her lower lip softly, holding back an even wider smile.  “And, to tell this guy that I love him.”  Reaching out, she ruffles his hair, and Jake can feel the blush rising in his cheeks.  

“Amy’s body seems to be producing a lot of ‘affirmation stylez’ hormones lately,” he explains in way of apology, and Gina nods warily.

“It sure is!  And it’s amazing.  My skin is all glowy, I’m not vomiting every hour, AND I’m having a baby with the love of my life.  What’s not to be happy about?!”

“Ugh.”  Turning her attention towards Boyle as he passes by, Gina shouts out - “Charles!  Whiskey!” Before swivelling back to the couple.  “Sorry.  But you guys are just … I have to be drunk to deal with you.”

Amy chuckles, leaning forward so that she can rest her elbows on the surprisingly un-sticky table.  “Whatever, Gina.  You can act all tough and put on that snarky exterior all you like, but you forget that I know you.  You love me.  And guess what?  I love you as well.”  The chuckle turns into laughter as the redhead’s face morphs into one of horror, reaching out to rest her hand on the table between them.  “I do.  You’ve been there for Jake so many times there’s no way either of you could count it all.  Through thick and thin, you created a safe space for this amazing person to turn into the man he is today, and I thank you, Gina.  Truly.  Life can be crazy, but it can also be so magical, and I love you.”  

Amy leans back, resting against Jake’s right side as he throws his arms around her shoulders.  “And you know you love me, too.  It’s okay if you don’t want to say it.  I’ve got enough serotonin running through my body right now to say it for both of us.  I love you, you love me, and we both love this guy right here.”

The roll of Gina’s eyes is small, but goes unnoticed as a gentle blush washes over her cheeks.  She clears her throat in an effort to break through the emotionally charged moment, muttering “Okay, let’s not go turning ourselves into purple dinosaurs or anything,” as she squirms in her seat.  Amy grins at her obvious discomfort, too high on the excitement of finding out the sex of her baby soon to be concerned with anything else.

“Gina!  My former lover and former sister.  I have an important task, and you’re the only one I can trust with it.” Charles interrupts, placing a new glass of whiskey on the table as he stands next to the booth.  “Come, help me get my picture taken.”

Straightening her back Gina scans the interior of the bar, eyebrows knitting when she doesn’t recognise any faces.  “Why, is there someone famous here?  Is it Beyoncé?  Charles, are you telling me Beyoncé is here?”

Cocking his head to the side, Charles mirrors Gina’s confused expression.  “Huh?  No, I need a photo taken with Baby Peraltiago in utero!  I’ve only gotten ten so far, and it’s not nearly enough for my slideshow!”

Staring for a beat, Gina quickly lifts her glass and downs the entire contents in one gulp.  “Ok that’s me out guys.  Remember to do your daily Gina-mandments for a rich and fulfilling life.  Peace out, G-Hive.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Charles flops into the seat that Gina vacated, and in his misery doesn’t notice Amy leaving a quick kiss below Jake’s ear before leaning in to whisper something.  She pulls away, locking eyes for a solid minute, and Jake clears his throat before standing.  “Yeah, we’re out too, bud.  Baby growing and all that.  Night!”

Bewildered, Charles glances around the empty booth.  “Was it something I said?”

Month Five - Horny Amy

Jake’s favourite of all months, by far.  And also, the most exhausting. 

But he’s a gentleman, and he’s definitely not going to go into the details. 

.

Yeah.  Most definitely his favourite.  

Month Six - Señora Santiago

It had been a long day at work, and Jake was beyond tired by the time he finally walked through the door.  Despite her ever-growing case of FOMOW, Amy’s shifts had been reduced slightly to allow time for her to rest, and the days moved infinitely slower without her calming presence.  

Jake notices her as soon as he walks through the door, spread out on the couch with her feet propped up on a pillow, and he throws her a smile as he slides his jacket off and hangs it on the rack.  “Hey, babe.  How are you feeling?”

There’s a soft grunt in reply, followed by a mumbled “Un poco cansada .… pero bien.”

Kicking off his shoes near the doorway, Jake’s socked feet pad across the living floor as he makes his way over to his wife.  He leans down for a gentle kiss against her forehead, running his thumb along her hairline while she looks up at him with those eyes that he never fails to get lost in (the same eyes that he kinda hopes that his son will grow up with).  “Ah, lo siento” is his automatic reply, moving his hand to run along her arm soothingly.

