#it’s not like a don’t like Jonah but I think I’ve gotten too used to it if that makes sense

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

Me seeing someone with a cool name: oooooo, what if

Another part of my brain: no. we spent enough time getting to Jonah. we’re not doing it again

[heartyluv]

Note: The amount of love you luvlys have shown me for this mini-series has not only shocked me, but it’s made me so happy. Music is one of my favorite ways to show emotions in my writing so as you read, I’ve included two songs to represent both the POV of you and Caleb. You can reread the section where they appear and think of what both of them are thinking and feeling, if you’d like. But, I don’t wanna yap your head off, so I’ll let you get right into it. I hope you enjoy!

Creds to @/strangergraphics for the pink dividers! I don’t know who to credit for the plane, but I got it off of @/aew-regression-cove!

Warning: Caleb masturbates, mentions of you wanting to masturbate, very brief mention of depression after the divorce. Other than that, this is just really fluffy and cutsey.

Word Count: 4.6K+ (WOWWW) !!MDNI!!

Summary: Part three to Ex-Husband!Caleb

Part One • Part Two • Part Four

Ex-Husband!Caleb/Reader ~ Part Three

Caleb couldn’t help himself as he stood in the shower and fisted his cock the more he thought about you. While the hot water fell onto his body and trailed down his muscles, his mouth stayed slightly parted the closer he got to finishing.

He’s supposed to be getting ready for the date he had finally gotten together for you. He was on track up until he came to shower and began to lather himself in a mix of yours and his favorite body washes.

Caleb never stopped buying a lot of things that reminded him of you after the divorce. Like your favorite shampoo, a small bottle of your signature perfume to spritz around his lonely apartment when he missed you a little too much, and even down to the honey body soap that had the privilege of touching your soft skin everyday.

When he pumped a small amount into his hand and started to rub it down his stomach, his mind instantly went to all the times he used to join you in the shower when you least expected it. How your wet body was so eager to press against his.

He thought about your pretty tits that you’d let him hold and suck on, about how wet your pussy got for him when he’d lift you up without a second thought to wrap your legs around him. How he’d slide into your cunt as his tongue made love to your mouth and neck.

There was no guilt in his system as he firmly grasped his cock and teased his slit with his thumb like your tongue used to do. None of that existed when he came so hard that he had to brace a hand on the tile wall to keep himself steady while his cum hit the shower floor. He breathed deeply, watching his spend fall into the drain.

Determination coiled through him because he was certain that everything was happening the way that it should be. He’d get all of that back and it would be more—better. How could it not be if it was given to him by you?

You sat side by side with your mother in the living room as you folded the laundry you helped her with this morning. It was a beautiful Saturday, Mother Nature granting you the opportunity to enjoy temperatures a little more tolerable than anticipated in early February.

Jonah and Blythe were sitting on the floor next to each other, indulging in the cartoon on TV while they snacked on a small plate of their favorite fruits.

“What time are you leaving, love?” your mother Casandra asked as you handed her a few towels you finished up. “Forgot to ask when you got here earlier.”

“Caleb said he’d be here by three,” you confirm, watching how she purses her lips with a gentle nod.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head. “Just…I’m shocked you’re really going for this again, is all.”

You plop the shirt you’re holding down on your lap with a frown. “I thought you were okay with Caleb, ma.”

“While I may not hate the man, I’m not too fond of him and neither is your father. You know that.”

When you told your mom about what Caleb was putting you through before you separated, she wanted to hurt him for hurting you. Especially when she found out about all the times you felt so isolated in your marriage—a bond that’s supposed to do the opposite for people who genuinely love each other.

Your father Simon on the other hand? Caleb was lucky he never got his hands on him.

Simon is a man who absolutely values the women in his life and wasn’t someone who believed that second chances existed when you screwed up as badly as Caleb did, but he respected and trusted you enough to make your own decisions. Still, it didn’t mean he had to like it.

It’s why he’s been in the garage all day after you asked them if they could watch the kids until tomorrow morning so you could attend the date Caleb asked you on about two weeks after that night of Jonah’s game.

“I really think he regrets it all and that he’s changed,” you say with confidence, thinking of all he’s done so far to show how committed he is to righting his wrongs.

“That’s not up for me to decide. It’s your heart that has to deal with the consequences.” She stops her folding to put her attention on you when it grows silent besides the goofy laughs from your kids about whatever happened in the show they’re watching. She places her hand on yours for comfort.

“Look, your dad and I saw what everything did to you. We saw how depressed you became, how hard it got for you to function. He crushed that heart of yours and it took us all a long time to put a semblance of that spark back in you. I refuse to let him be the reason it’s gone again.”

If it weren’t for your parents and your kids, you’re convinced that you would’ve lost yourself. You stayed with them for a few months after the papers were signed because you couldn’t deal with being in the home that really felt like a hollow house with Caleb gone entirely. On days where you couldn’t get out of bed, they helped with the babies. When you couldn’t eat, they’d feed you. When you were weak, they were your strength.

You understood their hesitation. It was valid for what you went through—an experience that trickled into them and has poisoned their view of Caleb.

“I understand,” you sigh. “Just give him a chance? That’s all I ask.”

“I have no choice if he plans on marrying you again like you say,” she smirks knowingly. “We’ll see about your father, though. And don’t you need to start getting dressed?”

She pats your knee and you raise a brow. “It’s only 10 o’clock.”

“But I know you. You’re going to want to look and be your absolute best. You’ll need as much time as possible so that you aren’t stressing.”

“I wasn’t stressing a moment ago, but maybe I should be?” You chuckle at how she nudges your arm playfully.

But rather than feeling that way, you’re nothing but excited about what today will bring—even if you have no clue what Caleb has planned. All he told you to do was come comfortable and prepared for walking, so that’s what you intended to do.

As the day went on, it wasn’t until about one in the afternoon when you started to get ready. You boosted yourself up with some music, singing along to lyrics that fueled your spirit. You decided to wear a simple maroon mermaid skirt, a cream colored blouse with puffy sleeves, and your favorite simple white pair of sneakers.

Your mother was right about you taking your time, but it was only because you’ve been so indecisive. You’d been fiddling with your hair in the mirror for an hour now. It took some effort, but once you figured it out—albeit still not entirely satisfied—you kept your makeup simple, covering a few blemishes, adding some eyeliner, and dabbing your lips with a thin layer of gloss.

You were thankful she put the kids down for a nap so you didn’t have to worry about them trying to bombard you and Caleb with questions about where you two were going and why they couldn’t join. Checking the time on your phone, you knew you were bound to get a—

The music playing lowly from the speaker ceased as a call came through. It was 2:56 when Caleb’s contract flashed across the screen, making your stomach flutter with butterflies. You took a deep breath before answering, now feeling those nerves you didn’t have before begin to bloom.

“Hey,” you answered softly.

“Hey, pretty. I’m outside whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You grinned obnoxiously hard to yourself. “Coming out now.”

You cleaned up quickly and found your mom sitting in the kitchen, reading a book quietly.

“I’m heading out,” you call as you make your way to the front door to grab your purse. “Dad’s still outside?”

Cassandra smiles at you, looking you over. “You look gorgeous. And yes,” she huffs. “He’s still in the back. You want me to get him?”

You shake your head, knowing he’ll come around when he’s ready. Whenever that is.

“It’s okay. Thank you for watching the kids for me, mom.” You run up to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Love you, okay?”

“I love you, too. Say hi to Caleb for me.”

You nod, happy that despite the things she rightfully feels, she’s willing to try.

Once you step outside, you see Caleb climb out of the car and make his way to you. He’s wearing navy blue slacks with a black turtle neck top tucked into them and a deep blue leather jacket. You can’t take your eyes off of him and he must notice your lingering gaze since he throws you that know-it-all boyish grin the closer he gets.

“I guess I did good?” he teases, holding his arms out as if he were showing himself off.

“Really good,” you emphasize. You’ve decide that there’s no need to play coy anymore. Both of you knew what you’re here for and what your intentions are. Caleb has noticed how you lean into the reality of that a lot easier now, and he likes it. He likes it a lot.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” His tone deepens and his eyes make a pit stop on all his favorite parts of you—which is admittedly everywhere. “You look really good yourself.”

“Just good?”

“I could say more, but then we’d miss our plans.”

“Would that be so bad?” You flutter your eyelashes with faux innocence, playing along with the flirtatious banter.

He gently bites his lip, feeling the buzz in his body from how you tease him. It doesn’t help when he thinks about what he did only a few hours ago.

“That mouth always was dangerous, wasn’t she?” He holds his hand out for you.

“You’d know,” you slide yours into his. “Wouldn’t you?”

The moment you and Caleb got into the car, he began to ask you about your parents and the kids. You told him the truth—that his children still missed him like crazy despite his increase in presence and your parents aren’t too elated about the whole “trying again” dynamic between you two.

“I figured,” he answers honestly, but the distress in his heart evokes a dull ache. He knows what kind of person he’d be if his daughter experienced what he did to her mother. He knows how disappointed he’d be in his son if he were to treat a woman the way he had you.

Your parent’s initial disapproval was fair and while he couldn’t change the past, he sure as hell could make a better future.

“I hope to get back into their good graces. I’m honored they’re even allowing me to be in your presence.”

“One thing at a time, yeah?” you assure him, hesitating for a brief second before you place your hand on his thigh. It makes him tense, but it’s not in a way that’s uncomfortable or even sexual. It’s the fact that you’re getting comfortable with him again, that you’re doing the things that made him so glad you were the one he put a ring on in the first place before he lost sight of what was really important—who was really important.

Being the over thinker you are though, you notice his body jolt. You’re ready to pull away with an apology on the tip of your tongue, but he speaks up.

“Don’t move,” he says with all the gentleness in the world, turning to you as he drives. “Please.”

You smile, keeping your hand relaxed. He’s mesmerized by the glimmer in your eyes, and the shine that enhances your irises tells him that the love you said you had was a gift that was truly there.

“And I hear you,” he continues. “One thing at a time.”

During the almost hour long car ride, you’ve tried your best to figure out where Caleb was taking you. You essentially began to sound like a rendition of a nagging child who kept asking their parents if they were there yet.

“Is it a movie?”

“No.”

“Is it…a new restaurant?”

“No.”

“Hm. Is ittt..a play?”

“Nope.”

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“You wish.”

When you saw what it really was, you nearly fell out the damn car if it were possible. As the tires rolled along the gravel road and the signs became clear, the excitement that erupted inside your little heart made Caleb’s feel like it could burst.

| Flea Market & Air Show - Limited Time! |

“Caleb you’re fucking joking!” you yelped happily, unable to sit still as he looked for a parking spot and laughed in the way that made your belly warm. You used to adore flea markets and the last one you ever went to was with him.

Don’t even get you started on air shows.

All of these interests that became high on your list of your most favorite things to do is all thanks to the man next to you.

“We’ve got about an hour to walk around before the show starts and then we can roam some more later,” he tells you as he pulls the key out of the ignition after parallel parking like it’s nothing.

There’s so much adoration across your features, so much of everything bubbling up and overflowing.

“I’m so happy,” you express freely.

“We haven’t even gotten out of the car yet.” Caleb is an absolute failure at doing anything nonchalant, so he oozing out just as much love as you are without needing to say it.

“Let’s change that.”

Caleb is by your side the entire time, buying any and everything that you may look at or pick up. You’ve made two trips back to the car because he’s pulled cash out of his pocket—that you didn’t even know he had—to buy everything that made you smile or fascinated you in the slightest.

Neither of you have been the fine dining type of people, so you pig out on the concession stands that made your mouth water the most. You’ve walked up and down the rows of all the people selling personal goods, hand crated items, and even small groups that played unique music.

The ambiance of all the people, the comfort, the excitement, the way your conversations with Caleb become a part of the mixing bowl of all the others happening around you. You haven’t felt this close to who you used to be in a long time.

If you could read Caleb’s mind, you’d know that he feels like all the emotions you’re sharing with him is enough to give the man a sugar crash. And all he wants is for you to keep aiming it at him so that he can share that beautiful energy with you until it consumes you both.

He poses for all the photos you take, helps you in all the little mini games that some people set up like you’re at a carnival, and you clap and cheer for him every time he succeeds.

“The air show will begin promptly in twenty minutes. Please make sure you have your tickets ready in line to be scanned for entry!”

You grin widely at Caleb who’s already standing up from the bench you two sat at to give yourselves a break. There’s comfortable conversation exchanged between you both as you mingle into the crowd, walking toward the huge open field to sit on the large bleachers on the side.

It’s a little darker now, so street like lamps illuminate the walkway and huge football fields style lights are lined up around the perimeter of where the planes will land.

“I’ve never been to an air show that wasn’t during the day before,” you squeeze Caleb’s hand.

“You’re gonna love it. Promise.”

As you approach the person at the stand, you expect Caleb to pull out two tickets. Instead, he simply shakes the man’s hand.

“Colonel,” the younger man salutes. “I’m glad you made it. This must be your wife?” He looks to you with a nod. “Nice to meet you ma’am.”

You don’t bother correcting him. Being Caleb’s wife again honestly has a nice ring to it. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“No need for you to be scanned. Again, we sincerely appreciate your generous donation! Enjoy the show, you two.”

“Thank you, Daniel.” Caleb pats his shoulder as you walk past.

“Care to share?” you ask with your arm hooked in his.

Caleb chuckles. “Just had to pull a few strings. Tickets were sold out when I found this, but I made sure I got us in.”

“Mr. Romantic with connections, huh?” you jest. “And I didn’t know we were married already?”

“You better get used to it. All of it’s gonna be your everyday real soon.”

After you two find seats and the show begins, you’re absolutely mesmerized the entire time. And while Caleb should’ve been focusing on the planes gliding through the golden evening sky, all he could do was watch you. All he could do was appreciate the way the sun captured your face, how your eyes glided across the sky, how your beautiful brain digested all the information being shared.

His nerves were at an all time high, the need to impress you more than he has being one of the reasons why you’re his focal point. While it’s a sentiment left unspoken, one look at his face from any stranger could tell you how in love he is with you.

All the while, even with your eyes to the sky, your mind began to juggle the thoughts of Caleb and the impressive aircrafts that made the crowd ooh and ahh.

You never thought you’d be by his side like this ever again. The day you witnessed him walk out that front door was equivalent to feeling what death must be like. Imagine half of your being just gets taken away from you, but you’re forced to keep going as if its connection to you wasn’t important enough to stop your existence. The mere thought is torture, but actually experiencing it is infinitely worse.

But now he’s here, doing everything in his power to bring you back to him. In truth, he already had you that night when he first uttered “I miss you”.

All you continue to do is fall harder and deeper, becoming a woman with no intention to want nothing but him to cushion you when you land.

Every brush of his fingers against your skin makes you shiver, every comment he delivers makes you want to hear everything else he has to say. This is exactly how it felt the first time you fell in love with him, and it could be seen as a blessing or a curse that you’re being given the chance to do it again.

“You watching?” he leans down to whisper in your ear, halting your thoughts.

“Duhhh. Are you?”

“Of course I am.” There’s something deeper to that, you’re certain, but you don’t mention it.

The loud roaring jet engines spark a burst of adrenaline when they get close to make their landings. In awe, you gape at how the large crafts settle onto the flat surface of whirring dirt and think of how a few of them are exactly like the ones Caleb knows how to handle. The thought of him effortlessly controlling something of that magnitude makes you want to sit on his face.

He becomes your personal teacher as he tells you all the details about the jets he’s familiar with after everyone was given the okay to come down and get a closer look.

“The F-22 Raptor,” you gush, running your hand across the warm metal. You’ve always loved the idea of being able to go fast and if you ever had the chance to sit in one of these bad boys, you’d want it to be this one. The way it’s agile in the sky like a snake yet swift and efficient like a cheetah is always an exciting sight.

“You’re still in love with this model, huh?” The first time Caleb took you to an air show, the F-22 Raptor became an obsession for months. “They’re talking about retiring this poor old thing.”

“I heard.”

Caleb quirks a brow. “I didn’t know you were still looking into stuff like this.”

“Maybe you have a lot to learn, colonel.”

He nearly fucked you right there, if he was being completely honest with himself.

But with the discipline he’s enforced in every encounter he’s had with you, he simply licks his lips and huffs out a laugh. “So long as you’re willing to teach me.”

You were exhausted in the best way as Caleb pulled up in front of your parent’s house. It was nearly twelve in the morning when he looked over at your sleepy form in his passenger seat.

“Well,” he looks you up and down. “How’d I do?”

“You kidding me?” you snort. “It was awesome, Caleb. Everything was so, so awesome.”

“I want to do more of this with you.” He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips. “Maybe bring the kids along one of these times and we make it a family thing, you know?”

“I’d love that.”

Both of you go to speak at the same time, an awkward titter passed to see who would try to go first. Caleb, being the lovesick man he is, encourages you to be the one to talk.

“I was just going to ask if…you’d like to come in?” You find it hard to look at him, feeling your cheeks warm at the thought of your request. “You can sleep on the couch so you don’t have to drive home so late.”

His eyes widen slightly. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to upset your parents.”

“You won’t,” you say swiftly. “I promise.”

While you can’t really promise that, you do know that you’ll defend him should it be a problem in the morning. Besides you actually not wanting him to drive another 30 minutes home this late, you’re not quite ready for him to leave you right now.

You’re relieved when he answers you by turning the car off.

You stay silent as you make your way inside, taking care to not wake anyone. The urge to see your babies before you get settled in is strong, so Caleb quietly follows you to get a peak at their small bodies beneath the covers, fast asleep in the two beds their grandparents got specifically for them.

“I have a pair of your sweatpants and a shirt if you want something more comfortable to sleep in,” you whisper on your way back to the living room.

“You do? I’ve never left any clothes here.”

“I know. But I still have some of your things and I packed some since I knew I’d be spending the night.”

You catch that smirk on his face when you turn around after cutting a lamp on. “You still wear my clothes, baby?”

You press your lips together. “Clothes or no clothes?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you roll your eyes, turning around and walking to the guest room you’re staying in to get them. It’s all to stop him from seeing the stupid grin on your face.

But of course, he’s right behind you. “You promise? Can’t be too soft…or too rough.”

You try not to laugh, but it’s one of those moments where for some reason, things that aren’t that funny is making you want to do nothing but cackle.

“I’ll wash upstairs so you can use the bathroom connected to the guest room.” He catches the clothes, noticing the sweatpants have the college he went to stitched into the fabric when you toss it to him.

In the middle of your shower, it crossed your mind to touch yourself when you felt your nipples tighten the more you thought about the day you had and the way you only wished it would end. Even if you knew it wouldn’t be right now, your gut was telling you soon.

There was a throbbing sensation between your legs, but for your sanity, you had to ignore it. But oh, was it difficult.

The feeling of his hands on you brought back all the memories of how he used to make love to you, how he used to talk to you so sweetly while he defiled your body in ways only you’d allow him to do. The way he took care of you, worshipped you, protected, guided, and educated you—it was enough for you to press your thighs together.

You didn’t know if you could handle coming on your fingers and facing him in the next few minutes without that need still being there. Perhaps if you didn’t acknowledge it at all, especially with the help of your tiredness, it was bound to fade.

You were partially right.

That almost went out the window when your towel glided against your clit as you were drying your body. You desperately craved putting a pillow between your legs and burying your face into the sheets as you make yourself come in record time.

