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thiscrimsonsoul · 3 years

Note

"I'm in love with you." (Sorry I know this is like a week late on this meme)

(It’s quite alright! Memes on my blogs don’t have expiration dates. ^_^ Below the cut because I let my inspiration run wild and it got super long, heh.)

Wanda had to turn and look at Steve. She needed to see his expression because... she was almost certain she’d heard him wrong, but... no. Not with the way he was looking at her. “You... you are?” Nervousness filled her. How real was this? It wasn’t that she thought he was lying or playing games with her, but she’d seen a woman in the nightmare she’d invoked in Steve’s mind before she became his ally. She’d gotten the name... Peggy.

She’d gleaned such sorrow and regret surrounding his feelings for her at the time. That and love. The aesthetics of the dream were from a bygone era, and so Wanda assumed that the woman was no longer living, but was he still in love with this Peggy? Was Steve just sad and lonely and maybe not thinking clearly right now, given the stress they had all been under from going on the run after he’d rescued her and others from the Raft? Wanda didn’t think it was her place to ask or assume, but that left her feeling uncertain. Did her nightmare stir up feelings for someone he lost and now he was looking to fill that void with someone else? How ironic would that be... if her own tactic had plunged her into this awkward situation?

That this other woman seemed to live rent free in Steve’s head was something Wanda had reminded herself of often since those days, every time she felt herself developing a crush on him, to remind her that he probably was not and would never be interested in her. It had kept her from saying or doing anything stupid around him during her time in the Avengers training compound. At least for the little over a year she’d been permitted to stay there. before she became a fugitive of the United States.

And then there were the simple facts that he was Captain America and she was an immigrant, not that she was sure she’d ever be able to go back to the U.S. at this point. Would that... be a problem? Not to him, she knew. He wasn’t that kind of person. But he was a symbol for his country, one that until nearly a year ago she had grossly misunderstood. Wanda refused to believe that he wouldn’t be reinstated at some point, even after everything that had happened. The U.S. would be stupid not to, in her opinion. Would his government and his fans have a problem with him having feelings for someone who wasn’t even an American citizen for a full year yet? Wanda had become a citizen with the help of Stark fast-tracking the process for her despite their pointed differences and grudges - him helping her seemed like a distant memory now - but she hadn’t been one for long. Would his fans or employers take offense to that? She didn’t want to become a problem for Steve. Goodness knows he had enough problems to deal with right now.

Wanda knew she had a crush on Steve, but was it love? She was attracted to him, sure. He was a good-looking guy, and the honorable way about him and his gentleness off the battlefield were definitely things that drew her in. But it was more than that. Steve made her feel safe at a time in her life when everything seemed to be spiraling out of control. Her brother was gone, her home was gone, she’d been in a strange country surrounded by people who used to be her enemies, trying to find her way through the thick, unrelenting heaviness of grief. Even over a year later, the battle of Sokovia and that dark, cold, sickening, and sinking feeling she’d felt when Pietro died were still as potent and near to her in her mind as if they had happened yesterday.

And yet, through it all, Steve had been there to check on her, to push her to take care of herself, to offer advice, and to help train her when she felt up to it. There had been so many long conversations on the training grounds or in her room, late-night tea breaks in the kitchen when she couldn’t sleep, glances stolen during important meetings when she just needed his reassuring gaze to ground her for a moment, and reassuring hands held or placed on her shoulder or back. Steve had also been the one to make sure Pietro’s body was recovered, allowing for a proper burial. That... had meant the world to her, and she never forgot it.

Then... he rescued her from the Raft... To be fair he’d intended that day to rescue far more people than just her, but even so, drugged, restrained, suffering from a debilitating allergy to sedatives, and feeling hopeless, Wanda’s tortured mind had latched onto him the moment he entered her cell. After being catatonic for so long, the memory of being carried by him, of his warmth and encouraging words to her, was etched onto her brain like a brand. Remembering that feeling had gotten her through the very rough days of illness and trauma recovery to follow. She remembered his concern as she lay in bed, sick as a dog, while the group of newly minted fugitives decided where to go, what to do. He’d let her stay with him at her request after the group split up to avoid detection. He’d been so kind and understanding and sweet and-

Oh gods... this is way more than a crush. The realization hit her as she stared at him, afraid of saying the wrong thing at what could be a pivotal moment. But with all her insecurities, worries, anxieties, and suppositions, Wanda thought the best thing to do was to be honest with him. That’s all he’d ever been with her.

“I... I’m in love with you too,” she admitted, the verbal expression of her feelings making her heart flutter in a nervous but not necessarily bad way. She’d never dated anyone, never had a boyfriend. She’d never even been kissed. Apprehensions emerging from her traumatic background and an overprotective brother had seen to that. The closest she had come was Vision, but... after he sided with Tony and allowed her to be sent to the Raft, Wanda knew she couldn’t be with him. She thought... that maybe she would just be alone. But now... Wanda found herself wanting more out of life. Maybe... it was time to step out of her comfort zone and try to live a little more...? If being imprisoned and losing so many loved ones had taught her anything, it was that life was much too short. “So... what now?” she asked shyly, a smile lingering on her lips as her cheeks began to turn pink.