She grabs it before he has a chance to pull away, finely cut fingernails digging into his skin through the fabric as Amy tugs him back towards her.  “What was that you just said?”

Jake blinks.  “… Lo siento?  Oh man, did I say it wrong?”

“No!  You said it exactly right.  I just … when did you just start speaking Spanish?!”

“Oh, that.”

“YES, oh that!”

His grin is sheepish, and he rubs the back of his neck self-consciously before lifting Amy’s feet, settling onto the couch and returning them to his lap.  As his hands begin to rub, he shrugs - “I .. kinda started taking lessons about a year ago, and then life got a little crazy and I forgot to stick with it.  After we fell pregnant, it kinda felt like the right thing for me to start learning again.”

Her toes wriggle against his fingers, and Jake breaks his focus, looking up at Amy.  “You never told me you started learning before,” she mumbles, a thoughtful look on her face, and Jake finds himself shrugging again.

“I guess … I just wanted to understand what you and your family were talking about whenever you’re all together.  It can get a little intense, listening to the words flying about and having literally no idea what the topic is.”  Running his thumbs in deep circles across the arch of Amy’s foot, Jake grins as she lets out a sigh.  “Plus, I really wanted your parents to think I was good enough for you.”

Amy’s legs tense above Jake’s lap as she pulls them away, and she reaches out a hand for assistance as she attempts to sit up (a simple movement that, with her growing baby bump, was becoming not so simple).  She keeps a grip of Jake’s hand, resting his palm against her belly as she reaches up with the other to cup his face.  Under his touch, Jake begins to feel the gentle kick as his son moves about freely.  

“You feel that, babe?”  Amy’s voice is soft, and gentle in its tone, but all Jake can do in reply is a simple nod.  

“That right there, is your son, and he loves you so. much. already, it’s ridiculous.  He practically does somersaults in my womb every time you enter the room.  He adores you, just like I adore you, and you don’t ever need to worry about not being good enough for either of us.”

A lump begins to form in Jake’s throat, memories of conversations with his father about the Peralta Curse still swimming about in his mind.  If there was anything that was becoming abundantly clear, it was that no curse could possibly hold strong against the heart of Amy Santiago.  HIs voice might be cracking a little when he speaks next, but he honestly doesn’t care.  “I love you so much.”

She responds with a kiss, one hand holding him tight to her belly as the other strokes his cheek, and oh, esto es amor.

*

In the passing weeks, Amy takes to speaking Spanish on a more frequent basis - very aware that their baby boy is able to hear things now, if the multitude of pregnancy books that are stacked up on her and Jake’s besides tables are anything to go by.  It’s unmistakeable, the pride that Jake feels whenever he picks up on what his wife is saying; or even plucks up the courage to respond in this once foreign language, and he never thought he’d say this but he genuinely cannot wait until they meet up with Amy’s parents again.  They never could have seen this coming.

And then Jake comes home late one night, and finds Amy nestled into the rocking chair that had been a hand-me-down from her brother Matthew, singing to their son so soft, so sweetly that his hearts just about beats right out of his chest.  

He walks into the room just as Amy begins the next verse, “Me haces feliz cuando los cielos están gris …” and when she notices him in the room, switches languages with the skill of someone who has been doing it their whole life (and just how one day, someday, their son will).  Her voice is softer now, and the look in her eyes pulls Jake in with a single blink.  “You’ll never know dear, how much I love you …”

The rest of the song falls away, as he leans in for a kiss - a soft kiss, full of love and hope and promises and wonder.  This child of theirs was already so lucky, already so loved.  

These next three months are going to be the longest of his life.

Month Seven - Worried Amy

The moment the elevator doors slide open and the bullpen comes into focus, Jake’s eyes scan the room with only one target in mind.  It takes him less than three seconds to find her, sitting at his desk in such a familiar way that his heart pangs a little for all the times she sat there and didn’t refer to him as the love of her life.

He can see Amy’s chest rise and fall as she releases the breath she was obviously holding, her relief undeniable as her eyes lock onto his, holding steady as he walks towards her with a careful step.

Today had been just your standard work day, with he and Rosa heading out to Bushwick to follow a lead that had (thankfully) proven to be very successful.  And while texts between Jake and Amy had always been a pretty regular occurrence - ramped up, naturally, once they started dating - there had been a steady vibration coming from his jean pocket for the last two hours, and instinctively he knew that there was way more to this than just his wife killing time while on desk duty.

