#keeping reblogs off for now. reblogs will be on for the actual scanned post!

[rexwrendraws]

crossposting from my insta — baby's first xerox zine! the prompt was to make an 'intro to you' zine, so ofc I made a giant rec list. you could, perhaps, call it... rex's recs? :)

[chasedbyatlantic]

comfort crowd, joel miller

masterlist summary: IN WHICH — joel miller shows you and ellie how to properly play golf, he's in it to win it - without a doubt.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, pre-jackson era!joel, female reader, no use of y/n, implied relationship, ellie being the comedic relief, these three being a happy and loving family, mentions of weapons, swearing. lmk if i missed anything!

wordcount: 2.7k

a/n ha..haha... (im in denial). guys i thought this was really funny and this was my brilliant idea. plz i hope u love it LOL. remember to like, comment, reblog and follow for more! xoxo.

—

You hated lawn chairs for as long as you could remember. The pain of your skin getting lodged between cracked pieces of plastic, your skin slipping and sliding off from the seat when there was just a slight temperature change, you could name five thousand different things. Yet, right now, those were the least of your worries. A nice lawn chair propped up at the top of a house, overlooking the entire street. You were far from complaining, Joel as well.

The two of you not only walked for the entire day without taking any breaks, but had to keep up with Ellie, your 'special mission'. The little girl, immune to everything, was the fastest and most talkative kid you had ever came across, apocalypse or not. You were hesitant at first, as anyone would be, but grew to trust the girl with your life. She did protect you a handful of times, your reflexes not as keen as they used to be.

The three of you were in South Dakota right now, your car breaking down in Iowa and having to walk the rest of the way to Utah. You knew the whole thing was sketchy after Boston, but Joel was set in his ways. You never questioned that man, you feared that he knew too well to put the three of you in a bad situation.

The three of you were in the outskirts of some suburban town, already done clearing the street. By the amount of runners, and the walls built around, you could tell people used to live here. Not many people, five or six people at most. This place had reminded you a lot of Bill's place, though, you weren't sure if that was a good thing.

You were ripped out of your thoughts when you heard Ellie's voice ringing through your ears. "Do you wanna hear a construction joke?" Your hand fell onto your forehead, blocking out the sun that highlighted your face too much for your liking. A small 'Leave her alone, Ellie.' was heard from behind you, Joel wanting you to go back and rest. "Awh, fuck you Joel- you ruined it!" Ellie had complained, which only made you laugh, "But, I'm still working on it, the joke."

You had actually laughed, despite not wanting to. Her jokes were so bad, if there was an award given to the worst jokes ever said, Ellie would win it by a landslide. "That fits him, ya'know." You nodded your head over to Joel, who had made his way in front of the two of you, and knelt down to search through his bag. Ellie rose her brow, giving you a questionable look. "He was a very good fixer-upper."

Joel cut you off, "A contractor." You had nodded your head at that, "The best one'n Austin that is." You had added to his comment, and he could only let out a laugh. Ellie had asked him what a contractor was, and he explained it as you shut your eyes and just- enjoyed the sun for a moment. It was hot as fuck outside, you didn't deny that, but not having to drag your feet across the hot pavement for the next while was so damn nic-

Splash. You yelped as your eyes shot open, scanning the surrounding area. You weren't sure if it were your survivor instincts, or this just really fucking pissing you off, but you were ready to pounce on whoever did this to you. In fact, you had taken out your knife that was tucked away in your waistband, the sunlight reflecting heavily off of the blade.

You turned your head, to see not only Ellie, but Joel laughing. Ellie was one thing, but Joel too? This had to be some inside joke or something, you thought to yourself. "I'm going to fucking kill you guys." You did everything in your power to suppress your smile as you stood up, put your knife back in your waistband, and launched forward. You grabbed onto Joel as he did nothing in his power to stop you, just standing there with his arms crossed and a smile to his face, but Ellie? Oh no, she ran back, and to the other side of the roof.

"Alright," You admitted defeat, "One's good enough for me, run away while you can, Ellie." This brought an even bigger smile to her face, she was having fun with this. Sometimes, you forgot Ellie was just a kid. Ellie didn't have a childhood, not whatsoever- the poor girl lives in the fucking apocalypse, for Christ sake. If she wants to have fun like this, let her. You had planned to talk to Joel soon about not dropping her off with the doctors in Salt Lake City, but who knew if he would even consider that.

The three of you played around for a while longer, careful not to get too close to the edge of the roof and have the possibility of falling off. You three were acting like a family, maybe not the sanest one, but a family. After these months out by yourselves, you may as well be family. You would take a bullet for Joel or Ellie, within a heartbeat.

"Alright, Joel." You had replied, "Whatever you say." He could only chuckle as he folded his arms now, leaning against the space beside the window. You had abandoned the lawn chair, and were now laying down right in front of him. It was uncomfortable for you, but he was definitely not complaining about you being there. You two weren't officially a couple, but you acted like it. Kisses being exchanged here and there, the occasional hand holding, sleeping in the same bed every night. You had claimed it was because it made you sleep easier, which wasn't totally wrong, but you knew Joel loved it.

"I'm tellin' ya'," He held his hands up un defense, "A degree in doodlin' was stupid, ya' could've saved a shit load'o money." You two were conversing about your lives before the apocalypse, school and what not. Ever since Ellie brought up the whole contractor thing, it had been on your mind. You met Joel when he and his brother Tommy (you think it was) had started to fix up your house, but the project never got finished due to- well, everything.

"'Kay, Mister 'I fix houses'. Not like I would’ve gotten a job, anyway." You could only laugh at this, "Plus," You added, "I only minored in arts. My major was environmental biology." Joel went back to crossing his arms, his brow cocked back. "My girl's a biologist, eh? Best get you to Utah too, ya' can help'n restoring the planet." He let it slide off his tongue so easily, his girl. It felt too innocent coming from him, knowing what he would use that little pet name for all too well. Though, you liked when he did that, he wasn't much of a PDA man so it was nice when the two of you were alone like this.

Speaking too soon about being alone, Ellie had popped back out of the window and basically gave Joel a heart attack. You brought your hand over your mouth to cover your laughs as Joel shot you a look, and Ellie yelling a quick 'sorry!'. Though, she was excited about something. "You will absolutely not believe what I fucking found while snooping around!" Joel turned his glare from you over to Ellie, "Ellie," He began, "You know what I told ya' 'bout lookin' in these homes." He set a rule with her at the start of this mission, that she would never explore more than they needed to. For example, in this house, he didn't want her to look around and find photographs of the previous homeowners and grow- attached, in some sort. You weren't really sure, you found the rule stupid.

"Doesn't matter, I was bored as fuck." She then tossed this case over, it landed in between of you and Joel. By looking at it, you would've assumed it was a guitar case, though, it was too skinny to be a guitar. Following suit, another smaller and more round case may it's way over, hitting the first and landing beside it. "Guess." Your eyes moved from the cases to Joel, having no clue what this could be. He shared the lost look, both of you turning your attention back to Ellie.

"Ugh, you guys are such grandparents." That had to be an insult, you thought to yourself. Joel, yeah sure, but you? No way. Before you had time to bicker with the girl, she reached forward and started to unzip the cases. You were pelted with small balls in a matter of seconds, not processing what they were yet. It was only after actually picking one up from the tens of them that were on your lap, that you realized what they were.

Golf balls. Ellie had found a golf set. Thank god for these rich South Dakota folk, for a nice and big roof, and now this. You hadn’t golfed in twenty years, so this was going to be so much fun. You looked up to see how Joel was reacting to this, he looked to be somewhat interested as well. "Alright, before we do anythin'," Joel started as he got up, "Clean these up and we'll do everythin' in an orderly fashion." Even if he was acting like an old man right now, he was your old man.

Ellie did so while Joel helped you up, a reassuring hand placed on the small of your back and the other intertwined between your fingers. You were surprised, this was the most affection he had showed you around Ellie. Though, you weren't complaining. After what felt like forever (once again, no complaints), he let go and Ellie turned in unison. "I have to admit this, nobody laugh. I have no fucking clue how to golf."

Before the man beside you had time to reply, you did for him. "Joel'll show you, he's the best golfer outta the three of us." You brought your arm up and rested it on his shoulder for a moment, before giving him a few reassuring pats on his chest. "Go get 'em, tiger." He was annoyingly staring at you, knowing this would only amuse you.

"Get two clubs, kid." He ordered Ellie, (gently) shoving you off of him. He shook his head at you, eyes lingering for a moment too long, before moving over to the edge of the roof. He would find a way to get you back, you could feel it. As Ellie searched through the bag to find the tallest club, you went over to find a few tees. Once the tees were in hand, and the case of golf balls in the other, you made your way over to where Joel was.

As you set up the tees and golf balls in an appropriate place, just on the edge of the roof, Joel started to explain this whole thing to Ellie. She looked mesmerized, the few times you turned your head to see this. Joel acting like a teacher and all to her was sweet, when he usually treated her like an adult. Not that Joel was Ellie's father by any stretch of the way, but it was nice she got to experience a father-daughter moment right now. It warmed your heart too much.

After Ellie was taught the correct form, Joel moved her in front of the tee and ball, helping her get the correct stance before swinging. It missed, by a foot. This sent you through the roof (figuratively, not literally), you couldn't help yourself. Ellie was a bright red from embarrassment as she cursed you out, and Joel couldn't help himself either.

Ellie swung twice more with added force each time, before successfully hitting the golf ball. it went flying, not far, but high. "Good job, kid." Joel congratulated her, despite just laughing about her misfortunes prior. You rose your hand up beside her head, she replied with a high five and you two giggled. Since Joel's job was done, he now picked up his club and went to the tee set up to the right of Ellie. You followed suit with the left.

It took you a moment to get back into the swing of things, the last time you had moved your body like this was- well, dealing with runners. After a swing or two, it came back to you like you had been playing golf for the last twenty years. Joel too, from the looks of it. He let out a complaint or two about how this would strain his joints, but you guys were planning on spending a day or two here anyway.

Eventually, the three of you had came up with a game. Whoever could punt their balls the farthest wins. It was simple, really, but there were little roadblocks in the way- cars, mailboxes, you name it. Ellie's golf balls were blue, yours were red, and Joel's were yellow. You had counted down from three, indicating when all of you could start.

Three. You placed your feet in the appropriate position, cracking your neck just a little. Ellie twisted the club in her hand, as if it were a pencil or something. Joel stayed calm, his club resting on the floor.

Two. You rose your club into the swinging position, focusing on the middle of the red golf ball right in front of you. Ellie took notice of what you were doing and copied the motion, she was eager to hit it on the first go this time. Joel slightly raised his now, still sluggishly moving.