#americashielded #wanda rp #{aged-up version of Wanda so... 25? maybe 26 by this point?}#{figuring it's been over a year since Ultron}#{also loooooong I'm so sorry haha}#{inspiration hit me like a two-by-four to the face}#{don't feel you have to match it at all heh}

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illstaywithstray · 5 years

Text

Coffee| Stray Kids Chan Au

↳ pairing: Stray Kids Chan x Reader| fluff

↳ au: highschool!au, newstudent!chan. badass!reader

↳ warnings: cursing, mentions of violence

↳ word count: 2,337

⁙ summary: Chan is a new student at your school, but after a mishap on the first day and your bad rep at school, how will he feel about you?

⁛ A/N: Thank you for requesting! This was my first fic, so it was a bit short. I hope you like it, and I’ll make the next one longer!

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“Y/n, I swear to god, I’m about to freeze my balls off.” Walking to school with y/f/n in six inches of snow was practically torture. You laughed at her but passed her the mug of hot chocolate you had been neglecting. She sighed in relief.

“Honestly, if Mr. Bolton gives us another pop quiz today, I’m dropping out and becoming a stripper.” You groaned at the thought of stat class, while y/f/n chugged the rest of her drink. “Relax, you always pass anyway. Besides, we gotta get seats in the front again. I still can’t get over the fact that Namjoon offered to tutor you,” y/f/n shook her head in disbelief.

“Maybe that’s because we’re friends and he’s nice.” You put an emphasis on the word ‘friends’ and y/f/n rolled her eyes. “He’s the hottest guy at school, but you have zero interest. Lowkey hard to believe.” You rolled your eyes back. “Honestly y/f/n, I know he’s cute, but I literally have no time to date. And my mom would whoop my ass. Annnd tests are coming up soon.” You stepped in front of her and started walking backward. “And there’s a new transfer student. What if he’s the one, and I waste my opportunity to be with him while dating Namjoon?” you voiced dramatically, clutching your hands to your heart with a pained expression. “You’re so dramatic, c’mon, let’s head in.”

You walked into first period with Namjoon, laughing over some guy he’d been tutoring a few days ago. Worldwide handsome or something like that. Heads immediately turned. Heads always turned when Namjoon was in the room. He had the reputation of the “hot aesthetic art student who was totally unattainable,” but in reality, he was a dork who broke everything he touched. Quite literally. You said bye and headed over to your seat where lord behold, a guy was sitting. Dark hair but the palest skin you’d ever seen in your life. And frankly, he was cute. While you were arguing whether or not you were looking at Asian Edward Cullen, he looked up.

“Yes?” he stared at you, lowkey checking you out. “You’re in my seat,” you explained flatly. “Oh, sorry. I’m new.” He continued staring but didn’t budge. My god, does he not understand? “Yeah, ok, but you can sit over there. No one sits there.” You pointed at an empty desk. He glanced over, and then looked back up at you with the cutest smile in the world. “No thanks.” You looked away and blew air out of your mouth angrily, but walked over to the front to sit with Namjoon. He glanced at you and looked back at the new kid.

“What happened,” he whispered. “Some dude took my seat.” “Well, at least you can sit with me.” You stared at him blankly, and he held his hands up comedically. Mr. Bolton walked in, holding lovely test packets. You screamed internally and then hit your head against the table a few times. Sitting back up, Mr. Bolton looked at you with concern and then turned to the class.

“I’m sure you’ve all seen our new student. Chan? Would you like to introduce yourself to the class?” The new guy- Chan- nodded, stood up, and walked over and stood next to the front desk. You looked him up and down. Blue sweatshirt, black jacket, jeans, and a hat. Turned backward. You and Namjoon made eye contact and shook your heads simultaneously. Both of you had the taste of the gods. At least in clothes. “Hey, I’m Chan, I just transferred, and I hope I don’t fail out of stat. Nice to meet you all” The class laughed. You glanced over at NJ and both of you snickered quietly. “Guys, settle down. I was going to give the test for chapter 8 today, but since Chan is new, I figured we could postpone it until after the break. We’ll be studying for the testing week today. I’m sure y/n’s grateful.” You stared at him and shook your head. “Nah, he’s pissed me off in less than a minute. A new record by the way.” The class shuffled in excitement. Chan laughed from behind you, and you glanced at him and felt your face warm up. You lowkey had the reputation of that bitch who got into fights. Behind the school, near the track. And you always won. You’d gotten into trouble so often that your dad just sent his assistant to cover for you. Fortunately, you had the grades, and your dad had the money to bail you out of trouble. Every single time. Not to mention, teachers fell at your feet since you always tried to be nice to them, so school was practically your playground. It was only a matter of time before Chan figured out.

Which was pretty fast, because guess who was sitting in that exact spot when you dragged Kamini Hersch, by the hair, over there. She had stolen all of one of your friend’s clothes while she was showering in the locker room and thrown them out in the snow. And your friend had walked out into the hallway in a towel, crying. You’d given her extra clothes but searched for her stuff anyway. One of Kamini’s friends had told you what happened, and you’d skipped third period to go find her.