Shooting a glance at Rosa, Jake waits for the detective to nod before making a beeline for his desk.  He could tell, now that he was closer, that Amy was showing all the classic signs of Distracted Amy - jiggling knees, chewing on the lower right corner of her lip, and the persistent twirl of her wedding band, round and round.  He grabs her wrist gently when he’s close enough, stopping the movement and using his thumb to stroke her soft skin soothingly.  “Lock-up?” 

Amy nods quickly, her jaw unclenching slightly as she swallows whatever thought she was about to vocalise.  She doesn’t even wait the usual thirty-four seconds for Jake to leave before she’s following him into the evidence lock-up, far too distracted by whatever’s on her mind to care about the rest of the bullpen noticing that they’ve walked off together.

“You okay?” Jake asks carefully, wrapping one arm around her shoulders once the lock to the room has been secured, breathing in the familiar coconut scent of Amy’s hair as she falls into his embrace.  There’s a nod, felt up against his chest, and then she’s tucking her head down into the juncture of his neck and tightening her grip around his waist tenfold.  

“I am now.  Just .. can’t turn it off.”  Her voice is muffled, but warm against his skin.

“Turn what off, babe?”

There’s a pause, and a heavy sigh.  “My mind.”  

Jake begins to move his hand slowly up and down Amy’s back, waiting for his wife to continue before speaking.  He’s never found a reason to turn off her mind - Amy’s mind is one of his favourite things about her. 

After another minute or two, she lifts her head slightly, resting her chin against his chest.  “There was a shoot-out in Williamsburg today.”

“Oh yeah?”

Amy nods.  “Yeah.  And even though I knew you were in Bushwick, and that you were one hundred percent not on the scene, I couldn’t stop feeling terrified that maybe, somehow, you had ended up there.”

“I’m sorry if I didn’t answer your texts right away, babe.”

She shakes her head.  “No, you were working a case, I get it.  But even after you replied, I started worrying about what would have happened if you had been there, if something had happened to you, and I just …” tucking herself back into Jake’s neck, Amy lets out a choked sob.  “Are we crazy, Jake?  Is it absolutely insane that we’re bringing a new life into this world that is going to be entirely dependent on us, when there’s always a very good chance that one of us doesn’t come home?”

“Ames, hey … shhh, babe.  It’s fine.  I’m fine, we’re fine.  You don’t need to worry.”  Jake can feel the tears threaten to sting his eyes, once again cursing his mother for passing down a tendency for sympathetic crying.  “And yeah, maybe we’re a little crazy, but - ”

“And then I was reading a news article about this shark attack in Manhattan, and I started freaking out because … what if we take our son to Coney Island and something like that happens?  Or we get into a car accident or something?”

“I mean … do we even know if there are sharks in the water here?”

She sniffs loudly, raising her head to meet Jake’s stare.  “26.  There are 26 different species in New York waters.”

“Okay, I love that you know that.”

Amy shrugs sheepishly.  “I might have looked it up.  Which didn’t help at all, really.  So then I started worrying about my maternity leave, and if we can really afford for me to be away for so long, and look I know this probably sounds really paranoid but I swear this baby isn’t moving nearly as much as he normally does, and it’s all just kinda freaking me out, Jake!”

“Ames, Ames, Ames … come here, babe.  You’ve gotta calm down a little bit, okay?”  Amy’s arms don’t wrap around him this time, choosing instead to stay tucked up as she grabs onto the chain that his badge hangs from, holding it close to her own chest.  The tears start flowing now, pooling against his work shirt, and Jake’s heart breaks a little at the sight of it.  He can feel the fear and worry radiating from every pore on his wife’s body, and it’s worse than he could have possibly imagined.  

Slowly, the crying converts to the occasional hiccup, and Jake runs one hand through Amy’s hair, careful to keep the work-appropriate ponytail looking neat and professional.  “We’re going to be fine, Ames.  And as for the whole shark thing, I’ll have you know that you are looking at someone who very recently did some detective work into a very similar subject.”

Amy wipes her hand under her nose, looking up in confusion.  “You did?”

