#like why did i put on sun glasses yesterday and thought of jake

[enha-stars]

twitter haunts me withstuff that makes me think of hee lol

https://x.com/lilbratriri/status/1771159050916336076?s=20

no this is SO real. usually gamer boys are a bit weird and stinky but hee is neither. and he definitely knows how to use his fingers 🤭🤭

[amyscascadingtabs]

the way you keep the world at bay for me

post-the set up, a.k.a jake taking care of hungover amy, hungover amy taking care of sad jake, and mac caring mostly about himself because he’s a baby 😌

read on ao3

Jake doesn't get a lot of sleep that night, and for once, it's not even Mac’s fault. It's not even due to the pizza parlor simulator game either, although he does play a couple of rounds when Amy's finally snoring next to him after ranting to herself about the babysitter’s club for a solid ten minutes, but not even that can fully distract him from the dull sense of doom that's made itself at home deep in his chest. 

This is bad. Holt wants to see him tomorrow, and Jake knows there will be consequences. There has to be. There should be. He made a mistake, and he's going to get punished for it, and there is nothing he can do but accept his defeat. He already knows what he has to do; the nerve-wracking thing is the fact that it's still hours away, and his brain is spinning too fast for sleep.

He really wishes he could talk to Amy. She's sleeping on her stomach with her mouth open, arms straight out to the sides like she’s trying to push him out of bed, but he still can’t be mad at her. He hasn’t seen her this drunk since before she got pregnant, and he’s seriously worried about the hangover she’ll be sporting tomorrow, but he also knows she did it for him. Because they’re a team. Because she trusts him, sometimes even when it turns out he was wrong.

He wrongfully arrested someone. The sentence keeps repeating in his head, appears pasted in bold font on the inside of his eyelids if he tries to go to sleep, and displayed in luminescent letters on the ceiling of his bedroom when he gives up and opens his eyes again. He should have known better, has learned his lesson time and time again since his early days of constantly glorifying his job and letting his impulsivity get the best of him, and he still made a mistake.

  /

He just wants someone to tell him it doesn’t make him a bad person. If only Amy wasn’t so drunk he’s scared to wake her up right now, Charles wasn’t so devotedly biased in all questions involving Jake’s role as a detective, and Mac wasn’t, well… so completely unable to grasp any of the concepts involved in the question.

Amy lets out another mighty drunken snore, and Jake hopes she will consider it a testament to his love for her that he doesn’t voice record it. He turns his head instead and picks up his phone to go back to the pizza game. Maybe just a few more virtual customers will be able to lure him to sleep.

 ~

 He must have fallen asleep eventually, because when Mac does start babbling to himself over the monitor, the morning sun is shining through the windows, and Amy’s stopped snoring. She’s only moaning uncomfortably to herself now, and Jake’s guessing from her strained grimace that the headache has kicked in hard.

“I’ll get you coffee and aspirin as soon as I’ve checked on Mac,” he whispers to her with a kiss to her neck, and he thinks he sees the hint of a smile as she reaches out for him in what’s probably an attempt of a pat on the back, but ends up more of an unintentional slap to his butt. Or maybe she’s still drunk, and it is intentional. It’s hard to tell.

  /

Mac may have no clue about what’s currently going on with Jake, but at least it’s impossible not to smile when he hauls himself up and rocks back and forth on unsteady feet in excitement over the fact that someone’s coming to get him. He greets Jake with that wide grin that shows off all of his four teeth – two up and two down, and they’ve kept everyone up at night for weeks, but they’re so pearly white and cute so maybe it was worth it – and a laugh that’s been Jake’s favorite sound on Earth since the first time he heard it.

“Good morning, bud,” Jake tells his son as he lifts him up in his arms. “What do you say we get you a bottle and mama some coffee? Hmm?”

“Bah,” Mac repeats. Jake decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and say it means he agrees on the bottle.

“Bottle, exactly. You're so smart,” he says, booping his little nose and smiling as it makes Mac giggle. “Let's try another one. Dada.”

There's a tense moment of them both just staring at each other, and then finally, his son goes,

“Bah.”

“One day,” Jake says with a sigh as he carries Mac out of the nursery. “As long as you say me first, okay? We’ll get there. We’ll practice.”

  /

He puts Mac in the high chair while he tries his best to work the coffee machine and the bottle warmer at the same time. It's trickier than to be expected on almost no sleep, but at least he manages to pour the breast milk from the freezer bag into the bottle and not into his coffee this time. He's only made that mistake once (fine, maybe twice, and he kind of liked how sweet it tasted but he's never gonna tell anyone), but he suspects Amy's never gonna let him live it down. He gets Aspirin from the medicine cabinet while he waits, and puts a couple of slices of toast in the toaster. His own day feels already pretty much beyond saving, but at least maybe he can improve Amy's.

  /

Though, when she stumbles out of the bedroom, still in her pajamas with her huge glasses and hair on end and looking like she's either seconds from being sick or going straight back to sleep, he worries whether she might just be beyond saving, too.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as she gives him one drained look before walking up to the couch and face-planting on it with another pained groan.

“I think I might be dead.”

“That's called a hangover, babe. I think you used to be familiar with the concept once upon a time, but I guess it's been a while.” Jake grins at Mac, who only reaches his chubby hands out for the bottle out in response. “Toast?”

“Do I have to?”

“It's going to help.”

“Fine.” Amy pushes her head off the pillow to look at Mac. “He's not drinking the milk I pumped yesterday, right?”

“I poured that out for you. I know they say moderate amounts of alcohol are fine, but, well, you were speaking British.”

“Good call,” Amy mumbles as he puts the coffee, aspirin, and toast down in front of her. “See, this is why I married you.”

Jake just hums, but he does smile to himself as he goes to grab his own cup of coffee.

  /

“I wish I could call in sick to work today,” Amy says between bites of toast, and Jake looks up from where he’s absentmindedly brushing crumbs off the countertop while finishing his own. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“I mean, you did very much go through contractions while managing an entire precinct during a blackout once. You could think about that?”

“No, this is worse than giving birth,” she states confidently, and Jake has to try very hard not to laugh. “Don’t tell my past self I said that. Or my future self if I ever give birth again.”

“Yeah.” He grimaces. “I’m pretty terrified to go, too.”

“Why?”

“Because yesterday? All of it?”

“Ohh.” Amy sighs. “Right. Maybe we should both just stay home.”

  /

Jake’s about to tell her how much he wishes that was an option when Mac drops the finished bottle against the tray, immediately starting to twist in his seat. Jake unclasps the belt and lifts him out before he manages to rock the chair – that kid’s shockingly strong – and Mac immediately crawls away towards the walker. He doesn’t use it to move yet, but he’s been pulling himself up with it for over a month, and the anticipation is high every time he lets go with one hand only to sit back down on his booty the next second. Sometimes Jake could swear his son does it for attention. At least Mac doesn’t seem to have inherited his impulsivity, Jake thinks, and then he’s back to beating himself up in his head.

  / 

“I just don’t know why I did it,” he mutters as he sits down on the floor next to Amy’s head on the couch. She nods slowly, and Jake takes it as a sign she might actually be able to listen to him now. “I should know better, right? These are, like... the kind of mistakes I used to make. I thought I’d gotten better at this kind of stuff. Smarter. Less impulsive. Less of a bad cop. But instead I arrested and tailed an innocent man, all because I thought I had a gut feeling and thought I was being set up.” He shakes his head. “I guess that FBI jerk was right about gut feelings.”

“You’re a great detective,” Amy says without missing a beat. “A lot of the time, your gut feeling is right.”

“That doesn’t excuse it. I still shouldn’t have done it.”

“No.” Amy sighs. “You shouldn’t have.”

“It sucked.”

“Yeah. It did. But there’s nothing you can do to change it now.”

“Do you think I’m a bad person for it?” The question comes flying out of him, and Amy frowns.

“Why would I think that?”

“Because it was a shit move! And because I’m definitely gonna get suspended for it, and that’s going to lose us money. And then we’re not going to be able to save as much for Mac, or pay for his baby music class or baby gymnastics. And then he’s going to end up broke and untalented and it’ll all be my fault, and then you’ll be ashamed of me and leave me and I’ll die sad and alone in a ditch.”

“And you don’t think you’re spiraling just slightly right now?” Amy asks. The smile on her lips is one of amusement, and it humbles him, bringing him out of his cycle of self-pity.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get a ton of sleep last night.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” she says, and that does make him feel a bit better. “I think you made a really stupid mistake. There's no getting away from that. I’m not happy about it. But… I know you'll take responsibility for it. That’s already a whole lot further than a lot of people care to go.”

  /

Her fingers brush through her hair, calming him as she speaks. The hangover has made her voice a little scratchy, Jake notices when she's this close. It reminds him of mornings after long evenings out before they were parents, a time that always feels far longer ago than it was. Sometimes he thinks everything before Mac might as well be another lifetime.

  /

“And we'll work it out if you do get suspended,” Amy continues, talking over the obnoxious melody playing from a toy Mac has found. “It's not great, of course. But we can save lots of money on daycare if you stay home with Mac. That helps.”

“Like a paternity leave,” Jake says. He does like that thought.

“Oh yeah.” Amy laughs. “You’ll be just like one of those hip Scandinavian dads who get to stay home with their kids because they live in countries where they don’t hate people for having kids. And you two can go to all of the cool classes and playdates together. You’d be the sexiest dad at baby swim class for sure.”

“Wouldn’t I also be one of the only ones?”

“Good point. Make sure to mention your wife a lot. But hey, Mac’s going to love it.”

 /

As if wanting to confirm Amy’s point, Mac crawls over to Jake and tries to climb up on his knees to sit in his lap. He does this sometimes when he’s playing on his own; retreats to their arms for a hug or a quick cuddle, only to try and wriggle out of their grip and go back to whatever it is he’s doing in the next moment. Jake thinks it might be one of their son’s sweetest qualities. Mac rests his head against Jake’s chest, almost hugging him like that, and he wonders, not for the first time, how a person that’s not even one year of age can make every other issue in the world seem so insignificant. Even if it's just for a moment, it's a pretty damn good moment.

 / 

Fueled by the most powerful motivation of all – their son’s love and attention – Amy sits down on the floor too, patting her knees.

“You want to come to mama, Mac?”

Mac squirms for a moment in Jake's arms, and Jake lets go of him. Using the couch as support, for a second it looks like he’s almost about to take a step toward her. Both parents gasp in anticipation, and it must confuse him, because he reacts by giving Amy a shocked look and sitting right back down on his butt. Jake laughs as their son crawls away again, heading for the soft building blocks outside the playpen.

“He's such a tease.”

“He gets that from you,” Amy says, and Jake huffs in mock-offense. “Are you sure we shouldn't just stay home from work?”