The thought was so tempting—the feeling of the rough material grazing back and forth between your pussy lips while you thought about Caleb and his cock inside of you. But you wanted to be loud, and right now you couldn’t be. It would have to happen another time.

Soon after calming yourself, you made your way back to the living room to find that you were finished before Caleb. Seeing the empty room with the barren couch except for the one blanket and pillow you left for him, you decided that you’ll sleep with him on the couch instead of leaving him out here alone.

“Sleepover?” he teased as he fixed his clothes over his body when he stepped out of the room. The peek of his abs nearly unraveled you.

“Don’t ruin it.” You patted the spot next to you.

He smelled like your honey body wash that you left in there when he sat down.

“Mm, you smell good.”

“We do, don’t we?”

You don’t know if you’ve stopped smiling once today. Handing him the remote, you don’t pull your gaze from his. “Find us a movie?”

“Ah, my specialty.”

He settled on one you’ve seen together dozens of times, but you’d never complain because it’s one of your favorites. You began to get comfortable as he threw the blanket over your laps, inching closer and closer until your head rested on him.

“Caleb?” you whisper, the thoughts in your mind making your mouth move to speak before you can try to tuck them away.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for today.” You press a kiss to his shoulder, placing your chin on top to stare at him. The glow of the TV is all you have to see his features. “And thank you in advance for everything else to come.”

“Don’t thank me yet, pretty.” He glances at you. “We’ve got a lot more to get to, and you’ll have the rest of our lives together for that.”

“I like the confidence.”

You think he’s about to kiss you with the way his eyes can’t decide if they want to keep staring at your own or your lips. To your disappointment, he ends up just smiling before returning his attention back to the screen. Suddenly, all that wanting to take it slow mumbo-jumbo is cock blocking you.

Despite what you want, this is good—at least in this scenario. You can’t fuck him on the couch of your parent’s house.

You don’t know when you ended up passing out, but sleep has never come to you so easily. Even if he said not to thank him yet, all the credit would be given to him.

In the transition of you succumbing to your exhaustion, you knew that soon enough, words wouldn’t be able to encapsulate your feelings anymore. Today has shown that you’re more than ready to give him back every single part of you.

You’re just hoping that when the time comes, you don’t end up regretting anything else anymore.

A/N: If you thought this was the happy ending, IT’S NOT. Not yet 😏. AND NO SMUT JUST YET, I’M TORTURING YOU ALL, AREN’T I LOLLL!!! NOT EVEN A KISS THIS TIME!! Honestly though, let me know what you think! I really tried to make this part like a glimpse into what they were before it all went to shit, you know? Caleb doing something like this for you is just the tip of the iceberg.

Tags 🏷️: @innergardentoadpony @teacupwaifu @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @inutrasha94 @honeycrispangels

[lauren-likes-to-type]

Serenity

[Shadow of the Tomb Raider] Lara Croft x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.12k

Proofread: Yes

Content Warnings: Touch starved Lara (?), feelings of homesickness, fear of death, mentions of mourning, brief descriptions of wounds

Categories:

Angst Fluff Mix

One-Shot Preference Headcanon

[A/N]: Wanted to try a bit of a different format for the summary, hope it makes sense.

Enjoy!

Harsh winds whipped past the shape of the land, bending around every mountain and down every ravine and valley like ribbon. Shivering harshly and clutching onto her heavy coat, Lara sighed, planting herself in front of the campfire she had set up. As the flames crackled to life and began to grow, she scooted closer, holding her hands out towards the blazing heat in an attempt to warm them. She huffed out hot air into her cupped palms before rubbing them together and shifting to hold them out again.

She repeated this motion a few more times before wriggling her fingers around a bit. Once she was sure they were warmed up enough, she slipped her journal out from her traveler’s pack and took her pen out. She flipped over to the next blank page, beginning to jot things down with stiff hands. It started with her summarizing all that had happened during the current expedition up until that point, but quickly shifted to her feelings of homesickness. It wasn’t the manor or her private apartment she was missing, however. She was missing the woman waiting for her back home.

A small smile of content formed on her lips at the mere thought of her.

“God, [Y/N], I wish you were…”

She shook her head as a chill ran down her spine, as if she was being reminded of the brutal conditions she was in. With a small struggle, she scribbled out the ending of the sentence before starting a new one.

“No, I wish I was there with you. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you. Especially how warm you are. It’s freezing out here, although I’m not sure what I was expecting. Even when we stayed by the hot springs for a bit, my hands were too frozen to do anything. Writing this right now is extremely difficult because we’re headed toward the peak of a mountain where the snow is really dense. The altitude levels are getting high, and it’s making some of the crew sick, so we had to set up camp in the meantime. Aside from Jonah, the crew here doesn’t really care for all of this. They’re either doing it for the media exposure or for the money. The majority of them have made it clear that they aren’t doing it for the sake of discovery. I do kind of wish you were here in all honesty. Jonah is interested in what we’re looking for, but it always takes some convincing with him. With you, you’re always on board immediately. And, according to the others, you share the same level of enthusiasm as me. I guess I never really noticed it.

“Which is honestly a bit of a surprise. I know I can get a bit…aggressive about these things, or obsessive. People tell me I start getting picky about things once I realize they don’t have the same interests and intentions as me. And Sam wonders why I don’t like hanging out with other people.”

She laughed softly to herself, skimming over her words before she continued writing.

“Except you, of course. I wish I could bring you along with me to these expeditions, but I’m just…worried Trinity is going to get to you somehow, and aside from Jonah, you’re the only one I have left. If they got ahold of you, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I’ve lost too many people already. I can’t lose you too.”

A small pause. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself during these trips anymore. Before she had met [Y/N], she had gotten used to sleeping alone and spending the majority of her time alone. She could go on journeys without worrying about returning home to someone. She didn’t want to die, that wasn’t what she was thinking of. She just didn’t feel guilty about trips taking longer than she initially planned. Deep down, though, she knew [Y/N] understood. Each time she’d make it home to her girlfriend, she was always greeted with relief and excitement rather than annoyance and resentment.

During the nights where she was alone on the expeditions, she could eventually get herself to fall asleep for short periods of time, pretending she was back home in bed with her girlfriend, cuddled up together under the blankets and sleeping in.

Another thing she had to readjust to was doing things solo. The only thing she tended to do on her own at the manor anymore was paperwork. [Y/N] would do everything with her there: researching, reading, cleaning, taking trips to different cities, and so on and so forth. She had grown so accustomed to that to where she found herself itching to talk to someone or move around at the campsites when she used to just sit there and think to herself.

She genuinely enjoyed the idea of having someone to come home to every time, but it still caused guilt when anything went wrong. There was a near-constant worry that her job was straining the relationship, regardless of what [Y/N] told her.

She had never been in a relationship before, so she really had no idea what to expect. It was stressful trying to learn how to open up to someone, but once she realized she could fully trust [Y/N], she found it much easier to start talking about her past.

Another sigh slipped past her lips, her gaze dropping down to the page of her journal again.

“I can’t wait to get home to you again. And honestly, I never thought I’d be able to say that. With how often I’m traveling, I figured I wouldn’t find someone who was willing to put up with my constant researching and preparing. I suppose I could take you on easier trips where I know Trinity won’t be. I could teach you how to go rock climbing and the basics of how to survive out in the wilderness.”

A sense of fondness washed over her, remembering how Roth would take her backpacking and traveling to random places so she could learn all of his tricks.

“If Roth were still here, I bet I could’ve convinced him to let you come with us to one of our training expeditions. He loved teaching all about journeying. He probably would’ve talked your ear off the way he did with me.”

Once more, a soft laugh escaped her.

“I’d honestly give anything to hear him lecture me about trusting my instinct again. You would’ve loved him. He was a good man.”

She studied her entry, repeatedly skimming over Roth’s name scribbled out in her shaky handwriting. 

“I wish you could’ve met him.”

She frowned at the memory of what happened in Yamatai, guilt beginning to bubble up to the surface again. She sighed, trying to shift her focus to something else.

“I can’t wait to get back home to you. I miss you. Hopefully I’ll be able to see you sooner rather than later. I already want to come back just so I can be with you again. I love you.”

Gently, she shut her journal and tucked it away again, dropping her pen in on top of it before zipping the bag shut. Once she placed the bag to her side, she shifted to turn back to the fire, which had grown to a decent size. Her unfocused gaze watched the flames in front of her dance wildly to the bitterly cold gusts of wind. Soon, as she waited for Jonah to call her over, her mind wandered off, her body shivering, aching, and craving to be in her warm, plush bed by [Y/N]’s side again.

The expedition finally came to an end. Unfortunately, it had taken an extra three days thanks to Trinity’s operation disrupting everything. Lara was returning home with another artifact, one which she planned to donate to a local museum instead of adding to her personal collection. She asked Jonah to drop the artifact off for her, her expression alone telling him all he needed to know. He agreed, knowing she just wanted to get home to [Y/N] again and rest. Once the plane landed and they disembarked with their luggage, Lara instantly found her car still parked in a private garage she had paid for ahead of time.

She hopped in instantly after tucking her small amount of luggage into the trunk, started the engine, and sped off toward her home. The majority of the drive there, she reflected on what had happened during the expedition. Although she had been in a warm environment for hours on the way back, she still felt chilled to the bone after swimming in glacial waters for hours on end. All she craved was to get home and warm all the way up so she could sleep comfortably, even though she knew the moment the numbness subsided, her joints would ache even more.

Once she finally arrived, she parked her car in her usual spot and headed inside, completely forgetting about the bags in the trunk. Her body felt like it would collapse any minute, so she was desperately trying to get inside and find [Y/N].

With a great deal of effort, straining the aching muscles in her arms and back, she shoved the main door open leading into the front parlor. Before any of the servants could lead her somewhere to get her injuries treated or get changed into warmer clothes, Lara made a beeline to the stairs leading up to the second floor of the main building. She wobbled down the hall to her bedroom door, weakly pushing it open with a small grunt of pain. She didn’t spot [Y/N] in the bedroom right away, so she checked the bathroom attached to it.

She wasn’t there either. Odd.

With a groan, she forced herself to trudge back out of the room and down the hall, planning to check the library next. And if she wasn’t there, she’d search the main study. Before she could make it to the doorway leading to the library, [Y/N] stepped out carrying a couple of books. When she spotted Lara, her face lit up, excitedly placing the books aside on a nearby console table and rushing over to the brunette. At the sight of [Y/N] heading her direction, a small surge of energy bolted through Lara’s senses. She beamed over at her and opened her arms, sighing in relief when the smaller woman leaned heavily into her embrace.

“Lara, you’re back! How was the trip? Find anything good?”

Lara grinned wider at her enthusiasm–a breath of fresh air to have someone show genuine interest in her own passion. “Yeah, we found an old artifact, but I told Jonah to just go donate it to the local museum. I don’t have much space left on the shelves in my study, and I don’t want to clutter our room with them.” [Y/N] chuckled at her words, a small nod as her response as they remained in their embrace a moment longer.

At length, much to Lara’s dismay, [Y/N] leaned back. One hand dropped down to gently take hold of the brunette’s, and the other lifted to cup her cheek. At the feeling of warmth against her face, Lara leaned into the touch, her eyes shutting as she sighed. “C’mon,” [Y/N] started softly with a warm smile, “let’s get you patched up and changed. Then you can get some sleep.” Before she could try to refute, Lara yawned and nodded, wearily following the smaller woman’s lead as she carefully tugged her toward the bedroom again.

Once in there, she sat Lara down on the bed, retrieved the First Aid kit from the medical cabinet in the bathroom, and joined her on the mattress, which the brunette seemed to immediately sink into. She pulled out a damp rag she had also grabbed and began to dab cautiously at the scratches and cuts littered across Lara’s skin. When she began to apply the antiseptic, she earned a few hisses of pain, though they quickly died down with each passing second. All the while, Lara’s eyelids were growing heavier. She did her best to bite back her yawns, though most of them still snuck through.

After cleaning all of the visible marks, [Y/N] stitched up what she needed to, and applied bandages to what was left. She quickly packed the kit back up and stored it in the bathroom once more. Then, she helped Lara head into the bathroom and get undressed, helping her step into the bath when the warm water filled up enough. Once the brunette was situated and comfortable, [Y/N] took her hair down for her and began to rinse and lather it with the shampoo she had set up beforehand. Once her hair was clean, she then washed Lara’s back, shoulders, and mostly everything but her stomach, legs, and mostly whatever was underneath the water, which she let the Croft do on her own.

By the time Lara was clean and wrapped up in a towel after stepping out of the tub, [Y/N] left and came back in carrying a pair of clothes that had just been pulled out from the dryer. She gave the brunette a bit of privacy to get dressed. Lara hummed contentedly at the warm, soft fabric brushing across her skin: a pair of black fleece pants with a slightly oversized gray t-shirt.

She stood after tugging her clothes on. After folding the towel back up enough to hang on the rack on the wall, she flipped the lightswitch off and left the bathroom, finding [Y/N] standing by the bed with a tray in her hands. Curiously, Lara walked over and sat down at the foot of the bed with an eyebrow raised. Before she could question what it was, [Y/N] moved to hand the tray to her, revealing her favorite dish warmed up and placed nicely on a plate.

At the sight of it, she blinked, and soon looked back up at her girlfriend, who had moved to her own side of the bed. “Go ahead and eat. I wanted you to have something in your stomach so it doesn’t growl and wake you up like last time.”

With a pleased grin, Lara nodded and shifted up to her spot in bed to prop herself up against the headboard. She was quick to pick up her fork and dig into the dish, clearly grateful to have something prepared for her instead of needing to fix something for herself the way she had done the past few days in the wilderness. It saved her a lot of time and energy, all of which she could spend on recovering from the trip. Within minutes, the plate was clean and her cup was empty. She moved to get up and bring it to the kitchen downstairs, but [Y/N] was quick to stop her and take it from her hands. “Hey, no, go ahead and stay here, alright? I really just want you to relax for a while.”

Even if Lara had planned on refusing the help, it would’ve been no use, as [Y/N] was already by the door by the time she finished speaking. She quickly slipped out of the room, leaving Lara there to wait. She hadn’t even had a chance to nod. She sighed, shuffling downward to bundle up underneath the thick blankets layering her mattress and tugging them partially over her head. The moment her head made contact with her pillow, she groaned in relief, the plush surface welcoming her and pulling her into a partial slumber already.

She fought to stay awake a little longer, however, wanting to be cuddled up against [Y/N] as she slept so she could hear her heartbeat. Ever since the two had started sharing the bed, that’s how Lara fell asleep. It’s why going on long expeditions was so difficult sometimes–she had no heartbeat to listen to, no breathing she could hear but her own, and no warmth to lean into when she got a chill or had a strange dream that kept her eyes pried open in alarmed confusion. Another yawn pushed past her lips, her eyes slowly fluttering shut. Just as she was close to being lulled into sleep, the bedroom door creaked open again. [Y/N] stepped inside and turned the lights off, then headed over to the windows and closed all the heavy curtains, leaving a very dull light in the room.

She then crawled into her side of the bed, though she was quickly met with Lara scooting over and pressing her head against her chest, planting her ear directly over the girl’s sternum to hear the steady thumping of her heartbeat resting safely behind her ribs. A sigh of relief made its way from Lara. She wriggled over a bit, nuzzled her face further into the blankets, and finally settled for a position. With a small smile, [Y/N] rolled over just enough to wrap both of her arms around the brunette’s torso. She pulled her closer as softly as she could.

“Did you wanna talk about the trip?” She whispered softly. A bit of a delay, but Lara answered with a small shake of her head. “No,” she murmured almost inaudibly. “Maybe tomorrow.” [Y/N] nodded in response. She slid one of her arms over a bit, earning a groan of disapproval, though it was quickly replaced by an even fainter groan of pleasure once her fingernails began to gently rake through Lara’s brunette locks. [Y/N] repeated this motion for a while before changing to let her nails scratch soothingly at the sore muscles of the taller woman’s back. “Mmm, what about you?” Lara finally managed to slur out after a few minutes.

[Y/N] hummed, confused. “What about me?” She questioned quietly. Again, there was a pause before she got a response. “What about your day? Tell me…about your day.”

“Oh. Well, it wasn’t very eventful, to be honest. I just helped some of the maids and then read a few books. That’s why I was leaving the library when you made it in.”

“Mmh.”

Lara groaned and shuffled even closer. “I missed you so much,” she whispered. [Y/N] beamed down at her, pure adoration in her eyes. “I missed you too.” She pressed a kiss to the brunette’s forehead, to which Lara responded by scrunching up her nose and leaning her head forward, wordlessly asking for another one. The smaller woman complied after letting a gentle giggle slip in between breaths and pressed a longer kiss to Lara’s head, earning a small huff of satisfaction.

For a while longer, [Y/N] continued to talk about whatever came to mind. Lara wasn’t entirely listening, she just wanted to hear her voice, but [Y/N] already knew that. She didn’t mind. She could talk about seeing a bird on the window sill, and Lara would still find it calming solely because she could hear her speaking. She could hear the low rumbling and vibrations in her chest with every word spoken, and on top of the sound of her heartbeat, it was like the ultimate white noise for Lara.

She wasn’t entirely sure why it brought her so much comfort, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. It helped her fall asleep and stay asleep, which is something she struggled with for the longest time. Being able to get a proper night’s rest felt so refreshing.

Especially after having to be on high alert and sleep lightly for weeks on end during most of her journeys.

After a while, [Y/N] ran out of things to talk about. However, knowing that hearing her make noise was what helped Lara fall asleep, she opted to sing softly instead. An hour or so must’ve passed before Lara’s breathing deepened and slowed, evening out as her body signaled she was fully asleep. After finishing the song she had been practically humming at that point, [Y/N] stopped singing. When she fell silent, her own eyes beginning to droop from fatigue, Lara tugged her closer, unconsciously trying to find the source of the noise again. She settled after a moment when her hearing focused in on her heartbeat once more.

She mumbled something under her breath, though the blankets muffled most of it. The other half of the incoherent speech was caused by her lack of conscience. [Y/N] didn’t mind it though. Finally being able to hold Lara safely in her arms again after two and a half weeks was all she had been wanting. She glanced down at her, smiling tiredly and pressing a gentle kiss to her head again before yawning and closing her eyes.

Soon enough, she fell into a deep slumber as well.

The following morning, the sun crept in through the blinds, alerting everyone of its wake. Bright golden beams trailed their way into the bedroom, sneaking up the covers and making Lara suddenly aware of her surroundings again. She grumbled, calloused fingertips grasping at the hem of the comforter that had slipped from over her head and tugging upward, desperately trying to block out the warmth that stirred her awake. It had been years–until she met [Y/N], anyway–since she had been able to sleep in peacefully without the overwhelming worry of needing to constantly accomplish something. She wanted to stay asleep at least long enough to finish her dream.

For a moment, she smirked to herself, noticing just how soft she had gotten once her relationship had been established with the other woman. Had they never met, nor had they gotten as close as they did, she’d likely still be awake at this hour, buried away in her personal study with stacks of books and loose files strewn about.

With a sense of bitter hesitation, one in which she debated falling back into the dream she had been having just a moment prior–which thankfully wasn’t another nightmare keeping her awake–she let her weary eyes flutter open. A small shove downward let the covers fall free from over her head again, begrudgingly allowing the sunlight to caress her features in a more willing manner. A sigh of relief slipped past her lips once she was able to let her eyes adjust to the blazing beams of light dancing around with each small movement.