“Oh, absolutely.”  Clearing his throat, Jake maintains his gentle grip around Amy’s waist and continues.  “I’ll have you know, Ames, that you are more likely to get killed by a cow than a shark.  And I don’t know about you, but I have not seen any cows at the beach lately.  So we can totally go take our mini-McClane to the beach on weekends.”

“We’re not naming our son after a movie, Jake.”

“No comeback for the cow thing, I see.  How’s about another amazing factoid?  There are literally more ways to shuffle a deck of cards, then there are atoms on the earth.”  Jake pauses, miming an explosion on top of his head before returning his hands to her waist, clearly proud of the facts he’s just recited.

Amy narrows her eyes, cocking her head to one side.  “You’ve been reading Buzzfeed articles again, haven’t you?”

“Whaaaaat? No, I’m just really really into cows and atoms, and - okay yes, I might have clicked on a link or two the other day.”  He winces.  “But .. it was turns out it was all in the aid of helping you calm your nerves!  We’re two of the best cops the NYPD has ever seen, Ames.  And we’ve had to put up with some pretty crappy circumstances throughout the years.  Nothing is going to get to us.”

“But what if …”

Jake shakes his head.  “There is a whole shelf of parenthood related books taking pride of place in our reading room, and at least 10 binders that I can think of that are choc-filled to the brim with all of the information anybody could possibly want to know about babies.  We are more than prepared, babe.  Whatever else comes, we’ll figure it out.  We’re a team, and more importantly, we’re a family.  And nothing’s going to change that.”

Amy’s eyes grow soft, and she rests her hands on his chest.  Briefly, a flashback to a lot of change around here, huh? runs through Jake’s mind, and he smiles at the realisation of just how far they’ve come.  His wife’s voice is still heavy with trepidation, but there’s a little less fear in her gaze, and he’s counting that as a win.  “You really think so, Jake?”

Unable to resist, Jake leans his head down slightly for a soft kiss, pressing his lips against Amy’s and trying with all his might to chase her worries away.  “I do.  And as for you, young man -” he begins, sliding his hands from Amy’s waist to rest on either side of her belly.  “How about you calm your Mama’s mind and do a little twist, or a kick or something?”

It takes another minute or two, and Jake is just about to ramp up the scalding when he hears Amy’s sharp intake of breath, and only a second later he feels the gentle push of his son’s body against his hand.  “That’s more like it,” Amy breathes, busting out a smile that could light up the room.

“Much better,”  Jake agrees, crooking his finger underneath Amy’s chin and pulling her forward for another kiss.  “We’re going to do this together, babe.  You and me.  And don’t forget, we’ve got the whole 99 on standby if we ever need assistance.  I don’t even need to tell you how quickly Charles would jump into action if we asked.”

Amy grimaces, face brightening as she begins to laugh at the image.  “You’re absolutely right.  I love you, Jake Peralta.”

“I love you, Amy Santiago.”  Dipping his head lower, Jake runs his right hand in a gentle circle against Amy’s belly.  “And I love you as well, little Shrek.”

Amy’s body bounces with laughter, and she tugs Jake down for a soft thank you kiss.  “You always know the right thing to say, babe.  Thank you.”

“It’s both a blessing and a curse.  Besides, I think we’re both forgetting the most important detail here.”

“What’s that?”

“We both have Rosa’s number on speed dial.  Honestly, I pity whatever we put her up against.”

“Oh, absolutely.  Agreed.”

 Month Eight - Nesting Amy

It’s the overwhelming smell of Pledge, whacking Jake in the face as he opens their front door, that tells him that once again Amy has not had a relaxing day at home.

There was less than five weeks until their baby’s due date, and at the insistence of both Jake and Holt himself, Amy had been placed on maternity leave, with strict instructions to return only when she has a super-cute adorable baby to show off.  

So far, however, Amy has taken her doctor’s directive of ‘bed rest and preparation for your baby’s arrival’, and twisted it into ‘obsessively clean every square inch of your apartment’.

She’s waddling down the hallway of their apartment, arms full of freshly dried laundry, when she notices Jake is finally home.  “Hey babe!  How was work?”

Leaning over the pile of socks and shirts, Jake plants a chaste kiss against Amy’s lips.  There were a million ways to describe work without Amy in the building (boring, long and kinda lonely spring to mind), but right now he’s a little too distracted to give her a more concise answer.  “Ah, it was work.”

“Okay?”