  /

Jake thinks of his upcoming meeting with Holt. He's been fearing it for so many hours now, and he's starting to wonder if the anxious anticipation might just not be worse than the meeting itself. He already knows what he has to do; the only thing left is to rip off the band-aid.

“I don't think it will make anything better if we don't.”

“Yeah.” Amy sighs, closing her eyes and leaning on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you too. And you should probably shower and put on makeup unless you want everyone to know exactly how hungover you are.”

“I know you're right, and I hate it.”

Jake grins and strokes her hair before getting up from the floor. “I’ll go get Mac ready for the day.”

  /

“Jake?” Amy calls out before he can leave for the nursery with Mac in his arms, and he turns around. Her voice is still a little hoarse.

“Yeah?”

“It's going to be okay, babe. We’ll figure it out.”

 / 

Jake brushes his fingers through Mac’s already unruly curls. He thinks of playground dates, the storytime for toddlers their library holds every Wednesday, and how much time he’ll have to make sure Mac says his name first now. Then he thinks of the bigger image; of daring to set a good example for this child, even when it's hard. If he wants the world to be a better place for his son, he's going to have to start by taking responsibility for his own actions.

“Yeah. I know.”

  /

For the first time that day, he dares to believe it.

[izzielizzie]

Chapter Three

Nate’s chapter is finally here! Sorry it took so long, but I hope the wait was worth it. And, as always, a big thank you to the very lovely @natewynoou​ for checking in with me, allowing me to steal some ideas, and being an overall great friend. Okay, here you go:

“How are you Nate?” My counselor asks me as I sit in front of his desk after school. I was called to his office to “talk about my week” which is a shit excuse since it’s only Tuesday.  I thought he wanted to lecture me on my attendance or my grades or some other crap he knows I don’t care about, but the look of actual concern on his face is telling me this isn’t that type of meeting.

“I’m okay,” I say cautiously. You can never tell what these people really want.

“Good, good. Yesterday must have been traumatic for you, huh?”

And there’s the ulterior motive. Simon. “Yeah, I guess so,” I say, crossing my arms. 

“You were one of the last people to see him alive.” A statement, not a question.

“Yeah, I was.” I can feel myself shutting down and putting up walls. This is starting to feel less like a conversation and more like an interrogation. 

“Interesting, considering your history.”

“My history?”

“You know, being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Damn. That was my excuse the first time the police found me at a drug transaction. I didn’t know Mr. I-already-forgot-his-name knew about that. I’m thrown off guard, but I don’t show it. I laugh a humorless laugh and cross my arms, settling in my chair.

“I guess so.”

My counselor searches my face for a beat before nodding. “You seem okay. I think this concludes our meeting, Mr. Macauley.”

I stand, thankful to end this strange meeting. “Thanks,” I say, walking past his desk to push open the door and make my way into the hallway. It’s nearly four in the afternoon, and I don’t know what to do with myself. I might as well just go home. I’m about to leave the building when I hear someone sniffling. I should keep walking. Some crying girl isn’t my problem, but I recognize the person sitting at the base of the stairwell. “Bronwyn?” I ask, walking towards the girl. Maybe she’s upset about yesterday? I mean, she did watch someone die. She seemed okay when I drove her home last night, but maybe she’s not. The girl stops sniffling and twists her torso to look at me. Huh. Okay, it’s not Bronwyn. It’s someone much worse.

“Nathaniel?” I cringe at my full name. But Maeve Rojas moved away before I insisted people call me Nate. 

“It’s Nate,” I say. Maeve snorts and pushes her gym bag off the stairs next to her. I suppose that means I’m supposed to sit next to her. I don’t though. I lean against the banister and look down into her freckled face. It’s tearstained, and her amber eyes are dull. I haven’t seen Maeve since she was nine, and she looks a lot healthier now. I wonder briefly if she still has cancer. But I can’t figure out how to ask that without sounding like a fucking idiot, so I don’t. 

“What do you want?” she asks me.

“You were crying,” I say.

“And?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

She stares at me, and for some reason, she cracks up. Like, full out laughing so hard she’s crying again. She doubles over and wraps her arms around her small body. Nate Macauley. Comedic genius. “Jesus, Nate, since when do you care?”

I don’t know how to answer her, so I don’t. I look at her for a moment before turning on my heel and stalking away. I push through the doors of the school and make a beeline for the parking lot, where my bike is parked. I have the urge to kick it, but it’s old and the only thing I own that isn’t broken, so I refrain. I’m about to climb onto my bike and stress drive around greater San Diego when someone calls my name. I turn, and it’s Bronwyn. Jesus. Just what I need: another Rojas.

“Yes?” I ask when Bronwyn approaches me. She’s wearing jeans for once, and it’s a little off-putting. She always wears dresses. 

Bronwyn stares at me for a moment, unsure. “I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out.”

“What?” Now I’m the one who’s unsure. In the past five minutes, every single thing I’d known about the Rojas sisters to be true is apparently not true. Bronwyn Rojas doesn’t want to hang out with a person like me. Her family made that clear five years ago when they slammed their front door in my face.

“Hang out? I could use a distraction.” I’m pretty sure my definition of a distraction is a lot more destructive than Bronwyn’s, but she looks desperate.

“Um, okay?”

“Great.” She stands there, staring at me, the sun illuminating coppery streaks in her dark hair. I stare back at her, and suddenly we’re cracking up. “This is so awkward,” she says, wrapping her arms around her body the same way Maeve did. It’s crazy how similar they are.

“It is,” I agree. I’m leaning back against my motorcycle. I straighten and offer her my helmet. “How do you feel about pizza?”

I’m laughing so hard the waitress is eyeing me weirdly. Halfway through an olive and pepper pizza, Bronwyn and I have fallen into a giddy, half drunk state that I haven't been in since I was a kid. There’s something about Bronwyn’s sense of humor that makes her endearing. Back when we went to the same elementary school, we were best friends, and I passed most of my time listening to her laugh. We’ve overlooked the awkwardness of our situation and relationship (or lack thereof) for just today, and I’ve got to say, it’s a little surprising that I can still feel so comfortable with her. 

“Nate, do you remember that day in gym class? When we played baseball?” Bronwyn’s glasses are tilted on her nose, and there’s a bit of crust in her hand that she seems to have forgotten about. She’s at ease in her chair, her legs crossed. She’s tied her hair up in a bun, and she looks beautiful. She always does, obviously, but now she’s just on another level. Maybe because I haven’t been this close to her in… forever. 

“Fifth grade right?” I ask this like it’s a passing time I hardly remember and not one of my favorite memories, the one I pull out of the box in my mind that holds the things that give me comfort. 

Bronwyn grins at me like she’s a teacher and I’m a student who finally understands the purpose of multiplication. “Yeah!” Her smile drops. “I think that was the last time we were all… you know.”

I know. It was the last time we were friends. And by we, I don’t mean just me, and Bronwyn, and Maeve, but Cooper Clay, Addy Prentiss, and Luis Santos too. The memory hits me, all of a sudden, of that day:

We were in gym class, the five of us. Maeve hadn’t been in school for years at this point, but she knew about all the goings on in that private school. Cathlic school was not my favorite, but my friends made it better. We were playing baseball, and much to Cooper’s chagrin, Jake Riordan was pitching. He only went to our school for a year, but Jake was the bane of Cooper’s existence. I have no idea why they’re best friends now. I was playing first base, which still baffles me. I hate baseball, and I suck at it. Luis was catching, which was definitely not a surprise. Bronwyn was up to bat, and one of the obnoxious boys on my team told Jake to strike her out. Normally, something like this would have made Bronwyn burst into tears, but for some reason, Bronwyn just smiled a slow smile that I’d come to learn meant danger. I could feel a swell of pride in my chest before Bronwyn had even done anything. I caught Cooper’s eye on third base, and we grinned at each other. We watched as Bronwyn swung, and made contact with the ball. Bron never had good aim, but the ball sped towards the boy (I think his name was Sean), and hit him straight in the face. Bronwyn might not have been a good baseball player, but she sure was a good actress. Her apologetic shock was so convincing that Sean had been sent to the nurse by the gym teacher and Bronwyn had been warned to keep her hits soft.

We had spent the rest of the day in suppressed joy, grinning at each other from across classrooms and laughing loudly, but not loud enough to draw attention, when we regrouped at lunch to tell the story to Addy, who had art class when we had gym. 

“We need to tell Maeve,” Addy had said as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“For sure,” Cooper had agreed.

Three hours later, we piled into Maeve’s hospital room, claiming our usual seats: Addy in the armchair, Bronwyn at the foot of the bed, Cooper on the spindly chair, and me on the window seat. Luis got the coveted privilege of crawling onto the bed next to Maeve, a spot we rotated between the five of us. We grinned at each other as Maeve laughed herself sick. Laughter was the best medicine, Mrs. Rojas had told us once when Maeve was really sick, and we’d taken that to heart, making Maeve laugh so hard and so frequently that she would start coughing until a nurse came running in. 

I’m brought back to myself, and see Bronwyn grinning at me again. “I miss that,” she says quietly, like she isn’t sure she’s allowed to say that.

“I do too.” I pause. “Thanks for offering to hang out.”

“You’re welcome Nate.”

[wonwoosthetic]

Jealous Of The Winter Soldier || Jake Gyllenhaal

Firstly I want to say, that I’m really sorry, that I didn’t post this request yesterday, but my internet wasn’t working and I couldn’t post anything, not even without Wifi (no idea what happened). BUT I’m still happy with how this imagine turned out and I even got to edit it a bit more :)

I also feel like this one is quite long, do you like imagines at that length or would multiple parts be better?

A Masterlist is going to come soon, probably today - I’ve been wanting to make one, but I never thought that I would have so many requests and imagines, so THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

Thank you for this request whoever you were, I hope you and everyone else enjoys it! :)

Request by Anonymous:  Can i get a jake gyllenhaal one where the reader and him have been dating fpr awhile but he gets jealous of readers friend sebastian stan since he’s around her all the time

Warning: none

Pairing: Jake Gyllenhaal x Reader, Friendship with Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 3,308 (My longest imagine EVER! :))

Jealous Of The Winter Soldier

You were slowly waking up with the sun shining very brightly through the window. The moment you opened your eyes you groaned and shut them immediately again. Assuming it was very early due to the light having an orangey colour, you got your left arm out from under the chunky blanket and reached out to your nightstand, where your phone should have been – but it wasn’t. You moved your hand around on the surface trying to find it, without opening your eyes, but that try failed – your phone was not there. You got annoyed thinking about having to get since your friend Sebastian Stan was coming over and you were still not sure about the actual time. Turning over onto your left side, you tried opening your eyes once more and got a good look at the sleeping figure of your boyfriend next to you.