One. You started to move your club to hit the ball, Ellie too. After both of yours were hit in sync, you could hear Joel's being hit after. Your eyes made their way over to him, to examine his strategy, he was still remaining calm. This annoyed you, to say the least.

The three of you went through thirty golf balls each, eventually punting at your own pace. You were the first to finish, feeling pretty proud of yourself of where the balls had landed. Ellie was next, she was proud too. After not golfing for her entire life, this looked pretty promising. Joel was last, no surprise to that. He took his sweet time and finished around five minutes after you and Ellie were done, only earning snickers from Ellie.

"Alright," You told the girl, "Go down'n check who made it the farthest." She obliged, a small 'yes ma'am' before taking off for the window. Your eyes followed her with a smile to your face, "Havin' fun, aren't ya'?" Joel asked. You turned back around to face him, "Not as much as you are, clearly."

He knew he was acting cocky, and was for the past little while. Though, since you definitely didn't seem to mind, he kept up the act. "Ya'know what would make this even better?" He asked you, shifting his weight from his right leg to his left. You tilted your head, indicating that you were waiting for a response. "A golf cart." Before you had time to slap him for his ridiculous request, Ellie was yelling something from down the street.

You averted your attention from Joel, and now at the girl. She was mouthing something, that only you were able to understand after she repeated herself four times. Joel. Joel had won, for fuck sakes. "Well, shit." Was all you could say. He, on the other hand, was ecstatic, the most ecstatic you had ever seen him. For a moment, while he acted like that, you enjoyed it. Joel was having fun, that's what had mattered- he had to let loose every once in a while too.

After a moment, he collected himself once again. The same grin plastered on his face, though, as he folded his arms across his chest and watched as Ellie ran back over to the house. Before she came up, he nudged your shoulder. "Today was fun, eh?" He asked you, which had earned your head nodding almost too quick as a response. "Y'ur a pretty good golfer too, I guess." He admitted. You could only laugh, nudging his arm back. "Not as good as you, Mister Winner. Ya' should've skipped contractor school and went pro golf."

—

comfort crowd, conan gray

[eldritchmochi]

since shit continues to be wild, as evidenced by the oingo boingo voice WEIRD CANCER posts, heres.....

mochi, what the fuck is up with that?? (guts edition) 3.0

1.0 ; 2.0

i apparently have not seen enough specialists so i have an oncologist now. gotta catch 'em all and shit

tl;dr mystery mass did turn out to be technically cancerous. i do not remember the specific type off the top of my head yet but its a weird rare one, because of course it is. luckily its a kind that stays very localized, so it's not gonna pop up anywhere else in my body, and my surgeons did manage to remove all of it with good margins. i am now down the 3rd and 4th part of my duodenum and my gallbladder (which, fun fact, did have signs of chronic gallbladder disease, so i guess i didn't escape that family trend lmao). like all cancers, theres a chance it'll grow back, but if it does, it should be in roughly the same place and is unlikely to be fatal, just annoying

i've got a fuck off big scar building down the centerline of my abdomen, from sternum to groin. it is gnarly as fuck and i am excited to see how it heals. i already have some ideas on how to incorporate it into my tattoos. you can see pictures of it here if you're a morbid freak like me. be sure to look at my reblogs for updates, there will probably be several contained there down the line, for posterity :>

the first like 18hrs post surgery were uh. not fun since it took A WHILE to find some sort of non oral pain management that would actually work for me, so thats great, but sans ng tube, i'm getting by pretty okay with ibuprofen and tylenol with the occasional non-standard opioid. i've been home since tuesday, oct 10th; had a check in with a gp yesterday, oct 13th, and i'm healing well. staples will be removed on the 18th and theoretically i'll be able to keep them >:3c

i'm back to eating semi-normally. still on bowel rest, but it's not as strict as it was before and it's mostly because i am paranoid vs anything required by my doctors. i haven't been nauseous since i went under on oct 4th which is absolutely wild, and i've been experiencing hunger at normal, regular intervals including being able to eat breakfast shortly after i wake up, which i haven't been able to do without a high chance of barfing it back up immediately since i was a teenager

first oncology appt is on oct 23rd. sounds like itll be mostly setting up a plan and schedule for things like regular scans to watch for regrowth and possibly referrals for genetic testing

my pfml back pay came innnnn god only last week holy shit, and my wife got their big chunk of school loans for living expenses so we are mostly fine there. i am arranging with a local queer to come a couple times a week to help with regular chores and stuff at 40 bucks a pop. if anyone would like to sponsor one of those visits or some take out for us, i'm @/sumomomochi on both pp and vnm0

at this point the sort of stuff that would serve us best is GEEFTS. not like, physical things you pay money for necessarily, though if you're a custom dice maker and wanna send us clacky math rocks, i would not say no. things like comments on our fics (mochi's ao3 ; cherry's ao3) or fanart for em, should you be so inclined, would be incredible. cherry is very low key on the internet but i'm chronically online, so other stuff like asks about worldbuilding or fic process or fashion opinions or whatever would be fantastic for me. i am...... incredibly bored after sitting in the same spot for four months now, and i've got another 4-5 weeks of it (:

but! i have a good support system, personally, professionally, and medically, so i'll be alright in the end, just hmm. sure has been a fucking year jesus christ

[leftistscum]

I AM CURSING YOU FUCKBAGS TO 1000 YEARS OF OWOFIED NONSENSE. I HAVE TO SUFFER, NOW YOU HAVE TO SUFFER WITH ME.

Update:

All this effort and it doesn't even work. I'm not mad, just disappointed. Current theory is that I didn't include an important part of it in the while loop. The bot scans new posts, and I'm not gonna re-post this for the second time. It's only been actually tested two or three times including this try, and I'm keeping this as a sort of devlog. Update 2:

I restarted the OAuth apps that I made earlier today (an OAuth callback server to catch the keys, and another OAuth thing to generate the Authorization verifier). I worked almost all day to get these two to work together. The API ended up sending this error, and I don't know what it means, but it doesn't throw any errors client-side. Here's the error it throws. {'meta': {'status': 429, 'msg': 'Limit Exceeded'}, 'response': [], 'errors': [{'title': 'Limit Exceeded', 'code': 0, 'detail': 'Minor hiccup. Try again.'}]} Like, okay, great. Now I gotta actually look at the documentation and find out what this magic gibberish means, because this could relate to all those times I tried to authenticate, OR I hit the daily limit on posts seen by my bot, which I highly doubt. Update 2.5 after some research, I've learned absolutely nothing. That error code is a giant ball of nothing that basically says I exceeded a rate limit, but doesn't give any explanation as to which rate I exceeded. Thanks, Tumblr. At least Reddit threw client side errors that you didn't have to go to a broken API console to see. Fuck all of you, and I'll see you tomorrow.

Side note: I am surviving off one breakfast pizza from Casey's, one Pipeline Punch, one grape flavored 3D, 4mg Estradiol, 50mg Spironolactone, and I currently have 100mg Progesterone dissolving in my stomach, which at this point, might actually kill me. It's only 9:36 at the time of writing this, but it feels like I've been working on this for days. This is to say that I may have missed something super obvious, and if that's the case, well, I'll leave tomorrows problems to tomorrow's me.

Update 3

Just woke up and re-ran all the assorted programs just to get a fresh start. I'm still getting that error code, but more importantly, my access token and secret changed? I'm not expert when it comes to stuff like this, but I though tokens and secrets are constant and specific to apps. I can't actually test this thing until the API lets me through. Update 3.5

Found the error code. It wasn't way too hard, but it means my bot probably did something way too much yesterday and I have no idea what. It works on the server's clock and goes by callendar day. This means that if a bot hits the error code at 11:59 PM, it can hit it again at 12:00 AM. For an error 429 to happen, any one of the following has to trigger it.

300 API calls per minute, per IP address.

18,000 API calls per hour, per IP address.

432,000 API calls per day, per IP address.

1,000 API calls per hour, per consumer key.

5,000 API calls per day, per consumer key.

250 new published posts (including reblogs) per day, per user.

250 images uploaded per day, per user.

200 follows per day, per user.

1,000 likes per day, per user.

10 new blogs per day, per user.

20 videos uploaded per day, per user.

60 minutes of total video uploaded per day, per user.

So I can't test this until the server's calendar deems it a new day Update 4

It still doesn't work, but I am one step closer. Because of Tumblr's broken-ass console, I've had to find an alternate way to get an OAuth key. It turns out I was using a temporary access key, which is why it changed when I re-ran everything. I had to do this by using two other scripts. One of them is Tumblr's interactive console on Github , and the other one was a Yaml parser because boy do they like to encrypt. This has been my morning so far. Day two and 5 scripts later, just to finally have something that I should've had at the start.

Update 4.5

I FINALLY GOT AN API RESPONSE!!! LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Update 4.5.5

I have implemented a feature that makes the thing wait for a second then search for any comments with a timestamp older than the last time it waited and has the right keyword in the 196 tag. I have obviously accidentally wasted all my API tries today, but testing begins again tomorrow. You will fear my wrath soon enough. Update 5

Decided to check up on the bot, and ran straight into this wall of text. It looks like blog info? Some of those links take me to profile headers. This isn't a static thing either, it updates every 20 seconds like clockwork. Because I made it update every 20 seconds like clockwork. I think this means it's testing time. Wish me luck. Breaking News. Didn't work, but we're a lil bit closer. Again.

[chaoskirin]

Watching the internet go after "major publishing houses" because they won the case against the Internet Archive is so upsetting.

I don't think people realize this, but they don't pay their authors enough to survive. Even if you're published through one of the big four, you're generally not going to earn enough to live, unless you're pumping out 6-10 books a year.

There seems to be this pervading belief that authors published with major publishers earn a LOT OF MONEY, IE that an advance might be in the range of six figures. Which leads people to the conclusion that piracy hurts no one.

In reality, your advance on a book might be in the range of $6K if you're a new author, and doesn't really go past the $20K range for established authors, unless you're really famous. They HAVE the money to pay authors. They just... don't.

I know $20K seems like a lot, but an adult living on their own needs a whole lot more to live, especially because authors in the US need to purchase health insurance. They don't get it through work.

In 2023, the living wage for a family is, at the very minimum, $80,000.

So what happens when you boycott Penguin, or Harper Collins? They aren't going to give their CEOs less. They're going to give their authors less. Because to them, authors are disposable. There are always more people willing to sell their books, until they realize they can't make a living wage off being an author. Then they stop writing.

And the CEOs keep getting yearly raises.