Actually, neither Chan nor you had seen each other, since there was too much of a crowd for him to see you. After you finished beating some sense into her, you got up, tossed your hair back, and walked away, without a scratch, like nothing happened. You had glanced over him and hesitated for a moment. Did he see me? Someone told him what happened when he asked what the crowd was standing around for, and he glanced at your receding figure, wondering. You shook away your thoughts while walking away, not expecting to see him anytime soon. You were wrong.

You had just bought coffee at lunch, since you had no appetite to eat. In reality, even though Kamini had done something to your friend, you hated laying your hands on anyone. You really weren’t malicious, you just tried to protect your friends. Chan was sitting alone, flipping through a textbook. You felt a pang of sadness for him, and you slid in the seat next to Felix Lee. His table was basically Namjoon’s lunch table but less populated. You glanced over at the table you usually sat at, and Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin and y/f/n were staring at you until they started pretending that they were having a really deep discussion. Oh god, they think I’m making moves. Ugh, I’m about to get roasted. “Hey guys, so there’s this new kid, and ya know, you guys are super nice and all, so I thought-” Seungmin held up a finger. “Sure, go call him over.” “Nice, thanks.” You walked over to Chan’s table but bumped into some dude and spilled coffee all over his textbook, notes, and clothes. He seemed not to register what had just happened until he felt the coffee burn him.

“Oh my god Chan, I am so sorry, I swear that was an accident, um, I was actually trying to tell you that I found you a lunch table, wait not that I think you look pathetic sitting alone, okay maybe I do, but you’re new, but not gonna lie, you’re kinda cute so I thought you’d have made more friends, but um sorry, I’m so sorry, I was just trying to be nice I swear,” you exhaled, looking at him worriedly. He looked at you and then burst out laughing. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that not gonna lie. You think I’m cute? You really aren’t anything like I heard, are you?” You tilted your head, confused. “People said you were intimidating, but damn, you’re so cute.” He got up, frowning at his textbook. You felt your face heat up at the word ‘cute,’ but pushed it down and sucked in air.

An hour later, you were drying his notes with your blowdryer while he changed into some of Namjoon’s clothes. You had paid for the damage to his textbook even though he had resisted it for a good thirty minutes.

He walked out, dressed in a black sweater and jeans. He looked surprisingly good for a dude wearing something so simple. “Well, your notes are dry, but uh, they look a little... bruised.” You winced at the visible stains on the papers. “Y/n, it’s cool, thanks for the help.” He grinned stupidly, and you felt yourself blushing. “Yeah, don’t mention it. Also, I’ll buy you dinner or something since I wrecked your lunch today.” Now he started turning red. You tossed your phone at him. “Number?” He turned even redder and you felt the corners of your mouth turn up as he typed in digits. He passed it back to you, and you walked out, waving back at him.

The week ended, and testing week rushed by. It was finally chill at school, and you had more time for yourself. Namjoon and you had studied together almost every day before testing, and everyone assumed you were dating because rumor had it that you had fallen asleep together in the back of the library. Which was true, but it really hadn’t meant anything to either one of you, since he had a girlfriend and you had a massive crush on Chan. When you went to dinner with him, he had been the funniest, most laidback guy you’d ever met. He had called you several times, usually late at night, and the conversation went on so many tangents. You’d told him about what had actually happened at the fight, and he told you how little sleep he got because of dance practices and other work. And then you realized, oh my god, I’m head over heels for this kid. Which, of course, led you to start panicking. Once you had spilled this information to your lunch table, they had bugged you incessantly and kept making obscene noises when he walked by or got to his table at lunch and waved at you. The rest of the guys at his table picked up on your blushing and stuttering whenever Chan talked to you, and began trying to get to you to tell him.

“Y/N, JUST THE GIRL WE WERE LOOKING FOR,” Changbin and Felix screamed. “Great, the soundcloud boyfriends. Just what I needed.” Seungmin giggled, but shut up when Changbin stared at him. “Seriously though, you should ask him out, he keeps talking about you,” Jeongin said. You sat up straighter. “What’d he say?” Hyunjin snorted, “y/n has a really good smile, but she pretends she’s super aloof.” Woojin continued, “yeah and she always helps me with stat and offers to get me lunch.” Minho was the only one who you could mentally withstand, but even he laughed and said that it was only a matter of time. You decided you were done with these weird kids and walked with Jisung. “Y/n, seriously, he told me he thought you were a really great person. At least talk to him about it. If you like him, that is.” “Okay, yes I like Chan. I like Chris Bang. He’s so fucking funny and cute and smart and I feel something inside me start beating faster whenever he talks to me. There.” You shook your head but felt Jisung snicker and stop. You glanced at him, but he was staring behind you. “I told you, now come out.” Chan poked his head out from behind a locker. “Great. BYE.” And you flew down the hall, taking a corner and slamming into Jungkook. “HIDE ME, THEY EXPOSED ME,” and he grabbed your hand and dove into a supply closet. “Wait, what happened?” “JISUNG SET ME UP, CHAN KNOWS I LIKE HIM. I EXPOSED MYSELF OH LORDY.” “First of all, shut up, the janitor’s threatening to report me if I keep coming in here, and second, how’d he react?” “Well, I ran away, so I’m not sure.” “Girl, go out there and get your man. Don’t be a pussy.” “Fine.”