A smile started to spread on your lips gazing at the peaceful look on his face. The small smile he held, made you even happier, but then you remembered you weren’t going to spend a lot of time together today because he had an audition for a new movie and you had a photoshoot for the Avengers: Infinity War poster, including a magazine cover and an interview with your co-star Sebastian Stan.

You turned around again onto your right side and slowly got up properly that time, trying not to wake Jake. You slid the covers to your left and stood up, turning around, you placed the blanket back, making it look somewhat neat. Next to your nightstand was the door which led to yours and Jake’s walk-in-closet – you opened it, got in and started looking for a comfortable sweater and deciding on taking one of your partner’s after only a couple of seconds. Men’s sweaters are just WAY comfier than women’s and that’s a fact. After putting it on, you exited your wardrobe and the bedroom, trying to close the door as quietly as possible. You went down the stairs and started to feel a bit chilly already. When you entered the kitchen you saw, that Jake had left one of the big windows ajar

“Of course, he did”, you mumbled under your breath. You got easily cold, but Jake loved the chilly feeling and tried to always leave a window or a door, that leads outside, open without you noticing and he got home a bit later the night before, so you hadn’t been able to check if they were all closed. You started looking around the room searching for your phone and found it on one of the counters, wondering why you had left it there. Turning it on, you saw it was only 6:30 a.m., but since you didn’t feel very tired you instantly decided to stay downstairs and maybe start a bit of cleaning. Starting with wiping the counters, to removing some of the soot on the stove, over to the dining room, cleaning the table. Lastly, you placed all the pillows on your sofa into the position, you wanted them in, making it look nice and homely, and quite a bit more.

After catching up to all those chores, the time was 7:50 and footsteps could be heard from upstairs, signalizing that Jake woke up and would be downstairs any minute, so you decided on starting to prepare breakfast. About ten minutes later the footsteps got louder, indicating your boyfriend was walking the stairs. While you were standing at the stove working on some scrambled eggs, strong arms wrapped around your hips and a kiss got placed on your shoulder

“Good morning, gorgeous”, Jake’s voice was still deep from his good night sleep.

“Good morning, handsome”, you smiled, moving your head into his direction over your left shoulder to place a kiss on his lips. He released his grip on your sides and looked at the stove

“What can I do?”, he proposed helping.

“Ehm…”, you started thinking, ”you could put some toast in the toaster and maybe roast some tomatoes?” He nodded “Thanks for that difficult task.” You started laughing and proposed something new, letting the sarcasm in your voice be heard “Alright, take the fish out of the freezer, start making some Blackened Bass, cook potatoes, turn them into a mash, go outside get some oranges in the freezing cold and press your own orange juice. Oh, and don’t forget to go the shop around the corner and get some dragon fruit from China.”

Jake’s hands flew up in a surrendering manner “OK, OK, I get it. Put some toast in the toaster.” The both of you were laughing at this point. That was one of the many moments you lived for – making breakfast with your significant other, laughing and making stupid jokes. You could do this every minute of the day, only to hear his laugh and see that bright smile.

You put the finished scrambled eggs on two separate plates and went to the dining room to place them on the table. When you got back into the kitchen, you saw Jake holding your phone and reading a message

“Found anything interesting?”, you asked playfully.

“Sebastian wrote you a text. Be ready at nine, I’m picking you up. X Seb”, his voice was deep and didn’t sound even a bit amused “Why is he sending you an X?”

You knew Jake was a bit jealous of your co-star and on-screen love-interest -  not because he told you, he probably never would, but because his mum told you, that he informed her about his concern. It did hurt you a bit to know that Jake thought you were cheating on him with Sebastian, even though you assured him every day how much you loved him, by telling him and every other time by showing him.

“Because it’s Sebastian and he thinks he’s funny”, you walked over to him, wrapping your hands around his waist and hugging him tightly, “You don’t have to worry about anything. Don’t be jealous.”  Jake scoffed and moved away from you “Pfft, I’m not jealous, are you kidding me? If he was Brad Pitt, maybe.” His comment made you laugh, yeah sure, he was NOT jealous. He put your phone back on the counter and got the rest ready for breakfast, taking the toast to the dining room. 

You snatched your phone back and sent Sebastian a quick reply “Very sweet of you, thank you – I’ll try my best 😉”, he always made fun of how long you took getting ready, so you decided to joke around with him a bit. After putting the phone back, not waiting for a reply, Jake came back to grab two glasses and some orange juice from the fridge. Before joining him, you got two mugs from one of the cupboards and filled them with coffee, which you brewed earlier and put a bit of milk in Jake’s – you drank yours black. 

You sat across from your boyfriend and tried to start another conversation

“What are you up to today?”, you already knew the answer, but he seemed very tense and you wanted to make him possibly think about something besides your co-star. Jake answered, not looking up from his breakfast 

“I have this audition for a new movie, but I’m not too sure about it. Evelyn and Kim say it’s gonna be something big – I doubt it.”

He had always been very careful with his choice of movie, but his manager and agent were pretty much always right about upcoming roles for him. You started eating 

“Oh yeah, that one set in the 1850s, right?”

Jake gave you a short and silent hum of a yes. Alright, you thought, he’s really mad and doesn’t want to talk to me – well done, (Y/N).

The both of you finished your breakfast in silent and cleaned everything up afterwards – you took your plates, and now empty coffee mugs and stayed at the sink, starting to wash them, while Jake went back and forth between your kitchen and dining room to put back everything you used to put on the toasts and your glasses, which had been filled with orange juice. When Jake was done and made sure everything was back in place, he walked up next to you, gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, and went back upstairs to get ready. 

Right after you finished cleaning, again, you shot a quick glance at the big clock on the wall behind your sofa in the living room – 8:38 – oh no, Seb will be here in twenty minutes, you thought and said out loud “Dang it!”

You rushed upstairs and quickly made your way to your shared bedroom to get dressed as quickly as possible, not really caring, what you picked out since you were going to get outfits to wear. Jake just got out of the bathroom through the door next to his nightstand, on the right side – you passed him and closed the door behind you. Walking over to your sink, you took your toothbrush and started brushing your teeth, right after being followed by putting on a bit of make-up, just to make you comfortable. After opening the door to walk back into the bedroom, your boyfriend wasn’t there to be seen anymore, but a knock on the front door from downstairs was able to be heard.

You ran down the stairs again, while hoping Jake wouldn’t get the door and would have to see Sebastian, but you were too late and he was already greeting the Winter Soldier that stood outside. You got to the middle of the stairs and shouted

“Good morning, Seb!”

He started smiling and Jake moved out of the way, positioning himself next to the door “Hey, how are you?”

You hugged him and gave him a little peck on the cheek as a welcoming and greeting manner, before moving towards your significant other, who stood next to the shoe rack, to quickly put on your shoes, but you realized that you had left your phone on the counter

“Babe, could you get me my phone from the kitchen”, you asked Jake, since you were ready to go and didn’t want to make a mess with your dirty shoes. He nodded “Sure”, and got your device within a couple of seconds, making it for Seb and you not possible to start a proper conversation. He handed it to you and you reached for it, but he pulled it away in a quick move while having a cheeky smile on his face – he was asking for a kiss and you knew it. You slightly got onto your tiptoes and placed a loving kiss on his lips, he was definitely in a better mood

“Have fun”, was the last thing he said to you before looking at Sebastian and nodding towards his direction “Good to see you, man.” 

Seb returned it with a “Good to see you too.” 

You were still smiling, whispering another “Bye” to Jake and closed the door after exiting your house. After reaching his car, he got in the driver’s seat, obviously not before opening the passenger door for you in a polite manner and you sat in the seat next to him. 

During the short drive, you laughed and joked about what was going to happen today, until he got curious as to why your boyfriend was acting a bit weird before

“What was going on with Jake today?”

You decided to tell him the truth, knowing he would totally understand, besides probably finding it a bit amusing

“I think he’s jealous of you”, you told him shyly. He started laughing

“Jealous of ME? Jake Gyllenhaal is jealous of me? Oh… wow.”

“Oh please, come on, you know, you’re not that bad looking”, you defended him because Sebastian was good -looking, but everyone knew, that you just didn’t have that kind of relationship with each other and never would have, including Seb and yourself.

The male actor next to you was then wearing a jokingly cocky smile on his face “Uuuuh, you think I’m good-looking? Maybe Jake should be jealous.” The both of you were laughing and you hit him playfully on his right arm. Him being Sebastian, he became the drama-queen he secretly was and acted as if you had just broken his arm.

A short bit later you arrived on the set, on which the photoshoot and the interviews were being held. After opening the door, you got up next to him and you started walking next to each other

“Remember, Seb. No spoilers”, you warned him beforehand, knowing very well how he, Tom Holland and Mark were just not able to shut their mouths. He tried defending himself and put his right hand on his chest, where his heart was

“I am in shock, how could you ever think about me like that, (Y/N).”

Not laughing pretty much all the time, was purely impossible when being co-stars with the Romanian actor and doing all the press junkets would be even harder. You got into the building very quickly and after entering, a woman was waiting for you to lead you around – to your dressing rooms and the actual set with all the cameras and backdrop. Seb and you got into your Infinity War costumes and met again in front of a white backdrop

“I’m so happy they’re making them more comfortable each year”, he said, talking about your characters outfits – and he was absolutely right.

“Yeah, I remember my first one being an absolute nightmare, I couldn’t even use the toilet.”

The photographer behind you started to laugh and told you and Sebastian to stand next to each other at first in poses he wanted us to and then in some, which we thought would be good. After that, we had to get pictures individually while each of us was trying to make the other one laugh behind the camera. 

The shoot was done very quickly, due to the rest of the staff members staying very professional and you soon got to take the costumes off and were handed slightly more comfortable clothes which still looked smart – yours being a navy blue suit with a white blouse underneath and his was a smart black buttoned-down shirt, a black leather jacket on top, a pair of jeans. Sebastian got to wear some sneakers, while you had to walk in heels, making him drop some comments

“Oh, how comfortable my shoes are. What about you (Y/N)?” or “I could run a mile and you?” and a lot more – all of them being funny.

The two interviews were sadly over faster than you thought – you were having a blast. They asked some very typical questions, like “Where do you think your characters are going?” and “How much Taylor and Bucky will we see in Infinity War?”

Some of the more random ones though, were a lot of fun to answer and you even played Would You Rather in the second interview:

(I: Interviewer, Y: You, S: Sebastian)

I: Alright, would you rather be able to fly or be invisible?

S: Oh, easy, invisible.

Y: Yeah, I’m gonna go with Seb. I have quite a big fear of heights.

I: OK, fair, fair. Ehm… would you rather be the biological child of Loki or Tony Stark?