After a moment of gaining her bearings, she yawned, drowsily rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes as she shifted over to find [Y/N] still resting at her side. The corners of her lips perked up into a small smile of contentment at the sight. She hummed, shuffled up to let her head rest even in front of [Y/N]’s, and gazed over at her.

The light that had disturbed Lara of her rest now brought her a sense of peace. The warm glow of the amber streaks lighting up the room seemed to embrace every little mark across [Y/N]’s skin, highlighting each scar and stray freckle. Never before had she seemed so at ease in her slumber–or maybe Lara had been too focused on holding her close to have noticed. She noticed it now, though.

And she intended to savor every minute of it.

Moments passed, and her hands were itching to feel the softness of the woman’s skin. With a slight ounce of uncertainty, worried she might stir her awake, she finally lifted her hand from the spot on the mattress next to her and drove it up to let the backs of her fingers graze over [Y/N]’s cheek, huffing out a small sigh at the warmth as though she hadn’t been pressed tightly against her mere moments before.

Her fingers trailed up to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind the sleeping woman’s ear, slowly and silently shuffling forward to press a featherlike kiss to her forehead. At the feeling of soft lips and touches against her skin, [Y/N] began to wake, her brows furrowing together momentarily in thought, as if she were stuck between her dreams and lucidity. Her features softened just as quickly as they tightened, followed by her eyes flitting open and instantaneously focusing on the smitten gaze in front of her. She hummed, grinning and letting her hand slide up to gently take hold of Lara’s. With a small squeeze to her lax hand, [Y/N] turned her head to press an equally soft kiss to her palm.

“Morning,” she murmured against her skin, letting her focus flicker back toward the deep brown eyes now somehow filled with even more love than before.

“Morning,” came her faint reply.

“Are you feeling better now that you’ve slept?” Lara grinned, nodding almost unnoticeably. She carefully slipped her hand from [Y/N]’s, then letting it trail down to the smaller woman’s hip. Once moving a bit closer, as well as shuffling back down further into the comforter, she wrapped both arms around [Y/N]’s waist, tugging her closer and letting her head fall against her chest. Once [Y/N]’s chin moved to rest atop the brunette’s head, Lara sighed, her eyes fluttering shut once more. “Yes, but if I’m being completely honest, my entire body is aching right now. So much happened before I got back.”

She chuckled, wincing to herself at the sudden jolt of pain that erupted from the nerves in the skin taut against her stomach. “I don’t know if I can physically get up yet. Or if I'll be able to at all today.”

A playful snicker sounded above her, prompting her to lift her head and look up at [Y/N]. “Are you sure that’s why? Or do you just want to stay in bed and cuddle like this for the day?” Lara rolled her eyes with a smirk of her own. “I’m telling you: every single muscle in my body is painfully sore. I could get up if I absolutely needed to, but I don’t, so I’d really just prefer to stay here.”

With a moment in between the playful banter, Lara dropped her head back against [Y/N]’s chest. She waited, pondering what she wanted to say as her nails gently scratched at the soft fabric of the shirt she leaned against, sighing silently at the feeling of the motion being reciprocated in a far more soothing way. As she focused on [Y/N] tracing random shapes and words against her scarred skin, subconsciously wondering if she could make out anything specific if she focused, she closed her eyes.

“But even if I somehow wasn’t sore like I am now, I’d absolutely want to stay like this for the day. I missed you,” although her voice had already started off gentle, her tone only seemed to drift further into silence. Whether it stemmed from sheepishness or fatigue, [Y/N] didn’t know. She didn’t mind it, however, and instead pulled her closer. “I missed you too. So very much.”

She paused, one of her hands stroking the brunette strands sprawled out on the mattress behind Lara as her brow creased in thought. “I do worry about you though,” she admitted after what felt like hours, not sure if Lara was still even awake at the moment or if she had heard her. She had, however, and was quick to gaze back up at her, partially hidden way beneath the comforter. Her eyes, which had just been staring at her with a mix of blissful fatigue and love, were now a concoction of bleary concern and confusion. “Why?”

“Because sometimes I worry that something is going to happen to you while you’re away, and I’m never going to know. I mean, I know you won’t go down without a fight, but I’m still terrified that there will be a day where I see you alive for the last time. That thought alone plagues my mind every single time you leave, and it just…scares me?” She scoffed. “No, it’s so much more than just feeling scared. I’m terrified beyond belief that a thought like that could somehow become a reality.”

She hadn’t realized she had begun rambling until Lara shifted up to be eye-level with her again, a far more serious expression taking over. With her features creased with concern, Lara cupped [Y/N]’s face, the pads of her thumbs stroking away the tears that she hadn’t even realized had fallen. When had she started crying?

“I promise you I’m never going to let that happen, alright? There’ve been so many times I shouldn’t have been able to survive, but I did. Like you said: I won’t go down without a fight. And now that I have you here, I have all the more reason to fight to stay alive. I couldn’t bear the thought of never coming home to you. Just…don’t ever worry about me not coming home, okay? One way or another, I’ll find a way to get back to you.”

Her tone softened with every passing word, her heart and mind filling with relief upon seeing a gentle smile grace [Y/N]’s lips. She returned her grin and leaned forward to rest their foreheads together. “Even if it means I have to admit to Jonah that I’m wrong,” she added with a fake annoyance and a small roll of her eyes. [Y/N] couldn’t help but chuckle at her words, allowing Lara to finally let out a small sigh of solace.

“I wouldn’t trade my time with you for anything,” she reassured, trading roles and pulling [Y/N] into her chest instead. “Not for an artifact, not for a trip to some uncharted land, not for my studies, not for anything. I know I may not be the best at showing it, but I truly love you, [Y/N]. I promise you that I’ll always find my way back to you.”

At her reassurance, [Y/N] nuzzled closer to focus in on her heartbeat, unable to bite back the wide smile that stretched across her lips. “I love you too,” she whispered.

Her words were true, she just wished she could find a way to prove it to her every day. Regardless of how invested she could get in her studies or research for her next expedition somewhere far away, she wouldn’t trade these moments of serenity for the world. She treasured them far more than any artifact she had discovered, and would do anything to ensure more of those memories could be made. Not even the strongest forces out there would stop her from returning to the one person she could call home, and she vowed, one way or another, to make sure it stayed that way for good.

[dandylion240]

“What do we do now?” Cory asked as they started to walk towards Caiden’s office building.

“I’m going to run the Albino through the database and see if we get any matches.” He was about to add more when Cory received a phone call.

“Go on ahead,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket.  Annoyance made his brows furrow as he realized who was calling. “Why are you calling me? I thought we agreed it was better if we didn’t see each other anymore.”

“I know but Kai misses you alot,” her voice syrupy sweet.

“I miss him too but it’s not fair to him for me to keep going there. It’ll only get his hopes up.”

“That’s why I’ve been thinking we should give it another try. See if things can work between us.” When Cory was silent for longer than she thought he should she continued “what do you think? I really do like you. I was just scared of getting involved with anyone because you know, my ex and all.”

A part of him wanted to believe her. Another part knew she was just using him. “Noelle I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want Kai to get hurt and he will if this doesn’t work out.”

“Please just come for the weekend,” she pleaded, sensing victory. “Kai really wants to see you and we could talk.”

“I’m in the middle of something important…”

“Aren’t we important? Isn’t giving us another chance worth it?”

“Yes of course but I can’t just drop everything on a whim to go to Sulani…”

“What if we go there? We can meet at a park. Talk. See where things go.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes wishing he could come up with an excuse to say no. “Noelle I don’t see this changing my mind. We’re done.”

“That’s what you say now,” she giggled “it just means I have my work cut out for me.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, shaking his head and putting his phone away. He had a feeling she was up to something, he just didn’t know what.

Sitting back she moaned when her phone rang. 

“Did you do it?” a man’s deep voice demanded.

“Yeah I did it,” she snapped.

“What time is he arriving in Sulani?”

“He is not coming to Sulani…” she held the phone away from her ear.

“You didn’t do what I told you,” his voice was filled with rage.

“He wouldn’t have believed me,” she huffed. “We were careful and it’s been months since we’ve been together…”

“You could have told him you didn’t know how to tell him,” he snarled “you're a damn good liar when you want to be.”

“And he’d have known I lied the moment he saw me.”

“Not if you had done as I told you and gotten one of those pregnant belly things.”

“I don’t have that kind of money. If I did I wouldn’t have agreed to do this.”

“You would have if you had done as you were told..” he was speaking slowly as if each word was being cut in stone.

“Oh I fully intend on getting what you owe me,” she smirked, “I’m going there.”

“I’m listening.”

“I thought you might be,” she toyed with her hair. “We’ll meet in the San My park.” She outlined the plans she made inwardly laughing at the man’s irritation.

“Not bad,” he grudgingly admitted. “You’re a cold hearted bitch, you know that?”

“That’s why you loved me,” she sighed her mind going back to a time when they had been a good team. Then Kai came along. 

“”Is that Cory? Can I talk to him? Is he coming?”

Disconnecting the call before Kai could hear who was on the phone. “No sweetie, he’s not coming here.” At the disappointment in his eyes she added “we’re going there to see him.” She ignored the twinge of guilt twisting her stomach inside out. She had to do this. It was the only way to get the money she needed for her and Kai to disappear forever.

Jonah couldn’t feel the floor beneath his feet as the guards escorted him back to his room. His mind was a kaleidoscope of emotions each warring for precedence inside him. Anger, shame, fear, helplessness but mostly shame. Shame that he complied with the master’s wishes. His cheek was sore and swollen from the master’s hand when he’d failed to comply fast enough. Even the tiniest perception of disobedience was met with some kind of cruel punishment.

The guards shoved him through the door to his and Cecil’s quarters. Too shocked from what he’d just endured he sprawled face first on the floor. He was tempted to just lay there forever. Perhaps the master would punish the guards for mistreating his new toy. An almost hysterical laugh bubbled up from inside him as he crawled towards his bed too weak to attempt getting to his feet and walking the short distance. 

Reaching it he covered his face wishing he was anywhere but where he was. Wishing that the hurt reproachful look his mind kept conjuring up of Ethan’s face would change to one of empathy. That the words he’d say was that he understood and that when they were together again this wouldn’t matter. The flicker of doubt troubled him more than he wanted to admit.

Cecil barely slept at night. When he wasn’t attending to his duties with the master, dancing or doing other designated tasks, he spent the days locked in his room dreaming of stars. It felt like such a hollow existence. He was allowed books, if he behaved, at the behest of his master, written in braille, he couldn’t read one single word in them, but he dreamt of what they could mean.

When the door opened, Cecil turned their back to the door, pretending to sleep, as he always did, listening to every sound. A familiar smell came to him, a broken smell of desperation and sweat. He heard Jonah be thrown in and the small hysterical laughter, right after the door was closed behind him, had Cecil lift his head and turn towards the sound.

“Jonah?” He called. 

Pressing his lips to a thin line, he sat on the bed and got up, slowly walking towards Jonah’s side of the bedroom. It had been Jonah’s first night, so he imagined the horror. He could feel it crawling under his skin like vermins, the touch of that man.

 “Jonah?…” He reached for the bed, touching the sheets, his fingers searching for him.

Pressing a hand to his mouth Jonah tried to stifle a sob. It tore through him with the force of a hurricane. 

“I tried to fight,” the words tumbled from his lips “I wanted to fight. To hurt him like he was hurting me but….but … ” Sobs took his words away. Nothing he did stopped what was happening to him. He felt caught in his worst nightmare. He tried to just lay there and let him do what he wanted but that too was wrong. 

“I want to go home,” he wailed knowing that even there he’d never get the stench and the feel of him off his skin.

He could feel the bed moving as Cecil moved towards him. He was tempted to not answer him but he needed the comfort of another person who understood the pain he was going through. “How can you do this over and over again,” he asked.

Cecil gently touched his shoulder, feeling the way he trembled and wailed. 

“I’m sorry, Jonah… I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m sorry you have to go through this!” 

He wanted to assure him, to tell him it would get better, or that he would get used to it. 

“I know you want to go home. And you will! You will go home! Your family is looking for you! They won’t give up! Trust me!” 

He slowly wrapped his arms around Jonah pulling him to lay his head on his lap if he wanted to, rubbing his shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay.”

He thought of his question. He didn’t have an answer. He knew very well the desperation Jonah felt, that disgust one felt of themself for allowing such to be done to them. He closed his eyes, the question hanging heavy.

Something of what Cecil said gnawed at the back of Jonah's mind. Something that pulled him a little from his own suffering. Lying with this head in the dragons lap trying to piece it together in his head. Home. Family. That was it. Never once had he said his family was looking for him. Just Jonah.

“Don’t you have a family?” he asked, his voice was small like a child seeking information but afraid to do or say the wrong thing. “Aren’t they looking for you? Don’t you have a home to go back to?”

He knew that maybe Cecil didn’t have the same loving family background that he made his heart ache. He wanted him to have those things and if he didn’t, what kept him to want to continue this existence. What made him so strong?

He wondered also if maybe he could be that strong too. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before about himself. He was weak. Needy. Someone who needed to be taken care of. But was he? Or had he just allowed himself to believe those things because others thought of him that way? 

He felt bad thinking that Ethan never told him he could be strong. It was always I’ll take care of you. You can lean on me. I’ll protect you. Take this pill and everything will be ok when you wake up. Words without substance were just words.

Cecil gently brushed Jonah’s hair, looking ahead. The question actually caught him by surprise. He licked his lips.

“No. I don’t have a family. And home?” He scoffed. “I lived in a cave, where I collected bobbles that felt soft or smelled nice. I was told not to leave. Me being here means I clearly left at some point. Some people found me, taught me how to turn to this shape so I could accompany them. They promised to show me so much. I could feel the sand, the ocean, smell the flowers and sense the stars… They promised…”

He looked down at Jonah. “Forgive me, I don’t want to burden you with my sob story.”

Taking a deep breath Cecil continued, “I want to live, live long enough to either see time punish him, and if not, I want to outlive him. I want to feel him grow old and weak and sick and feel him wither. Then I’ll be free.” There was anger in his voice, every repulse and every disgust and shame he felt coloring his voice with an unfiltered rage.

Sitting up jolted from his own misery Jonah said, “that’s awful.” 

With jerky, halting movements he took Cecil’s hand in his. “You have family now. I’ll be your family.”

He wasn’t sure exactly where he was going with this other than he knew it was true. It’s what his heart was telling him was true. “If, as you say, my family is coming for me, then we’ll leave together. I won’t leave you behind. Not with him.”

It was a promise he fully intended on keeping. He just didn’t know how yet. His lips quivered, fighting the tears that still coursed down his face. “What do you think? Would you like to be my brother? My family?”

Cecil looked at him, eyes wide with surprise at the proposition. Family? Brother? He liked the sound of that, the sound of family. Closing his eyes he nodded, brushing Jonah’s hair gently away from his face, he placed a hand on his cheek, reassuring.

“Yes. I’d love to be your brother, Jonah! Thank you!”

Though he doubted on the part where they would come for him, to help him escape, as many others had promised the same, he still, nonetheless, wanted to hope. And stars, was Jonah’s hopeful and genuine voice enough to make him want to believe, hope.

Giving Jonah a playful smile.

“Be like a… dead fish!” He laugh3e. “It helps. Just, when he comes to you, don’t think about it. Don’t think about it, it’s what I do. I don’t dwell on what happens, on what he does. You just need to make it through another day, long enough to survive. I just do what he wants and if it gets too hard I just pretend to be a dead fish and lay there while thinking about… a way out!” He smiled.

“Dead fish huh?” he chuckled leaning into Cecil “I’ll have to try that next time.”

He shuddered at the idea of a next time but that he knew there would be a next time didn’t fill him with the same kind of dread. It was just the way it had to be. Something he had to do to survive. He had a reason to live. A purpose. He had to live long enough to see Cecil out of here. That was a concrete motivation where seeing his children and husband again seemed more and more like a dream.

Previous/Next

[east-polaris]

Some thoughts on the last few Magnus Protocol episodes as I’ve just now gotten caught up

SPOILERS!! Obvi

- feels rather cruel to have Alice be shaken up by her experience with The Horrors and worried that she’s going to get hurt by interacting with them and then give her a statement about someone who was shaken up by their experience with The Horrors and then died because of their interaction with them

- also return and voice of Ink5oul! Hey girlie!

- the fact that Madame E’s last video was just titled “help” made me giggle at first but then o thought about it more and. This is a person who uses excessive words on everything she says. Her vocabulary is loaded with filler and slang, so for this video to just have a one word title? Yeah you know shits about to go down

-Gwen girlie I hate to agree with Lena but they are Calle externals for a reason

- I am so curious about what’s going on with Celia. Like did she just wake up on a railroad track like an old times super villain put her there?

- And where does Celia keep disappearing to? She missed her date with Sam, she had to run out on her child, what’s going on?

- The statement in 17 is wild I was so confused at the beginning and I’ll be honest I’m still not sure what was happening there

- I know for a fact that people have pointed this out already but Jon and Martin?? In the therapy waiting room? Little Jon and Martin as a treat?? I hope it was them god knows they need the therapy

- MAGNUS INSTITUTE MENTION 🚨‼️🚨‼️

- this statement reminds me of when Jon said man I wish we had that guy who could take peoples bones out and Melanie said you’ll never guess who were keeping in the basement

- shout out to that housekeeper for getting the hell out of there I respect her for that

- making eye contact while falling down the stairs and breaking all your bones sounds very impressive and also hilarious someone please animate that

- CELIA HELLO??? Is this conformation that she’s from the other dimension??

- haha jmj error

- also WHAT JMJ ERROR

- I like to imagine that a jmj error happens when Jon Martin and Jonah are arguing about which case to give them

- “no Jonah you can’t give her that one that’s way too similar to what she went through she’ll freak out” “exactly we can watch her fear” “no you elitist prick that’s so rude cut it out or I’ll kill you again”

- why is Celia saying she’s seen Colin?

- Teddy is being so suspicious why is he saying everything like he’s looking from side to side shiftily the whole time

- Lena you can’t call a child an it that’s rude

- unless she knows something that we don’t…

- can’t believe they started to open up to each other and it went horribly wrong

- I don’t think we’ve ever heard Sam like that before, like I couldn’t tell who it was for a second

- actually, i couldn’t confidently tell you that we’ve ever heard someone laugh that hard in the entire podcast

- can you really blame him though? “Monsters are working for our government organization and one of them is Barney.” Wild.

-I do hope he apologizes though cause that wasn’t really cool of him

- Also is that our first f-bomb of the season?

- GEORGIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

- I think that Georgie might also be from the other dimension. Why else would she be so concerned about the government stalking her? That does beg the question, where is Melanie?

Thank you for listening to me ramble I had a lot on my brain

[jellimac-sims-stories]

Simfluencer

---

Chapter 4

Sexy painter posts also get the attention of the AEP pornography studio. That modeling request I didn't turn down. Before you get any ideas, I already had an AEP Livestream page before I moved to the city. Their studio is divided up into many parts; they have models of all types, a magazine, live streams, and a porn studio. Basically, they’re like Playboy without Hugh Hefner. When I found out that AEP also hired models from their live streamer pool I jumped for the chance. 