And then you stepped out of the closet, walking around the janitor, who cursed quietly upon seeing Jungkook and yet another girl in his supply closet. You saw Chan standing by himself back in the same hallway, and took him behind the school. Snow was falling as he stared down at you, looking slightly confused.

“Yeah, what I said was true. I like you. Sorry.” You exhaled air and looked away.

“Phew, I thought you were about to beat me up or something. Since this is your spot. And why are you sorry? I like you too.”

“Dumbass, I like you like I like like you.”

“Yes, and I like like you too. I’ve been trying to ask you out y/n.”

You stared at him blankly, and watched the snow fall on his face. He stared back at you, flushing slightly. And then, like in a stereotypical Hallmark movie, he took your face in his hands. You felt your heart speeding up by the close proximity of his face to yours. The cold air swirled and howled around you as he leaned closer and kissed you. You could hear cheering coming from inside, where everyone had their faces pressed up against the windows. “Y/N’S MAKING OUT WITH CHAN AT THE SPOT.”

After the day at the Spot, you and Chan were that couple. The one that made out in the supply closet (which the janitor abandoned since you had traded him your locker like the saint you were and which Jungkook decided to avoid), held hands to stat class and were always running in slow motion to each other. He’d refused to let you beat people up, but bandaged your bloody knuckles when a bitch tested you and you made sure that he was taking care of his health and sleeping on time. Every Friday was study night with Namjoon, his new girlfriend (who, by the way, was y/f/n; she’d finally tried to talk to him, and then he told you that he liked her, so you’d set them up like the amazing friend you were), and Chan, and then you’d go back to his dorm for dinner and a movie. Which was practically always horror, and neither one of you liked horror, so it was only natural that both of you ended up huddled in blankets screaming. And going to amusement parks with him was practically the cutest thing ever. Because he turned into a little kid and pulled you to every ride. And literally every single time he smiled at you, with that smile, you were so, so glad that you had spilled coffee on this boy.

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vernonfielding · 5 years

Text

Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 10. (And AO3.)

Jake dug his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and stomped his feet, trying to keep himself from shivering and looking pathetic in the freezing cold. Rosa, of course, was just leaning casually against the brick side of the building.

“You need better CIs,” Rosa said.

“I know.” Jake pulled out his phone to check the time again. “Let’s give him five more minutes.”

“You sure you can survive that much longer?” Rosa raised her eyebrows and looked him up and down.

“Not really,” Jake said with a sigh.

They’d already been waiting for his CI for more than half an hour, at the far end of a dingy alley that reeked of urine and something sweet-rotten. While it wasn’t unusual for informants to run late, Leo James was pretty reliable – except this would be the third time in a row that he’d asked to meet Jake and then skipped out. Jake wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it was making him edgy, and slightly more eager than usual to hear what Leo had to say.

Not necessarily so eager that he was willing to risk frostbite, though. Jake opened his mouth, ready to call it, when Rosa said, “So what’s up with you and Amy?”

“I- what?” Rosa never initiated conversations about relationships. Even when she accidentally started one she shut it down when things got uncomfortable, which was immediately. She’d once commented on a concert T-shirt he wore to work on a Saturday and when he started to tell her he’d stolen it from an ex-girlfriend she had yanked his arm behind his back and told him to keep that shit to himself. They’d been working together for two weeks.

Warning him about trusting a reporter back when Amy was just that – some reporter – was one thing. But now that they were dating, he’d assumed Amy was off limits. And Rosa did look pained now, her face scrunched up like she’d just smelled something Charles had baked for them.

“I’m worried about you,” Rosa said with a wince, the words spilling out all at once.

“Rosa-”

“Look, you know how much it horrifies me to talk about this-”

“A lot,” Jake said.

“So much,” Rosa said. “But I’m going in anyway.”

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “As far as I can tell, Amy seems like a not terrible person. Like, she has ethics and shit, and she’s obviously really into you. But you’ve got to know, she’s not like us. Even the good journalists, they have different goals. We’re trying to protect people, they’re trying to sell newspapers.”

“Digital subscriptions,” Jake said.

“What?”

“Newspapers don’t really make much off print newspaper sales anymore, it’s all about the online- you know what, never mind.” Jake ran a hand through his hair. “First, you’re wrong about me. My singular goal is to jump out of a helicopter with a knife between my teeth and a super cool semi-auto pistol strapped to my thigh, with one objective at hand: Get all the hostages out, alive.”

“Out of where, exactly?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jake stared off into the distance for a moment, lost in thought. He started when Rosa coughed pointedly. “Anyway, I guess you’re right that Amy and I don’t share the same goals. Although, I’ve never asked so maybe we do? Should I ask her how she feels about jumping from helicopters?”