S: That one’s more for you (Y/N).

Y: Haha, I guess. I mean… playing the biological daughter of Loki is quite fun, but I feel like being the daughter of Tony would be too.

I: Well, you kind of play that, don’t you?

Y: Yeah, of course! So, I don’t know… hm. To be honest, I enjoy being the adoptive daughter of Tony as well, because I think-I think, he doesn’t really care, whether you’re his biological daughter or adoptive, he would treat you the same. So… I’m gonna stay with Loki.

I: Very interesting, and you Sebastian?

S: Oh, I would go for Tony.

Y: Really?

S: Of course! What the heck would I do with a frost giant as a father?!

Y: The same Taylor does, enjoy her life being adopted by Tony Stark, AND being bad and having powers like Loki.

S: Yeah, no, that’s not something for me.

I: Is it not?

S: No, I’d much rather enjoy my life, knowing I’m a human and being a spoiled brat like a very specific girl in the movie.

Y: She is NOT a spoiled girl, are you kidding me? (laughing)

Sebastian nodded his head secretly, acting like you wouldn’t be able to see him, making the Interviewer laugh.

(!Quick Note!: I’m thinking about starting to write a fanfiction/multiple imagine series about what they just talked about, would you be interested in that? Or do you maybe want to know a bit more about the idea? Please let me know 😊)

The day went by fast and before you even knew it, you were back in Seb’s car driving back home. You reviewed the day and laughed at all the things that happened. When he pulled up at your house to drop you off, you turned body towards him

“Do you want to come inside?”, but he shook his head politely

“No, thank you. I think you should talk to Jake again and assure him, nothing’s going on between the two of us. And also… I’m the last person he would want to see right now.” 

That made you smile

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” You rose a bit from your seat to lean over and hug him “I’ll see you. Good night”

“Good night, (Y/N).”

After opening the door, getting out, and closing it again, you kept standing there to wave Goodbye. As soon as Sebastian’s car was out of sight, you started walking to the front door and since you forgot to take your keys, you had to knock, which you regretted the second you did it. Only a couple of seconds later, it got opened, revealing your boyfriend in only his sweats. While looking at him, a smile started to spread on your face

“What if I was a crazy fan?” That made him laugh as well

“Get in, it’s cold.”

“No way, Jake Gyllenhaal is cold. Wow, what happened while I was gone?”

He didn’t answer but walked upstairs to lay back down and try falling asleep again. You took your shoes off and decided to join him without eating dinner since you had already eaten something at the shoot. As you entered your bedroom, Jake was sitting on his side of the bed, waiting for you

(imagine him not having these wounds please (:)

“I’m sorry.”

You wanted to go to the bathroom, but stopped when you heard those words and slowly turned towards him

“What?”

He looked up into your eyes – they held a lot of grief and an apologetic look in them

“I’m sorry about earlier. About everything, everything I said… about Sebastian and thinking that there’s something possibly going on between the two of you.”

You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips – Jake was a very honest man, but he had never said sorry about something like that. Walking over to him, you placed both of your hands on either side of his face and made him look up to you

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s normal to feel jealous”, he rolled his eyes at your comment, “and yes, you are jealous – don’t try denying that.” You gave him an assuring smile “I just found it a bit disappointing, that you didn’t trust me.”

“I trust you”, he assured you. You nodded and placed a kiss on his forehead, which made him smile widely. As you turned away to take your make-up off and brush your teeth in the bathroom, Jake slapped your butt and smiled seductively at you

“Hurry up and join me in bed.”

You shook your head smiling and tried to hurry.

Wow, that was a long one :) did you enjoy it? How are the gifs? Too many? Not enough? Unnecessary?

Also, I’m really sorry for the delay, but I hope you still liked it!

Thank you for taking your time to read it! :)

I really hope you have/had a great day/night!

[alanakusumas]

Title: A Letter to Jake McKenzie (An Officer McKenzie fic, Slight JakexMC)

Follow along the audio post by reading Rebecca McKenzie’s letter here

Characters: Officer Rebecca McKenzie, Jake McKenzie, M/C Word Count: 2746 Summary: Rebecca thought he was out of her life for sure.  It’s been far too long.  Since he disappeared, she has mourned, stored away the memories, and moved on with her life.  That is, until a glimmer of hope resurfaced into her life, reviving her determination to search for Jake again. 

Author’s Note: The soundcloud audio and visual of the letter are just ADDITIONAL COMPONENTS!  You can still enjoy the fic without reading the letter or listening to Rebecca’s audio post.  The letter is in the story, just separated in chunks between Rebecca’s memories.  I just got really into this story so added a lil something extra. 

-------

“Okay, Becca, your turn!”  Your friends giggle excitedly between countless sips of wine. They all turn their heads to you, eyes glistening with anticipation with what’s to come.  “Truth, or dare?”

“Oh, you know me,” You raise your glass and shoot a wink at your friend who raised the question, “I always play it safe. Truth.”  A collective groan is heard amidst your circle of friends.  

“Fine,” She tuts, “If you had to pick just one, who is your best friend in the entire world?”  

Each one of them lean in, hoping their own name will slip out of your mouth, but in your drunken state you could not bring yourself to draft up some bullshit excuse solely to stroke their ego.  In truth, your best friend, who can never be replaced, is your cousin, your ‘brother’, your partner-in-crime, Jacob Lucas McKenzie.

“I-“ You begin, “It’s my cousin, Jacob.  Jake for short, and he calls me Reb,” You mutter the last part.  “We were born a year apart, him being a year younger than me.  We’re both only childs, so we consider each other siblings.”  A sudden wave of reminiscence sends shivers down your spine.  “I feel like it’s a mutual understanding between us, that despite whatever is going on with our lives, we’ll always be each others’ number ones.”  As those last few words slip through you, you begin to ponder whether that statement still stays true.  “He’s serving in the military right now.  It’s been eight months since I’ve last seen him,” You say, almost in a whisper, your heart twisted with nostalgia.  “I wonder if he’s okay.”  

You feel one of your friends rub circles on your back, reassuring you that it’ll eventually be okay, and you seize the opportunity to lean on her shoulder and shut your eyes tight, replaying and grasping onto any visual memories you have of your cousin, your best friend, Jake McKenzie. 

******

Your eyes flutter open, welcoming the dim moonlight, which glows through your window and lit up the ceiling you wake to.  

Ever since you shared that moment of truth with your girlfriends, nobody had heard anything from Jake.  It felt like you’d jinxed his fate.  

You remember exactly what had happened the day the news spread: the phone call, your aunt – Jake’s mom - interrogating you for answers when you certainly didn’t have any, you rushing to your room and searching every social media platform for clues as to where Jake is…It was a nightmare you couldn’t escape for weeks, months, and even to this day.  Everybody was certain that he was out of their lives for sure, and forever.  It seemed like that for quite a while.  

Until, just last week, an unexpected glimmer of hope appeared out of the blue. She persuaded you not to give up yet.

And you don’t intend to.

Exhilaration tingling your mind and soul, you swing yourself out of bed and walk over to your desk, switching your desk light on.  You grab your favourite black pen from your stationary holder and tear a piece of lined paper off your notepad.

Even though the chances your cousin might read this are slim, you’ve mustered up your anger and distress for way too long.  It was time to let those thoughts flow out of your mind and into the ink.  

My dearest Jake –

No, too sappy.  

Hey, scrub –

Would he appreciate that?  That the first words he reads from you after almost a decade is, “Hey, scrub?”

Jake –

You scratch that too.  This is not going well.  You snatch the paper from your table and crumple it up, ripping a fresh page from your notepad once again.  “It’s just another letter Reb, don’t overthink it,” You try to reassure yourself.

Hey, Jake,

It’s been eight years. 

I know you’re out there somewhere, that you haven’t abandoned us for the sake of abandoning us.  I always knew you had a reason, and I’m so glad I got to find out why before either of us disappeared off the face of this earth.  

I remember I was so heated when your mom called me, crying on the phone as she told me that you went AWOL.  I was blinded by my own selfishness, that it made me believe you betrayed us, that you betrayed ME.  

And I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.  I miss you so much.  I really, really, really miss you.  There doesn’t go a day where your whereabouts don’t cross my mind.  Family reunions have never been the same since you disappeared.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, and you allow them to flow down your cheeks, as there is no need to hold anything back this late at night.  

Remember when we used to play hide-and-seek with our cousins, and when it was your turn to be “it”, you never searched for any of them except me, and we would just sit on the swings and wait for them to come out an hour later, all pissed at us?  Those were really good times; I wish we could go back.  I asked why you picked me, out of all of them, to be your sidekick, and you couldn’t think of an answer.  All you said was, “You get me.”  

And I still do.  I get you.  I know you. And I hope you still know me too.

The scribbling stops short.  Jake probably doesn’t want to hear you spilling your heart out over and over again. You blink away the remaining tears. What would he like to hear about?  

 …Anyway…I joined the LAPD!  I attended and graduated from the police academy as soon as I finished college.  You actually inspired me to join, Jake.  I thought we could, you know, continue our misfit character arcs and be the dynamic service duo cousins in the family.  But that’s not the case now, is it?  

Despite our circumstances, I still love how things turned out for me, career wise. I work with a team of brilliant-minded people, and when shit gets intense down in L.A., there’s no doubt they know how to handle it.  Sure I’ve gotten roughed up a few times here and there, but I haven’t died yet, so there’s that.  Fun fact: I met Cassandra Leigh and Hayley Rose while on duty one time (almost got shot, but no biggie)!  I don’t know where you are, but I hope you’ve heard of at least one of them, especially pop sensation Hayley Rose.  (P.S. In case you haven’t heard, she got decapitated. Yikes.) 

You inhale deeply, allowing that breath of air to hold you still and bring your thoughts to a halt.  All of this…rambling is only delaying you from saying what you actually need to get out. What seemed like a brief moment in your memories, was in truth a battle of emotions you never imagined you’d have to face again.  

It seemed like yesterday, your phone buzzed and lit up at 3AM from a message request on Facebook.  You couldn’t sleep anyway, so you decided to check who it was from.  The bright light blinded you, but you made out the name, “M/C”. Her message was typed out like a plea, a last attempt for help.  

“Hi Rebecca,

I’m M/C.  I apologize because this may seem very out of the blue, and it probably is.  Please don’t click away thinking this is a hoax; what I’m telling you is the truth.  And for reasons you can figure out by yourself, I can’t be too specific.

…I have reasons to believe your cousin was the pilot who flew me to my destination two years ago.  I know, this sounds bizarre, and before you ask me “Which cousin?” A) It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, I can’t.  Not here. B) Deep down, you know which one. I’m not telling you this because I’m some random passenger who suddenly found an interest in the mysterious pilot who flew her to an island two years ago.  He was my friend, a close one at the very least, but he disappeared after I flew home (as you can figure out why).  I was wondering if we could meet sometime this month.  I’m sure you’d like some answers, and I want some proof that he’s not a figment of my imagination post-travels.  