AEP called me to come in one Thursday afternoon for test shots at their studio in Magnolia Promenade. Walking into their photo studio venue you wouldn’t know that they were shooting what they shot here. Just dressing rooms, makeup chairs and photobooth like you’d expect. But I’ve seen pictures of their two production studios in Del Sol Valley. There is no mistaking what they do there. Themed rooms, private dressing rooms for their star performers, closets full of props, and more. Here, it’s not until you’ve gotten a bit further in and you see their movie posters and large-scale prints that you realize this isn’t your normal photo studio. 

After I checked in at the front desk they told me to just hang out until I’m called. While I’m getting myself a drink I come face to face with Josh and Jonah's ex-girlfriend's photos on the walls. Jonah’s ex I don’t mind but it's the bitch that dumped Josh I can’t stand.

Seeing Josh's ex-hoe’s huge naked "no their not fake” tits printed in glossy 20 by 30 smack behind the bar was too much! At least the photo was in black and white so I wouldn’t have to see her overly bronzed skin and “natural” blonde hair. Ugh, I hate her and I'm glad he's done with the hoe. She dumped him like a stone last year for no reason. I know she lives in San Myshuno somewhere. Thankfully I haven’t run into her. If I had, I’d help her face to the black eye it’s missing. Jonah's ex-girlfriends had much classier photos around the studio. Simple beach shoots, sexy formal wear, and lingerie but still incredibly sensual. Her name is Danneel, I think. I got to flipping through one of her contact sheets books while I sipped a seltzer waiting my turn with the photographer in the flash photo studio. 

There were a lot of other girls and one guy there as well. They asked us to come in PJ-type outfits with simple hair and makeup. I'd come dressed in an oversized slouchy raglan tee that I stole from Josh cinched at my waist, high cut undies to show off my long legs and knee highs with my hair loose and the simplest touch of gloss. I'm no exhibitionist like Josh's ex-hoe so I was feeling a little embarrassed with all the people around and the photographer being an older male. There is nothing wrong with the photographer being male. I wasn't really sure what to expect. The girl with the photographer when I walked in had her top off and I didn't think I'd be interested in doing that my first time out. I'm sure hoe tits took her top off the second the camera flashed.

The photographer turned out to be really warm and friendly when I finally was up to shoot. We talked a bit about what sort of poses I should do and the benefits of micros before I got on my mark. I mentioned to him I'd much rather be on his side of the camera to which he replied, “Don't worry darling. I've seen your posts. You're gonna be good at this. Just move around to the music and do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

I had a great time at the studio. The best thing about AEP is they let you take as many copies of your photos with you as you want as long as you wait a week before you post them. I actually got a few good shots out of the batch and was flipping through them on my way out when I saw Jonah's ex walk into the studio. She smiled brightly and came over to me, “Hey aren't you Joshua's best friend? Is it Eve?”

“Eden,” I laughed...

Read the full story out now on my AO3

[five-rivers]

Life's Great Lie 17

AO3

.

“Oh, thank God,” said Tony, “Bruce is here.”  All the other green, angry looking people were secondary, as far as he was concerned.  Having the Hulk on hand meant that he didn’t have to play Jonah again.  That had been.  Unpleasant.

A dart of red broke off the crowd of ghosts and angled towards Tony.  Valerie Gray.  And Bruce, too.  As Bruce. 

“Where do you want us?” shouted Valerie. 

“Take your pick!” shouted Tony, even as he lined up more shots.  He was going to be running out of all but the special anti-ghost ordinance soon.�� “But—Bruce, you’re going to have to suit up.”

“Of course,” said Bruce, rubbing his face.  “Yeah.  Okay.  You would call it that.  Miss Gray, if you could take me up towards one of those…  big things…”  He gestured vaguely at the space whales.

“Cool!” said Tony, giving them a thumbs up.  “Now, all we need to do is get a shield around the portals, and we can roll up the streets.  No problem!”

“Sir,” said Jarvis.  “You may want to look at the Ops Center.”

What was going on now?  He turned and watched the shield around the airship flicker once, twice, and then go out completely.  The chitauri, who apparently were smart enough to smell blood in the water, regardless of any other tactical deficiencies, changed direction. 

“Well, that’s not good.  Anyone want to fill me in on what’s going wrong?”

“Well,” started Jasmine Fenton. 

.

“What happened to the thing being self-sustaining?” demanded Natasha as she punched out another mercenary.  Where had Loki even found these guys?  They weren’t even mind controlled.  Who in their right mind signed up to fight for the aliens in a literal alien invasion?

“Listen,” said Maddie Fenton, a little testily, “we quite literally built it on the fly.  It isn’t operating at peak theoretical efficiency, but it’s a testament to Jack’s engineering skills that we got it to work at all, much less while also trying to come up with a workable solution for the shields.  Be glad we have enough power to keep the portal open, even.”

“Forget the shields,” interrupted Tucker, his voice crackling slightly.  The Fentons’ communicators weren’t bad, and apparently they worked through the ‘spectral noise’ associated with ghosts, but they left something to be desired in comparison to the crystal-clear communications Natasha had gotten used to while working for SHIELD.  “Well, no, don’t forget them, forget them, we might still be able to—I’ve got— What’s your name again, dude? —I’ve got Selvig up here, and he says that if we can get Loki’s staff, we can shut down his portal.”

“Great!” shouted Steve.  “Anyone have eyes on Loki?”

.

The answer to that was, of course, a resounding no. 

.

“Oi, Tucker, you want to run by that thought you had about the shields again?”

Under other circumstances, Tucker might have been over the moon.  Tony Stark, asking him about something technical!  It was like a dream come true! 

But between the mind control, the alien invasion, and whatever was going on with SHIELD and HYDRA, Tucker’s enthusiasm for anything was pretty much nil.  So. 

“Uh,” said Tucker.  He and Selvig were standing in front of Loki’s portal device.  Well.  Tucker was sort of crouching, and Selvig was… sprawled.  That couldn’t be a good position for a guy that old, but whatever.  “So, Loki got the startup power for this thing from the, uh, the tower’s arc reactor, right?  So, it’s still plugged in.  The connection is live, and it looks like he used standard connectors.  Not, you know, a twelve-gauge extension cord, but Earth-made.  I think maybe we can use it to charge up the shields and use one here as the centerpiece – the power source – instead of the one in the Ops Center.  If it’s, like compatible.  Is that a thing we can do?  Mrs. Fenton?”

“Well, it isn’t impossible,”she said.  “But those portable shield relays – they weren’t made as independent shield generators, and for them to run on something other than ectoplasm – Jack, sweetie, do we still have those blueprints? – Thanks.  Alright, Tucker, you’ll have to make significant adjustments to the shield relay, probably even cannibalize one of them.  Are you able to do that?”

“Well,” said Tucker.  “Maybe?  I’ve got a lipstick laser and…”  He looked over his shoulder.   “Selvig.  Sort of.  But if it’s anything more complicated than rewiring the Speeder’s main gun to fire from the backseat window console, I’m going to need a bunch of tools and a science guy who isn’t dead on his feet.  No offense.”

Selvig waved him off. 

“You’re the one who—?  Never mind.  It is more complicated.  Quite a bit more complicated.”

“I’ll also need, you know, the generators.  Relays?”

“I’m still on my way,” said Romanov.  She sounded… upset.

“And so am I,” said Iron Man.  “Kid, I’ve got all sorts of tools in my apartment.  And dummy, too.”

Okay.  Cool.  Also, what did dummies have to do with anything?  Was that rich people code for something?

“Okay, want to give me directions, or am I supposed to just start pulling out drawers?”

.

“Hey!  Where’re you going?”

“You need more cover,” said Sam.  “This is what I have the jetpack for, remember?  Arrow boy isn’t going to get all of them, and they do have ranged weapons.”

It was true, one well-aimed shot through the Ops Center envelope could send the whole thing down.  They weren’t using hydrogen gas, of course, but an ectoplasm-nitrogen mix, so there was no danger of becoming Hindenburg Mk II, unless the aliens’ energy weapons reacted really badly with ectoplasm, but there hadn’t been any evidence of that yet, so…

Anyway, it didn’t matter.  Jazz was too busy keeping the Ops Center and the portal steady to do much else. 

“Be careful,” she said. 

“Can’t make any promises!”

.

Fury was having a bad day.  A really, monumentally, bad day.  One that was part of an already awful week but still managed to go above and beyond in terms of how completely awful it was. 

Primarily, he blamed HYDRA.  They were very easy to blame and were, in his opinion, responsible for at least seventy percent of the metric ton of crap he was currently wading through. 

But then, then he got a call. 

The call. 

Which meant that he had to take this boat riddled with snakes to fight off an alien invasion over New York.  Peachy. 

If ever he’d been tempted to give old friends a call…  But he wouldn’t.  Not yet. 

“Sir,” said Coulson, joining him smoothly as he walked down the hallway toward the main bridge. 

“What’d you find?”

“We have problems, sir.  Using the head start we were given, I’ve found no less than seventy problem areas on this ship… and some indications that the World Security Council may have similar issues.  We also have to assume there are unseen variables at play.”

Fury did not miss a step.  Benefit of being a cynical bastard.  The WSC was a shock, and a disaster on multiple levels, but the other number was… livable.  “Are there any particular personnel involved in these problems?”

“STRIKE teams seem to have an unusually high number of incidents.  Upwards of ninety percent.”

Fury strode onto the bridge.  “Tell the STRIKE teams to prepare to mobilize and pilots to scramble.”  Uriah gambits were unpleasant… but if he could kill two birds with one stone, he would, and he wouldn’t feel bad about it.  “What kind of air power are we looking at?”

“Significant,” said a comm. tech who was flipping through different news programs.  “They seem to have biologically based technology of some kind, weaponry is mainly energy-based, propulsion… unclear.”

Wonderful.  Fury scanned the other screens, trying to get a better picture of what, exactly, was happening in New York.  What tactics the enemy was using, what numbers they had, what resistance had been put up so far and by whom. 

“Sir,” said Agent Hill.  “The council is on.”

The council.  The same one Coulson had just told him was infiltrated by HYDRA.  The same one that would probably find a way to make their present situation all the more untenable and Fury’s day infinitely worse. 

It was a pity he couldn’t ignore them. 

“Put them on.”

.

Pandora hissed at the sting of the enemies’ weapons.  They were not ectoblasts, no, but there was the taste of something like magic to them, and energy was energy.  Still, they were not enough to damage her unduly, although they might prove troublesome, dangerously so, for the weaker ghosts of their force. 

But that was the nature of war.  Few battles were won without bloodshed. 

Her warriors should otherwise be a match for the chitauri.  The chitauri had numbers, doubtlessly, but her warriors had experience.  And once Frostbite and Dorathea lead their forces onto the battlefield, well… She could not estimate the number of enemies.  She had been told that they came from the stars, and those lands were numerous to the point of being innumerable.  Even so, there was a limit to passage through a choke point, and even the stars themselves may not turn things in the favor of a commander caught in one, no matter their numbers. 

But the ghosts, too, must pass through a portal.  Pandora eyed the slight waver in the portal’s outline with disfavor.  She was no expert in such matters, but many years of existence had given her some intuition for how portals should behave.  This one was stable enough, but not for long. 

All the more reason to resolve things quickly. 

“Hunter,” she said. 

“What?” snapped the mechanical man, the burnished plates of his armor flashing in the Sun. 

“Your task.  Find Phantom.  Free him from whatever compulsion he is under.”  Although Phantom still had much to learn, he was undeniably powerful.  Returning him to his proper allegiance would

Skulker looked away from the beast he was dismembering with some reluctance.  “Fine.  Dog.  Come here.”

The dog ignored him.  As it was Phantom’s, and Skulker hadn’t made the effort to learn its name, that was really no surprise.  Still, Skulker gestured at it.  It, in turn, bounded away, yipping.

“Are you, or are you not, the greatest hunter in the Infinite Realms?  Find him with or without the dog.”

Skulker grumbled but flew off.  Good. 

Pandora manifested a joint in her neck just long enough to crack it and drummed her fingers on the lid of her box.  It had been too long, far too long, since she had engaged in a proper battle against evil, and the more vicious of the leviathans flying through the air looked like they would, at least, give her a challenge. 

.

Thor had become more open-minded since his short stay on Earth, with Dr. Selvig, Darcy, and… Dr. Jane Foster.  Truly.  But he had to admit, these ghosts were unnerving.  Too similar by far to the draugr that had ofttimes haunted the stories of bards – the ones that made his father glare and try to shoo away both Thor and Loki. 

He had to find his brother.  Soon.  With all that had happened, with how, exactly, Loki had behaved, he believed, truly believed Daniel Fenton’s assertion Loki was being controlled, somehow. 

It was a foul thing, to put such a geas on a prince of Asgard…  Although, to be fair, putting a geas on anyone was foul.  It just seemed especially foul to Thor, that someone should do it to his brother. 

Loki had, perhaps, never been quite so good as one might hope, but he had always been… himself, as vague as that description was.  Even when he’d been consumed by madness, letting jotnar into Asgard, sending the Destroyer after people on Earth, he had still been himself.

Thor did not like this new version of Loki, who was very much…  It was like seeing his brother through a warped pane of glass, or in a reflection.  In fact, he liked it so little that he couldn’t even enjoy the utter destruction he was wrecking on the chitauri, lightning, head-crushing, and all.  Not that he had been enjoying combat quite as much as he once did in general.

The price of being worthy, he presumed. 

Alas. 

A bright green flying dog whipped past him at speed, heading towards the tower.  He narrowed his eyes at it.  Most of the ghosts had stayed concentrated around the portals.  What cause had this one to stray?

But he could not go investigate.  He could still hear the screams of the civilians cornered in the buildings nearby.  He would not leave them to fend for themselves until he had cleared this street. 

.

Danny and Loki would both have preferred to use the elevators.  Unfortunately, significant parts of the main upper elevator shaft had been repurposed for extension-cable-from-hell-powering-up-a-doomsday-device purposes, and no one wanted to mess with that, and the military-type guys they still had with them recommended shutting them off from a tactical perspective of ‘there’s more of them then there are of us, and we don’t want to guard them all.’  So.  No elevators. 

Danny could have just dropped them through the floor instead, but Loki seemed concerned about the effect serially dropping through floors had on Danny. 

Or, well, the effect that the effect it had on Danny was having on him, in any case. 

“I refuse to get stuck in a ceiling again.  I am a god.  I am to be treated with some degree of gravitas.”

“It was one time.  You should’ve seen what I was like when I first got my powers.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Year and a half ago, about.”

Anyway, they were taking the stairs.  Danny wasn’t really upset about it, because it gave him more time to be annoying.  Right now, he was in the midst of a recital of all the ‘annoying younger sibling’ noises he had ever made.  Right now, he was working on ‘long drawn out sighs,’ which had really been a hit with Jazz, when he’d been eight.  Which was to say, she hated them.  A lot. 

And Loki didn’t seem to a have a lot of tolerance, either. 

“What,” he snapped, “are you doing?”

“Nothing,” said Danny, enjoying the way Loki’s face pinched up, as if he were searching for a way to order him to stop without really screwing up his other orders…

… speaking of which, could Danny have interpreted ‘get me out of here’ to mean ‘get me out of New York?’  Maybe.  But at this point, there were plenty of reasons to want them both in New York, including-- 

Danny’s train of thought derailed as he noticed the sound of footsteps echoing up the stairwell.  He looked down and then threw himself backwards as a redheaded woman – Romanov – brought a gun to bear on him.  She fired, twice, in quick succession.  Wow.  Rude.  And pretty brutal, too, but then again, New York was being invaded by aliens.  And she knew about his powers. 

(Hecking Fury, telling people about his powers.)

Although, considering trajectories… no, he was too sleep deprived to consider trajectories. 

He grabbed Loki’s arm, intending to drop them through the floor. 

“No, wait,” said Loki.  “Let’s see what the Widow wants.”  There was a malicious, almost cruel, edge to his voice, but there was a hollowness underneath it.  He did want to see why Black Widow, Natasha Romanov, was here, but the tone, the phrasing, was just to rile her up. 

Or to appear as if he wanted to rile her up.  Danny hadn’t listened to all the things Barton and Loki had discussed – too busy freaking out about the whole situation vis a vis mind control and alien invasions – but he hadn’t gotten the impression she was all that easy to rile up. 

But Danny had his orders.  And he still had to defend Loki.  Ice began to spread out from under his feet.  It was a bit sluggish, but it would give him the terrain advantage as far as maneuvers went.  The Widow kicked open the door on her landing and rolled out, into the floor beyond, staying more or less out of direct line of fire for both Danny and Loki. 

“I have eyes on Loki,” she said, out loud. 

.

“Crap,” said Tony, tossing the box to the Foley kid.  “Sorry, got to go, but hey!”  He was already heading for the edge of the roof.  “Maybe we won’t even need that if we do this right!”

.

Black Widow definitely been looking for them, which wasn’t surprising, but what was she carrying?  The bag was bulky and angular.  A weapon?  If so, why hadn’t she used it? 

Loki stepped out past Danny but stayed well within Danny’s ability to grab – or drop through the floor, if necessary.  Making the floor intangible instead was a valid strategy. 

“What is it you want, Widow?  Natasha Romanov?”

Romanov, meanwhile, had disappeared, almost as thoroughly as Danny could.  He tilted his head to one side, listening.  This floor, it seemed, had been imagined as semi-open lab space.  There were long work benches, empty places for equipment, some kind of robotic arm in the ceiling, and a cart full of plastic-wrapped computers, monitors and towers together. 

It was kind of cool.  There were a lot of places to hide. 

“Is this… revenge?  For Barton?”  Loki’s smile was sharp.  “He told me much about you, and I suppose Stark mentioned avenging this place.”  Two false images split off from Loki to prowl among the lab tables.  “It suits you better than it does him.  But don’t you think it somewhat… hypocritical?”

.

“Okay, Romanov, here’s how it is.  Loki likes illusions?  Let’s give him an illusion.”

.

Danny saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye and angled himself to intercept, but no attack came. 

“After all… you’ve done so much… so much that others would be more than justified retaliating for, don’t you think?  All those regime changes, shall we call them?  And Barton’s no better, really.”  He hummed.  “The things you two did together.  Drakov’s daughter?  Sāo Paulo?  The hospital fire?  And you think taking vengeance on me will change anything?  You think it will make you some sort of hero?  Give you peace?  When you—”

One of the doors flew open, revealing Iron Man.  Who plowed through one fake Loki (Faki?  Fauki?  Fauxki?  Meh, he’d workshop it.) and swerved to shoot one of his repulsors at another.  Romanov popped up from behind a table and threw something at the feet of the real Loki, who crushed it with his heel, ignoring the sparks of electricity that flew up off of it. 

Danny batted Romanov back with a shield, straight into the cart of computers, which fell down on her.  Ouch.  But she’d be able to get back up and into the fight.  The important thing was that, right now, she wasn’t an immediate threat, which meant he could ignore her. 

Give her time. 

If she hadn’t wanted something, she would have run, kept hiding.  Just these few minutes – She was a shield agent, sure, but she had to have some kind of specialty in—

Anti-ghost missiles were a lot harder to avoid in such a small place, especially when distracted.  Danny hissed as one impacted his shoulder and splattered green all over his shirt, but he caught the next, and threw it back at Iron Man.  He tried to phase off the green goo, but it wouldn’t go.  It had to be some of that phase-proof stuff his parents had been working on.  Nasty stuff. 

Although, he had to be grateful it had only given him a bruise and hadn’t been mixed with something that would melt him.  It gave him hope for his future relationship with his parents. 

In the meantime, it definitely limited his options regarding protecting Loki and just removing themselves from the situation without getting into more destructive behavior. 