“Jake-”

“I know, Rosa.” He sighed, hunching up his shoulders when a gust of cold air swept down the alley. “I get it, but you’re wrong about Amy. Yes, she wants to sell papers, but that’s just so they can make money and keep doing the work they do. She wants to make the world a better place, just like we do. We want the same things.”

Jake didn’t like the hint of defensiveness that had crept into his voice. And he did understand why Rosa was concerned. But at the same time, she’d only met Amy twice – the one time at Shaw’s, when they’d barely interacted, and two weeks later at a dinner arranged by Charles, which had ended early when everyone got violently ill on the horsetail soup. All of her concerns were based on her preconceptions of journalists in general and had nothing to do with Amy herself.

Jake didn’t need Rosa’s approval. But it didn’t sit well with him that his partner – whom he trusted more than anyone, and whom he knew with absolute certainty would always have his back, despite whatever issues she had about emotional intimacy and maintaining boundaries – didn’t like his girlfriend.

“You really trust her?” Rosa said, narrowing her eyes at him – it felt like a challenge, like she was daring him to look away. “Are you sure this isn’t just about the fact that she’s hot and for some reason you’re into her weird pantsuit aesthetic and obvious nerd brain?”

“Yeah,” Jake said, without thought. Then again, “Yeah, I trust her.”

Rosa broke the eye contact and exhaled sharply, her breath puffing cloud-like in the cold. “Okay.”

She had her hands in her pockets now, and she shivered, just the slightest tremor across her shoulders. Jake sighed and kicked at a crumpled ball of newspaper at his feet. He glanced once more around the alley.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

Rosa pushed off the wall and they headed back to the precinct in silence.

+++

Amy twisted her hair into a sloppy bun as she padded into her kitchen, hoping Jake hadn’t discovered the pint of Cherry Garcia she’d hidden in the back of her freezer, behind the box of orange popsicles and the stack of frozen pizzas. She smiled to herself when she spotted the container, the plastic seal unbroken. Amy grabbed the ice cream, picked up a spoon, and headed back to her couch.

It had been a while – almost exactly two months, actually – since Amy had been alone with just ice cream and her pajamas on a Saturday night. A part of her had been looking forward to an evening of solo indulgence when Jake had first mentioned that he had plans. But now that the night was here, she was just feeling bummed out.

Jake was at a dinner hosted by a New York City Council member, honoring Commissioner Wuntch. The dinner – which was actually more of a gala, as far as Amy could tell from her petty internet sleuthing – was being held at the New York Public Library. Jake and Rosa had been ordered to attend by Pembroke, as representatives of the Nine-Nine. Amy had been very distinctly not invited.

At first, she’d been okay with that – a little disappointed because it would have been fun to dress up fancy with Jake, to see him in his full uniform, his dress blues, to dance with him and exchange knowing glances behind glasses of Champagne, but okay. She really did understand his hesitancy – she’d accepted it at Shaw’s, and she accepted it now. It wasn’t like she was so eager to be fodder for the neighborhood gossip blogs anyway – she had a career and a reputation to protect too.

But there was not going public, and there was hiding. And what Jake was doing was starting to feel a lot more like the latter. They still hadn’t told Gina they were dating. Amy hadn’t met his mom, or any friends other than Rosa and Charles, who barely even counted since she’d already known him. Jake wasn’t ashamed of her, she was sure of that. But after two months of dating, his reservations were wearing thin.

She suspected that for him, keeping their relationship private – and keeping it contained – wasn’t just about protecting his career, but his heart. She didn’t think he did it on purpose, necessarily, but she knew he had trust issues. It probably went back as far as his father leaving when he was young – a fact he joked about sometimes, though it obviously still hurt – and it hadn’t gotten better in his years as a cop, especially working under someone like the Vulture.

He’d told her recently, in the darkness of his studio late at night, that he could count the number of people he trusted on one hand, and not even use all his fingers. She hadn’t asked him then if she’d made the cut, and he hadn’t said, but the way he’d cupped her face and kissed her, gentle and thorough, had told her everything she needed to know.

Still, as the past week had gone by, she couldn’t help thinking that he knew how much she loved the public library and how thrilled she’d be to attend a private event there. Then they’d spent Thanksgiving apart because he was on duty and he hadn’t even managed to swing by for pie, and her whole family had seemed quietly judgmental. And the day after that, he’d mentioned that Rosa was bringing her new girlfriend to the dinner-slash-gala – and that was what finally, officially ticked Amy off.

Rosa, who barely tolerated people knowing her phone number, was taking a date – a female date, less than a week after coming out as bisexual – to the dinner. And Jake still wouldn’t be seen in public with Amy, his girlfriend of two months.

She’d spent the night before the dinner at Jake’s and woken up feeling bruised and sensitive. She’d seriously considered talking to him about it, even crafting a monologue in her head while she showered, but eventually decided it would keep for a day. Jake already wasn’t thrilled to be going to the dinner, and she didn’t need to make him feel like an asshole on top of it. She would take the night to sit with her feelings and approach him in the morning with a reasoned, carefully practiced speech about treating each other with respect.

For now, though, she was going to eat an entire pint of ice cream on her own and watch the Hallmark Channel until she couldn’t see straight. Amy dropped on her couch and pulled a blanket over her lap. She turned on the television, picked her channel, snapped the plastic seal on her pint and dug in.