However, if you’re at peace with your closure and don’t want to visit this subject again, I completely understand and apologize for interrupting your routine. I won’t contact you again.  

Thank you for your time.

- M/C”

 You bite down on your lip.  Jake didn’t usually post anything on Facebook.  However, the one time he made his presence known on social media, he made sure to drag you in it as well.

You’re the one who snapped his profile picture, the one he’s had up for over ten years.  It’s a candid of his seventeen year-old self; seated in front of you at your favourite local coffee shop back home.  He’s leaning forward, arms crossed in front of him as he glances out the window and onto the quiet morning streets of Shreveport.  The sun rays hit his face and grey sweater in two streaks, causing him to squint at the brightness that’s overshadowed him.  It was the perfect contrast from the mellow, dim lighting inside the café, so you seized the artistic opportunity and snapped the image of your cousin.  Little did you know, he would garner a liking to the photo as well, and ask to use it as his profile picture – not that you would mind.  “Photo creds, @Rebecca McKenzie,” he simply captioned it. That’s where M/C probably found you.

I met M/C last week.  She reached out to me on Facebook, after curiously searching your profile.  Don’t worry, she didn’t expose any information about you online.  She’s smarter than that (though you probably already knew).

I was hesitant at first, but I was also desperately clinging onto any last hope I had of you, Jake.  I put my full trust in her – this stranger who messaged me on a whim - and she returned it ever-so graciously.  

Do you wanna know how M/C looked, when she walked into my apartment?  She had her hair tied up in a high ponytail, and sunglasses tucked at the top of her head.  She wore a green v-neck tee, and paired it off with blue jeans and white sneakers.  Her eyes shone vibrantly, and she carried a smile that could light up the entire night sky.  No wonder she captured your attention.

She’s incredibly, and effortlessly beautiful, Jake. A little bit on the younger side (no judgment here, cuz), but beautiful on the inside and out nonetheless.  

She shared all the wild adventures the two of you had in La Huerta, from your first encounter in your cockpit (Princess, really?) to the last time she had you in her arms, and how you stuffed your dog tag in her hands, reminding her that you’ll be thinking of her every step of the way. M/C offered to let me keep your dog tag, or to gift it to your parents. She thinks we deserve the memory of you more than she does, a college girl who’d spent less than a month with the pilot who brought her and her classmates a lifetime’s worth of adventure. I didn’t take it from her, of course. There’s a reason you gave it to her, and besides, I have enough memories of you as it is.  

When my fingers grazed your dog tag, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Every part of me shuddered.  I had real evidence in my hands, that you are somewhere out there.  You’re somewhere out there, making a means to an end, living the life you believe you’ve been destined for.  

M/C filled me in on why you deserted your station, the whole Lundgren situation and all.  I swear to god Jake, if I could, and if I ever get the opportunity to kill him, I will.  His worthless life deserves to be put behind bars, not you.  I’ve never wanted to strangle anyone more than I do with him.

Your fingers twitch a little at the thought of Lundgren.  The thought of him - even a simple task such as writing his name down - makes your blood boil with revenge.

You rub your arm soothingly, attempting to rid the goosebumps that have raised underneath your skin, and try to recall the good, the better memories M/C had of Jake.  While it was truly magical that you had someone at your dining table, resurrecting your compassion and hope for your long-lost cousin, what was even more magnificent was the fierce passion M/C had in her eyes when she talked about him. You watched her pupils dilate at any mention of Jake, how they gleamed underneath your kitchen’s warm lighting as she vividly described every detail of the short time they spent in La Huerta, and how she rubs the dog tag in her hand, as if it reassured her that this was real, her memories are real, Jake is real.  

In that moment, you realized that the woman sitting in front you - your last glimmer of hope, “Princess” - was hopelessly and selflessly in love with your cousin, Jacob Lucas McKenzie.  

And there was nothing either one of you can do about it.   

Do you love her, Jake, like she loves you? She didn’t tell me specifically, but actions speak louder than words.  It’s been two years and she’s still clinging onto some hope that maybe one day – just one day, you’ll be in each others arms again.  And I would like nothing more for you to be happily fulfilled with your life, with her alongside.  

I cannot even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve had to face these past eight years.  It’s so messed up.  I completely understand if you want to throw your past away and leave it all behind, Jake. But please don’t let this potential future slip away from your hands, just because you’re scared.  She’s scared too.  But she’s just as feisty, as stubborn, and as determined as you are, Jake; which means she’s not willing to give up on you yet.  And I know deep down, there doesn’t go a day where she doesn’t cross your mind, either.  

I love you, Jake.  All I want for you is to chase the life you want to live. Don’t give up yet.  Because I haven’t.  And if I haven’t, you know I’ll find a way.  One day, Jake.  One day you’ll see the woman you’re meant to be with, again.  

I miss you.  Wherever you are, take care of yourself, okay?  I’ll protect M/C to the best I can, no matter what happens.  

Love, Reb. 

[thejokersenigma]

(JaredLeto)Joker X Reader Deadly Voice Part 4

Sorry everyone - another long one and I’m afraid barely a mention of the Joker (I’m starting to feel like I shouldn’t call this this Joker x Reader at the moment - I promise there will eventually be some! :S

Thank you again to everyone that reads - I might would love to try something new like a One shot or something (where there would definitely be a lot more Joker - if that was the wanted theme!) so if anyone has any requests I am happy to give them ago!

Thanks guys!

Masterlist

From my street I followed a route I had only been along once. I was shivering in the cold air and limping badly – the fear that had driven me to run previously long since gone.

The sun was just rising as I pushed the buzzer on a large town house that had been split into flats. There was no response. I pushed it again and held it a bit longer before releasing.

“-ght, alright - Yes?” came a sleepy male voice over the speaker

“Hey Jake – its [Y/N], mind if I come up?” I questioned nervously – after all it had been a long time.

“[Y/N]? [Y/N] [L/N]?! Uh yeah sure I guess…” he mumbled and I heard the buzz of the door to the entrance. I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t seen Jake in nearly 2 months. I only knew him because he was Jack’s twin brother; he had sometimes come round to visit the club before he had taken over. We had gotten talking once and it ended up as a date - but then all had hell broken loose with the club changing hands and I hadn’t seen him since.

I didn’t know what I would have done if he had told me to leave – now I just had to convince him to let me stay for the night, or at least the rest of it.

I took the steps to his door and knocked. He opened it quite quickly and he seemed to wake up when he saw me and his eyes widen as he took in my attire. I looked down at myself then, only just acknowledging the state my dress was in. I placed my hands over a few parts of my dress that were ripped in a few revealing places. “I’m really sorry Jake, could I come in?” I asked shyly

“[Y/N]?! What are you doing here at,” He glanced behind him at his clock, “5:30 in the morning?!” he groaned turning back to me. “And what happened?!” I looked at him clearly now – he was in light blue pyjamas with a dressing gown hastily thrown around his thin frame and brown hair ruffled from bed.

“Ok I know this is sudden and I’m really sorry but I didn’t have anywhere else to go!” I explained quickly.

He looked me over again “Sure com-" - this time noticing my leg – “Oh shit – you’re covered in blood! Come in - sit down!” He ushered me into the room and closed the door quickly before leading me to his sofa.

I looked around the place – it was similar to the last time I had been here – I sat in the lounge to the right side of the flat. The other side was a small kitchen with a table and chairs and I knew a hallway ran along the back of the flat to a bedroom and bathroom.

Jake walked to the kitchen to get a damp cloth and handed it to me – “Here – use that on your leg.”

“Thank you Jake, I appreciate it.” I took it from him and tenderly cleaned the dried blood off my leg, wincing with stinging tap.

We sat in silence a bit whilst I tended my leg and he brought me a bandage, some pain killers and a cup of tea. “Thanks Jake, I owe you.”

“Well you can start paying me back by telling me what the hell happened to you.” He joked weakly. So I did – I told him everything - though I left out the fact that I had caused the explosion.

He stayed silent throughout the story either watching me or glancing away around the room.

“Oh my god.” Was all he could said when I finished recounting my night.

“I know, it has been a long evening.” I stated with a sigh looking down at my lap. Now that I thought about it all it seemed ridiculous.

“Yeah I’d say… God… But… Why..Why did the Joker attempt to take you?” He questioned. I shook my head – I didn’t have an answer – I didn’t know why. Did he know that I have caused the explosion? How could he? But there was no other reason why he might take me otherwise and be so angry when he found I was gone.

“I guess no one understands that man…” he trialled off in thought. I nodded. I could finally feel my weariness catching up on me and I didn’t feel like talking anymore.

Jake must have noticed this because he abruptly stood up. “Of course you need rest – I mean look at you!” he gestured at me with a slight smirk on his face trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit.

“Look Jake, I wouldn’t be here if I thought there was anywhere else I could go but…”

“No worries [Y/N] – don’t even start. Just get some sleep.” He pulled a throw off one of his armchairs and placed it on the sofa next to me. I’m sorry I only have the sofa for you, but your welcome to as many pillows or blankets as you want and-“

“Thanks Jake. That’s sounds like the most perfect thing at the moment.” I smiled tiredly at him. He smiled back and nodded. He headed off to his room and I thought he had gone back to bed before he returned with a some jogging bottoms and a long shirt.

“Best I can do sorry.” He mumbled handing them to me. I thanked him yet again

“Good night [Y/N] – or should I say good morning” he chuckled before turning off the light and heading to his room.

I got changed – feeling so much better to be out of my dress and into warm clean clothes. I lay down on the sofa, positioning a cushion under my head before wrapping myself up in the throw. Over my feet I could see the dim light of the morning beginning to come through the curtained window, so I turned over with my back to it and closed my eyes.

 I awoke to the sound of dishes clinking together and I peered over the top of the sofa into the kitchen. “Sorry – did I wake you?” asked Jake as he pulled a bowl down from a cupboard. He was dressed in a causal shirt and smart jeans. His hair was still messy, but in a slightly more styled way to last night.

“Yeah, but I ought to be up really.” I laughed at his guilty face.

“No you shouldn’t,” he retorted defiantly, “you ought to be resting you’ve been up all night and you have a bum leg!”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” I laughed as I sat myself up right. It was strange - I noted - that I still had a surprising good sense of humour, given everything.

I checked myself over - my head didn’t feel too bad now and my hands were less tender. My leg however still throbbed and I gasped quietly at the pain that shot through it as I moved to stand up – the running on it yesterday hadn’t done it any good.