He hoped Iron Man knew what he was doing… for everyone’s sake. 

The missile exploded right in front of Iron Man’s mask, splattering him with green goo.  Danny had no idea what kind of sensor array he had, but that would probably buy at least a little time as he adjusted it to compensate for the eye-holes of his mask being covered up. 

He turned back to Loki, only to see another Iron Man grab the staff from him. 

Only for that Loki and that staff to dissolve into the air. 

Loki, the real Loki, stopped being invisible and laughed.  “Oh, that was good, that was very good.”  Not only was this Loki real, his smile might have been as well.  “But you didn’t think you could fool me, did you?”

Danny flicked invisible, noting with disfavor that the green goo stayed visible when he did so, and moved closer to Loki, fending off attacks.  Two Iron Men – Where did the second person come from?  Was it Barton, in a suit?  Someone else entirely?  The War Machine person?  Danny couldn’t remember his name.  – and Romanov together was a bit of a challenge for Danny to keep track of, given his present mental state. 

Luckily, however, one of the two suits, the first one, didn’t seem to have nearly the tactical awareness of the other.  He’d say it was Stark in the second suit, the fresher-looking one… the one without any form of ghost proofing Danny could detect. 

Danny swiped an intangible arm through the suit, cleaving through delicate wires as he did so, but leaving warm, human flesh untouched.  Several pieces of armor fell away, revealing a band t-shirt, but not the whole thing.  Interesting. 

Romanov threw a Fenton Ghost Zapper at him.  Loki knocked it out of the air, the sharp end of the scepter cutting it in two as he did so.  Iron Man – the one he was pretty sure was Tony Stark – tried to grab it again, even as Loki pivoted to try and catch Black Widow with it.  Danny used that as a pretext to pull Loki back, away from Black Widow.  They did not need her under control.  Nope. 

But… they wanted the staff.  They wanted the staff now. 

Selvig must have gotten knocked free.  He must have told them, one of them, about his safeguards. 

If one of these three could get the staff, get back to the top of the tower…  Then it would be over.  They’d have won. 

.

“Director Fury, the council has made a decision.”

Fury flexed his fingers behind his back.  “I recognize the council has made a decision, but given that it's a stupid ass decision, I've elected to ignore it.”  It’s what he’d say if he hadn’t learned what he’d just learned.  If HYDRA wasn’t threaded through every element of SHIELD like a deadly parasite.  If this sounded more like a simple fear-driven overreaction and less like a way to destroy one of HYDRAs most famous enemies and his new and very powerful allies? 

“Director, despite your shocking negligence, bordering on dereliction, you’re closer than any of our subs.  You scramble that jet—”

“That is the island of Manhattan, councilman.”  Although considering that HYDRA, in the person of Red Skull, had tried to blow it up in the past, he wasn’t sure that would sway them.  Until I’m certain my team can’t hold them—”

“There are two armies of alien origin, emerging from portals above that island.  If we don’t—”

“I will not order a nuclear strike against a civilian population, much less the densest population in the United States.  And the other army is an ally.”

“Based on what intelligence?  Based on what invitation?  That of someone already suborned by Loki?”

“If we don’t hold them in the air,” added another councilmember, “we lose.  We lose everything.”

“If I send that bird out, we already have.”

.

“Director Fury is no longer in command.  Override order, seven, alpha, eleven.”

“Sorry, sir,” said the pilot, who had just taken his seat.  He watched with some trepidation as Agent Coulson led a pair of his colleagues away.  This was all very irregular.  “I’m not familiar with that code.”

There was a pause.  “What’s your name, son?”

.

Cujo frolicked through the city.  It was loud, yes, but nothing he hadn’t been in training for while alive, and nothing he hadn’t experienced while dead.  So, a non-issue, obviously. 

The actual issue?  His person had just thrown a stick.  Obviously, Cujo had to go fetch it. 

[venomous--fics]

Anon asked: maybe a continuation of the peter b parker kid thing where they finally confront the mom and get the readers things back 😩💞💞

a/n: ask and thou shall receive! this spent so long in the drafts bc i felt so insecure about it tbh, so any feedback is appreciated! I love seeing messages about what you guys think! really keeps me motivated! also, requests are open

Warnings: mentions of past abuse

Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, constantly looking at the clock. It was almost 5pm, you were supposed to be home an hour and a half ago. Yes, he keeps track of everyone's schedules, yes he knows the exact second you should be walking through the door. He's already texted you, but maybe you had detention. Nah, you were a good student, he highly doubted you'd have to stay after school.

His phone finally rang, and he was way too quick answering it.

"You okay?"

"I need some help."

"What is it?" he was already out the door.

You sighed, knowing he was probably going to give you an earful later.

"Well, it's a really long story, right.. But my mom showed up after school-"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I think. Anyways, we got into it on the way home, which is no- Not normal." you adjusted how you were sitting, "And since she was dragging me back to the house, I figured I'd just get my crap and come home, right? Makes sense, saves us the tri-"

"She took you without permission?"

"Technically she is my m-...Parent. I guess, y'know, legally she can do whatever- But..Okay." you began to feel bubbles of anxiety and pain and even resentment form deep in your core, "She locked me out." You rubbed your neck.

"Are you," he paused, looking around at all the faces passing by him, "Still there?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Don't apologize, you didn't do anything."

"I keep causing problems for everyone."

"Not for me. Or Mj."

It was quiet on your end.

"You still there?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in like ten minutes."

"You probably shouldn't."

"Nah, nah." He said, having a sudden wave of anger rush over him, "Let me take care of this."

And true to his word, Peter was there in ten minutes. You hopped up from your spot on the porch as he made his way up to the door and knocked on it as hard as he could. He gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

The door swung open, and your mother seemed awfully surprised and confused to see some random man just standing there. Peter held no emotion has he looked her dead in the eye, "Can we come in."

She opened the door wider so that way you two could step in.

"Go get your stuff." is all Peter said to you.

Wasting no time, and not wanting to be in the middle of a potential argument between the two, you skedaddled to your room. It almost felt like too much to be in there. It looked so empty and barren compared to your room at Peter and Mjs place. Seems really dull. Lifeless, almost. Dust covered every surface, which meant that nobody had ever even bothered to see if you were even still in there.

You heard their voices from the living room, but they seemed so distant, seeing as all you could focus on was every shitty thing that woman put you through.

You remember the day that you got bit. It made you deathly ill, and you just thought you were dying from some sort of allergic reaction to the spider bite. You tried to get her to take you to any doctor or anywhere that could help because all you could seem to see were stars.

Everything then was so loud. Everything was so bright. It was all too much, and you were certain that the reaper was waiting for you. What did she say?

"Suck it up and stop pretending. Everything has to be so dramatic with you."

Or that time you forgot a single item on the shopping list. You got this whole speech about how stupid you had to have been. To forget one item. It was the world's most useless item.

Everything else seemed to play all over again, all at once. Like a waterfall. It should've made you sad. It should've made you cry, or scream.

You recounted all the times you wanted to fight back, or just run away. Leave everything behind and just run until your legs gave out. But you never did. You always found some reason to linger.

The conversation was growing louder where Peter was.

"You aren't going to do this to them ever again. Sign the papers."

You nearly dropped your last belonging on the floor as you scrambled to your door. Papers? He wasn't serious. Well, obviously he was. He just said it.

"Fine. It's not like the-"

"Zip it. Sign the papers."

"Who are you anyways? The law? If so, whatever they've told you is a b-"

"Listen, lady. I didn't ask for any attitude. I told you to sign the papers." he seemed to huff in annoyance, "That doesn't require talking."

"I'm a good mother."

"And I'm the king of France."

"Really. I gave them a good home. I have fed them and kept them warm-"

"Really? You think you did all that? Or are you convincing yourself that you did all that?"

"I am-"

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Ye-"

"I've never said this about anyone, ever. I don't like speaking to or about anyone like this.. Ever, but, you? I think you're a piece of shit."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, look. You finished signing the papers. I'll take those. Thank you."

Realizing that it was your time to go, you stuffed your blanket into your duffel bag and rushed out the door and down the hall. Peter looked at you, expecting to see at least three bags. But he only saw the one.

"Where's the rest of your stuff."

"Uhm," you shuffled around, pretending as thought you dropped some, "This...This is all my stuff."

"That can't be ri-" He laughed a little, and noting the expression on his face, you saw that he was NOT happy. "That? That single duffle bag is all you have? That's it?"

"Yes..." you took a step back, "This is all.."

"I can't believe it." he said, "You're joking! One bag worth of stuff?"

He turned his attention back to your mother, who, for the first time in your life, actually looked like she got caught red handed, "You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

"But they're so u-"

"No! No, you don't get to talk anymore. You've done enough."

You awkwardly shuffled behind him, in the event that you two had to make a mad dash out the door. That and you needed to not be seen as you tried to hide your almost evil grin.

"The hell is wrong with you? You have this amazing kid, and THAT'S all you've ever gotten for them? And you sit there and call yourself a mother? Absolutely, without a doubt, bullshit. I'd be ashamed of myself to call myself a father if that's all I've provided for my kid. Don't even get me started on you as a person, we made that clear."

It almost felt cursed to hear him swear, seeing as he made it a point to tell you to not swear. Every time you did, you have to give a quarter to the swear jar. Mj was always on your side, though. She'd say a swear that was much worse and have to pay a dollar. Each word had a value.

"Maybe we should just go." you suggested, tugging on the sleeve of his arm, "She's not worth it anymore."

"She was never worth it, it seems."

You finally made eye contact with her, and the look in her eye. It's like she understood, but was choosing to not do anything about the situation. She could look sorry all she wanted, but you knew she wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. You know that right."

"That means nothing to me."

"I can change."

"If you can change now, that means you could've changed then. You just chose not to."

"But I'm your mother, you should realize how I feel. You should want-"

"You're not my mom. You stopped being my mom the first time you-" You turned towards the door and started walking towards it, "Whatever. You mean nothing to me."

You practically kicked open teh door just to leave, and Peter was right behind you, shouting about how he'd make sure to egg her house everyday, just to piss her off.

"Do you really think I'm amazing?" you asked, the walk home feeling rather quiet.

"I think you're more than that. Just can't put it into words."

"Did you really mean it...That we could egg her house?"

"You want to? There's a store right on the way home."

"How about tomorrow."

"I'll have to clear up my busy schedule. See if I can work in a drive by egging. Well, swing by egging."

"You promise?"

"You kidding? I haven't egged anyone's house since college."

You had so much more you wanted to get off you chest, but you opted to just talk about it at home, with everyone present. You wanted to talk about how you felt about everything, and the papers. Whatever those were. But you were, for the moment, busy laughing about Peter's story about how he used to Egg this one reporters house. Someone named Jonah.

You wonder if Jonah ever put two and two together.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Mi Viejito (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Words: 1K Warning: None Summary: Father’s Day more than twenty years later. 

Author’s Note: “Mi Viejito” means “Old Man” (affectionate). Thank you to the two anons who requested this!

Also, no editing. Oops. We die like men. 

Twenty five years are not enough to dull the impact of startling blue eyes meeting hers across a room. For a moment, she feels like that fresh-faced intern she used to be, meeting her medical idol for the first time. Except now, Ethan Ramsey has the elegance of time on his side, carved into every fine line on his handsome face. His hair, once dark brown, is a storm of silver now, making the blue of his eyes even more of a shock.

A pleasant sort of shock that makes her body thrum with warmth.

Ethan removes his spectacles and gives her a tired but breathtaking smile. Lilac returns it, moving to settle into her husband's embrace.

“Happy Father's Day, mi viejito,” she murmurs into a kiss. After his hum of thanks, they melt into the kiss, enjoying the rare few moments of blissful companionship.

“Where are the girls?” he asks after a while, as though reading her mind.

“Andy should be here any moment to drop them off.”

“Ah, the calm before the storm,” he muses with exaggerated dread. It doesn't fool anyone, least of all Lilac. Anyone who glances at Ethan Ramsey with his children for more than two seconds knows just how much he adores them. “What about Lori and Jonah?”

“Jonah hasn't texted me back and Lori is on her date.”

“Hrm.”

Lilac laughs. “Hunter's a nice kid. He's taking her on a boat ride at the Common.”

Ethan is not impressed.

“It's a cute date for two seventeen year-olds,” Lilac reasons with little success.

“Pitiful.”

“You took me on one of those when we were engaged.”

“I meant his name. What kind of name is Hunter?”

She laughs at that and places a kiss on his cheek, succeeding in softening his expression by a fraction. “You're just upset your little girl is all grown up.”

Ethan's expression is as impassive as ever but Lilac can see the brief flash of sadness in his eyes. She places a comforting hand at his cheek, sweeping the ridge of his cheekbone with her thumb.

“She'll be back in time for dinner. And I'm sure Jonah will text me back later. He's been swamped with school work these past few days.”

Ethan nods but is unable to elaborate an answer because the sound of approaching voices grows louder outside the door.

The youngest Ramseys arrive then, three times more boisterous than any teenagers their age. Though, to the surprise of exactly no one, the person in the little group arguing the loudest is Jasmine. Andy rolls her eyes, unable to contain a smile at the charming young girl trying to talk her way out of whatever trouble she's gotten into.

“Seriously, it's okay. Our dad owns the hospital.”

“He manages it,” her twin, Violet, corrects.

“Same thing,” Jasmine returns dismissively. “He as good as owns it if the place falls apart without him.”

“That,” Ethan intervenes, placing a kiss of greeting atop each of their heads, “would be your mother. She does the brunt of the work around here.”

Jasmine scoffs. “And yet the man gets all the credit.”

“Typical,” Violet adds.

Ethan and Lilac both laugh proudly. After Andy takes her leave for the day, the girls hug their father.

“Happy Father's day!” They chorus.

“We brought you coffee from that place you and mom are obsessed with.”

They thrust a to-go cup in his hand.

“We remembered,” Jasmine says importantly. “Not like Tweedle dee and Tweedle Ugly.”

“Jazzie,” her mother scolds. “Don't call your brother and sister that.”

“Ingrates,” Violet adds, agreeing with her sister. “Write them out of your will, Dad.”

Ethan is fully laughing now, a sound that is rare and wonderful, easily drawn out of him by his family. The little crevices on his face grow deeper with his mirth and it tugs at Lilac's heartstrings.

“If we're divvying up Dad's stuff then I call Minnie,” Jasmine proclaims.

“You can have that cat now,” Ethan returns intently. “I don't want anything to do with that thing.”

“I call Jenner the Second,” Violet calls out before her sister can.

They dissolve into an impassioned argument about who loves the dog more. Luckily for all of them, they are interrupted by the sound of more approaching footsteps, followed by even more arguing voices.

“... doesn't have his license yet.”

“What good is a license if he doesn't even have a car.”

“You don't need a car in the city. You can get around in the train.”

“Then why did you text me begging for a ride here?”

“You're such a jerk, J.”

The eldest of their children appear in the office, ceasing all bickering when their eyes fall on the father. Dolores, beautiful and bright faced from the sun, the freckles on her cheeks more vivid as she smiles. Jonah, tall, collected, and handsome—reassembling his father more than any of his siblings. Lilac watches fondly as they hug Ethan and wish him a happy father's day. After the brief surprise of their sudden appearance wears off, she can see her husband's eyes shining with emotion.

“We're taking you to lunch,” Lori informs him. “Jonah got us reservations at your favorite place downtown.”

“Nice, that place has the best chocolate cake,” Jasmine says excitedly.

“We said we're taking dad, not you freeloaders,” Jonah returns jokingly, ruffling his younger sister's hair.

“It’s father’s day! We deserve to be celebrated, too!”

“How do you figure that, squirt?”

“Who taught you how to throw a ball, Jonah Naveen Ramsey?” Jasmine demands indignantly.

“Who gave you pointers on how to impress that girl down the street you used to have a crush on?” Violet adds.

“Who Googled 'how to drive a stick shift car' when you borrowed Dad's car without asking him?”

“You what?” Ethan asks, turning to look at his son.

“Who—”

“Alright, alright! You can come with,” Jonah cuts in. “You two are insufferable, I swear.”

“That's no way to speak to your fathers,” Jasmine chastises.

The siblings continue their banter, taking turns predicting what their father will order. The one who knows his order exactly, Lilac observes, is Dolores, though she has no chance to boast to her siblings. Ethan’s pager goes off and he groans when he reads the message.

“There’s a problem with the paperwork in the Sawyer case,” he tells Lilac. With a mournful twist of his mouth, he looks at his children. “I’m sorry but I have to go handle this. Lunch won’t--”

“I’ll stay to take care of it,” Lilac interrupts.

Ethan studies her expression. “Are you sure, love? It’s an awfully complicated case.”

“I’m sure,” she assures him with a nod. “Go enjoy lunch with them.”

Ethan gives her a look so laden with gratitude and affection, her heart skips a beat.

“Geez, you were right, Dad,” Jasmine says. “Mom really does run this place.”

“Or she just prefers dealing with grumpy patients over hearing your awful jokes, Jazzy,” Dolores comments, side bumping her sister affectionately.

“Mom is a pro at dealing with grumpy, though,” Jonah tells them sagely. “She’s dealt with Dad all these years.”

Ethan laughs at that. “You kids won’t cut your old man a break on father’s day?”

“Nope,” Violet returns cheerfully. “Roasting you is our way of telling you we love you.”

______________________________

Author’s Note: Happy Fathers Day to everyone who celebrates! Thank you so much for reading this!

For reference, Jonah is around 20, Dolores (aka “Lori”) 17 going on 18, and the twins are 14

A few notes:

Though I am super behind on replies to my previous fics, please know I am so thankful to everyone who interacted! Love you guys so much!

I haven’t been able to work on Ch 2 of the OPH3 re-write, but I hope to do so soon. I think I’ve decided to take it easy with that series and see where it takes me!

Same thing with the Pictagram series! Thank you to everyone for your patience!

If you tagged me in your content while I was away, I apologize for the delay. I have it all saved up, ready to enjoy this upcoming week!

Tagging in a reblog!

[imaginewarehouse]

Marcus White x Jonah’sSister!Reader || Oneshot

Plot: 

You find out that you are pregnant... with Marcus' miracle baby.

Warnings: Pregnancy, panic attack

🔆  🔆  🔆

Carefully, I pick out one of the pregnancy tests from the shelf. Then grab another... 2 more... and another. Just to be sure.

As I go up to the pharmacy desk, I thank god that Tate isn't working here anymore; I never would've gotten away with this. He would've snitched to Jonah or something, for his own sociopathic enjoyment. Instead, the new guy thankfully rings up and bags my items casually, not really caring what he flings into the white plastic bag- then hands it to me with a soulless customer service smile. If I had to describe it, I'd say its if the man had been working here for years before finally letting the job kill him on the inside- just in time for the wind to change and stick his face like that. Honestly, I never see the guy without this smile. Not even in the breakroom. Its unnerving.

Still, I take the bag and smile back even though I know he for sure doesn't really mean it and turn around so I can walk (The long way around the store, so I don't pass the doors to the warehouse) towards the employee bathrooms... but stop short, jolting into panic mode immediately. Freeze, freeze, freeze!

There's Isaac, standing as tall as a bear in my path behind the aisles, with a scanner in his hand and a surprised look on his face. Or at least as surprised as he would ever convey.

Clearly, though, he saw the tests. And I'm screwed. He is absolutely the well, second last person I wanted to catch me doing this; Buying these.