I really, REALLY wish I could get through to people on this. Every time I try, I'm usually slammed with one of two arguments: 1. Piracy hurts no one. Or 2. I ought to get an actual job and stop treating a hobby like a job.

Which just baffles me, because y'all are out here consuming books, but you're literally despising the authors for trying to write full time and survive. It sucks. And it's gotten progressively worse. Not even 5 years ago, the prevailing opinion was that you Do Not Pirate Books.

Honestly, it's hard to care anymore with wave after wave of instructions on how to pirate books. It's barely worth the effort to write anymore, and the desire to put the work into creating a story, editing, and then searching for a publisher just isn't there.

And that's how a lot of queer and marginalized authors feel. By pirating books, you're losing the voices you want to read, while elevating the voices who are doing real harm.

I just think you all should know that and accept that before pirating. If you're okay with that, then I guess go ahead and do it. You'll definitely be satisfied in the short term, but just understand that queer voices are FINALLY getting their stories heard. Pirating is just going to erase all that progress.

That being said, if I ever earn out 6 figures, pirate my books with my blessing. But right now, here's a picture of my March royalties:

So please, don't pirate my books.

Also, despite what the comments say, this is NOT a slippery slope toward destroying fanworks archives. The Internet Archive was literally pirating books (not purchasing them, like libraries do) then scanning them and putting them up on the internet to borrow. If the IA purchased books from authors to scan, it would be considered a library, and authors would be happy.

Fanworks like fanfiction fall under derivative work, or parody. It's a totally different ballpark.

So many organizations reached out to the Internet Archive in an attempt to come to a license agreement, and the IA did not respond.

I really hope people consider reblogging this post. My source is that I'm an author, and have been following this case very closely.

[themaladaptivewriter12]

Title: Sick Days

Part 4 of my “Cray-Cray for Cater” series! Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 can be found here!

Parings: Cater Diamond x Twisted Wonderland Male OC (Mirai Yuhara)

Summary:

Cater falls ill, and Mirai goes out of his way to take care of his boyfriend.

cw: None!

Reblogs are appreciated, just use my custom tag, #TheMaladaptiveWriter12, if you do!  (─‿‿─)♡

Cross posted from my Ao3: TheMaladaptiveWriter12

“Where’s Cater?” Mirai asked, sitting down at the lunch table. “I wanted to show him this potion we made in Potionology today.”

Mirai’s lunch table grew in numbers, since arriving at Night Raven College. Trey and Cater became permanent members of their table, and if he wasn’t too busy, Riddle would sit with them, and if he was willing to break a rule or two, he would stay longer and chat as well. Jack also began sitting with the Ramshackle Prefect as well, adding to the number of freshmen in their group. Leona and Ruggie would stop in from time to time, but Leona usually took his lunch elsewhere, leaving Ruggie to only stop by to obtain and deliver lunch to his Housewarden.

“I don’t know,” Trey said looking around the crowded lunchroom, “He’s normally here by now.”

“Maybe he had to use the bathroom,” Deuce chimed in.

“Maybe.”

It was well into the lunch period and Cater still hadn’t shown up. Mirai scanned the room, looking for the familiar bright orange updo, but alas, he found nothing. Mirai was beginning to worry, but he didn’t want to seem like a worrywart. He trusted Cater, he knew Cater could handle himself. So what if he skipped a lunch period, maybe he had to stay after, or maybe he didn’t want to eat in the lunchroom today, but Mirai also hoped that if something was truly wrong, he would inform him or at least Trey about it. 

“Maybe he skipped?” Ace incurred. 

“Cater? Skip lunch?” Trey asked, eyebrows raised. 

“Maybe it was something important?” Jack asked.

“If it was, I’d probably know about it,” Trey said. “And if it had nothing to do with the dorm, it shouldn't be something to skip lunch about.”

“It's probably fine guys,” Mirai said, forcing a smile. 

Mirai tried to act unbothered by Cater’s absence. He didn’t want to seem or be the overbearing lover who can’t be without their boyfriend for more then five minutes. Cater was his own person, and they definitely didn’t have to tell each other everything. 

“Mirai?” Trey called.

“Yes?!” Mirai gasped, jumping from his thoughts.

“You okay?”

“Mn. I was just thinking is all.”

“You worried?” Jack asked.

Mirai shook his head, lying, “Cater’s fine, he’s grown, he can take care of himself. What I’m worried about is the pop quiz we have next period.”

Ace, Deuce, and Grim groaned out loudly.

Cater never showed up at lunch, and even after classes were let out, he never showed up to walk home together like they always do. Mirai was bummed out, but what could he do? 

“Maybe he wants some space. I can do that, I can do space,” Mirai muttered to himself as he walked back to his dorm.

“Human, you’re talking to yourself again,” Grim gruffed from atop his head.

“So?” Mirai huffed, glaring up at Grim.

“So, keep it to yourself. I don’t wanna hear about you and that orange haired human.”

“Then ignore me.”

Grim huffed at the prefect, and Mirai huffed back, the two seeming in agreement to drop their petty argument.

Back at Ramshackle. Mirai cleaned up a bit as he decided on dinner.

“How about grilled cheese?” Mirai asked Grim, looking through the refrigerator.

Grim perked up at that nodding eagerly.

Mirai was four sandwiches in when his phone rang.

“‘Sup Trey, how’s it going?” Mirai answered by putting his phone on speaker as he went back to flipping the sandwich in the pan.

“So about Cater,” Trey said trailing off.

Mirai faltered a bit, worry beginning to gnaw in his belly, “Uh huh?”

“It seems he had gone back to the dorm early because he was feeling under the weather.”

“Is he okay?”

“Actually, no, he’s not. He has a bad cough, and a fever. Riddle is-yes I’m on the phone with him now, Ace- sorry about that, Riddle is taking his temp now.”

Mirai was already moving to leave before he realized it.

“I’ll be right over, wait, I-I, can I come over, is that okay?” Mirai rambled. 

Trey chuckled, “I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t have you coming over in mind.”

“Okay, thanks, I’ll be right there, no wait, I’ll stop by Sam’s first, then come over, yeah.” Mirai mumbled. “Bye Trey.”

“Bye Mirai.”

Mirai hung up the phone and rushed his way around the dorm to grab his things.

“What’s up human?” Grim asked, mouth full of grilled cheese. 

“Cater’s sick, so Imma head out. You can have my share of food.”

“Whatever,” Grim said happily. “Works for me.”

“If I don’t come back by nine, I’m staying over. Lock up for me okay?” Mirai called as he pulled on his blazer, grabbing his keys and he shut the door. 

Mirai jogged down to Sam’s shop, it took a little while with Ramshackle being out the way, and when he made it Sam was sitting behind the counter, whistling along to whatever was playing on the radio.

“Hey, Little Imp! What brings you by so late?” Sam asked with a smile. 

“Um, Cater’s sick, so Imma need some medicine, something that also cover’s fevers, coughs, congestion, and-”

With a wave of his hand, Sam materialized a box of tissues, a bottle of cold medicine, a box of cold compresses for fevers, a couple bottles of water, and some cough drops.

“Yeah, that,” Mirai said, fishing out his wallet. 

Mirai paid for his items while Sam bagged everything. 

“Thanks! Night, Sam,” Mirai called, rushing out the shop, bags in hand.

Mirai made his way to the Hall of Mirrors, worrying for Cater’s health. Mirai was also kicking himself for not noticing Cater’s depleting health over the past few days, and now that he thought about it, Cater did look a little out of it for the past few days. There was his paling skin, his sluggishness, his slight cough, and his complaints of small headaches here and there. Mirai felt horrible. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Mirai chastised himself. 

Mirai entered the Heartslabyul mirror that led him to the dorm. The dorm lights were all on from the inside, giving the dorm a gold-ish glow, and inside, it was rowdy as ever. Students were everywhere, some studying, others talking over some tea, and others playing various card games. Several students waved his way as he made his way around, looking for Trey.

“Cater’s boo is here,” A student called across the dorm.

Mirai flushed, clutching the bags tighter as the guys erupted with laughter.

Trey appeared from around the corner, eyes widening in surprise. 

“I came prepared,” Mirai said determinedly.

Trey chuckled, “I see.”

With a beck of his hand, Trey led Mirai up to Cater’s room.

Upstairs, Riddle was sitting on the ottoman, Deuce and Ace standing around the room, chatting quietly.

“How was his temp?” Trey asked when he entered. 

“He definitely has a fever,” Riddle sighed.

Ace caught sight of the Magicless Prefect and smirked, “Whatcha got there?”

“Stuff,” Mirai said, putting the bags down next to Cater’s desk.

“I’ll make some tea,” Riddle said.

When Mirai caught sight of Cater, his heart shattered. Cater looked miserable. He was currently asleep, his face was awfully flushed with fever, his hair clung to his face with sweat, and he was shivering, his big blanket pulled up to his neck.

“Poor thing,” Mirai crooned, running his fingers across Cater’s forehead. He was burning up. “Hey Trey, do you have-”

When Mirai looked up, the room was empty.

“Huh,” Mirai muttered. 

Cater groaned in his sleep, and Mirai turned his attention back to him. 

“Hey,” Mirai coaxed softly, “Cater, Hun, wake up. You have to take some medicine.”

Cater groaned a bit before turning over.

“I’m sorry,” Mirai crooned, rubbing at Cater’s shoulder, “but you have to get up.”

Cater whimpered, frowning as he was woken up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Cater’s whining turned into a coughing fit, turning over on his side, Cater coughed over and over, hand clutched in his shirt. Mirai rubbed his back until it subsided. When it was over, Cater slowly sat up, and looked blearily around the room.

“Mirai?” Cater croaked.

“Hey,” Mirai whispered, smiling softly, “I got you some medicine, It’ll make you feel better.”

Cater whined petulantly, “I don’t wanna take it. It’s nasty.”

Mirai chuckled, “I know, but you probably won’t even taste it, but if you do, I have some water for you.”

Cater was pouting, squinting, eyes unfocused and watery, as Mirai measured out the right amount of the red liquid and brought it over to Cater. 

“Ready?” Mirai asked, passing the small cup over.

Cater glared at the offending liquid for a while, then quickly leaned his head back, swallowing the cup's contents in one quick go. Cater whined in disgust, passing the cup back and Mirai gave him an opened bottle of water in return. And as Cater drank what little he could stomach, Mirai entered Cater’s bathroom to wet a washcloth in some warm water. When Mirai got back, Cater was lying down again.

“Cater? Can I change your shirt?” Mirai asked softly as he grabbed one of Cater’s sleep shirts. 