“Hey, hey – sit back down!” commanded Jake rushing over to me with concern on his face.

“Nah I’m fine,” I brushed him off “Just – do you have any more pain killers?” I asked wincing in pain as I tried to put more weight on it.

“Of course – hang on.” He moved back into the kitchen and dug around a draw before filling a glass of water and bringing it back to me, forcing me to sit back down before he gave it to me.

“Thanks.” I muttered at him.

“So what’s your plan?” he asked sitting down next to me as I took the pills.

“I guess I don’t really know….” I murmured. It was true. I didn’t.

“What are you supposed to do when you have no job, no safe place and a crazy psychopath supposedly trying to find you?” I laughed weakly, trying to find the humour in my situation. And I must admit I was failing.

We sat in silence again for a few moments. I didn’t mind though – it felt comfortable.

Jake finally broke the peace, smiling down at me “Well I think I can fix two of those things.”

“What do you mean?” I questioned curiously.

“Well as of where to stay – viola,” he said motioning around his flat with his arms.

“No Jake I coul-“

“No, not hearing another word.” He said simply putting his hand up at me. I let out a sigh – I could feel my weariness coming back to me and I didn’t have the energy to fight him on this.

He took my silence as acceptance and nodded at me. “As for the job – I might be able to fix that too!  A previous boss of mine is holding auditions on Thursday night for a new singer at his club – you’d be perfect!” he explained beaming at me.

I smiled at him weakly not even really registering what he was saying. “As for the whole being-chased-by-a-psychopath thing – that might be the only thing I might not be able to fix…” He trailed off in thought staring into space in the direction of his coffee table in front of us. I made the most fo his silence to lie curled up against the arm of the sofa – my feet tucked up under me as he was sat on the other side.

“But maybe – Yes! [Y/N] I –“ He burst out but then stopped when he saw me curled back up on the chair. “Oh, sorry, oh course – don’t worry you’ll be able to get all the rest you need here.” He said trying to comfort me I presumed. He stood up and turned away to leave me in peace. “Oh – I’ll try and be quieter.” He muttered and I could hear the smile in his voice.

I then stretched my legs back out to make use of his vacated space. The last thing I heard was a door closing.

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Longview - Chapter 1

[ch 2]

My notes are at the bottom so they won't disrupt the flow.

CW: Referenced Parental Death, MC is 14, discussion of fatal car crash, accidently hurting hand, stalking. 100% exposition and set up.

The bell rang and Nick jumped to the door.

"Well, I'll see you all tomorrow, and don't forget to complete your homework on the Industrial Rev-" Nick zoned her out as he walked out of the room. Who cares about that? This new school was so boring. He looked up and down the hall with the sickly yellow lockers and cheesy posters. There were some students coming out of the classrooms, but the hall was mostly empty. He tried to pass all the rooms as fast as possible, so no one would be able to stop him. He tried to rush past the counselor's office, but he wasn't quick enough.

"Nick? Will you come and see me?" asked Mr. Scott. Nick stopped in the middle of the hallway, but didn't come any closer to the door way.

"I promise it won't take long, but I do want to talk to you." Nick turned slowly and walked into the cluttered office. He dropped his backpack on the floor and sank down into the chair. Mr. Scott closed the door and sat on the edge of his desk.

"So, how are you doing?" Nick sighed.

"I'm okay. I spend time working on school, making friends, and spending time with my Aunt Jenny. I get plenty of sleep and eat my veggies. I'm fourteen and I still sleep with a light on. I have a fear of moose and I don't have any pets that have died.” Nick tried to run through the normal questions as quickly as he could. After a moment of thought, he turned back to Mr. Scott. “Can I leave now?" Mr. Scott smiled politely, and looked down over his wire-brimmed glasses.

"You know what I mean." Nick took a long look at the strange counselor. He was pretty young, but he wore tweed suits and vests. His tie had little pencils on it, which was only one of his many strange designs. Yesterday, his tie was a diamond pattern, but if you looked closely, you could see dark blue whales in the diamonds. All the girls were constantly coming in and out of his office. They all crushed on his short dark hair and gray eyes.

"How are you doing after the car crash?" Nick looked away. Only a few months earlier, both of his parents had died in a car crash. His life had spun out of control too quickly. A flash of relatives, friends, two caskets, a plane ride, and Reading, Michigan. The change had been huge, from Dallas to Reading. His aunt was nice, but he was alone. No one know what to do with him. How do I tell him what it's like to have no one to talk to?

"Did you try to join some clubs like we talked about? To meet some other kids?" said Mr. Scott. You mean you talked about. Nick sat up a bit.

"Can I leave?" Mr. Scott saw that he was not going to cooperate, and got up and sat behind his desk. Nick grabbed his backpack and walked out of the room. There was still a lot of kids there, but the hallways were half empty. Someone grabbed the backpack out of his hands and tripped him. Nick caught himself with his hands on the door frame, so he didn't hit the ground; this time.

"Jake!" he said, turning to the boy. Jake was standing with the backpack up in the air with a stupid grin on his face. Nick tried to grab his backpack out of Jake's hands, but Jake was too tall for him.

"Come on City boy, get your backpack from me, I dare you." Nick tried to reach for it, but Jake pushed him to the ground.

"Mr. Artfield, would you be so kind to see me in my office? Now?" said Mr. Scott. Jake growled and dropped the backpack. Mr. Scott tried to help Nick up, but Nick didn't want his help. This is so embarrassing, he thought. Nick got up on his own, grabbed his backpack and headed for the library. He walked quickly to the back of the large room to a small desk tucked away behind two shelves. Unless you were looking for it, the desk was almost impossible to see from the door. He sat down and opened up his backpack.

Pulling out his old yearbook, Nick wished he could go back in time and ride with his parents that night that they crashed. He flipped through the pages, looking for the right one. His parents had always helped out at his old school, and they were good friends with the principal. Nick's family had never kept any kind of scrapbook, so most of the pictures that Nick had of his parents were glimpses in the background of the yearbook. Nick found his class page as he was flipping through the book. As he always did, he looked to his old friends, his teacher, and tried to avoid his picture. He hadn't had his braces off yet, and the mop of blond hair on his head was in need of a trim. Every time that he saw the picture, he felt the need to run his hands through his now much shorter hair. He found the page he had been looking for.

It was of the principal, Nick's mom, and his dad. Everyone always said that he looked just like his dad, but with his mom's light brown eyes. He could stare at that picture for hours, when they were happy, smiling, and together. Nick had memorized every page where you could see one, or both of the in the back of a picture. Sometimes it was only the back of their heads, sometimes they weren't in focus, but they were there.

He spent more time looking carefully at the few pictures, mulling around the library, or doing his homework. His aunt was fun, and was pretty lose on most rules, but she never budged on the rule of getting school done early. She was passionate about everything in her life, and thought that an education came before anything else. She had spent a year as teaching assistant in England, and she loved everything about school.

Around three, he packed up and left for home. He walked down the one lane street, and noticed a sleek black car. It was a nice one too. Nick was used to seeing those kind of cars in Dallas, but here there was only old pick-up trucks. Why would anyone want to come here? He thought. In almost every book, the creepy government agencies all always watching the main character with those cars. He let his mind drift to books, and the thought of the mysterious car watching.

The black car started, turned around and left. Nick was half right.

There was a car watching, but not the black one. Off farther in the distance, there was an old beat up pick-up truck, un-noticed in the town of pick-ups. Nick made it to his aunt's house, and sat out on the porch. At least its cooler out here than it was in Dallas. Great. A pro in the list of cons. There was on old swinging bench on the old fashioned porch. It was Nick's favorite place to sit and watch the world around him. It was once painted white, but the paint had chipped and faded. The chains that it hung from were rushed and brown, but it was still sturdy. After a while, Nick's aunt came out to sit with him. They sat in silence, watching the sun get lower and lower. There was almost nothing blocking the view, except maybe a barn and some cows.

"I didn't know you were here. I was getting worried," said Aunt Jenny.

"Sorry, I forgot to knock." They were silent again. It wasn't a sad, awkward silence. It was the silence of two people that knew that they didn't have better words than the sunset that was happening in front of them. Nick's aunt was strict, middle aged, and thin, but she was kind. Nick could remember coming up to here house years ago when they were still a family. He had always liked Aunt Jenny better than any other family member. They were more alike than most people thought. They both loved books, sunsets, and homemade ice cream. Every family reunion was always held at Aunt Jenny's house. She had time to travel the world, work jobs that she loved, and create a secret ice cream recipe that was better than any other in the country. Her recipe had won awards, and was loved by the town. Everyone knew her as "Aunt Jenny." If she had wanted to run for mayor, she would have won by a landslide. They sat and watched until the sun when all the way down and twilight began.

"I'm heading in; be careful," said Aunt Jenny, standing from the swing. Nick nodded and looked back out. Aunt Jenny tussled his hair and steeped through the screen door. Nick stretched and stood. He also steeped through the screen door. Aunt Jenny lived in a beautiful old fashioned two story house. The decor had not changed from the 1800's design that she had bought. Her house could be turned into a museum, thought Nick. The old floral wallpaper and black and white pictures made steeping in like walking back in time. There was to sound of a record player playing old music coming from one of the rooms. Nick crept up to the door of the formal sitting room. Aunt Jenny didn't see him, and was waltzing around the room like she was in an old movie. She was graceful, with slow sweeping movements, oblivious of anything else around her. Nick leaned up against the door frame, and watched his aunt waltz into the past. She spun and saw him standing. She smiled and waltzed back over to the record player. Aunt Jenny took out the classical record and put in one of old swing. It skipped for a moment, then started into a big band melody and beckoned for Nick to come join her.

"Oh, no. I don't dance," he said backing up. She danced up to him and pulled him back into the room.

"You do today. Live like its 1972!" she said spinning him around. He laughed for the first time since the car accident. Unknown to anyone but Nick's parents, he had taken four years of jazz dancing and remembered almost all of it. The trumpets blared and they danced.

Nick and Aunt Jenny played through record after record, forgetting the world for a while. Aunt Jenny was married once, but he had died almost twenty years ago; before Nick was born. He had played in a band, so him and Aunt Jenny had traveled doing shows. When he died, she kept traveling, and never remarried. They swung around until the record skidded out of vinyl. They laughed and Aunt Jenny went into the kitchen to get homemade peach ice cream. Nick kept smiling and looking around the room. There was a porcelain cat that was sitting on the mantel piece, and Nick walked over to look at it. Next to it were all of the knick-knacks that Aunt Jenny had collected from all of her travels. There was little hand carved elephants that had been made in Africa, little handmade dolls from Mexico, a small Cuckoo clock from Switzerland, a framed picture from Rome.