A nervous smile flickers onto my face and I walk the short ways over to him, hugging the bag to my front. He's still just staring; Mouth half open and eyes a little less dead, then usual. "Oh, hey Isaac! How's is going? You got sent to pharmacy today? That s-sucks... " Honestly I didn't think he was allowed to be assigned pharmacy...

Completely by-passing the option to forget what he just saw and exchange polite chit-chat with me, he instead closes his mouth and his eyes, shakes his head and then opens his eyes again. Then inhales. "Are those what I think those are?"

"Wh-what?"

"Pregnancy tes-"

Shit- Giving him a desperate expression, revealing my true feelings today - being complete and utter panic, - I cut him off. "SHHH! Isaac! No- uh. Yes. Um... Would you believe these aren't for me?"

"Mmm... " His face twists slightly into one of thought, tightening his lips together and sizing me up. "No, I don't think so."

"Well!- " I'm totally ready to make up an excuse... but peter out as soon I try. I could do it. I could string together some kind of half-believable bullshit like 'They're for Amy', but he would still go and tell Marcus and he would find me and... I would still have to have the conversation earlier then I want to. So instead I drop the façade, and my shoulders, and show just how tired I am. "I want to find out myself before breaking the news to Marcus. Okay? He might be unhappy about the idea and then we do the test and it turns out I'm not pregnant and then I just stressed us both out, for no reason! And, on the other hand, what if he wants it and it turns out I'm wrong about this? Please, Isaac, just don't tell him yet. Please, please." I feel like no matter how many pleases I use they may still not change anything. But I'm desperate.

He stands still for a few minutes... so long in fact I think he may be in shock himself, or having some kind of drug induced anxiety attack, and am about to wave my hand up in his face or say his name again, when he finally breathes a little more obviously and I relax back down to earth. "... Well, lets go find out then, right?"

"What- You- you want to come?" Something in me relaxes at the thought- I don't really want to do this alone. I want someone there, like in the movies, to hold the box and just read me the instructions. But I imagined it would be someone I'm actually close friends with, who can hold my hand and wouldn't care that it recently touched a pee-stick. I did not expect that person to be Isaac - Isaac, who likes to watch homeless people kill each other with shopping trollies and sticks and trash can shields like in a horrible, pitiful, modern-day coliseum, - in a million years.

But he nods.

"Yeah, sure." He puts his scanner on the shelf, and we set off the way I was going. He seems to silently understand why we have to go the long way around- to avoid passing the doors to the warehouse. Or he just doesn't care. Either way, I'm thankful he doesn't try to re-rout my course. Or even mention it. "Good excuse to slack off work... besides I should probably get out of this section, anyway. Hey, it is Marcus- right?"

I sigh- I suppose the companionable silence was too much to ask for. "Yes Isaac. If its a thing, in the first place."

"Yeah, right."

___TIME SKIP___

"You're having a miracle baby, you know? He's not supposed to be able to do that- isn't that kinda... good?"

I only whimper in response from |my new home| the cubicle I've been taking the tests in, holding my head. How am I going to do this? I have college, I have this job, I have my studio apartment to continue paying rent for! Marcus and I don't even... there isn't even... we haven't labelled it yet, and... Oh god, I'm shaking.

Isaac heaves a sigh outside, his chair creaking as he shifts. "Well, that's... three positives, so far." Isaac's memorable, slow drawl seeps through the cracks in my cubicle and takes away my thoughts for a moment. And my breath.

3 positives.

3 positives.

Not one, not two... three.

... Then he goes on, a whiny tone in his voice. "Do we really need to do another one?"

I breathe in deep. I don't know what else to do. The next logical step would be telling Marcus or Jonah, but I'm ready for neither of those. So procrastination through pregnancy test, it has to be. "Uh, yes. We do. Um... can you, please?- "

"Ughhh. Yeah, yeah. I'll get you more water. Stay here." Then Isaac, who has surprisingly been very helpful, even getting me tape so I can stick the finished tests up to the door in front of me so that I can compare them easier, disappears out of the women's bathroom, leaving me with my thoughts.

I peak back up at the tests, feeling panic fill up my chest cavity like its anxiety gas and my rib cage is the gas chamber- and my heart's the poor organ at deaths row. I'm... pregnant.

Oh my god. I'm pregnant. There is a human being growing inside me, right now. A human being who will require time that I definitely don't have, money that its parents certainly could not scavenge if we scavenged for used soda cans like Myrtle and sold them in our spare time, effort that I'm terrified might not even be in me at this point... A baby that needs some semblance of a comfortable, stable home, which I do not have for it.

I'm just burrowing my face into my arms and knees atop the toilet seat when the bathroom door opens again. Looking up, I immediately ask for Isaac- because that was really freaken quick, for him.

And get a familiar, confused sounding voice call back "... No, its Amy... Sorry, I just need to pee. Are you going to be long?".

"Oh!" Oops. Immediately, head going empty with panic, I unlock the door and and jump out to let her in. "No! I just finished. Um- go ahead. I'll just wash- wash my hands."

Now seeing each other, I see Amy's forehead crease and her eyebrows furrow in confusion and concern at my pink cheeked/pale faced appearance and the panicky way I'm talking. She reaches out toward me. "... Y/N, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!" I laugh, the most nervous sounding laugh ever. "Don't worry."

Amy's nose screws up. "... why were you waiting for Isaac?"

"We-we're just having an affair."

... what??

Her eyebrows furrow even deeper. "Okay... I'm just gonna go... pee... now... " She says slowly, gradually disappearing into the cubicle; Not quite sure what to say back to that.

I sigh in relief when her eyes aren't on me anymore and the door locks, thinking flushing some water onto my face might calm me down, when a loud GASP comes from Amy and I i m m e d i a t e l y remember the tests stuck to the wall. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!!

Amy comes right out of there, looking at me with completely new eyes now- understanding truly why I'm pale, I'm sure, and definitely why I was acting the way I was. "Y/N! You're... pregnant??!" I open my mouth to respond. Maybe say 'yes' seeing as that's the truth and the only proper answer, but I choke on my words and instead say, "Isaacs getting more water so I can take another test."

"I think 3 is a pretty conclusive number!"

"I-" She is not wrong, but I don't want to do anything else but take another easy test, and get defensive instead. "I bought four, I'm doing four!"

"Wh- Is Isaac the father!?"

"God, no." Isaac and I both spit back in offense.

I whip my head around when i realise he wasn't supposed to be there yet at all, and- there he is in the doorway.

... Jonah right behind him looking sicker then me. My jaw drops. "You brought Jonah??!"

"Uh, no, I was just waiting outside for, um," He gestures to Amy and my stomach drops. So he heard the whole thing. Could this get any worse??! Well I mean of course it could, Marcus could be here. Stupid question. Don't ask questions like that; It always summons the worst, in movies. "You're pregnant!? Who- you know what, unimportant right now. Do you wanna sit down??"

I shake my head, taking a deep breath and holding my hand out to Isaac. "No, I'm fine. I have a test to do. Water, Isaac?"

"Here." He hands me the bottle, and I go to disappear back into the cubicle before jumping back away again, remembering that Amy still needs to go and gesturing for her to go, ridiculously enough. She shakes her head and gestures back, like I'm crazy, to take it instead.

I do so and lock myself in, starting to chug the whole bottle.

A blessed silent moment passes... before Jonah speaks. "Is the 4th test really necessary?- "

"For the love of god- Let me take the fourth goddamn test for fucks sake!"

___TIME SKIP___

"... so what is it?" Amy asks 10 minutes later, breaking the deafening silence, as I sit back down on the toilet seat and hold my face in my hands again.

"... Positive... "

Isaac sighs. "Who would have guessed, really?"

No one tells him to shut up. He's right. But also no one agrees, because I'm a fucking 23 year old pregnant girl and I will kill them.

"So... what now?" Amy asks, speaking to the room, but expecting me to answer.

"Well, I'd like less people to be here, honestly." I pipe up, removing my hands from my mouth to speak clearer.

"Done. Isaac, Jonah, get out."

"What? I was here before you... lady." Isaac exclaims, offended, but a moment later I hear the door close, anyway. I assume it had something to do with Amy's signature resting bitch face- cranked up to eleven. "We'll just wait out here, then! Yell if you need us."

"Yep... " Amy responds to him, sounding exhausted and I can totally imagine her rolling her eyes right now. She takes a deep breath, and sighs it out. I hear her rest carefully down into the chair Isaac vacated. For a moment she thankfully says nothing, and I do wonder whether I should... but I don't know what to so say. So I just stay hidden in the cubicle, silent until Amy takes another deep breath and asks the question. "Who is it?"

I take a deep breath, knowing that once I say it I cant take it back, while on the other hand... its done, anyway. He's already the father and I cant change that (Would I if I could, though?) but telling Amy may either make or break my confidence in having him as the dad of my kid. Not that I have a choice... I just know that Amy's going to be worried about it and I don't know if I can handle the criticism right this moment.

Finally I spit it out though. Marcus.

...

"Oh- wow."

Uncomfortable, I shift on the closed toilet seat. "Yeah."

Her voice gets higher, clearly fake and trying to sound like this is better then she really feels it is. My heart plummets into my stomach like a terrible roller coaster. "Well, that's... " She pauses, searching for a safe word to use, assumedly. "Great!"

"... 'great?" For some reason that word, and Amy's tone... hits something wrong, in me. Panic flickers deep in my chest and my stare on the wall gets colder, harder. "... you think this is 'great'? Really? You? No, you don't. Do you hear yourself? 'Great'. Puh! This is Marcus. 'Been to jail' Marcus. 'Ex Con' Marcus. 'Creator and CEO of BOOB CHEESE', Marcus. Marcus who shits in the shower and thinks breastfeeding is akin to whipping your dick out in public, Marcus who has a tattoo of his mother on his back for Valentines day- "

Okay so maybe I'm just picking on him because I'm inadequate, because I don't have the time for a baby, because if I'm trusted with this perfect thing then I will ruin it... I'll pick work, instead of love, and they'll grow up with less of it then they should have and I'll be to blame...

But I don't want to address that yet. I cant.

"Y/N."

"Neither of us even have the money for this." I'm panicking again. "He lives with his mother! And- what if he gets mad... " I suddenly get worried, my eyes go round and I cover my mouth. "I really like him Amy. I cant have him mad at me. Not for this. Not him. Please don't let him hate m- "

"Y/N! Calm the fuck down, okay, right now. Don't speak. Just... take some deep breathes okay? First of all, Marcus is not going to be 'mad' at you. He's sure as hell is not going to hate you. You're spiralling, just take some long breaths." Amy makes it sound like a ridiculous idea with her tone, that he might be mad or he might hate me. I do as she says as she talks; take deeeeeep breaths. Slowly, I start to clam down. "He might be shocked, yeah, but he's- he's not like that. He's an idiot, not a total asshole. Take it from me, I know what I'm talking about here. I promise you. Whether he'll be good at being a parent, is... debatable." Everything she says makes sense. And she would know- you've met Adam. "But he'll be there, at the very least.

And... and you'll be a great mum, anyway."

I feel my heartbeat start to slow down again as I breath. I close my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest and rest back against the wall, carefully.

I really hope she's right on that second part.

"... thank you."

___OUTSIDE THE BATHROOM___

Jonah rubs his neck in nervousness at his sister in the bathroom dealing with something like this, pacing around the small hallway area before turning to Isaac. He raises his dark eyebrows. "So, do you know... wh-who?? I mean... the guy, that- I mean, does he work here, or... ???"

"Its Marcus." Isaac pulls out a bag of trail mix from his vest pocket and starts picking through, standing by the bathroom calmly. The brother to whom he just broke such detrimental news - that his sister, has Marcus White of BOOB CHEESEs baby inside her, - widens his eyes until they're more like dinner plates. "Yeah, they've been talking for a while, man. You didn't know?"

"I- I just thought she wasn't interested in... guys... " All her time must be busy with balancing both school and work, plus her friends... how can she possible have had time to... But on the other hand, he realises that its a bit naïve to think that his younger sister still isn't interested in 'boys'. Part of it might have been wishful thinking.

Isaac barks out a laugh. Its a stale, dry sound that makes Jonah really uncomfortable. "She also went out with Tate. Had a bit of a thing for Sayid for a while, too... "

"What!?- "

"Jonah!" At Amy's exit from the bathroom, he calms down immediately and straightens up. She raises her brows at him. She nods into the bathroom. "She wants you."

Yep- it takes him about 2 seconds to fly into the bathroom... to find his sister still hidden in the cubicle. He sighs, pressing his hand against the door. "Y/N? Amy said you wanted me. Do you want me to get you something to eat? Its just, I'm the only one who knows your snack preferences... and maybe we shouldn't eat in here, cuz its kinda gross... but if you want to, that's cool too!"

She doesn't respond for a minute, silent apart from the careful peeling of tape from the cubicle door.

Then the peeling sounds stop. A moment later her voice, sounding small and tentative as if just saying this would open Pandora's box, slips out. "... how're mum and dad gonna react?"

Its a rhetorical question. They both know it'll be bad - and they'll like Marcus even less, - , but its said so he knows what she's worried about. He sighs and leans back on the door. "Well very, very badly. But that doesn't matter right now. I'll take care of them."

"How valiant." Her voice is still small, quiet. But she sounds less scared; She always believes her big brother. Even when she knows logically that he cant protect her from them. Not their parents.

"Well, I try."

"... hm."

___TIME SKIP, BACK OUTSIDE OF THE BATHROOM___

"She is not leaving that bathroom," Isaac shakes his head. Its been an hour, and they've all been in there with her a couple times but she has not left the cubicle. Not even peaked her head out. She hasn't even e a t e n anything while she's been in there. Its starting to worry them. "Maybe we should go get Marcus."

Immediately Jonah looks up from his phone - having been reading up on pregnancy. What is going to start happening to his sister, now?? - and shakes his head, firmly. "No, she'll tell him when she feels comfortable with it. We aren't doing that."

"Yeah, it isn't up to us." Amy agrees, while still looking like on a deep, unsympathetic level that is tired of standing here... she definitely wants to drag Marcus here. But she also knows that Jonah is, unfortunately, a n n o y i n g l y, right.

Isaac heaves a deep, frustrated huff and gets comfortable on the floor.

___TIME SKIP: 3 HOURS LATER___

Finally, Jonah breathes in a deep, exhausted breath and puts his phone away. That's enough of that. He's sufficiently disgusted. He looks down the hallway, out to the store. Then to Amy playing solitaire on her phone and Isaac drawing slowly on the ground. "... Well, I mean, it's Marcus's baby too, right? He should know... right?"

"Mhm,"

"Yep, that's right."

"And... besides, Y/N might need him, right? Maybe he could get her out."

"You make some good points."

"I just wish they weren't points we already mentioned." Amy looks up from her phone and turns it off, flashing an sarcastic, displeased kind of smile. "Earlier."

"Yeah well... " He rolls his shoulders, looking away from Amy's piercing gaze- god, her face is like a loaded gun with no safety. And he's totally into it. He coughs, then whispers. "So, who wants to go get him??"

"Not it."

"I would, but ah... nah. I'm down for the count, down here."

"So... me."

Amy nods, making a 'shoo'-ing gesture with her hand. "Yep, you, Jiminy Cricket. You made us stay here for hours- you go get Marcus."

Looking to Isaac for help, Jonah is just met with the deadest eye's he has ever come upon, so he eventually sighs deeply, wiping sweaty hands on his jeans. "Fff-fine. Wait here."

___IN THE WAREHOUSE___

"Uh, hello? Hi- have you seen Marcus anywhere? Wh- No? Well if you see him can you tell him I'm looking for him? Its about Y/N."

The warehouse worker with the nametag reading 'Nigel' that Jonah's never spoken to before in his life and who prior to his words, had the new deadest eyes that Jonah has ever seen, suddenly beams- a twinkle of evil mischief in his eyes. "Oooooh, cats outta the bag, huh?"

Jonah blinks. "What?"

"You found out about Marcus and your sister, and now you're gonna beat him up? I was waiting for this moment." Nigel clarifies, actively looking around the room for Marcus now as Jonah rushes to explain that no, that is not what he's here for. Please don't say that so loudly- "HEY RICO! You seen Marcus around?? Y/N's brother's here to deliver an ass beating." Half a second passes while Jonah's ears ring from Nigel's screeching before something new apparently occurs to the warehouse worker as his eyes widen and he turns again to who must be Rico. "And you owe me 20 bucks!! Told ya he'd come!"

How often is Y/N in this place? Just seems weird, these guy's saying her name so casually... Jonah's forehead crinkles in thought as Rico rolls his eyes and groans, walking off to assumedly find Marcus. I'm learning a lot about my sister, today... Not sure how I feel about it...

Jesus Christ, has she eaten the cheese, too??!

Jonah doesn't get a moment to panic about that particular bit of nightmare material before he realises Nigel is still standing, awkwardly now, arms straight at his sides and eyebrows raised expectantly, right by him. Watching him, instead of returning to his job. Jonah raises his own eyebrows back; Shrugging. Like, what?? What do you want?

Nigel just just shrugs and shakes his head back passive aggressively, crossing his arms. Like, he doesn't know. Fine, we'll just stand in silence, then...

"Jonah! What's up, buddy? Visiting me in the warehouse- this is so nice! Want me to take my break now, cuz we totally can. Just let me wrap one last thing up and then we'll be back in my car, together. Listening to tunes; Ya know. Guy buddy stuff." T h a n k f u l l y, Marcus seems to rush from wherever he was in the depths of shelf-land when Rico apparently found him and cuts off the awkward stand off between the two men, dropping a hand on Jonah's shoulder and beaming. "What up, man?"

Quick to turn away from Nigel and get to what his mission really is at the moment, Jonah graciously ignores the touchy greeting... despite the awkwardness on his end and the fact that Nigel is still there, watching.  "Actually, I wanted to talk about, uh, Y/N."

Marcus' eyes immediately widen and his eyebrows raise, taking his hand off Jonah in favour of ringing his hands and stepping back nervously himself. "Oh, man... you found out, didn't you? Did she tell you? Cuz like, I know the bro code says its not cool to bone your friend's sister but- "

"Ah, ah, ah!" No, no, no, Jonah does not want to hear those words. No. "No, um. That's fine, whatever. Y/N's sexuality is her own. But- "

"Its a ruse, Marcus. He's here to kick your ass." Nigel insists, still very much there despite everything about this situation having nothing to do with him and instead just freaks Marcus out more as the warehouse head's eyes go even wider and he takes another step back- raising his hands in surrender.

"No, no! Nigel!- That's... no. I'm not here to kick anyone's ass! The asses here are all perfectly safe, I promise. Okay?" When Nigel's expression doesn't change a lick, Jonah gives up and just gestures off in a random direction. "Nigel, could you give us a minute, here?"

"What, so you can jump my boy here alone?"

"Alone?? Who's alone?" Jonah is getting increasingly irritated. "We're literally surrounded by other warehouse workers!! Ones who are actually doing their jobs, by the way. Maybe you should- "

Marcus finally intercepts and pats Nigel's shoulder, getting his attention from looking confrontationally at Jonah and smiles relatively softly at him. "Its okay, Nigel. If Jonah wants to kick me in my junk once- he's kinda entitled to it. Bro code and everything. Why don't you get back to work? I got this. Thanks, though." Nigel leaves, with that, but certainly not without giving Jonah one last greasy look over his shoulder and an 'Okay, Marcus. But call me, if... you know... '. Along with an extra evil squinty look at Jonah. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks bud. I know I can count on you." When Nigel is finally out of the picture, Jonah feels fatigued and just wants to get back to Y/N. At least its just him and Marcus now, though, so they should be doing that very soon. "So! What'd you want? If you really do wanna hurt me, then, can we go outside? By my car ideally, so I can drive the emergency room right after? Or you, cuz I mean... you're small, man. And I'll have to defend myself. Even if its fair. Its instinct, you know? You get it."