“Fucking men,” she muttered.

+++

From the spot he’d staked out at the back of the hall, Jake couldn’t help marveling at the spectacle of it all. Orange and yellow lights bounced off the columns and arches far overhead, and flickering candles clustered on small tables around the perimeter gave the hall a warm, intimate vibe, despite the expanse of the space. About half the crowd were in uniform, and the rest were wearing gowns or tuxes, everyone looking polished and glowing in the soft light. Even the Champagne was sparkling like glitter.

The party was, Jake had to admit, super romantic. And he was a jerk.

He set down his empty glass on a table and tugged at his necktie. He badly wanted to check his phone again but he’d only looked at it maybe two minutes ago, and he knew he’d be annoyed when he saw the time. He’d decided that he needed to stay at least until the speeches were done – or until Wuntch had spoken, anyway – and then he was booking it. He’d already identified the best exit to make a covert escape.

“Knock it off,” Rosa hissed beside him, swatting his hand away from his neck. “Stop acting like a frat bro at prom.”

“Frat bros don’t go to prom, Rosa,” Jake spit back.

“Not the point, Jake.”

Rosa’s date nudged her way between them, handing them each a fresh glass of Champagne. “You two are adorable.”

Rosa grunted and Jake opted to down his drink in one go. He wiped his hand over his mouth and set that glass aside too. He could feel Rosa’s disgruntled stare on the side of his face and he ignored it, turning instead to her date.

“So, Melanie, how’d you two meet?”

“Oh I am so not falling for that one,” Melanie said, throwing a smirk toward Rosa. “She warned me you’d try to get all my secrets.”

“Oh for- since when is your origin story a secret? Unless you met at a sex club.” Jake thought that over. “Wait, did you meet at a sex club? Rosa, did you meet Melanie at a sex club? Melanie, which sex club was it? Never mind, doesn’t matter, I don’t know any of them.”

“It was not a sex club, dumbass,” Rosa said.

“We met at BronyCon.” Melanie said, casting a sideways glance at Rosa as though seeking permission. Rosa just shrugged.

“What’s BronyCon-” Jake paused. The name was familiar. “My Little Pony convention? Wasn’t there a riot at it last year?”

Rosa nodded sternly. “It’s a rough scene.”

Jake stared at Rosa and Melanie, who were both stonily impassive as they looked out over the hall.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Whatever, man,” Rosa said.

A crackle from the speakers that had been mounted discretely around the room made them all startle, and Jake looked up toward the raised stage, where someone in a suit was tapping on a microphone. The man introduced himself as an aide to the councilmember hosting the event and said the presentation was running a little late and they’d begin in another 45 minutes.

Behind Jake, someone squealed, and he turned to see Scully darting toward one of the buffet tables.

“More time for chicken wings, Jakey,” he said, delighted, and disappeared into the crowd.

Jake groaned and yanked at his tie again. He’d been feeling guilty all week about not inviting Amy to this event – it was at the New York Public Library, only her favorite building in the city – but he’d managed to push it aside, mostly, until he got here and saw how beautiful the space was, and saw how happy Rosa looked with her date. (Rosa had smiled, exactly once, when she introduced Jake to Melanie. It meant she was pretty much in love.)

Rosa leaned into him now, only instead of knocking his hand away again she said, under her breath, “Just go. I’ll cover for you.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, but he also glanced impulsively toward the exit he’d marked earlier.

“I saw Pembroke making out with a city hall intern half an hour ago,” Rosa said. “He does not give a shit.”

“How do you know she was an intern-”

“How does that matter? Seriously, go. Now. Before I realize that I’m helping you.”

“Thank you.” Jake briefly squeezed her shoulder, waved at Melanie, and then he slipped off to the side and out the back exit.

The cold air stung his face as he stepped outside and jogged down the front stairs toward the subway station across the street. He changed his mind when he got to the curb and pulled out his phone to call up a car instead – it might take him an hour or longer to get to Brooklyn by train and he didn’t think he could handle the wait. He even splurged on the UberX.

The ride was still torture. He thought about texting Amy that he was on his way, or even calling. But if she’d decided to go out with friends, he didn’t want her to feel like she had to leave them to hang out with him now that he’d come to his senses.

One of Amy’s neighbors was opening the front door to the building just as Jake’s ride pulled up. Jake called out to him to hold the door, and the guy saw his uniform and let him in, and Jake jogged the three flights of stairs up to her apartment. He paused at her door to catch his breath, though he couldn’t seem to make his heart slow down. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and tapped on her door.

He heard her footsteps, and a pause as she (hopefully) looked through the peephole, and then the deadbolt clicked and the door swung open. Amy was wearing baggy pink sweatpants, thick fluffy socks, a T-shirt printed with “word nerd” in crossword squares, and one of his hoodies. Her hair was frizzy, strands falling out of a bun. She was frowning, slightly, but mostly she looked surprised and confused.