Nick stopped at looked closer at it. Is that the Pope? He shook his head and looked to the next souvenir. It was a decorated knife from Ireland. Nick picked it up and started to look at the intricate designs carved into the handle. Aunt Jenny had an old fat tabby that was always breaking things. Marvin, the tabby, jumped up on the coffee table and knocked a glass of with his tail. Nick didn't know he was in the room, and jumped at the crash. The knife that he had been holding was not for decoration, and it was very sharp. When he jumped, he sliced open the palm of his hand.

"Ah!" he cried out dropping the knife. He looked at the deep cut in his left hand. It started to change, to shrink. Nick's eyes got wide as the gash disappeared entirely. He squeaked and stared wide-eyed at his hand.

"I heard something break, was it Marvin again? What a bad cat," said Aunt Jenny, walking in with two bowls of light orange ice cream. Nick was still staring at his hand, trying to figure out what happened.

"Sweetie? Are you alright?" asked Aunt Jenny. Nick had no clue what to say.

~ Raccoon Notes ~

Okay so All of my characters used be called Nick. It was the main character’s name in my first favorite book so that’s why.

“He looked up and down the hall with the sickly yellow lockers and cheesy posters” I had never been in a school. Only ever seen them on TV.

I literally googled “towns in michigan” annnnnd that’s why he’s in Reading.

“there was an old beat up pick-up truck, un-noticed in the town of pick-ups” I actually kinda like this line ngl

Fun Fact Aunt Jenny is based off of my aunt Dean.

I have no fucking clue why they’re dancing.

[amyscascadingtabs]

everything looks different now that i see you

If there is a world outside of their tiny bathroom with its green walls and white floor tiles upon which a developing pregnancy test has been placed, Amy's forgotten about it.

Then the timer rings.

/

A completely regular Saturday morning in the Santiago-Peralta household turns out to be not quite as regular as Amy'd thought.

read on ao3

What irritates Amy most about the way she wakes up is that it’s a Saturday morning.

Saturday mornings when they’re both free are supposed to be for sleeping in late, waking up when the sun eventually forces its way through the thick curtains in the late morning. Saturday mornings are supposed to be for sneaking an arm around her husband’s torso, pressing kisses down his chest until he stirs awake, laying there talking in low voices until one of them reluctantly gets up to make coffee. If she's lucky, Saturday mornings can be for lazy, completely unhurried sex, or for shared showers and brunch out at the hipster café which does both pancakes with bacon as well as a smoothie bowl she’s not allergic to.

What they are not for, Amy decides when she presses her phone’s home button to see the screen light up with the numbers 5.22  a.m., is waking up before sunrise with a throbbing head and the gnawing nausea, which has irked her throughout the week, at the back of her throat.

She groans into her pillow out of sheer frustration. Paracetamol is in the bathroom cabinet, left side top shelf next to the ibuprofen and antihistamine. It might as well be on the other side of the planet.

Slowly, with more effort than it should take, she pushes herself up on her elbows and reaches for her glass of water. It's dark and she's visually impaired as is, so she fumbles, so right when she thinks she's got it she's hit with a dizziness spell and the glass falls to the bedroom floor, hitting the carpet with a distinct thud and spilling water everywhere.

It’s too much - the last drop of water to make another, already teeming and metaphorical glass, spill over. She’s already feeling under the weather, has been throughout the week for some perplexing reason, and now she's probably ruined their carpet. Before there's time to react in a more emotionally stable way, she’s quietly sobbing, drawing uneven, heaving breaths that coincidentally happen to worsen the headache.

It really isn’t her best Saturday morning.

“Ames?” Jake’s voice is groggy, mumbling her name when she feels his body shift at the other side of the bed, shuffling towards her. “Is something up?”

“Headache”, she manages to get out, moving close enough for him to put an arm around her when she buries her head in his t-shirt, trying to ignore how overpowering the smell of laundry soap feels, how much it worsens the nausea.“Just - weird migraine, I think.”

“Okay.” He presses a careful kiss to her temple. “Is that why you’re crying?”

The nausea keeps getting worse. She forces air in and out through gritted teeth, hoping to keep it at bay. “I spilled water on the carpet.”

“And started crying?” There’s a worried tone to his voice. She’s keeping her eyes closed, but suspects if she’d open them, she’d find the crease on his forehead he gets whenever she tells him she’s not feeling good. “Babe, don’t be offended when I say this, but you really must be stressed out.”

“Am not.”

“Don’t try”, he warns, rubbing comforting circles on her shoulders. “Stay here. I’ll get you painkillers. Pretty sure we have something for migraines somewhere - hey, what are you -”

She’s pretty much thrown herself out of bed. Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, she thanks whatever higher power in charge of her shitty morning that at the very least, the distance between their bedroom and bathroom is short and she put her hair in a ponytail before going to bed yesterday. Small wins, she attempts to think, crouching over the white porcelain bowl, but the positive thinking is drowned out by the revolting feeling of emptying her stomach of yesterday’s dinner.

She can hear Jake’s footsteps behind her, noting the worried sigh he lets out upon seeing her hunched-over frame. She figures she must look about as disgusting as she feels, but if he thinks so, he doesn't let her know - just sits down next to her, stroking her back with more tenderness than she's probably worthy of after having woken him up with this about four hours after they went to bed.

“Sorry”, she mumbles when the worst seems to be over and she dares retreat into his arms. He wraps them around her, shaking his head, and it's the sweetest gesture she could imagine in this moment but it doesn't take away from the fact that his shirt still stinks.

“Not your fault, don’t apologize. We’ve been through this.”

“Jake, can you please take your shirt off?”

“Uhm - babe, I hate to kill the mood, but I don't think that's the solution we should -”

“It stinks”, she groans. “Please. You used too much laundry soap, or something. It’s all I can smell.”

“Well, your nose is weird.” He frowns, but dutifully pulls the gray t-shirt over his head, rolling the item to a ball and throwing it out the door towards their bedroom. “There. How are you feeling now?”

The headache is the same, but the acute sickness has sunk back to the lurking, but stable, nausea she’s sensed for days now. Irritating, but more manageable.

“Better.”

“Not like you’re going to throw up again?”

“I don’t think so.”

Her husband hums, playing with a sling of hair that’s escaped her tight ponytail while she rests her head on his shoulder. “You want to try drinking some water? Carefully? I can make you some ginger tea, if you want.”

“Yeah.” She manages a smile, temporarily distracted by his thoughtfulness. Whether it’s the aftermath of a panic attack, a bad hangover or some odd kind of stress reaction like this must be - she’s a Santiago, she never gets sick - Jake remains the unchallenged master of making her feel better, always seeming to know the perfect cure. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

He kisses the top of her head and tells her he’ll be three minutes, tops. With the nausea under control, she’s confident now would be a great time for those painkillers, so she puts in contact lenses and starts looking through the cabinet.

She finds ibuprofen and antihistamine, but no paracetamol. Huffing in frustration, she decides to search in the cabinet below the faucet instead. Jake might have taken some for a bad hangover and thrown the package there without thinking. There are plenty of cleaning products, a box of tampons and pads, a bunch of band-aids and equipment for easier wound dressing, but no blessed little boxes of painkillers as far as she can see.  

Just as Amy’s about to close the cabinet doors and go for the ibuprofen even though she finds paracetamol better for headaches, she spots another pink and white package hiding close to the wall.

Early Result Pregnancy Test, the white text teases her, and she weighs the carton in her hand for a moment before ripping it open.

Truly, she’s not expecting anything. It’s a harmless safety check. She's not sure how punctual her period has been, but it’s been acting up at times of stress before and always shows up eventually, and sure, they agreed a couple months ago if it happens, it happens but there's been no active trying and they've both been swamped with work lately. Surely it’s nothing.

Nevertheless, she reads the instructions with thorough concentration.

“Okay, so it took me forever to find that tea, but I did it and I'm very proud - what are you doing?”

She's dug out an old toothbrush cup, downed some water and is twisting the unused plastic stick between her fingers when Jake returns, teacup in hand.

“I'm going to take a pregnancy test.”

“You're going to take a what exactly did you say there now?”

“Pregnancy test”, Amy repeats matter-of-factly. “I really don't think it's going to say anything”, she assures him when his eyes seem to pop out of his skull and his mouth is opening, closing and opening again in lieu of an answer. “We’ve barely tried. I'm checking so I can rule it out.”

“Right, right. That's cool.” He sits down, leaning his back against the edge of the bathtub. “Cool. Cool, cool cool cool cool…”

“Can you please not freak out on me right now?”

“Sorry”, he mumbles, dragging his hands through his mussed up curls, making an adorable mess out of them. “It’s, uh. Very out of nowhere.”

She nods, biting her lip. “I just want to make sure. Honestly, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

She isn’t, not really, but when part of her wishes for the opposite to be true, the anxious part of her brain opts for pessimism.

She's read about this. Her and Jake are a bit on the older side of first-time parents, and she may be a Santiago, but she's also been on birth control for a substantial part of her adult years. It's normal for it to take time. She doesn't want to get her hopes up.

The first pink line appears in front of them, confirming the test has worked, and Jake sneaks a hand into one of hers to gently squeeze it. She drags her index and middle finger over his knuckles, looking up from the potentially universe-changing display to meet his eyes. The corners of his mouth shift into a smile.

“I know it might not have seemed like it from my initial reaction”, he says, slowly like he's weighing each word before speaking it. “But I’d be really happy about it. If it was positive.”

Amy smiles, too, albeit more timid - the nausea is worsening again, and she forces some of the tea down in a fruitless attempt to stall it. “I’d be really happy, too.”

“But you don't want to get your hopes up.”

She shakes her head. “It can take a long time. I want to be prepared for that.”

“I get it”, he tells her, watching her with the same soft gaze that always makes her feel like home. “Although.. if it's negative, we can always try again, right?”

“Definitely.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

If there is a world outside of their tiny bathroom with its green walls and white floor tiles upon which a developing pregnancy test has been placed, Amy's forgotten about it.

Then the timer rings.

Loud, stressful beeps interrupt their existence in the liminal space between not knowing and knowing. She turns it off, takes a few deep breaths which does little for her stress levels, and picks up the cheap plastic stick with a shaking hand.

One line.

One line negative, one line no measurable halts of hcG in her body, one line no apple seed-size embryo growing inside of her.

One line.

“It's negative”, she whispers, and a stubborn tear makes its way down her cheek. “I figured.”

“It's okay.” Jake’s hand squeezes her shoulder. “We’ll try again, Ames. It's not a big deal.”

“I know. I just - I was hoping. A little.” With a shrug, she hands him the test. “You can throw it away.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to see it.”

He narrows his eyes, angling the plastic stick in between his thumb and index finger. “There is a line, though.”

“That's just to confirm the test has worked.”