"I'm not gonna hurt you?? Why does everyone think- " What is wrong with people here? Do I give off a confrontational aura right now, or something??? "Ugh, whatever. Y/N needs you- she's been in the bathroom for 4 hours. We did try to get her out ourselves, but our attempts have been... l-lacklustre." Lacklustre? Okay, even he is surprised to hear that one come out of him.

"She needs... me? Like, she said that?" All of a sudden Marcus' expression changes. Worry wells in his eyes and his forehead creases, and he glances at the door out to the floor before returning to Jonah, looking restless now as his body fights with him to go, immediately. "Oh, what's wrong with her? Is she sick??"

"Uhh... in a manner of speaking... Look, I just think she needs to see you right now."

That makes the taller man move towards the door, clipboard dropped on a box on his way. "Of course; Right away man. Come on, lets go see her. So you really don't know what's wrong?? Should we pick up some root beer on the way?" Jonah follows behind, hand on his chin as he answers Marcus' questions. Wow... He did not expect such a response from him... He... kinda respects it, in a way. Its a pleasant surprise, at least.

___BACK TO YOU AND YOUR POV. God I hate third person. Its so hard, I want to cry___

"Y/N? You in here??" As soon as that voice registers in my mind, my heart beat skips in the worst way and I almost start to full on panic all over again, but thankfully instead just freeze and only widen my eyes. What the hell? The door to the employee bathroom closes as Marcus shuts himself in and you watch his boots appear under the door to your stall. "What's going on? Jonah couldn't tell me what's wrong with you," Jonah. I glare at the stall door. I'm going to kill him. "But I brought you some root beer for you- a total cure all. I promise. And some (Enter your favourite snack) cuz I know you like them. Here," He stretches up and holds the items over the stall door, and, feeling genuinely touched that Marcus was sweet enough to bring these, I get up off the toilet seat and accept them from him.

"Thank you, that's really nice. I'm... not sure, that the root beer will fix this, though." I speak carefully, sitting down and holding the items in my lap close to my stomach.  

"Course it will! I poured some in Mateo's ear once when he had an infection... I think it worked?"

Probably not. "This is a lot bigger then an ear infection... Kinda permanent, too?"

"Oh god, is it cancer?" He pauses for a moment but before I can put that particular worry at rest... or remind him that cancer is not always permanent... he makes it worse, and I fight not to facepalm. "The plague??! Its still a thing, you know. Jesus, its not that is it? Please tell me its not that! That would be the worst!" I mean... yeah, it would.

"Oh- no no! No, nothing like that!! I'm just pregnant!"

... wait.

Immediately I want to take back my words and say them differently- because is that really the way I just broke it to him?? Oh my god. My hand slaps over my mouth- then pulls back an inch to speak again, but is definitely on guard to slap again and prohibit anymore stupid to come out. "I mean! ... N-no big deal?" My voice gets tiny. "At least its not the plague, right?" I'm just making this worse, so I cover my mouth again.

Marcus does not respond, and I can imagine his face crystal clear, without having to look. He would have his mouth hanging open like a cartoon character, his shoulders have dropped, eyes are blank, and he's pale as hell. Oh god... oh god oh go oh god... I cover my whole face now and just try to breath evenly, and not talk anymore. I was right! He's not going to even like me anymore, this is going to ruin how he looks at me- I cant have Marcus look at me coldly. I really cant.

Finally, a few minutes later the door to the bathroom creaks open again and I know it's not Marcus escaping because I can still see his boots under the door and they haven't shifted in a while. Amy's voice rings out, too loudly in the stock silent bathroom. "... everything okay in here? We haven't heard anything in a while- Marcus?"

He doesn't respond.

I hear Amy walk in now, her heels click-click-clicking on the tiled floor. "Marcus? Marcus, are you okay?" She snaps her fingers, assumedly near his unresponsive face. I slip my fingers down to just cover my mouth, straining my ears to hear any movement from him. "Wake up!" Another snap. "Marcus wake up."

All of a sudden I hear shifting and his boots shift slightly and I squeeze my eyes slowly shut- now he speaks. Now's the part where he speaks. Now's the worst part! He either leaves, or stays. "Uhh... I'm awake, okay?"

...

Amy and I are both startled by the seriousness in Marcus' voice- Amy evidently in the way she responds, backing out of the room. "... Okay! Um, well talk. To Y/N. I'm... just gonna... wait outside... "

Marcus just grunts in response, turning back to my stall door. Then he wraps his knuckles against the surface and I flinch- unsure whether to unlock it and be a grown up or stay hidden away like I really, really want to. Its not like I'm afraid he'll hurt me or anything, not at all! Its just... I don't like to disappoint people and I'm terrified at seeing his face. "Y/N? Can you come out, now?"

"Ummm... no... " I wince, keeping my eyes closed to the world. As if that'll hide me from it.

"No???" He asks, bewildered.

"No... "

Marcus' voice isn't at all as cold-serious as it was when he spoke to Amy, but still. There is still definitely an unfamiliar focused quality about it, and its making me nervous. "What? Come on. What do you think's gonna happen? I'll yell at you? Come on, that's not gonna happen; Come out. "

"I'd really rather stay in here... " I fire back.

"Don't be scared of me." He really does sound trustworthy... but that fear, man; She's one unrelenting bitch.

My voice goes high pitched when I answer, too vehement to be the truth. "I-I'm not! Silly! Why would I be scared of you??" My eyes open up again and I just wince. Such a liar.

"Aghh... " I just listen to him shifting around out there looking for something for a bit, or thinking of what to say next, while I myself sit and think comfortable that there is nothing that will make this worse, seeing as I'm safe and sound in this toilet stall... before his boots disappear from my vision under the door and I hear him disappear out of the bathroom then return again almost immediately, going into the stall beside me and putting something down on the toilet seat in there.

Oh my god- he wouldn't dare! He would not-

Then all of a sudden he's climbing over the wall and I have to jump off the toilet seat and press closely to the stall door, root beer and snack still hugged in my arms like teddy bears. Marcus eases himself over the wall and onto the toilet seat before my eyes, then jumps off it to the tiles again in front of me, while I gape wide at him. "I- what- Marcus!"

"Well you weren't coming out! It was my only option!" He exclaims, and now that I see him I do relax a bit. There's no coldness in his face now, and there is certainly no unfamiliar, unfriendly seriousness, either, seeing as the man just climbed into a toilet stall to get to me. Very Marcus-y. I slowly let out a relieved breath, which is still also a 'calm down' breath as the pressure is certainly still on. I can see him, but he can also see me.

Eager to avoid the issue at hand, I snap. "You might've kicked me!"

"No, I wouldn't have." He makes a defensive 'pshhh' sound immaturely, waving me off with a hand before resting them both on his hips and looking right at me. I give him my own dubious look right back- What makes him so sure??? He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, anyway." Suddenly, a beautiful big smile spreads across his face; the kind that still makes me a little bit weak and almost forces me to smile back. Even now, in this situation. "This is great."

And then I'm speechless, mouth closed and eyebrows furrowed together. ... Great? What? Quickly he moves to clarify, before grinning that goofy grin of his. "The pregnancy! Man, I've seen enough girlfriends get pregnant over the years... its nice to see one having my baby." A moment passes and my system is just registering this reaction - not even relieved, yet. Just in shock and a little less anxiety, - before he drops his smile, raises an eyebrow, and adds: "It is mine, right?"

Still shocked, I answer as if the question was more on the lines of 'That was my cupcake that I just ate, right?'. Meaning, probably too casually. "Oh- oh, yeah! Abs- absolutely." He doesn't seem to mind.

He beams again. "Great! We'll be awesome parents- that is assuming you wanna keep the baby, right?"

"Uh... " All I want to say is yes, right now. Even as the complications of raising a baby right now linger in the forefront of my mind. But at the same time I'm looking at Marcus and I just want to. I want to have the baby, and I want to do it with him... in the moment, he's the absolute perfect person to do it with. I choke out, "Yeah."

He fist pumps the air at that response, and finally the relief starts to settle in my stomach and my heart... a smile grows on my own face. My eyes even get a little watery with the powerful relief. "YES! That's right, I'm gonna be a Dad. Whoo! We gotta tell everyone. But how, do you think? Should we get a cake or something that says it in icing?? Or should we just go out there and announce it over the speakers? Or should we just not tell anyone? Cuz on the one hand, I wanna tell everyone- but on the other... I don't really want Carol to know you're pregnant. That could be bad."

"Um... " I don't even know what to say. I just want to hug him, so I do. I step forward and wrap my arms around his middle, burying my face in his coveralls and the body I've become so familiar with over the past months that smells so uniquely - and not always so pleasantly, but definitely comforting,  - like Marcus and squeeze tight, closing my eyes. He smells like that 'new furniture' smell that's really just 'warehouse', and an unfamiliar home, and a little bit of B.O.

Thank god.

Amy was right. Of course she was. Even when I was stressing, I knew the image I had of Marcus getting mad about this didn't feel quite right, but... you have to prepare yourself for the worst, you know? I'm just so glad he's the way he is though, as he wraps his arms around my shoulders in return and bends his neck to press his cheek to my head. "I'm really happy about this. And I know we haven't figure anything out. With us, with money, with anything actually, but... we will, okay? I'll do my best, I promise."

"... Thank fuck." I chuckle, although its muffled and get a similar sound from him in return. "I'm really happy, too." He rubs my back in that rough, comforting way that guys do and I might as well melt; He's too wonderful. I bite my bottom lip, thinking my next move through before taking a deep breath and deciding to take the plunge and ask. "... hey... um... b-boyfriend?"

Marcus immediately pulls me back and holds me at arms length, a crazy-big grin splitting his face. "Oh, yes! This day just keeps getting better and better; Come on, we definitely have to tell everyone this, lets go." Excitedly, he slips past me and unlocks the stall door finally, but pauses and turns back to me before its pushed open at all. I tilt my head in curiosity- what's up? "Unless... congrats sex?"

...

Oh my god- a snort, transforming into a laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. I pull him closer by the front of his coveralls, grinning at both the idea and how silly he is and gently tug him down closer to my level. I close my lips and knit my eyebrows together understandingly. "... How about you come over after work? First we should probably deal with the others? You know, the ones hanging outside right now?"

"Oh, yeah, probably. Oh man- I'll be basically related to Jonah now!" Oh- well- not exactly but... okay fine. If it makes the guy happy. "Ha ha, look forward to seeing this face every Christmas, bro." Oh boy.

I just grin at that - Goodluck Jonah, - before leaning up the rest of the way and pressing a careful kiss to Marcus' lips which he immediately returns with enthusiasm, hands abandoning the stall lock and collecting my waist instead.

This is going to be okay.

It will work out. I hope.

BONUS:

Later in the breakroom while Marcus is busy with talking to some of the other Cloud 9 employees about the news, Jonah takes the seat next to me and I raise my eyebrows at him- he's obviously dying to say something. I know my brother at least that much. He sighs.

"So... you... haven't eaten the cheese, right? I mean, I have but I'm hoping you haven't been put through such, uh, cruel and unusual torture... "

"Oh, no. Absolutely not. I managed to convince him it was cannibalism for women." I grin, returning immediately to my Cloud 9 Caesar salad as Jonah sighs long and hard in relief, relaxing back into his chair.

[backofthebookshelf]

a 177 episode tag

There's no real way to judge time, but it's very soon after they leave Wonderland House that Jon feels the pull of another statement. "Really?" Basira says, and Jon shrugs and tells her, "I don't exactly have any control over it."

"Sure," Basira says, curt and disbelieving, but he doesn't have the time or, frankly, the inclination, to argue with her.

When it's done and the tape recorder is turned off and safely stowed away, he realizes with a pang of guilt that he can hear Basira and Martin talking. He must not have gotten out of earshot properly after all, then. And then he realizes that the reason he can hear them is that they're both on the verge of shouting.

Basira sounds exactly like she used to, a tone of voice that almost makes Jon flinch. "You need to stop making excuses for him."

"And you need to stop acting like you know how you could have stopped all this! It was never about Jon. Jonah just needed someone to torture, someone to suffer every one of fourteen fears, so he could use them like a crowbar to pry open the universe. It could have been anyone! It could have been me! It could have been Tim! But it was Jon, and you know what, we're all lucky it was, because he's spent the whole time trying to be a better person!"

"He hurt innocent people," Basira snarls.

"He is innocent people. He wasn't out there because he wanted to make someone cry, he did it because he was starving and afraid. Haven't you ever fucked up and hurt innocent people? And maybe think before you answer that, because I've seen your police records."

Jon can't see Basira's face from here, but he can picture the sour look on her face. "There's a little bit of a difference, don't you think, between a heat-of-the-moment accident and destroying the world."

Martin sighs helplessly. "That's not – look, if you want to blame Jon, go ahead, but in that case you have to blame me, too, because if I'd stayed in the house while he was reading the statement I could have – stopped him, maybe. And you, too; he wouldn't have had that statement in the first place if you hadn't sent them–"

"That's not fair," Basira cuts him off.

"That's my point," Martin mutters, but just then he looks up and catches sight of Jon, who's apparently been edging closer to them without actually noticing what he was doing. "Finished already?"

The change in Martin's tone is...dramatic, and not really believable, but Jon does him the courtesy of ignoring it. He nods. "It's not much of a domain. Just – something of an edge case, really."

Basira gives him an assessing look. "What fear does this belong to, then?"

Jon frowns, trying to remember the statement; they're never clear in his mind, after. "It's – I'm not sure. Something of the Hunt, but something of the Spiral, too, I think? They're not always as clear as Wonderland House."

"I thought you knew everything."

He shrugs helplessly. "That doesn't mean I can explain it."

Basira shakes her head. "Sure," she says, that flat disbelief again that says it's not even worth her time to argue with you. "We ought to keep moving." She stalks off without waiting, and it's not entirely the wrong direction, so Jon just gestures for Martin to follow.

Which he does, taking Jon's hand and squeezing it tight, not letting go. Jon squeezes back, not interested in pretending it's not exactly what he needs right now.

They walk in silence for a long while, long enough for them to catch up with Basira, who drops back to trail them by several yards without a word. Martin gives her an exasperated look, and Jon finally feels the ache in his chest that's been there since the overheard argument, that he's been trying desperately to ignore.

When he does finally speak, he can't find a way to make the connection, hoping that Martin is still thinking as hard about that argument as he is. "I am a monster, though," Jon says very quietly. "You know I am."

Martin heaves a frustrated sigh, then squeezes Jon's hand again before shifting his grip to lace their fingers together and tuck Jon's arm under his own. It's a little awkward to walk this way, but he can't pretend the comfort isn't welcome.

"I know that," Martin answers finally, quiet and resigned. "But there's more than one kind of monster, and you've never been the worse kind."

Jon considers that silently for a long moment. "I'm not so sure about that," he says finally, the pure and honest truth. He has no idea what to think of himself any more.

"Well I am," Martin says firmly; and then, softer, "I love you."

"I love you," Jon says back, grateful, and decides he's not leaving his place here tucked into Martin's side until something makes him.

[cirrus-grey]

Also hi this one isn’t a question (and it turned out very long, sorry) it’s just that I’m still so frustrated by the fact that the show states over and over throughout its 5 seasons that everyone’s choices matter regardless of intention or prior knowledge, that you can’t deny the choices you made after the fact, that the choices you make impact you and everyone around you just as theirs impact you in return. Jon chose to keep digging, Jon chose to wake up. Daisy chose to take advantage of the system as a cop to hunt. Martin chose not to kill Jonah. They were all so clearly shown to be choices the characters made as themselves, and even if context and circumstances played a role, the choice was still theirs in the end. Even the girl in ep 114 explicitly says “obviously it was my decision” right before walking into the basement and getting yanked into another universe! It wasn’t her fault that she got pulled through but it was still the result of a choice she made! There was just so much writing and work that went into that theme and I absolutely adored it but then the web reveal happened and annabelle suddenly said they knew that jon was going to be the best person to cause the apocalypse before the age of 8??? That they marked him and guided him his whole life because they looked at him as a child and Knew He Was The One?? I hated that. He hadn’t even begun to make his choices yet. The choices are shown to be the thing that matters, except here all of a sudden they don’t, and Jon was just innately perfect for the job from the get-go. I would have liked it if the mark was accidental, or if the web made an effort to mark a whole bunch of kids and then waited to see which one grew up (and made the right choices) to be the best fit for the job but that’s not how they wrote it. It was literally only one line vs 5 seasons of a solid theme but it just felt so wrong when I heard it and it still feels wrong now and I have not gotten a chance to spell it out until now, so thanks!

Hi I know this isn't a question but I'm going to answer it like one anyway because it's something that I, and many other fans, had to grapple with after that episode as well, and the conclusion I've come to is:

You're right. It's one line, spoken by the antagonist, against 5 full seasons of plot and theme development.

Annabelle is lying through her teeth to freak Jon out.

She talks way too much about how plans need to be flexible, and how she's had to change her strategy time and time again, for him to have been the only option. Heck, she didn't even get into the game until she was in university and even then she was still debating using TV instead of the tapes! How the hell was she planning on getting Jon into a TV show if he was the only option the Web was working with???

So, yeah. I think it's extremely like that the mark was accidental, or there were a bunch of potential kids, and (as the meme says) it just didn't come up because it wasn't relevant to Jon's journey.

[solarsunsimagines]

PROPOSAL

Pairing:  Jonah marais x genderneautral!Reader

Warnings: None Request: Nope

MASTERLIST

——————————————————————————————————–

It was a normal Saturday date night, nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the hours before we left, but as soon as we entered the car, Jonah became extremely fidgety, and overly excited, to a point that I was worried about our safety on the road.

Jonah and I had a tradition of making time for each other on Saturday, no matter what was due the next week, or what had gone on during the days before, we always spent Saturday together. This tradition had become a staple in our relationship, and it had seemed to work so far, as we were now together for 5 years.

Jonah and I had become serious over the last two years, as it was in those two years that we started thinking about our life together, so when the conversation of us movining in together came up, we instantly said yes and got our own place. Although it was a shock to live with Jonah at first, I've gotten used to our schedule, and I definitely wouldn't have it any other way. Although I am perfectly content with my life right now, I do feel like Jonah and I could take our relationship to the next level, but I don't want him to think that I'm forcing anything onto him. It is probably something I should bring up soon, so that we're not 60 and still only dating.

"Why are you so fidgety all of a sudden?" I ask him, he refuses to turn his head toward me, making sure all of his attention falls soon the road.

"I'm not fidgety, I'm just nervous." He says quickly, leaving no time for him to think.

"Why would you be nervous?" I slightly laugh at him.

"Oh, I don't know because asking your best friend to marry you, is kinda nerve racking." I look at him in shock, knowing that he hasn't entirely realized what he just said. He still refuses to look at me, but slowly pulls the car to the side of the road, and parks it.

I watch him as he looks down at his hands, clearly embarrassed and ashamed for letting his guard down enough to ruin the surprise.