She was breathtaking. Jake stepped toward her and kissed her, sliding a hand around her waist to her lower back to pull her closer. She went tense for a moment, then relaxed into him, and her lips parted to deepen the kiss. She tasted sweet, like chocolate and cherries.

Jake broke the kiss and breathed her in. “You bought ice cream?”

“I hid it.” She kissed the corners of his mouth, then gave him a pointed look. “I was saving it for a special occasion.”

Her smile was soft and hesitant, and he could read the hurt in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

Amy didn’t say anything, just took his hand and led him the rest of the way into the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind them. In the living room he turned to face her and opened his mouth to apologize again. But Amy held a finger to his lips.

“I know we have stuff to talk about, but first-” She looked him slowly up and down, her gaze so intense that Jake felt the blood rush to his face, and a few other spots. Amy nodded and hummed to herself. “Yeah, this is working for me.”

Jake smiled and couldn’t resist pulling her into him again, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling at her neck. He didn’t typically like wearing the uniform, but there was something about this contrast – the stiff fabric of his coat, the badge on his chest, even his shiny shoes, when everything about her in this moment was soft and warm. Holding her close felt like he was keeping her safe, and cherished.

He felt her arms go around his neck, felt her shirt ride up. He could pick her up, he could carry her to the couch, or the bed. He could let her take this uniform off, one piece at a time. It could take all night.

Jake sighed and backed off, kissing her once on the temple. Amy let her hands fall to her sides.

“I was at the dinner, and there was classical music playing and candles everywhere, and everyone was dressed up, and I just-” Jake looked her in the eye, made sure she was listening. “I realized, the second I walked in, that I didn’t want to be there. Not alone. Not without you.”

“Jake-”

“Ames, I don’t even know why I’ve been hiding. You are amazing and I want people to know about us.”

“Your job,” Amy said. “That’s why. And I get it, I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Jake shrugged dramatically. “Fuck that – the NYPD doesn’t get to decide who I’m with. If the Vulture doesn’t like it, you know, whatever. He was making out with an intern tonight. I’m done hiding something- someone, I care about. A lot.”

Amy searched him, eyes locked on his. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Okay then,” Amy said, and it was like a light came on inside her, her face and eyes suddenly aglow.

They closed the space between them together, arms sliding around one another. Their kisses started sweet, and then more heated, until they were both breathing hard, and he was pulling her hair out of its bun and she was scratching at the back of his neck.

When Amy broke off and started biting at his ear and undoing his tie, Jake had a moment of clarity and pushed away once again.

“This,” he said, slightly out of breath, “is awesome, but in the spirit of coming out, I was actually going to ask if you wanted to go back to the dinner with me.”

Amy gaped at him. “Tonight? That dinner?”

“Well, dinner’s over, but it’s actually still early so we could get back before the event’s over.” Jake pulled out his cell phone to check the time. “There’ll be dancing. And Champagne. In the New York Public Library.”

Amy laughed and threw up her hands. “Jake, look at me. What would I even wear?”

“One, you already look amazing,” Jake said. “And two, I’m sure you have a dress that would work.”

Amy grinned at him and shook her head. She wrapped her arms back around his shoulders, locked her fingers behind his neck, and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

“I like it fine right here,” she said. “We can come out some other time.”

He grinned back and swept her up into his arms, and Amy screamed at him to put her down all the way into the bedroom, until he dropped her on top of the comforter. It did not take her all night to strip him out of his uniform.

+++

Amy woke up alone, but she spotted the note on his pillow right away. She smiled to herself as she brought the paper up close to her face so she could read his messy print without her glasses.

“Went for three Bs: Breakfast sandwiches. Bear claws. Bacon. PS: I turned off your alarms. ALL OF THEM.”

Amy flipped over and reached for the two battery-powered alarm clocks on her bedside table. They were both dead, their batteries pulled and set beside them. She sat up and squinted at the three other alarm clocks placed strategically around the room but her vision was too bad to tell if they were dead too. She was going to assume yes. Amy laughed and shook her head. Somehow he’d managed to not only wake up before her and sneak out for breakfast, but trick her into sleeping in.

She picked up her cell phone – and yes, he’d somehow turned off those alarms too – and blinked herself fully awake when she saw the time. It was almost 11.

Amy stretched and rubbed at her eyes, feeling deliriously indulgent. She got up and crossed toward the bathroom, pausing at the reading chair beside her bookcase. Jake’s uniform coat was slung over the back, along with his tie. She ran a finger over his badge and the commendations pinned above it. She’d have to ask him sometime to explain them all. The coat itself was heavy and stiff, and though she was sure it wasn’t the most comfortable apparel, she’d loved seeing him in it. Next time, she realized, she might be dressed up too, holding his hand or looping her arm through his as he escorted her into some other dinner party.

She wasn’t usually a sucker for romantic fantasies, but that was a good one.

Amy brushed her teeth and put in her contacts, and she ran a comb through her hair before giving up and pulling it back into a ponytail. After a moment of consideration, she put on the same sweatpants as the day before and slid Jake’s hoodie back on. They didn’t have any particular plans for the day so she could change later if they decided to go out.