“No, I mean another one.” He squints. “It’s weak, but it’s there.”

“Give me it.” She snatches the test out of his hands, standing up in a movement so hasty it gives her another dizziness spell and she has to support herself against the sink. Jake gives her a look of worry, then stands up, too, pointing at the display window.

It is near imperceptible. It reminds her of the old pens she used to draw with at her maternal grandmother’s house, where all which would be visible on paper afterwards was the faint stroke of dried-out marker.

But in good enough lightning, there's a line.

She can't help but stare at it. It looks so faint she's frightened it's an illusion, but there's the shadow of a line, and even a faint shadow is supposed to mean -

“Ames!” Jake connects the dots before she does. “That’s gotta be a positive!”

The smile on his lips is so wide, so exalted, Amy swears it could cure some incurable disease all on its own. She aches to reciprocate it, but fear prevents her.

“What if it's false?” She whispers. “It’s just one test. Maybe it's a false positive.”

Jake shakes his head. “Am I really talking to the person who will defend tests with everything she has and insists on not blaming them for anything?”

“I know, okay?” She leans the plastic stick back and forth, watching the weak line remain there. “But this is potentially life-changing. I can't just trust one test.”

“What are you saying?”

“You need to go buy more. Lots more. Go to CVS and buy like, ten. I don't care about how expensive they are. Just do it.”

“Ames -”

“Jake.”

“Fine, fine, I’m on my way”, he mumbles, stumbling out of the bathroom and towards their front door without as much as glancing at the discarded t-shirt. She snorts at his sudden duracell-level energy, breaking out into wholehearted laughter at how he seems to have forgotten about his half-nudity in the midst of nerves and excitement.

“You're not going to CVS in just your boxers, are you?”

Wallet and keys already in hand, he gives his bare legs a sheepish look. “Oh. Right.”

He leaves wearing actual decent clothing, and she sits down again, hugging her legs to her chest and chugging some of the water without thinking - it worsens the nausea, and she ends up dry-heaving over the toilet for a rough minute. If it does turn out that she's not pregnant, Amy's having a categorically shitty Saturday morning.

On her phone, a notification pops up from the Santiago family chat. Luis is complaining about how his youngest daughter and subsequently Amy's youngest niece, three-month-old Mari, is keeping her parents up at painstakingly early hours. She writes a short message to send him his sympathy.

Thanks, she gets back. Why are you up this early?

Couldn’t sleep. Technically not a lie.

Just wait until you and Jake have kids. Then you’ll really know what sleeplessness is.

There’s a brief second’s temptation to send a picture of the faint, faint line back to shut him up, but she resists and chooses an innocent laughing emoji instead.

Worth it though, the reply comes, a picture of a widely grinning baby girl with blue eyes and a head full of dark hair a la Santiago Baby™ attached. Amy smiles at the picture, trying not to let her thoughts run to the question of whether that's what awaits her in eight, nine months time.

I'm sure, she writes back, adding a single red heart at the end.

The next iMessage notification pops up just as she closes WhatsApp, announcing a message from the contact of Jake Santiago. He named his own contact in her phone while tipsy one night at their honeymoon; to this day, she's not had the heart or felt the need to change it.

I love u, but even I can tell this isn't a financially wise decision

Meaning it's ACTUALLY bad

U sure about this???

YES, she texts back, using Caps Lock for once. Caps means shouting, after all, and the frustration she feels over not knowing is enough to make her want to scream.

Caps lock!?! From Amy Santiago!?!

‘kay I'm buying them

How many u want?

Ten? Get the digital ones.

...we’re spending like a 100$ on this

It's fine. Babe, please just buy them and come back home.

If u say so, he writes back.

By the time her husband returns, her overflow of nervous energy has her walking back and forth in their modest-sized bathroom - slowly, as to not make her stomach turn or world start spinning rapidly again. Her head is still pounding, but she can't remember if there are regulations for whether pregnant women should take painkillers. It shouldn't matter, considering how she's most certainly not pregnant, but she leaves the package be - in case.

“They asked me what I was doing, y’know”, Jake remarks as he gives her the white and red plastic bag. “Repeated that I only needed to buy one unless I had, quote unquote, knocked up a whole sorority party.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Just that I have a very thorough wife.”

She does, in the end, limit herself to five of the tests.

Amy’s survived long minutes before - each second she spent in the courtroom while Jake and Rosa were on trial falsely accused of robbery and the countless sleepless nights when he was first in Florida, then imprisoned in South Carolina, come to mind - yet these are something else. Every second stretches on for longer than it should, the numbers on the screen counting down too slowly, while she aches for the white and blue little plastic sticks to tell her whether or not her life is about to change forever.

It’s not that she doesn’t want it. If anything, she’s been enamored with the thought for quite some time now, finding excuses to look an extra time at colorful onesies and blankets in immaculately soft material in clothing stores, unable to stop herself from smiling at parents with their toddlers and babies on the subway or grocery store. Just the other day, she spent the majority of a bus ride to the library making funny faces at a giggling toddler in green overalls. The thought is ever present in the back of her head, an unswerving wish for it all to someday be her own reality.

No, the fear is in whether she’s ready for her life to change this drastically and for nothing to be the same again; not her body, not her priorities, not her relationship, not her heart.

After seeing him with Terry’s daughters and her nieces and nephews, with Nikolaj and with Iggy, she couldn’t have more faith in Jake’s capability of being a good parent one day, but neither of them has ever had sole responsibility of a miniature human for longer than a couple hours at most. Even then, there’s always been someone else to call and an actual parent to give the child back to after babysitting. She wants to blindly trust in them being able to handle it, but in the end, she’s all too aware they’ve never done anything like it before.

“You just don’t know love until you have a child”, Charles had mused to her over a coffee in the break room not long after him and Genevieve adopted Nikolaj. “There’s nothing like it. You’re going to understand it the day you let Jake put a baby in you.”

She’d grimaced at it then, distinctly uncomfortable by her friend’s fiery passion for persuading her to procreate with her boyfriend of then barely a year, but she’d been curious of what he’d been referring to and she’s curious still. She didn’t know it was possible for her to love someone like she loves the man who just got her a blanket from the living room because he thought she looked cold (she was), but if having a kid is anything like it, her heart is going to have to do some serious metaphorical expansion.

“It’s ironic”, she says to break the nervous silence. “I always plan everything. Then the biggest things never happen the way I imagine them to.”

A crease - the worry-crease - appears between his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, us getting together, for example. We broke a rule on our first date and then killed our captain.” She laughs, shaking her head at the memory, and he grins at it, too. “The proposal took me by surprise. Our wedding day literally involved a bomb threat. It makes sense - if this is real - that I didn’t get to plan it as much as I wanted to.”

“I know”, he mumbles, taking her hand in his. “But if it’s for real, then we’re ready.”

“How can you know?”

“Because I love you”, he states, gaze unwavering as it meets hers. “And there’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

Amy’s thankful she brushed her teeth post throwing up, because she all but crashes her lips into his, not dissimilar to the way she did the first time she initiated a kiss between them. He’s somewhat taken aback, his hands going up in the air before settling on her upper back, but then he smiles into the kiss and it’s safe and it’s blissful and it’s a moment’s pause before they know.

They break apart when the timer rings.

Jake offers, but she reminds him it's her body this either is or isn't happening in, so it's her shaking hand which reaches for one of the tests placed on the edge of the sink. It's her eyes that first look at the result, and it's her heart which almost stops when the first display shows a positive, bold Pregnant, 2-3 Weeks.

As does the next one, and the one after, with the two last ones showing confident plus signs.

“Oh”, is the only thing she can stutter as she holds it up to him, a single-voweled expression nowhere near representative of everything she's feeling. “Wow.”

“Holy shit, Ames.”

“That's - this is crazy.”

“Yeah, but it's real.”

She snivels, wipes away a tear of happiness with the back of her hand. “Seems that way, huh?”

“It does”, he grins, looking at the for-sure positive test. “Looks like we're doing this.”

“Technically I’m the one doing the most right now”, she teases. “But yeah. It looks like we are.”

“We're having a baby.” He takes a deep breath, pulling her close again.“Wow, that’s officially the craziest sentence I’ve said in my entire life.”

“We’re having a baby”, she repeats tentatively, trying the words out. “That’s just - that’s insane.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Clearly.”

“That’s freaky.”

“Don’t call it freaky”, she mutters, lightly punching his shoulder. “You’re fifty percent behind this.”

“Guilty as charged.” He presses an apologetic kiss to her neck. “I don’t mean freaky in a bad way. I just realized there’s another person inside you, which is dope, but also kinda sounds like a really bad sci-fi movie with parasites.”

She glares at him. “Please don’t compare it to a parasite. Also, it’s more a cluster of cells than a person right now, so calm down.”

“Sounds cute.”

“They will be, eventually.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

They stay in the bathroom for a while. Jake's arms remain wrapped around her, the two of them trying their very best to let the craziness of what’s happening sink in. He offers to get them coffee, but the thought of it nearly makes her stomach turn again, so they settle for more tea. Amy downloads a pregnancy app onto her phone, figuring it’s good to start somewhere, and reads the surreal information out loud before making a note in her phone calendar to call her doctor this Monday and not a day later.

“I’m going to have to make so many binders”, she pretends to sigh after scrolling through the app’s recommendations on ways to ease the morning sickness and fatigue she figures won’t go away anytime soon.

“Oohh, is this going to involve more binders than our wedding did?”

“Pregnancy and parenthood? No kidding. When can we go to Staples?”

He chuckles. “When you’ve slept more than four hours and had breakfast and preferably kept it down. Sound reasonable?”

“Fine, fine.”

Despite the overwhelming shock and jittery excitement, sleep is as tempting a companion the second she lays down in bed as it’s been for the full week; she supposes she knows why, now. The headache which woke her up only an hour earlier is easing, reduced to a minor background detail, and the nausea feels under control for now.

Sleep waits a little longer, though, even as Jake crawls under the covers with her so she's being spooned by him - a privilege given to her mostly when she's sick, anxious, or apparently, pregnant.

It remains a surreal thought. She suspects it will be for a while, likely at least until the first ultrasound or the first movements she can feel.

And yet, when Jake plays with her hair and presses kisses to her neck as she closes her eyes, she has no struggle picturing the two of them in the same bed another Saturday morning toward the end of this year. The two of them, but with a third, much smaller, person - one as unbelievably tiny as she finds all newborns to be, though one she's sure she’ll find cuter than all her nephews, nieces and friends children added together - who will likely have kept them up all night, but will be smugly pretending it never happened. Amy already knows she’ll fall for it.

It’s terrifying and by definition life-altering and they have a long way to go, but at the very least she’s in good company.

She doesn’t hate her Saturday morning as much anymore.