Following her through to the kitchen, Jake takes the laundry from Amy’s hands and dumps them on the dining table, sorting the various items into piles just the way she likes.  “So,” he begins casually, “how many cans of Pledge did you go through today?”

Amy’s hands freeze mid-air, fingers still stretched out towards a wayward sock, and she glances at Jake out of the corner of her eye.  “Ah, just the one.”

“And the rest of the day you totally just relaxed on the couch and caught up with all those shows we never get time to watch, right?”

“Yep.  Sure did.”

Jake nods, taking a quick look at their open plan apartment.  “Geez, the windows look awfully sparkly today.”

Unable to contain her glee, Amy grins.  “I know!  I found this amazing glass cleaner that I thought I had run out of.  Those are the cleanest windows in New York City, babe.  You could practically eat off of them.”

“I’m definitely impressed, Ames.  Especially that you did it from your resting position on the couch.  Seriously, kudos to you.”

“Ugh.  Okay, fine!  You busted me.  But I can’t help it, babe!  Every time I sit down, I see another little speck of dust or I remember just how long it’s been since I’ve cleaned the air-conditioning vents and suddenly three hours have passed by.”  Wringing her hands together slightly, she shrugs.  “Also, I may have bumped into that lamp we had in the corner and broken it.  Or rather, the bump bumped into it.  I swear, just when I think I’ve gotten used to how big I’m getting, I grow another inch or seven.”  

Jake laughs, placing the last neatly folded shirt onto the pile of all the others.  “Hey, that’s my sexy as hell, domestic goddess wife you’re talking about there.“

She grunts, dropping her head down to look at her swollen stomach before looking back up at Jake.  “I don’t feel sexy.  I feel like a rotisserie chicken.”

“Okay, I’m really going to need you to distract me right now, so that I don’t make a terrible joke about juicy breasts.”

“Jake.”

“Got it.  You do not look like a rotisserie chicken, Ames.  You look like a beautiful woman, who is eight months pregnant and has spent her entire day cleaning an apartment that was already ridiculously clean.”

“I may have also moved some furniture around,”  Amy mumbles, interjecting quickly with a “Light furniture!  Just chairs and stuff.  Nothing big - well, you’ll see” as she notices the exasperated look on Jake’s face.  Oh, how he loves her.

“Ames, obviously I can’t stop you, and there’s no way I’m going to tell you what to do.  I just think right now would be the best time to follow your doctor’s orders and rest.  In a few weeks time, we’re both going to be rueing the day we had the chance to sleep and didn’t take it.”

Amy nods, coyly raising her eyebrows.  “I’ll do you a deal, Peralta.  I’ll spend the rest of the evening on the couch, so long as you’ll be my cuddle buddy.”

Grinning, Jake leans into Amy, pressing a miniature kiss against the tip of her nose.  “I’ll do you one better, babe.  I’ll stay with you on the couch all night tonight and tomorrow night; AND during the day you can put me on cleaning duty for anything that catches your eye, no matter how small.”  He winks, continuing.  “If you’re lucky, I might even be able to rustle up a French Maid outfit for added effect.”

Amy’s hands come to rest on either side of his face, her touch so amazingly warm that it still makes his heart skip all these years later.  “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Month Nine - Surprisingly good at French Amy

“PUTAIN!” Amy cries out, reaching out to grab the edge of Jake’s scrubs as she pulls him closer.    “Ça fait tellement mal!”

Wincing, Jake listens to the anguished cries of his wife, reaching one hand towards his collar and gripping her hand in his.  With the other, he fumbles for his phone, trying in vain to open the DuoLingo app and figure out just what exactly his wife was saying.  Judging from the tone, it wasn’t great - and she had mentioned once or twice that she’d minored in French in college - but he’d never heard such a regular string of completely incomprehensible words fall out of Amy’s mouth.  

A clammy hand grips the back of Jake’s neck, and its Amy pulling him forwards, yanking him until their foreheads are touching.  “Jake.  I can’t do this.  I can’t.  It hurts too much.”

None of this night was going to plan.

There are laminated copies of Amy’s birthing plan in every possible place - from their house to their car, the top drawers of both her and Jake’s desk, and even a copy with Captain Holt and Lieutenant Jeffords, just in case something should happen to go awry.  It was very clear cut in its instructions - single spaced, double sided, Santiago style - and had left no doubt in anyone close to them’s minds exactly what was expected to occur once Amy’s water finally broke.