"Yes." I whisper, while looking at him.

"What?" He matches my volume, and finally turns to look at me.

"Yes, I'll marry you." I smile at him, watching as his eyes widen and a huge smile plasters itself onto his face.

"Are you serious?" He stares at me, trying to find the slightest hint of hesitation.

"Of course? Although, I did expect something a little more romantic." I tease him. He puts his hands onto his face and lets out a loud groan as I laugh at his misery.

"I had a lot planned, everything got so stressful that I just let it out, without realizing." He speaks, his hands still giving most of his face.

"Hey." I pull his hands away from his face, holding them in mine as I look into his eyes with a smile. "No matter how you did it, it's perfect, and I seriously love you,"

"I love you too." He leans forward and gives me a kiss. "I guess you want the ring now?"

"Nah you can keep it." I say sarcastically, he gives me a smile before reaching into his suit pocket and pulling out a black velvet coated box. He looks at it for a moment, before looking at me, while opening the little box to reveal the most beautiful ring that I've ever seen.

"I know it's not the most romantic, or special, but at least it's unforgettable?" I smile at him, and pull him into another kiss, as I laugh at his goofy side.

I watch as he pulls out the ring, his hands still slightly shaking from the nerves, and places it onto my hand.

I stare at the ring, not entirely believing that I'm engaged. It was like I was in a trance, staring at the engagement ring.

Suddenly Jonah and I are both pulled away from our own world, as a loud banging was heard from his window, as we look over, we see the other 4 boys of why don't we, standing there with smiles bigger then I've seen before.

"Why did you stop the car?" Jack asks, knowing exactly what had happened, as he probably already bet the Jonah would spill the beans before he was supposed to.

"I spilled the beans." Jonah says with a smile, not actually embarrassed about his mistake anymore.

"You owe me $50!" Jack yelled in Corbyn's face, before he ran back to his car, parked behind us.

"Good to know they're making bets on our relationship already." I laugh along with Jonah.

We ended up going to all the places that Jonah had planned out, but instead of just us two, the other boys tagged along as well, at at the end of the night - when Jonah was supposed to propose - Jack ended up proposing to Zach, in place of Jonah and I.

Needless to say, this night was one to remember, with the amount of giggles, jokes, absolute failures, and unforgettable memories, it definitely was one for the books.

[fa-headhoncho]

Fuck Iron Man

platonic!Peter Parker x Reader, platonic!Tony Stark x reader

Prompt: Literally this tiktok

Word Count: 979??

Reader: Gender neutral

Warning: underage drinking

Author's Note: I saw this tiktok and thought this would be so fucking funny if it was Tony instead so here it is.

Masterlist

=====

Walking into the large suburban house is like taking a step into a cliche high school movie. The music was blaring, the bass vibrating through your entire body, the smell of sweat and Axe spray overloading your nose, and the pulsing LED lights almost blind you. Every kid you’ve seen in the hallway all cramped into the house of John Jonah Jameson III, aka the son of the most hated publisher of the Daily Bugle. His parents were away on some trip and, of course, the teenage boy jumped at the opportunity to throw the “best party that Midtown High will ever see”.

“I don’t think we should be here, (Y/N).” You hear Peter mutter from behind you, reaching out and tugging you like a child fearing losing their parent in a crowd.

“Come on, Peter.” You sigh out, turning around to face him. He was hunched into himself, a nervous expression on his face as he takes in the unfamiliar environment. “Relax a bit, one night of fun won’t hurt you.”

“But this guy’s dad literally hates my guts, what if--”

You shake your head at him, resting your hands on his shoulders to cut off the rambling before he gets the chance to start it. The brunette freezes on the spot, staring back at you with his eyes wide and his mouth open, “No, this guy’s dad hates our Spider-friend, not you.” You correct, “All they know is we’re two completely normal teenagers who don’t have superhero alter-egos attending a completely normal high school party.”

Peter lets out a sigh and nods, his body visibly relaxing at your words. A smile appears on your face at the action. “Now,” You pull your hands away and start leading him down the hallway, “let’s see if our friend’s spidey senses will win us a game of beer pong.” You suggest with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

=====

As the night went on, the group of teenagers migrated to the basement of the home. The nicely decorated family room was transformed into a mini dance club; the couches were pushed against the wall, the table that once held endless files of documents was covered by varieties of alcohol, and the surround sound was blasting Mr. Brightside for the fifth time that night.

The bodies bumping against each other go unnoticed as you scream the chorus with your classmates. You don’t even notice your beverage being splashed onto you every time you jumped. Your mind was empty, only fuzzy thoughts bounced around as all your worries disappeared with every sip of Budlight you took.

“(Y/N), (Y/N)!” You barely hear your name being called until someone appears in front of you. Their hand grabs your arm, trying to ground you back into reality. You blink your eyes, trying to get rid of the black spots that dance around your vision before you focus on the person.

“Oh, hi Petey!” You let out a giggle, finally recognizing the brunette. His worried expression goes completely over your head as you stare back at him. His mouth moves but you can’t hear anything come out. You squint your eyes and try to read his lips but all you can make out through your hazy state is;

“Something… something… Mr. Stark.”

Your ears perk up at the mention of your boss. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to piece together why he was bringing the old man up. That guy was a buzz kill, always dragging you off to last-minute missions and taking up all your free time. “The price you have to pay to be a hero”, his words echo through your head.

Now appalled at the idea of the man ruining the one night you’ve gotten off in months, you shout out the first thing that comes to mind. “Yo, fuck Iron Man!” You scream out with the confidence of someone who wasn’t grateful for the hero to take them in and give them everything they asked for.

It’s as if the music has stopped and everyone had heard you. From a distance, you can hear someone echo your words. Then, it was like the group has come to an unspoken agreement, everyone starts yelling “Fuck Iron Man!” at the top of their little underage lungs.

A sense of gratification washes over you, proud that you started such a strong movement in the basement of drunk teenagers. Peter’s eyes widen as he watches you make your way over to the coffee table in the front of the room.

You stand with your back straight, fist raised in the air while the other holds a red plastic cup. You lead your new militia, chanting “Fuck Iron Man” with your full chest. Not even noticing the music has indeed stopped and people’s focus has shifted to the staircase.

Thinking they were waiting for you to say some choice words, you start your heartfelt speech. “For months, I’ve been holed up in the tower, doing Tony Stark’s dirty work! (L/N) do this, (L/N) do that, (L/N) have you completed your twenty missing assignments. No, I have a life! I’m still young! The old man has me on a leash, now look at me now, Tin-Can! I’m livin’ the dream!”

No one responds which causes your shoulders to drop. You were expecting cheers of agreement and excitement. Confused, you follow their gaze to the bottom of the staircase and your heart drops out of your ass.

All the alcohol in your blood stream seemed to evaporate as you see the Iron Man standing there. He had just heard about a hundred teenagers shouting profanities against him followed by his trainee’s revolutionary speech... he was astonished.

You gulp at his stance, knowing it too well. He had his arms acrossed his chest with one lazily holding his glasses to his lips, nibbling at the arm of it.

Oh, you were fucked.

“Mr. Stark, sir, I—“

“No, no, continue. Don’t stop on my accord.” His cocky voice sends shivers down your spine, “Tell me how you really feel.”

[isoldmysoultojonahclemence]

THISSS

Jonah’s 4th mini talk on the Ikerev TW server is out!!! In case you didn’t know, that was the one with Lancelot talking about Jonah’s tears! And I had so much FeELiNGs after reading it.

I rarely do full translations of something. I normally just pick out the most relevant screenshots and translate those. But this time, I’m going to go scene by scene, so spoilers under the cut!

...The first time I talked to Jonah was at a dinner party one day.

K, so now we know for certain that the first Lancelot and Jonah talked was during the evening. More specifically, it was at a dinner party. 

Perhaps the younger you are, the more likely you are to bully another person without scruple.

I guess the idea that the younger you are, the crueler you can be comes into play here. I wonder if this person ever regretted being so awful when they grew up? Did they maybe try to apologize to Jonah? That could be such an interesting fic idea tbh.

I discovered that a child, outside of the adults’ eyes, secretly used an innocent but cruel power against Jonah. 

Okay, so when I read that Jonah was bullied in his youth, I’ve always thought that there were a group of them. But here, Lancelot states that there was “a” child, in the singular form. So maybe it was only one kid who picked on Jonah and Luka? Or maybe there were others but Lancelot only caught one of them. 

Jonah had his head hung...even though those large eyes were filled with tears...

Jonah had large eyes when he was still a bby :3

He was still resisting that brutal and unreasonable power.

To tell the truth, I’ve always kinda thought that Jonah maybe just stopped trying to resist after getting bullies for so long??? Idk if y’all have ever heard about the term “learned helplessness,” but it’s basically when you fail at something so much you just stop trying. Jonah has probably failed at defending himself and his little brother before many times, but he was still resisting. And that’s honestly so impressive.

“I have no strength, so I can only endure it,” even though his words were resigned...

Aww...Jonah...

But a fire lit in his eyes that even his tears couldn’t extinguish.

<33333333333333333333333

...That was both my first and last time seeing his tears.

I found this to be kinda shocking. I kinda expected Lancelot to have seen Jonah cry many times, bc he’s not-so-secretly a crybaby (Lancelot even calls him this during his route). But I guess this is the only time that really counted? Like in other times we’ve only seen his eyes fill with tears, but maybe that time he was actually crying.

I couldn’t forget about the way he looked after a long time.

Ahhhhh this is so cute! I think we mostly focus on how their first meeting affected Jonah, but sometimes we don’t think about how it affected Lancelot as well! I mean like, if you think about it, no one had ever showed Lancelot affection before. His mother died when he was young, and his father was never really around. The rest of the people were too in awe of his position as the future King to ever really approach him. So like, Jonah could very possibly be the first person to ever show affection for him. You can also kinda see this by how overprotective Jonah is of Lancelot and how Lancelot rarely ever tries to stop him. Except when he goes too far, of course.

(also, enjoy a rare picture of lancelot’s closed eyes)

...Even more so when I discovered that he was the eldest Clemence, and that he will become my right hand one day.

The wording implies that Lancelot didn’t even know Jonah was the future Queen until after they first met, which means that Lancelot couldn’t forget about him even before he realized that Jonah is the Clemence heir. Also this probably means he asked around for Jonah’s identity after their first meeting uwu

Even though I rarely remember other people’s faces...but perhaps my young heart had understood--

AND HE REMEMBERS JONAH EVEN THOUGH HE DOESN’T TEND TO REMEMBER PEOPLE MUCH.

Those who understand tears...will understand strength sooner and clearer than those who don’t.

So I translated the word “坚强“ into “strength,” but it can also mean something along the lines of “tenacity,” “fortitude,” etc. But anyways this made me feel things. 

Ever since I first saw Jonah cry, I might’ve been waiting for the moment he becomes strong.

THIS ACTUALLY TIES IN SO WELL WITH THE THEME OF LANCELOT TELLING JONAH HE’S GOTTEN STRONG. Like in Jonah’s route where he fights Lancelot, or in the Never Let You Go story event where he fights Lancelot again. He loses both of those fights (I think), but Lancelot tells him this nontheless. LANCELOT IS HONESTLY THE MOST SUPPORTIVE FRIEND EVER AYYYYYYYYYYY

[izzielizzie]

life’s uncertain and sometimes it’s strange chapter one

okay this is the fastest i’ve written the first chapter of a fic like... ever but here’s the crossover i considered writing here!! i actually had a lot of fun, and it jumps around so feel free to ask me questions about anything that doesn’t make sense

song title from The Sun Will Come Up, the Seasons Will Change by Nina Nesbitt

Maeve

Wednesday, December 15

“Okay so remind me what the problem is again?” Luis asks me as he sits on my bed, watching me pack my bags.

“The island, Luis."

Luis stares at me and I sigh, crossing my room to curl up in his lap. His arms go around me instantly. “And, what, my love, is wrong with an island?”

I sigh again, stretching out so my head is on my pillow. “It’s cold. There’s nothing fun about an island when it’s covered in ice!”

“Can you even get to an island in December?” Luis asks, absentmindedly drawing patterns on my stomach. When my mother had told our family over dinner last week that she had been invited to a mansion unveiling by her former best friend - some vaguely famous guy named Archer Story who basked in the glory of being young and rich in New England along with my mother - Bronwyn and I had no say in whether we were going or not. Our father got out of it easily with an arsenal of work excuses, but no trips to New York City with friends will stop our mother when she’s deep in her planning mode. Especially if it means she gets to go back to being rich on an island off the coast of Boston.

“That’s what I asked and Bronwyn laughed at me.”

Luis snorts. He and my sister have never gotten along as well as Nate and I do, but it’s stopped bothering me at this point. “Well, Maevey,” Luis hooks an arm under me and lifts me up so I’m sitting. “It’s just one week on the weird ass island and then you get to go to New York City with the rest of us. What could go wrong?”

I grin, my bad mood ebbing away at the thought of spending a week with my boyfriend and friends in one of my favorite cities. “Ugh fine.”

“Good. Now are you really going to bring all of my sweaters?”

I laugh as Luis lifts me up so we can sort out the sweater ownership debate that’s lasted for nearly a year now. 

Aubrey

Saturday, December 18 

“No plans of swimming in that water I hope?” Uncle Archer asks as I look at the ocean from the balcony of Catmint House. Yes. The same one that burnt down over the summer. Gull Cove Island is essentially the same as it was when I moved back to Oregon in July, with the exception of the large manor. 

When the media asked Aunt Allison and Uncle Archer what they wanted to do with the remains of their childhood home, they hadn’t said anything, but in secret they both agreed that burning the ashes might be overdramatic, but most certainly warranted. Almost as if they had overheard, the Gull Cove Island Historical Society swept in and restored the mansion to its former glory, ultimately gifting the new building to Milly and I. Since Jonah North isn’t really part of the family, it’s not his.

“Who the hell would want that place?” he’d asked when we told him about the exclusion. Fair point.

“Hey, hey, don’t look so sullen,” Uncle Archer says, bringing me back to myself as he slips an arm around me. I hug him back with all my might. When I think about how close we came to losing him, I want to cry.

“Sorry,” I mumble into his shoulder. 

“Don’t be. Now I hear we’ve got a family of three coming from California today. The kids are around your age.”

“Fun,” I say, making a face. Uncle Archer tugs on my sweater sleeve. 

“Hey, their mom was my best friend. They’re probably good kids.”

Almost on cue, the doorbell rings. 

“That’s them?” I ask as I look down at the black car that - presumably - houses the family in question. Archer nods. “You go. I’ll find Milly and Jonah.”

My uncle fakes a punch to my nose as he saunters off. I giggle. Rehab has done him well. I watch him walk away, and then exit the balcony into the hallway. I turn left towards my and Milly’s room, staying close to the middle of the hall. It’s strange being in here after what happened over the summer, especially since it feels almost unrealistic that everything could be restored so quickly. But I guess the fire Paula started didn’t really burn down the entire house. Just like, half of the inside. If I pause for long enough, I can still smell the smoke. Or maybe that’s just my imagination. Sometimes I’m fine, and other times I feel like I’m back with the gun pressed to my neck. I felt so helpless then, and I never want to feel that way again. 

I knock on the door to our room, and I hear Milly and Jonah’s voices floating towards me, half giggly, half teasing. Whatever is going on in there, I do not want to see. “I’m coming in!” I call, pushing the door open with my eyes shut. “There is a person. Entering this room!”

I hear a crash, and I open my eyes to see Jonah perched awkwardly on the corner of my bed. Oh fun. At least they’re separated. 

“What’s up Aubrey?” Milly asks, smoothing down her hair. After spending months angsting about cutting it or not, Milly decided on a respectable bob. She looks gorgeous, especially now that it’s grown enough to be just touching her shoulders. She’s more dressed up for the occasion than I am in a red knitted pullover tucked into a pair of black jeans. I glance down at my faded grey crew neck and my blue jeans.

“Should I change?” I ask in response. 

“No way! You look beautiful,” Milly says, standing and pulling me to stand in front of the mirror. I look at my long blonde hair. 

“Maybe I should just braid my hair or something?”

Milly huffs. “Jonah!”

“You look adorable Aubrey,” Jonah says dutifully from his spot behind us. I glance over at him. 

“Easy for you to say! You look like a J.Crew model.”

Jonah grins. “Wow you just described my life’s ambition Aubrey,” he says dryly.

I grin and shake my head. I’ve missed this: being back with my cousin and friend. Even if they do spend a lot of time kissing each other. “Come on you two, the first guests are here,” I say, throwing my arm around my cousin.

Ezra

Sunday, December 19

“Ellery please stop bouncing,” I say to my sister. We’re on a train to New York City from Boston and Ellery is way too excited.

“Ez! I can’t! Do you know how many unsolved murders there are in Manhattan alone?”

“No. I do not.”

“And no one should!” Mia adds from the seats behind us. Ellery turns to see if Malcolm will back her up, but he’s asleep. Probably exhausted from dealing with her. 

Ellery is still looking super excited so I turn to her. “Okay, I’ll bite. How many?”

“More than 480. And those are just recorded homicides.”

“Shhh,” I say, shushing Ellery as I catch sight of a red haired girl looking at us strangely from across the aisle. “Sorry, my sister’s really weird,” I say to her. She looks around our age. She’s wearing a fashionable beige coat and a black cap, but something about the way she’s burrowing into the jacket tells me she’s not used to the cold.  There’s a boy sleeping in the seat next to her, whose hand she hasn’t let go of.

The girl smiles. “It’s alright! My best friend solved two murders once.” She pauses and makes a face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.” She shakes her head. “This is really odd, I'm sorry. I’m Phoebe Lawton.”

I grin. “I’m Ezra Corcoran, and this is my twin Ellery.”

Phoebe grins back. “Twins! That’s so cool. I don’t really know any twins.”

“Wait, can we go back to the part where you said your best friend solved two murders?” Ellery asks, leaning across me to look at Phoebe, who smiles a little. Mia groans from behind us. I turn to see her pull her headphones up over her ears. We exchange a look. Leave it to my sister to ask the awkward questions. 

“Yeah well, we’re from Bayview, California, and I don’t know if you’ve ever heard about the-”

“Oh. My. God.” 

I look down at Ellery, who looks as if she’s hit a goldmine. Phoebe looks startled but resigned. 

“We’re from California too, before we moved to Vermont,” I offer, surprised despite myself. The story of Simon Kelleher was all over California before we left, and if I’m not mistaken, I think I know who this girl is talking about.

“Wait so your best friend is Maeve Rojas?” Ellery asks. 

“Did someone say Maeve?” a new voice asks from the seat behind Phoebe. A boy who looks vaguely familiar with tan skin and wavy dark hair pokes his head into the aisle to look at Phoebe.

Ellery gasps. “You’re the boyfriend!”

The boy blinks slowly. “I… what?”

“Okay so in mysteries there’s always this boyfriend that is part of the drama but not really? And he like jumps around but he’s got a heart of gold and-”

“Ellery,” I hiss. “Let’s not reduce strangers to stereotypes please.”

“Murder?” yet another voice asks. This time it’s attached to a person the entire country knows well. Cooper Clay, pitcher for the Padres. Ellery takes a strangled breath. She looks up at me and I sigh. 

“Switch seats with me,” she says in her “don’t mess with me” voice. I happily oblige, pulling out my own headphones. Maybe Mia was right. Just leave this crazy girl to her own devices.