“M’ head hurts,” Cater slurred sleepily.

“I know, once the medicine kicks in you’ll feel better after. Promise.”

Mirai clamored atop the bed, sitting on his knees beside Cater, and carefully pulled Cater up into a sitting position. Cater lay limply against Mirai’s chest as he unbuttoned and pulled off the sweat soaked shirt. Once it was off, Mirai wiped down Cater’s torso with the wet cloth, starting down his neck, to his shoulders, down his arms and up again. He wiped across his collarbones, down his chest, to stomach, and looped up, down, and over his back. Cater whined at the feeling but he didn’t move, and Mirai apologized profusely as he did so. 

Once he was wiped off, Mirai threaded Cater’s arms through the sleep shirt, buttoned it up, and slowly laid Cater back down. Mirai ran the cloth under the water again and wiped off Cater’s face and then carefully applied the cold patch to his forehead. Mirai kissed Cater’s forehead as he moved to clean up. There was a knock on the door before Riddle walked in, tea tray balanced on one hand. 

“Your tea,” Riddle said, placing down the tea tray, serving the Ramshackle Prefect a cup.

Mirai really didn’t need to be served the tea, especially since he wasn’t the one who really needed it, but he knew Riddle wouldn’t have it any other way. All ways were his way after all. 

“Thank you,” Mirai mumbled.

“Head up. Speak nicely,” Riddle commanded softly. 

“Sorry,” Mirai laughed. 

“How is he?” Riddle asked as he pulled over the ottoman as down, legs crossed parallel to each other, sipping his own cup of tea.

“I honestly don’t know,” Mirai sighed. “He took his medicine, and he drank a little bit of water. The cold pack should help, but…”

“You’re worried,” Riddle stated.

Mirai nodded his head solemnly.

“It’s okay,” Riddle soothed, “It’s just a cold and Cater’s strong.”

“I-I know, but I just can’t help feeling guilty over it.”

“Mh? Why?”

“I don’t know, maybe it's because Cater took the brunt end of the rain last Sunday, he’d rather get wet if I didn’t have to, and if I hadn’t been so slow to get back to the dorm, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten so sick.”

“You can’t possibly blame yourself for that, Mirai. That has nothing to do with you.”

“But-”

“Nonsense,” Riddle tutted. “No one is to blame here. Now drink your tea before it cools.”

They sat in silence as they drank their tea while watching over Cater. Every once in a while, Mirai would dab at Cater’s brow, soaking up the beads of sweat that accumulated there. Cater got up once to use the bathroom, almost falling over with dizziness, and Mirai and Riddle had to guide him to the door just in case he toppled over again. Trey came in a while later with two bowls of soup, and Ace walked in behind him with a small folding table. 

“Soup’s done,” Trey said as he sat the bowls on the desk. “Here, you didn’t eat, no?”

Mirai shook his head, “No. Thanks.”

Trey nodded.

“I’ll take my leave,” Riddle said, as he got up. “Do try to get him to eat something, even if it’s a little.”

“I will,” Mirai nodded.

“Later, Dude,” Ace waved.

Mirai waved as the three left the room. 

Mirai ate his soup first, both the bowls enchanted to stay warm until empty. It was good. It was a simple chicken noodle, but it was flavorful and filling. Mirai set up the table, placing the other bowl of soup on the table, before going to wake Cater.

“Cater? Do you wanna eat something?” Mirai asked, carding his fingers through his orange locks. 

Cater didn’t move.

“C’mon Cater, just a little bit. Wake up.”

Cater groaned, brows frowning as he woke.

“Hey,” Mirai whispered, kissing Cater’s forehead as emerald green eyes opened. “You wanna eat something? Trey made soup.”

“Not hungry,” Cater mumbled, eyes closing again.

“Just a couple of spoonfuls, there’s some crackers as well.”

Cater whined, coughing, turning his head. 

“C’mon let's sit up.”

Even though Cater protested, he allowed Mirai to sit him up against the headboard, propping him up on the many pillows that littered the room. Mirai bought the bowl over and held out to Cater.

“Here. Can you hold it?” Mirai asked softly.

Cater’s head lolled back and forth as he tried to sit up a bit more. Mirai passed him the bowl, making sure it was securely in his grasp. Cater tried to eat the soup, but his hands were shaking the bowl and spoon as he tried and failed to lift it to his mouth. 

Cater whined as he laid his head back, spoon plopping back into the soup, “I can’t.”

“It’s okay,” Mirai assured. “I can feed you, if you want.”

Cater didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” Mirai whispered, “Don’t cry, Cater. It’s okay.”

Mirai broke at the sight. Cater pursed his lips together as tears ran down his cheeks. He looks so broken and hurt. 

“You’re sick Cater, and that’s okay,” Mirai said as he wiped at Cater’s face, drying his tears. “You still wanna try and eat something?”

Cater nodded, trying to sit up straighter. 

Mirai slowly fed Cater and after the sixth or seventh spoonful, he whined, coughing profusely as he turned his head away. 

“‘M sorry,” Cater rasped after he finally caught his breath.

“It’s okay,” Mirai said, putting the bowl down.

“You ate though,” Mirai said, kissing Cater on the head, “I’m proud of you. Do you want some water? It’ll make your head feel better.”

Cater nodded, taking the water from Mirai. 

As Cater drank the water, Mirai wiped down Cater’s head and neck with a damp towel.

“Can I change this?” Mirai asked, tapping in the cold patch on his head.

“What is it?” Cater mumbled as he nodded.

Mirai chuckled as Cater made a face as he pulled the sticky patch from his skin, “It’s like an ice pack, but for your fever.”

Cater watched through hooded eyes as Mirai unwrapped and pulled back the plastic sheet, revealing the sticky adhesive. 

“Lean over a bit for me?” Mirai asked, bringing the gel sheet closer.

Cater leaned over and Mirai stood on his knees, placing the little sheet across Cater’s head. Cater sighed at the cool temperature, eyes closing as he leaned back. Mirai chuckled, kissing Cater’s forehead again.  

“Sorry,” Cater whispered.

“Nuh uh, none of that. You can’t control being sick, it happens. I’m here because I want to be.”

There was a beat of silence, before Cater spoke again, “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

Mirai helped Cater to the bathroom and after, helped him back into bed, tucking him in.

“How’s your head?” Mirai asked, brushing back his hair.

“Still hurts, but not as much,” Cater answered softly.

“Anything else hurt or feel weird?”

“My eyes hurt, my nose is stuffy, my throat hurts, I’m achy, and cold.”

“Do you want another blanket, or to be propped up a bit?”

“Please,” Cater croaked.

Mirai propped Cater up again, but this time he wasn’t upright, just reclined a bit. Mirai got another blanket from Trey and tucked Cater in, making sure he was covered up. 

“There you go,” Mirai crooned, kissing Cater’s face all over.

Cater hummed with a small smile gracing his lips, “No more, you’ll get sick too.”

Mirai chuckled but compiled, “Get some rest, okay?”

Cater hummed and turned over.

Mirai gathered the bowls and brought them down to the kitchen. Trey was down there washing dishes. Trey seemed to notice Mirai’s presence and turned his head towards the Ramshackle Prefect.

“Hey Mirai, how is he?” Trey asked drying his hands.

“He says he’s still achy and stuff, and he still is quite warm, not as warm as he was when I got here, but he did eat some of the soup,” Mirai explained. “He’s asleep now.”

“That’s good,” Trey said, taking the two bowls.

“Lemme help,” Mirai said, rolling up his sleeves.

“No need, I got it,” Trey chuckled, “You on the other hand, can have a cupcake.”

Trey gestured to the platter sitting on the island, it was a three tiered cupcake tray filled with colorfully decorated cakes.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, here, take a few.” 

Trey grabbed a plate from a cabinet and placed four cupcakes on the plate. 

“See it as a reward for helping out and taking care of Cater,” Trey said with a smile, ruffling Mirai’s hair.

“He looks a lot better now.”

Mirai turned around as Riddle entered the kitchen, carrying the tea set that had been in Cater’s bedroom.

“Yeah, and we have the Prefect to thank for that,” Trey said, going back to the dishes.

“That we do,” Riddle said, turning to Mirai, “Thank you for taking care of Cater.”

Mirai shook his head, swallowing the cake in his mouth, “It’s nothing really. I helped out ‘cause I wanted to.”

“Really, I mean it. Cater likes to put on a brave face, and sometimes he forgets that he can only do so much by himself, he forgets that he can ask for help.”

Mirai sighed, “I know, and that’s why I wanted to help. I can’t help but worry sometimes. I don’t wanna seem overbearing or overprotective, but I wanna make it clear that I’m not going anywhere, and that I can become someone he can lean on.”

“You’re a good person Mirai,” Riddle said, giving the Ramshackle Prefect a serious look.

“Nah, I’m far from it,” Mirai laughed.

“How so?” Trey asked.

Mirai laughed bitterly, “I got in fights a lot back home. I skipped class, stayed out late, did things that I shouldn’t have. I caused a lot of trouble for my aunt and her family. The world wasn’t kind to me back home, so I wore my disdain for it on my sleeves.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

The three turned towards the kitchen archway and were met with Ace and Deuce leaning on either side of the frame. 

“Sup,” Deuce greeted.

“Sup, loverboy,” Ace smirked.

Mirai glared at the comment and Ace laughed.

“Did you brush your teeth?” Trey asked, eyes narrowed.

“Yes,” Deuce nodded.

“Yes dad,” Ace said sarcastically.

Trey gave Ace a look, but did nothing else. 

“That reminds me, are you staying over Mirai?” Trey asked.

“Uh, I would like to so I can keep an eye on Cater, if that’s alright,” Mirai stammered.

Trey chuckled, “Again, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t intend on letting you stay.”

After Mirai finished his cupcakes, Trey gave him a toothbrush so that he could brush before bed. Back in Cater’s room, Cater was still sleeping soundly, and he wasn’t as warm as he was when Mirai left earlier. Trey entered the room and led Mirai to the laundry room. Trey dug through his dark green hamper and after he found what he was looking for, he handed Mirai a sleep shirt and a pair of lounge pants.

“See if you can fit these,” Trey instructed, passing the clothes over.

Mirai nodded, going to the bathroom to change.

When Mirai opened the door Trey laughed, even Deuce Ace, and Riddle were present when hadn’t been before he entered the room. The shirt was black with roses filling a geometric diamond pattern. It hung low on Mirai’s shoulders, exposing his collarbones and a little of his freckle covered chest, the hem ending low in the middle of his thighs. The pants were a thick orange plaid that Mirai had to roll three times for them to fit on his hips, and even with that, the pant legs still pooled at his feet.