What all the research and binders and testimonies hadn’t anticipated, and therefore turns out to be exactly what ends up happening, is a city-wide blackout with both Amy and Jake stuck in traffic after pursuing a lead on the other side of town, with absolutely no way out.

It had taken fourteen different phone conversations, the call in on several different favours and one tiny sacrifice to the gods before he and Amy had made it to their hospital, and by the time the nurses wheeled her into the delivery room, it was far too late for Amy to be considered for an epidural.  Jake’s heart had broken for her, as she was told the news and an undeniable look of terror ran over her features.  Absolutely nothing was going to plan - and while Amy’s water had indeed broken on her due date (Santiago’s are nothing if not punctual, after all) - Jake couldn’t help but feel that everything that had happened since that moment had more to do with the Peralta genes than his wife’s.  

But there was a snowball’s chance in hell that Jake was going to let Amy believe she couldn’t do this.  She absolutely could.  She could do anything.  And so he rests his weight against the side of the bed; flitting his eyes over to the clock on the table and calculating that they were probably only another twenty seconds away from another contraction, and crooks his finger into the edge of Amy’s chin, bumping her up slightly to meet his gaze.  “Yes you can, Ames.  You’re the strongest person I know, and you can do this.  I know you can.  And I’m going to be right here with you, the whole time.”

Closing her eyes as the wave of another contraction hits, Amy whispers “Merde” before gripping onto Jake’s hand for dear life, fingernails leaving tiny blood-filled crescent moons in his skin when she finally pulls away.  

*

The hands on the clock on the wall have moved significantly by the time Leo Peralta makes his debut, the unmistakeable sound of his cries bouncing off the hospital ward’s walls as he shouts his protest in the sudden change of environment.

Jake’s left hand is completely numb - he’s pretty sure Amy has squeezed all life out of it - but he is filled with total elation and a total adoration for the true warrior that is Amy.  He never could have done half of the things she did today, but even now after all of the pain she went through, there is an unbreakable smile on her face as she holds their son in her arms for the very first time.

(He’s also learned four brand new curse words, all of which he never would have expected to come out his gentle natured wife’s mouth, but he also hasn’t just pushed a human being out of his body, so really - who is he to judge?)

Jake rests on the bed next to Amy, leaning over slightly to run a finger along the edge of his son’s mouth in wonder.  It is incredible, really - how much he could love somebody so instantly, and so unconditionally.  “You did it, Ames.  You brought our son into the world.”

Amy smiles, unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny bundle in her arms just yet.  “We did it, babe.  There’s no way I would have been able to do this without you.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head in response, and whispers I love you.  A moment later, Amy is passing him their son to hold, and it doesn’t seem right how somebody that holds so much weight in Jake’s life could feel so light right now.  

“Hey there, little man.  Welcome to the family, pal.”  He hears a sniff to his left, and turns to see Amy brush a tear away from her cheek.  

“My two favourite men in the whole world.  I just love you both, so much.  So much.”

Jake’s tears begin to fall as well, the overwhelming emotions of the day finally proving too much.

Finally, the child they had been hoping for, for so long, was here.  

And finally, they were parents.  

“Best day ever.”

***

With slow and careful movements, Jake lowers baby Leo into his crib, hovering over his still sleeping son for a minute to make sure that the movement hasn’t disturbed his sleep.  Parenting was hard, and he had suitcases instead of bags building up underneath his eyes, but there was a very small possibility that maybe he was kinda nailing it.  

He can feel all of the muscles in his body cry out in relief as he slips under the sheets, melting into the softest mattress he’s ever owned (and truly, a worthy investment in many ways).

Now that he was (thankfully) back in bed, and their apartment was (also thankfully) silent, Jake shifts his position so that he can look over at his sleeping wife.  Amy has missed out on more sleep than him by far, and is still recovering from what had happened only a month ago, but still she manages to look so crazily beautiful in her sleep that Jake cannot stop the smile that breaks out over his face.  

She has always managed to amaze Jake; and challenge him in ways that he’d never expected, but if there was anything to be taken from the last nine months, it was that there could never be anybody quite like Amy Santiago.

The memories of all that has passed wash over Jake as he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair away from Amy’s face, and as she lets out a soft sigh in response he shuffles just that little bit closer.  

One day, he’ll be able to tell her about all the different Amy’s he met during her pregnancy.   But, for now, he’s happy to have it live in his memories.