Jake hadn’t mentioned coffee in his note, so even though she was pretty sure he’d pick that up too she set some hot water to boil for her French press. While she waited she turned back to her phone, pulling up the app for the Bulletin.

She gasped and slapped a hand to her mouth when she saw the lead headline: “99th Precinct to the Birds? ‘It’s the Vulture’s nest,’ detectives say.”

It was written by Gina, her smug face staring up at Amy from the photo that always ran with her columns. Amy’s stomach clenched as she read the first paragraph – she felt sick by the time she’d reached the end. When her teapot began to whistle she startled so badly she almost dropped her phone, pressing it into her chest to keep hold of it. She turned off the stove, her hands shaking. Then she leaned back against the kitchen counter and read the column again.

Gina had it all: not just the nickname Jake and Rosa used, but how Pembroke made a habit of stepping on their cases or of swooping in when they were close to a solve, and handing the victories to his friends in major crimes. Gina wrote that the detectives blamed Pembroke for blocking them from pursuing the deputy commissioner’s son on graffiti charges. She wrote that his precinct despised him and wanted nothing more than to force him out.

Jake wasn’t named in the story – Gina said her source was a precinct official with “knowledge of the situation” who asked to remain anonymous – but Amy knew he’d be Pembroke’s prime suspect. Amy didn’t know if there were other detectives besides Jake and Rosa who disliked Pembroke and called him “the Vulture,” but Jake was the only one who’d been blamed for leaking to a reporter in the past. He was the only detective in the precinct who’d been quoted, by name, in a Bulletin story recently. He’d be the first person they looked to now.

And this column wasn’t just a tip – it was a full-blown expose, and it made Pembroke look like a fool and a monster. Jake was in real trouble.

Amy jumped when she heard the click of her front door unlocking. She knew she had to show him the column right away, but just the idea of it made her feel nauseated. A thought occurred to her, as she faced the door – that this was going to drive Jake right back into the relationship closet. She hated the surge of selfish disappointment that brought on.

The door swung open slowly and Jake stepped inside, his back still to her as he locked it again. He dropped her keys onto the hall table and turned toward her. He was wearing his uniform pants and his shirt was untucked, and he held a paper bag that looked heavy with greasy food. It would have smelled amazing if Amy hadn’t so thoroughly lost her appetite.

In his other hand, he had a copy of the Bulletin.

“Jake-”

He brushed by her toward the kitchen, setting the bag down with a thud. He stood facing away from her for a moment, then turned around and tossed the newspaper on the counter, and set his palms on either side of it. His face was a mask she’d never seen before. She recognized the anger and the fear, but there was something else, something he was barely holding onto.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, going to him and laying a hand over one of his. He jerked away.

“I trusted you.” His voice was thin, like he could be on the verge of tears.

Amy stepped back. “What are you talking about?”

He huffed a joyless laugh and gestured to the paper. “You told her. And you didn’t even warn me.”

“You think I did that?” The punch of realization was like a physical blow, and Amy folded her arms over her stomach, holding herself tight. “Jake, I would never do that. I told you-”

“Yeah, you said that stuff was just gossip, nothing worth writing about.” Jake jabbed a finger at the paper, right over the “Vulture” in the headline. “Maybe not for you, but for Gina, right? It’s great stuff for her gossip column.”

“No. No!” Amy wanted to stomp her feet, to grab his arm and shake him out of this. He knew she was better than that. He had to know. But she held herself still, tried to keep her voice steady. “I told you that what you said was between us and I meant it. I wouldn’t ever do that to you. I didn’t.”

But Jake was shaking his head, and Amy hated it but she understood, with sudden clarity, how bad this looked. Every line in that column could have come from her – every single word of it. All Jake had was her word that she wasn’t responsible. She could talk around it, she could explain over and over that she didn’t know how this had happened. But it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t trust her.

“What I don’t understand is why,” Jake said, the words catching, coming out rough. He cleared his throat. “I thought we were in this together, you know? I thought we wanted the same things.”

“We do.” Amy felt her eyes fill, and she brushed at a tear before it could roll down her cheek. “Jake, this wasn’t me.”

He looked up then, and his eyes were red and bright. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

Amy’s breath caught in her throat and for a moment it felt like she was suffocating, like her heart had stopped, like she couldn’t move at all. She said, “You don’t mean that,” the words barely a whisper. Jake opened his mouth, like he had an answer for her. Then he shook his head again and stepped past her.

He disappeared into her bedroom and returned a minute later, his uniform coat on. He paused at the edge of the living room, and Amy approached, stopping when she was an arm’s length away. She wanted to hold him, to kiss him. She wanted to beg him to believe her. But she shouldn’t have to.

She held out a hand to him. “Don’t go.”

Jake stared at her hand, and she willed him to take it. When he looked up at her, his eyes were wet, the irises black and depthless.

“I can’t do this,” he said. He left without saying goodbye.

Amy felt lightheaded, and her legs were unsteady as she backed up and collapsed on the edge of her couch. She buried her face in her hands. She could smell traces of him as she sobbed into the sleeves of his hoodie.

CHAPTER 11

#b99 fic #peraltiago #jake and amy au #newspaper au #life writes its own stories

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