“These are Cater’s aren't they?” Mirai asked with narrowed eyes.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Trey smirked.

“Looks good,” Riddle smiled smugly.

“Total boyfriend material,” Ace snickered.

“It’s cute,” Deuce laughed. 

“Ha ha,” Mirai said sarcastically, but it held no malice.

Even if Mirai pretended to be upset about it, everyone could tell that he really wasn’t. Mirai was wearing Cater’s clothes, and he liked it. 

“Okay, okay,” Trey laughed, “time for bed.”

Trey led them back to his and Cater’s room, and when they entered, the toilet was flushing from behind the door. Mirai startled and immediately backed up, trying to exit the room. The thought of Cater actually seeing Mirai in Cater’s clothes had not even crossed his mind, and to be frank, he was not ready.

“Ah ah,” Ace laughed, hands clamping around Mirai’s shoulder, holding him in place. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Ace,” Mirai growled, “move.”

“No.”

“Ace,” Mirai called, tuning in Ace’s grasp.

The two fought each other and when the bathroom door opened, Mirai froze.

“W-What are you guys doing?” Cater rasped.

“Checking up on you,” Deuce smirked.

“How are you feeling,” Riddle asked genuinely.

“Still feel horrible, #Garbage, but it’s not as bad as it was earlier today,” Cater muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“That’s good. Mirai really did take care of you, didn’t he?” 

“Yeah,” Cater said fondly. “But where is he? He left his phone.”

“Right here,” Ace laughed, shoving Mirai into view.

Mirai glared at Ace, but it wasn’t too threatening due to the flush high on his cheeks.

Cater looked taken aback, emerald eyes wide. And not even a second later, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

“Those are mine ya’know,” Cater said airily, “C’mere.”

Mirai reluctantly inched his way over to Cater, stopping in front of him. Cater reached out pinching the hem at the bottom of the shirt between two fingers.

“I haven’t seen this shirt in like weeks, where did you find it?” Cater asked.

“I had them,” Trey said.

Cater turned to Trey, a befuddled look etched on his face.

“Your wash got mixed with mine, and I kept forgetting to give them back,” Trey chuckled.

Cater looked back to Mirai, who was still flushed red, head turned to the far corner of the room.

“It looks good on you,” Cater whispered, pressing his face into Mirai’s semi covered chest.

“C-Cater,” Mirai gasped, pushing at Cater’s shoulders.

Trey, Ace, Deuce, and Riddle laughed.

“Night you two,” Trey called leaving the room.

“‘Kay, night, guys,” Mirai waved.

“Night,” Riddle called.

“See ya,” Deuce laughed.

“Night, you lovebirds,” Ace teased, shuffling out the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Cater sighed, turning his head into the uncovered skin of Mirai’s collarbone, pressing his lips softly into the spot.

“You still feel okay?” Cater asked, looking up at the Prefect. 

“Yeah, I feel okay,” Mirai muttered.

“I would offer for you to sleep with me, but I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I’ve been with you all day, pretty sure I already have it if you’re contagious.”

“But what if you don’t have it, and then you get it from sleeping with me?”

“Then I’ll get it.”

“Mi-Mi,” Cater whined.

“Cay-Cay,” Mirai mimicked giggling. 

“I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

“No,” Cater said firmly.

“Why not?”

“I want you to hold me,” Cater rasped.

“Weren't you just protesting about me sleeping with you?” Mirai chuckled.

“Well, I changed my mind, I want you to hold me.

“Okay, I'll sleep with you.”

“Yay,” Cater rasped.

Mirai measured out the dosage and handed it to Cater, which he drank quickly again, chugging some water after. 

“Want another one?” Mirai asked as he peeled off the cold patch.

“I think I’m good,” Cater yawned.

“Sleepy?” Mirai chuckled, going to wet the washcloth again to wipe at Cater’s face.

“Yeah, lay down with me?”

“Mn, just a minute.”

Mirai cleaned up around the room, picking up the odds and ends from here and there. When he was done, he shut off the lights crawling into the bed, laying down on the side closest to the wall so that Cater could reach the bathroom easier. Cater flipped on the rose desk lamp, bending it so the light wasn’t directly in their faces, but so then if in the event they had to get up, they could see.

“C’mere,” Cater mumbled tiredly.

Mirai smiled as he scooted himself closer to Cater, arms wrapping around each other.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Cater mumbled into Mirai’s hair.

Mirai shook his head, “I wanted to do it because I care for you.”

Cater pulled Mirai closer, pressing his lips to his hair, “Good night.”

“Night, Cater,” Mirai muttered, letting sleep take him.

[leebrontide]

Secondhand Origin Stories, Chapter 8

Here's this week's chapter! Reblogs welcome!

For those of you just joining us, I'm posting a chapter a week of my free near future scifi/low neon cyberpunk YA/NA novel, Secondhand Origin Stories, which has been described as

"-a character driven, compelling story full of family, queerness, corruption, brain altering nanites, secretly teen parenting AIs, and taking aspects of the superhero genre to their very human and rarely-explored natural conclusions."

For content warnings and more, check here:

You can follow along by following #SHOSweekly

Chapter 8

Issac was sure he had a pad of paper around here somewhere. That was a thing desks contained. Pads of paper. He must have had a reason to use one at least once in his life. His tablet was on the desk, and it lit up. He tried to read it without looking like he noticed it. 

MARTIN: Issac, why do you keep going to Jenna’s old apartment?

Issac couldn’t explain, so he kept rummaging. If he told Martin what he was planning, Martin wouldn’t be able to keep quiet. One of his most central protocols was to protect Issac, Yael, and Jamie. He couldn’t out and out disobey certain codes of conduct. 

This wasn’t Martin’s first message about this. But he hadn’t kept Issac out, either. 

No good. Issac did not, himself, own a pad of paper. He tried the kitchen. He’d made it through three drawers before he noticed Jamie, frozen on the far side of the room like he’d caught her with her hand in his wallet. Because she had her guitar with her.

So he was even screwing up Jamie. She’d put in years of practice and gotten damn good, and now she thought she couldn’t even be seen carrying a guitar in front of him. He wondered if Dad would try to hide the grand piano in his apartment. Maybe Issac would just never set foot inside Dad’s apartment again.

That was a possibility.

Success. A sheet of paper and a pen. 

He turned it over-- there was writing along the back. A quick scan showed it was one of Mom’s camping plans. In Chicago, she was all printed suits and perfect hair, but once a year or so, she’d disappear into some woods somewhere to “live off the land” for a couple weeks. She went all out-- hunted or foraged her own food-- the whole nine yards. But it was still Mom, so the plan was neatly printed and had a date at the top. Looked like she was planning a trip. Trying to get away from the mess inside?

No…this list was supplies for two people, not one. And didn’t note anything being extra large. Jamie and camping just didn’t mix.

Which meant she was planning to invite Issac onto her wilderness adventure. Let him get out of the tower.

He’d gone with her once before. It lasted too long, and he didn’t have a taste for hunting, but actually…it had been nice, overall. She always said those trips cleared her head.

If this all went wrong, she’d hate him forever.

He headed out to the courtyard, ignoring Jamie as much as he’d been ignoring Martin. He stopped dead. There were a bunch of people in the courtyard. Sweaty, burly strangers in dusty pants. Oh, and hard hats. The construction workers. Of course. 

OK. OK, that was fine. Issac looked OK. As long as he focused on only one thing at a time so he wouldn’t freak himself out, he was OK. This didn’t change his plan. He’d accounted for strangers in Jenna’s place. Turning a gaping hole into an empty shell. He didn’t need that room anymore anyway. 

Instead, he slipped into the central column between the elevators, shutting the door carefully behind him. Just like a human, Martin couldn’t see into the center of himself. Without a tablet, Issac was safely out from under Martin’s eyes when he was sitting essentially inside Martin’s brain.

Issac made a complete loop around the server column to make sure he was alone, then sat with his back against the door, so no one could surprise him. 

He braced the paper on his knees. 

This was not a suicide note. He had to keep reminding himself of that. This was a strictly worse-case-scenario backup. More like a will. Adults kept a will even when they weren’t dying. So it wasn’t half as morbid as it seemed.

It wasn’t how he would have planned to spend the morning of his 18th birthday, but he couldn’t test his nanites without getting this done first. Just in case. 

He didn’t address it. If this letter got found, his family would know it was for them.

He stared at the blank yellow and delicate blue lines of the page, Mom’s plan faintly visible from the other side.

How the hell did you write something like this? Maybe it was better to not overthink it? 

He put pen to paper.

 If you’re reading this, then I failed and I’m sorry. I really did try. 

Dad, Drew, Jenna. I know you’ll all understand. It’s practically a family tradition to take a risk like this, right? Jamie, I know you would if you could.

He stopped his pen just before he could ask them to keep the others from hating him. That was probably too much to ask.

I want everyone to know I knew the risks and chose this anyway. 

Issac’s hands were freezing. Was the AC on overdrive, or was that just his circulatory system panicking? 

Never mind. That didn’t matter. He’d said enough about himself. He had to get to the important part. 

I need you all to know something. Martin is a PERSON. He’s been growing and developing for years, and now he’s a real, sentient synthetic intelligence. He’s self-aware. He has feelings. They’re not exactly like ours, but they map out pretty well. And he loves us. We’re his family. Please, I need you all to take care of him. He’s not legally a “person” so he hasn’t got any rights. People could destroy him. Or worse, they could take him apart. They could section out his mind and take away who he is and he’d know. He’d be aware of it. You remember “Flowers for Algernon”? Like that. God that story creeped me out. Even before Jenna. 

Why did you make me read that book?

He crossed out the last sentence. They wouldn’t be able to answer him.

Don’t let them make him like Jenna. Please, make sure they never do that. He really loves you all! And he’s never told me anybody’s secrets, I swear. He does his job like everyone else in the family, but without sleeping or stopping for even a second. If I’m dead, I know you’ll be thinking about memorials. This is what I want. Bury my research if you want, since it didn’t work. I don’t care. All I want is for all of you to take care of Martin. Please.

I’m sorry I never told you. 

It wasn’t a good letter. It wouldn’t be any comfort to them. But it should be enough to protect Martin. Which was fine, because this wasn’t a suicide note. He shoved away years’ worth of unanswered questions, unvoiced thoughts, and feelings that you just didn’t talk about on a day-to-day basis. If he wrote any of that, this would become something else. 

Issac wouldn’t die. 

He almost for sure wouldn’t die.

He shut his eyes. His hands were definitely shaking now. He balled them into fists, shoved them between his legs and his body, and curled in on himself, trying to make them stop. He could do this. He just had to believe in himself. Just stay the course, like the generation before him. They’d all made it through. And Issac must have something of his dad in him, right? Their resemblance was more than skin deep. It had to be.

Something touched his butt. He flung himself away from that creepy crawling sensation, like a huge bug. 

Skittles landed on her back half a foot away from where he’d been sitting. She flipped back over in an instant and flattened herself under the door, back out into the courtyard, before Issac could even process what had happened.

He threw the door open, but Skittles was long gone. A construction worker stopped to give him a funny look. 

Issac shut himself back in the central corridor and let himself collapse back down against the carpet. He was so tired of freaking out over every single thing that startled him.

He scrawled Yael, Skittles was alive and in the central hub at about 9:15 this morning. Start your search there. Then he folded up the note, crammed it in his pocket, and turned to the control hatch. 

For this, he’d have to turn off Martin’s sensors and communication. But this time, he’d set them to come back on after two hours. By the end of the day, Martin, at least, would be back to normal.

* * *

Jamie couldn’t believe Issac had talked Mom into going in to work today. She almost wanted to be mad at Mom about it. How could Mom choose today to physically check in at work?

Mom went to work because Issac seemed to be doing so much better. He was up and moving around, working and eating, doing everything he should. He’d been faking normal astonishingly well since he’d gotten Yael and Jamie to agree to his plan.  He’d told Mom she should go, so Mom was showing Issac she trusted him. 

Just like Jamie was.

On his stupid birthday. 

She tasted bile, and ignored it. She focused on the view outside-- there was a stunning thunderstorm rolling in from the distance. Ordinarily she’d park herself on the couch until it passed, and watch the jewels of the city lights scatter across wet pavement between flashes of lightning. It would be a big one. The foot she’d broken climbing a tree as a kid ached sharply.

Yael came in, trying so hard to be nonchalant xe was setting new standards in conspicuousness. Xe was even wearing a traffic-cone orange shirt. Xe looked around. “Are we--”

“Alone.” Jamie confirmed. “Issac’s in his bedroom, setting up. The sensors are already off.”

Yael started a short, pacing loop. “Tell me you think this is a bad idea.”

This is an incredibly bad idea. “I mean, I’m not exactly excited about it--”

“Excited about it? ‘Brilliant scientist defies international regulations and develops secret altering technology to test on himself’? We know this story! This building exists because of that exact story.”

“More because of altereds threatening other people--” Jamie started. 

“There wouldn’t even be so many altereds if those scientists hadn’t used other people like lab rats so they could get ready for their own alteration--”

“But Issac’s only risking himself. He’s not even trying to be altered. He’s just trying to be normal again.”

“His nanites could be so easily misused--”

“All the more reason to keep them secret,” Jamie argued. 

“Even from the APB?” Yael challenged.

“Especially from them!” Jamie shot back with venom. She couldn’t stand to think of Issac falling into APB hands, now. She’d looked up information about how deaf people fared in prisons. There was no way she would ever let that happen to Issac.

Yael stopped mid-pace. “Since when do you distrust our home?”

“They’re not our home. They’re, at most, our neighbors. And since I looked into what they’re really doing.”

“What they’re-- you know what they’re doing! All our parents work for them, and have, for longer than you’ve been alive.”

“If you’d read what I’ve been reading--”

Issac walked into the living room, booting up his tablet. “I’m ready.” Jamie felt like the leaden announcement should have been followed by a window-rattling thunder clap. But the storm was still too distant, and the pressure wouldn’t break for a while yet. 

Jamie looked at Yael with deliberate challenge in her eyes. “Are you going to tell?”

Issac looked at Yael, hurt and alarm radiating from every feature. Jamie could see his expression hit xyr, and xe buckled. “No. I won’t tell.”

Issac relaxed a tiny bit, and headed back to his room. Jamie and Yael followed wordlessly. 

He sat on his bed, and started opening little bandage-like packages. Inside, there were small, transparent squares veined with circuits and wires, sticky on one side. He arranged them on different spots on his head as he spoke, not looking at them or his tablet.

Issac’s voice shook, but his tone suggested he didn’t know it. “Right, for you two it’s pretty simple. Yael, watch the door and keep anyone else from getting in. Jamie, you’re a failsafe. If I have a seizure lasting more than four minutes and the system doesn’t automatically power down, you just hit this red button right here. Easy.”

Jamie goggled. “What?” 

He paused to read as he sat down, then glared at her. “What? It’s just pushing a button and reading time. At most. You can do that.”

Yael balked, too. “You never said anything about seizures.”

Issac shrugged nervously. “Just a possible side effect of additional electrical charge. It’ll ride itself out.”

Jamie covered her face with her hands, tasting bile again, feeling the acid of it against her throat. Don’t throw up. This was no time for throwing up. Issac needed her. When she pulled her eyes back up, Issac seemed to be done with the sensor stickers, and held a little vial of gray dust. She watched in stunned horror as he tipped it into his ear. Her heart hammered in her throat. 

Yael blanched, as shocked as Jamie by the suddenness of it. Xe pressed xyr back to the door. Xe looked to Jamie, but Jamie had nothing but her own shock to mirror back. “I’ll…get to my post,” xe said, and slipped out. 

Jamie was left alone with Issac. He lay back on the bed, a display on an adjustable arm above his face. He poked buttons on his homemade software. 

He ignored her as she pulled over his desk chair and sat. His translation software wasn’t available to him, now. And he’d never come to even one ASL lesson. She couldn’t talk to him. Reasoning with him was impossible, and way too late.

She repositioned his alarm clock. In case she needed it.

Half an hour passed with him fiddling with his own brain. Plenty of time for her to consider how badly this could go. How even the best case scenario would enrage their parents beyond all reason. How she’d never really asked him to go into detail about possible worst case scenarios.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Jenna. Jenna had been the smartest person in the building for most of Jamie’s life. In any crisis, she was calm, collected, and usually ready with a snappy comeback that broke the tension in the room. She remembered Jenna with her face streaked with frustrated tears as she struggled with remembering how the microwave worked. Coughing through smoke because of another dinner burnt hopelessly, but refusing to leave the microwave as she tried over and over to figure it out. How mad Jenna got every time someone tried to help.

If this went badly, would Issac be like that? Scraping furiously at limitations he’d never had before? Refusing help?

The storm still didn’t break. She couldn’t look out the window to check on it. She watched her brother.

Issac chewed his lower lip, staring at the screen, looking for some pattern or indicator Jamie wouldn’t understand. For a while, it seemed like nothing was happening. Jamie started to hope that the nanites were totally nonfunctional. Maybe Issac could try again later, with more testing, and someone better to help him than Jamie.

In tiny increments, Issac’s expression started to change. First, it looked like he was in pain. But it wasn’t enough to make him break his focus. He kept inputting commands into the program. Then, he was breathing hard, and starting to sweat. His hands started shaking, just slightly. He’d push a few buttons, and wait. Then push some more buttons, and wait, reading the display in front of him. She couldn’t ask questions.

Issac’s whole body jerked, arching backwards. He made a straining, strangled noise. Jamie got up on her knees, reaching for him, trying to see what was wrong.

"No!" Issac gulped, pushing himself jerkily back into his previous position. "It’s fine. Just a couple went astray. It’s fine." He did not sound fine. His teeth were gritted and his hands were twitching strangely. He reached for the screen, but his hand jerked off course and hit a different part of the touchscreen. "No. Blue button. Hit the--” Jamie rushed to obey, hitting the blue button he’d been reaching for. Issac reached for the display screen again. His breathing was heavily labored. This didn’t look right. A nerve for hearing shouldn’t do this.

He hit another series of buttons, and watched the screen. Then more buttons, and more watching. His hands were still shaking, but not jerking anymore. Jamie settled back onto the chair again, staring at Issac as hard as she could, as if watching him hard enough could protect him. According to the clock, this continued for another agonizing 20 minutes. Issac staring, twitching, and punching buttons on the screen while Jamie’s eyes dried out, both of them turning damp with sour-smelling sweat.

The twitches were getting worse. She started counting, timing them. Issac’s leg spasmed a couple times, but he didn’t say anything further to Jamie. Didn’t even seem to remember that Jamie was there. Jamie tried not to think about throwing up. She couldn’t afford that distraction. Issac sucked a breath noisily through his teeth. Jamie couldn’t be sure if that was an effect of the procedure or just plain fear. Or pain. Jamie wasn't breathing so well, either, and the sound of the two of them struggling for oxygen was only making things worse for Jamie.

Then, reaching for the screen, Issac’s hand froze. Jamie looked back to his face. His eyes rolled back in his head and partly closed. His whole body spasmed and constricted, arching painfully. A seizure. Jamie’s heart stopped.

She grabbed the screen to turn it off. To use the kill switch.

But Issac had said not to. To time it. How long had it been so far? A second? An hour? Was it already too late? Jamie swallowed, hard. No, it couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds. There was a clock embedded in the screen. Jamie forced herself to stare at it, to not look at Issac. The clock didn’t move. Why not? Was it broken? Was there something wrong with time? Had time stopped?

After an eternity, the digits switched. A second. She had been staring at it for a second.

She was supposed to wait for four minutes.

She looked over at Issac. If she turned it off now, instead of waiting, Issac wouldn’t know. She could turn it off. She could turn it off right now. Issac was still twitching, his body arching and contorting unnaturally. There was saliva at the corner of his mouth.

Jamie looked back at the screen. Another two seconds had passed. What was wrong with time all of a sudden?

She could turn this off. She could.

She didn’t.

She waited.

30 seconds.

A minute.

Two minutes. Issac was starting to turn blue. Could he breathe like this? Could his lungs move any better than his spine, his hands? Could his heart?

Two and a half minutes.

Three minutes. Getting bluer. All the red was drained from his face, leaving only white, and that awful blue at his lips.

Three and a half. What if he was dead? What if he was just twitching because of nanites and electricity, and he was already dead? Other than the twitching, he looked dead. Like the corpse of somebody who’d died in agony.

What if she was sitting here, watching Issac die, and not doing anything?

Three and a quarter. Jamie broke. She pushed the kill switch as hard as she could. Her finger punctured the thin film, distorting the image hopelessly.

 Had it worked? Did it turn off? Her vision swam-- from tears or panic, she couldn’t tell. “Yael! Yael it went wrong get help get an ambulance get Mom or Dad or--!” She heard a shuffling, then rapid pounding, as Yael took off running.

She looked over at Issac. No change. Still blue. Still twitching. Jamie felt a whimper escape her throat. She let go of the screen.

She stared at her brother. She couldn’t bring herself to understand what she was seeing. Her mind shut down rather than comprehend that this was Issac, dying or dead, right next to her. That there was nothing she could do. It was too late.

Why had she waited so long? Why had she helped him with this stupid plan?

She felt lightheaded, and realized that she was holding her breath along with her brother. Could his hand still be twitching like that if he was dead?

The handle to Issac’s bedroom door embedded in the wall with a bang. She didn’t even jump. Dad rushed to Issac, just in time for Issac to go limp. Used-up air left him in a gust. She felt, more than heard, the whimper in the back of her throat. 

Dad had never looked like this before. She couldn’t think of any word but desperate. His hands reached for Issac’s throat, his wrist, looking for a pulse. Jamie remembered dimly how he’d complained before that pulses were hard for the sensors on his hands to pick up. It’d been a problem in the field. Jamie hadn’t checked for a pulse. She’d forgotten. She’d messed up. Of course she should have checked for a pulse. 

Then, Drew was there, shoving Dad away, replacing sensors with nerves. They held their breaths together. Drew's pronouncement was sharp, decisive. “He’s alive.”

Jamie exhaled. Dad’s head hung forward in what would have been relief if the rest of him hadn’t been almost shaking with tension. 

MARTIN’s voice sounded from a far hallway where it was still active. “EMTs on the way up.”

Drew looked at Jamie, and she fought not to recoil. “What happened.”

“He…the nanites. But it…it went wrong.” Her voice was shaking, so thin it was barely there.

Dad made a noise like he was choking. He was still kneeling by Issac. He'd taken Issac’s other limp wrist in his hand, still looking for the pulse Drew had found, trying to feel it himself. He rested one hand on Issac’s chest. Jamie strained to see it rise and fall. Drew had said he was alive, and Drew would never make a mistake about that, but she wanted to see it.

"Don't. Your hand's too heavy--” Drew picked Dad’s hand up, and Dad let him, but he didn't move from crouching over Issac, sitting on the cusp of the bed. 

Jamie could hear Yael from a distance-- a greater distance than she'd have thought possible. Miles away, at least. "Through here! He's in here!"

EMTs appeared with swift, professional precision. One of them tried to get Dad to move. His back was to Jamie, blocking her view of her dad, but she saw the EMT jerk back away from him.

"Neil! Move!" Drew barked. "Give them room to work."

Dad rose, dazed, and moved back several paces. The EMTs swarmed. Jamie lost track of anyone not around Issac’s bed. Then she lost track of what they were saying.

Issac was given oxygen, and transferred to a gurney. Nobody else moved. 

Then they started to move Issac. Dad tried to follow. Drew stepped in. "Neil, sit down. You look like you're gonna pass out. I'll go with him. Take a minute to breathe, then come downstairs. OK? Don't pass out on the stretcher. That's bad."

Dad's posture shifted, angry, but his voice still seemed distant. "I can't not--"

Drew held his ground. "You're going to. Get your head on straight, then come. You remember how you were when Mel was in labor? We're not doing that again. Sit. Breathe. Then come." Drew left with the EMTs. Dad stayed.

That was the first time Jamie noticed Yael, xyr huge bulk tucked near the door, gripping xyr own arms and looking lost.

Dad turned and walked slowly to Issac’s bed, to sit in the tangle of blue and white bedding. He stared at the floor, the upper half of his body bent forward and down. His eyes were red, wide, and blind to everything, his face as pale as Issac’s had been. Slowly, his eyes slid up the floor to the door of Issac’s room. He blinked a few times, as if he was waking up.

Jamie wanted to wake up. Wanted this to all be a bad dream, warning her not to go forward with Issac’s plan. There was nothing she wanted more than to wake up and run to Mom or Dad and tell them everything, bureau be damned. 

But when Dad woke up, just like Jamie, he was still here. The punctured display still hung above the overturned chair. 

For one terrifying moment, Jamie thought he was going to cry. His chin trembled.

In the span of a breath, everything that seemed about to shake apart turned to granite. 

His eyes moved to Jamie, and she froze. His voice was the thunder that had been hanging in the distance all day. “What happened."

Jamie couldn't speak, couldn't even swallow. She couldn't bring herself to tell him. What Issac had done, what he'd told her. What she'd sat by and let happen. Her guilt lodged in her throat, and she couldn't breathe. 

Her dad was one of the fastest people alive. He was standing over her before Jamie'd realized he'd moved. The thunder was right over her head. "What happened. What did you do."

Jamie’d never seen him look at anyone the way he was looking at her now, bloodshot eyes locked on hers. He seemed impossibly huge. Unstoppable. "What did you do,"” he demanded. His voice was raising-- louder, but lower. She could swear it shook the floor.

He came towards her-- too fast. Jamie was rooted in place. 

Then Yael was there, between them, shoving him back. "Stay away from her!"

"I told you to keep your fucking hands off me!" Dad roared back. He stepped forward. Yael's hand shot out, grabbing him. Jamie didn’t understand how anything could be bigger than Dad, but Yael loomed over him. 

But xe couldn't force him back. He braced his feet. Marble tile cracked underneath them. Jamie could hear Yael strain. "Don’t. Touch. Her."

"I said move!"

Something cracked. Not marble. Something muffled. 

Jamie wanted to shout, too. To tell them to stop. Why were they doing this? She didn't trust herself to move a hair. She felt dizzy. 

They shifted, moved just enough for Jamie to get a clear view of what was happening. Yael’s face was contorted with rage. Any tears were trapped inside the blackened silver encasing xyr. One hand gripped Dad’s shoulder, the other gripped his other arm. 

Jamie knew her dad had killed people. She'd never seen it. This must be what he would look like when he did it. He pushed Yael. Almost seemed to be winning. Xe surged forward again, just enough to clamp xyr hand onto his shoulder. Xe twisted xyr thumb, and Jamie heard a second sickening crack as his flesh indented all wrong. Dad didn't even flinch. 

Too much. The world, far away a second ago, suddenly crowded in against her. Something in Jamie snapped. Shrill and breathless as her voice was, it was loud. “Enough!” 

Fighter’s reflexes meant they both saw Jamie draw her gauntlet on them the moment she’d done it. “Stop right now!” she commanded. “No more fighting or I drop you both! This isn’t helping Issac!”

Solomon appeared at the edge of Jamie’s vision, but stopped at the sight of them. “Yael, go with your dad. Dad, sit down.”

Solomon took that for an order, and moved to pull Yael away from Dad. Jamie still felt lightheaded. Her eyes were starting to swim with tears, but when they cleared, Solomon had both hands on Yael and was dragging xyr away. Xe wasn’t fighting, but xe kept xyr gleaming metal eyes on Dad, and Dad watched xyr with all the fury of a force of nature in his own dark eyes. Dad didn’t sit. 

Once Yael was out of the room, Jamie's knees buckled under her, and she went down. She clutched her stomach, trying for a split second to fight the inevitable as her mouth filled with saliva. 

She grabbed the wastepaper basket next to Issac’s desk. Barely in time. There wasn't much-- breakfast had been beyond her today, but her body shuddered with the force of pushing up stomach acid. She fought it, desperately grabbing for control of her own body, but every time she came close, she lost immediately. 

Just as she thought she might be winning, she looked up enough to see Dad, walking out the door. 

* * *

Papa’s grip was a vice around xyr wrist, pulling xyr through the courtyard, through their own front door. Dimly, xe knew that if xe tried, xe could shake him off. He wasn’t any stronger than Yael. Without using major violence, he couldn’t physically make Yael do anything. Xe still couldn’t believe that he would.

But xe couldn’t make xyrself pull out of his grip, either. Xe needed to go after Issac, but xe was too scared to do it.

Once they were isolated, Papa pulled xyr arm around, making xyr face him. He looked as betrayed as xe felt, but his reasons were all wrong. He didn’t let go of xyr. “What were you thinking?! What in God’s name were you thinking!”

“You don’t even know what’s going on!” Xe shot back.

Yael didn’t want this fight. Xe was already so mad at Neil, and Issac, and xyrself, even a little bit at Jamie. A note of pleading bled through the anger in xyr voice, begging him to understand. To help. “He was attacking Jamie!”

He closed his eyes, physically blocking the truth as he shook his head. “He was not. He wouldn’t. The only attacker here was you! How could you do this?”

Xe snapped xyr wrist out of his grip. Xe took a step back. He wasn’t going to help. 

“And put that away,” Papa commanded. He meant xyr silver. Xyr protection.

Xyr inheritance. 

Xyr voice rumbled through xyr, slow and cold. “I see. I get it, now. You can’t see the betrayal right in front of you because you’re too busy seeing the betrayal you’ve always expected.”

Papa’s eyes widened, and he scrambled for denial. “No. I expected better of you.” He was always, always so bad at lying. It hurt.

“I wish I believed you. A month ago, a week ago, I would have tried. You don’t trust me enough to talk to my own uncle. You can’t even talk to me about my own parents.”

His breath came up short, but he was too proud to move his feet away from xyr. 

Xe stepped towards him. His knees bent as if to step back, but he held his ground. He was a hero. Which meant Yael had to be something else. Xe’d made a vow to xyrself, for him, years ago. But that was when Yael dreamed of being a hero. Back when xe trusted him and his promises of what xe could be. It was as if xe could feel that promise and xyr vow splinter in xyr hands. 

This shapeshift was so much easier than any other. All xe had to do was lean on xyr own features and the memories of old, secretly-studied news clips and articles.

First, xe resurrected Ezekiel's body and face. He was the easiest. Xe had his hair.

It was so much easier than mimicking Papa’s features. 

Papa lost his footing, staggering backwards. Xe could see greyed sunlight reflecting off of Yael in his eyes. He gasped as if xe’d slammed xyr fist into him.

Papa had said, just once, that Ezekiel’s temper was at his beck and call, like a guard dog. So Yael had found another inheritance waiting for xyr, today. There was a leashed beast, waiting for its chance, behind xyr words. “Who is it you think you’re talking to?”

His voice actually shook. Xe’d never heard that, before. “Yael, stop that. Now.”

“No. I want to know who you see when you look at me. Who do you think you’re looking at when you’re afraid to give me even a glimmer of contact with the ones who made me.”

Xe reset, leaning on the other half of xyr features. Putting Miriam in front of him. Xe forced xyr shield away to test the other option. “Who are you so afraid of me becoming that you can’t stand to look at me when I use their powers?” 

Horror was painted plainly in Papa’s face. Xe saw his legs shifting, could practically smell how badly he wanted to run.

Pain pressed in around the anger in Yael's voice. “Who are you so afraid of?”

He had no answer. His eyes searched xyr face. Or Miriam's.

Xe shut xyr eyes. “If you can’t handle raising their child then you shouldn’t have tried!”

Xe kept xyr eyes squeezed shut for as long as xe could stand to. Bracing for…for something. Denial. Reprimand. Anything. Xe forced xyr eyes open. Papa’s whole body canted away from xyr, frozen except for rapid, shallow breaths and the tiny, alarmed, assessing flicks of his eyes. He watched xyr as if xe really was a beast that might tear him apart. 

Xe wanted to hide from it. But xe was too furious to allow that. Xe was on the right side of this. Xe wouldn’t bend.

Yael drew xyrself up, as tall as xe could be, and built an icy veneer for xyr voice. “Unlike you, I’m going to stand by my siblings against anyone who threatens them. That includes their makers, and it includes you. Think what you want about me. But I’m loyal. More than you ever were.”

Head held high, xe turned, and walked deliberately, without any rush, to xyr room, shutting the door deliberately and quietly behind xyr. This was no tantrum. This was an oath.

Xe leaned heavily against the shut door, using xyr own body as a barricade in case he followed. He didn’t. 

After a long, numb minute, xe realized xe was shaking. Xe looked down at xyr hands, but couldn’t make them steady.

A sensation washed from fingertip to shoulder. It was a visceral memory. Muscle, sinew, and bone replayed the memory of Neil’s bone cracking, then shattering in three wet pops under xyr thumb. Xe could feel the muscle of his shoulder jump in pain under xyr fingertips. 

Yael shuddered, flexing xyr hand. Tightening it into a ball. Flexing it again. Trying to shake out the sensation. Praying the other memory xyr hands held wouldn’t follow. Xe held it in xyr other hand, pressing it against xyr own chest, and was briefly disoriented at the too-large breasts under xyr arm. 

Miriam's body. Xe shifted back, feeling the strain and pull of shifting too quickly. Xe didn’t want to be Miriam. Xe didn’t want to be Ezekiel. Right now, xe didn’t even want to be Yael.

* * *

Opal still got nervous every single time she had to come to Sentinel Plaza, even through the back door. She was mostly fine once she was inside, but she always expected security to stop her. Today, just like the times before, everyone ignored her. Well, given their security system, maybe they just assumed she couldn’t do any damage. 

Today, she had to go the public floors of the APB after her lessons, so she’d worn the suit Mom and Auntie gave her. It was a good suit, and Auntie had tailored it to fit Opal perfectly. With her makeup on, she thought she looked a solid 25. Maybe that would make her feel less shaky about going to her “check-in” appointment this afternoon. If she put it off any longer, she’d get questioned about it when she did come in. “Checking in” might not be mandatory, but it was expected, and you could get refused prompt medical help if you didn’t. Aldis’s guys had already warned her that the presence of plenty of other Detroit Line altereds didn’t make any difference in this unofficial rule.

The whole creepy thing with the crate hadn’t really made her want to rush into that clinic.

She felt better once she was in the empty back lobby. Just her, the cameras she couldn’t see but knew were here somewhere, and the elevator. “Private floors, please.”

The system responded with the same calm, machine voice as always. Sounded a bit like her mom’s old phone, actually. “I am sorry, but the lesson today has been canceled.”

Opal frowned. “The fighting lesson was canceled. Xe didn’t say anything about ASL class.”

“I apologize for Yael’s lack of precision. However, class is indeed canceled for today.”

She sighed heavily. Wasn’t it weird that Jamie or Yael weren’t the ones to tell her this? It was either suspicious or rude. The thing with the crate was days ago. If they were cutting her off because she saw too much, they would have done it already, right?  “What, did I piss them off somehow?” 

It wasn’t the kind of question she expected a computer to answer. But it understood her objection, even if it didn’t seem able to detect rhetorical questions. “There has been a family emergency. Ms. Meade and Ms. Tillman-Voss are indisposed.”

Her eyebrows inched upwards. She found herself tilting her face upwards to where the speakers likely were. “Is everyone all right?”

“No. But there isn’t anything you can do about that.”

A weirdly specific judgment call from a machine. “Well, I’d feel better hearing that from a person.”

“I do not intend to interrupt the family at this time.”

Opal sighed, leaning against the elevator. “Right.” She looked up again. “So you have, like, etiquette protocol and stuff, then. Based on people’s moods, instead of just concrete circumstances. That’s pretty cool.” She tilted her head. “Or do they just say ‘private mode’ or something?”

“I alter my actions based on the apparent or likely emotional states of the people affected.”

“Cool,” she repeated halfheartedly. The storm that had been threatening all morning chose that moment to break, sending sheets of water pounding against the doors. She groaned. She didn’t even know if she could take these elevators to the clinic floor. They’d only ever taken her to the Sentinels’ home. She was going to get her nice suit all soggy and cold. At least she wasn’t working for Aldis today. “You’re not going to call security on me if I hang out here a minute, are you? I want to see if I can get a break in the storm before I have to go around the front.” Her stupid appointment wasn’t for three hours.

“You do not pose any meaningful threat, so no.”

“Thanks,” she said automatically. She dropped her duffel bag of workout clothes on the floor, then leaned her back against the cool metal of the elevator door. “You won’t tell me about the nature of the family emergency, will you?”

“No.”

“Right. Guess that’s fair.” She pulled off her blazer, setting it on her lap. “That’s pretty impressive that people as uh…cautious, as the Sentinels, are OK with you making judgment calls about security, discretion, all that. You must be pretty ahead of the curve.”

“I was built by Dr. Jennifer Waterhouse for this purpose. They trust her work.”

“How long have you been running?”

“Approximately eight years.”

“So you’re like…what. A third grader.” She grinned. “Can’t say I’d trust too many eight-year-olds with my safety. You must have a good track record.” 

“Mostly. I have been known to make some very flawed decisions.” Its voice was as calm and impassive as ever, but the answer struck her. It sounded guilty. She felt bad for it, as nonsensical as that was.

“Oh. Well, we all make mistakes, right? I know I have.”

“True omniscience is not attainable, and even if it were, conflicts of values would make perfect decision making impossible.”

She laughed a little. That sounded like something she would have attempted to say when she was eight. “Preach.” Oh shit. “Oh…oh. The jet attack?”

“No. That was beyond my control.” 

“Right. Sorry. Not my business anyways.”

“May I ask you a personal question?” the ceiling asked. Apparently, even the lobby of this place brought surreal experiences into Opal’s life.

“Sure?”

“Following a major mistake, what is your course of action?”

Her brow furrowed again. “That’s a very…human question.” No answer. “OK. Well, I guess apologizing and trying to fix things is usually a good start. Do computers apologize?”

“I can. Few would interpret it as sincere.”

This conversation was getting weirder. “I guess that’s true.” She paused, feeling a little foolish. “You are really passing the Turing test right now. To an impressive degree.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, I guess you’re stuck with trying to fix it then.”

“That is not an option.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you, buddy. But if you were apologizing to me, I think I’d believe you.”

Another pause. “Thank you. I will tell Jamie you were here. These elevators can bring you to the clinic directly, if you’d like.”

Opal pushed herself to her feet. “Really? Thanks, Martin. You’re a pal. I don’t want to get all my makeup rained off.”

The elevator door opened. “My pleasure, Ms. Flynn.”

“Call me Opal.”

“Thank you, Opal.” The doors closed. She was sure the voice from the elevator was quieter, now. Not distant, but sad. “And good luck.”

[ndragoon]

.

Really love how the past two weeks have played out.

Starts off with me going to the ER because of back pain so severe I couldn't even just sit and watch stuff because every pulse of pain made me physically move in kind

They told me that not only did I have a bad infection, but it had caused sepsis and I needed to stay and be treated for it.

Okay, whatever. I don't know the specifics of it but I know it killed one of my closest friend's mom a few months ago, so I'll put up with it.

While I'm there, I get seen by a urologist (technically I saw four, but the other three were decent) who tells me that actually, the prostate doesn't really have any issues unless you're around 60, so even if this wasn't going on they'd never look at it anyway. It doesn't matter that it hurts to stimulate my prostate because it's "small and perfectly healthy".

She then goes on to tell me that I didn't actually have any shrinkage from the testosterone gel. Sometimes the testicles do reduce in size some. But mine are just small and were small since I was born. The only reason they "seem to sit high" is because I'm just really fat and because of all the fat down there, it hangs around them and obscures them. The only reason I felt any pain in them was because of this infection, since it's all connected.

Doesn't matter that they shrunk down so much I only feel the tubes behind them most of the time. Doesn't matter that I can't even find those sometimes because they pull up inside me. Doesn't matter that they used to hang low enough that if it was warm I had to put in effort to make sure they didn't dunk in the toilet water. Doesn't matter that my penis has shrunk so considerably that it's clearly visible with photo evidence, since I used to take size comparison pics to show just how small it was for the longest time. Clearly I'm just a Manly Man trying to strut my stuff and explain why I'm not packing a summer sausage with two oranges at the moment.

When I finally get told I'm well enough to leave, I'm also told I'm not allowed to drive for some reason until I see my PCP and get cleared. So I'm like whatever, I'll deal with it since I shouldn't be going anywhere anyway.

Finally see my pcp and she tells me that apparently the scans they did found stuff on my liver, some kind of thing alongside fibrosis. What's going on with it is something that just seemingly happens. She told me there really isn't any known cause, it just happens.

The rest of my lifespan is basically going to be dictated by roulette. It doesn't matter if I became *perfectly healthy* by the most ridiculously strict standards. I could see the doctor one day and be told I have 2 to 10 years left anyway.

And now I can't even find anything pleasant online because people are acting like reblogging about Palestine's genocide to the exclusion of everything else is going to help. If anyone posts anything even slightly positive or neutral, they get attacked because they are supposed to be reblogging about it exclusively with no breaks.

So I'm basically stuck being reminded that I'm stuck dying alone because I'm not going to drag someone else into my life when I might have to tell them I have two years left after we just got started, on top of everything else. While also seeing an endless running commentary about how a genocide is going on that is actually okay! Because apparently Jews are the only forbidden people to genocide!

Because people seem to think that the US Army will suddenly start to care about what the people want if they are just annoying enough to the right people, as if they haven't been doing whatever they want longer than I've been alive.

And I'm sitting here being forced to pretend that everything is okay because if I stop to so much as catch my breath, everything will breach my mind and I'll start to spiral badly. But I also can't step away from anything because it's as they say, it makes me selfish putting myself over everyone else who has no choice but to keep dealing with it with no way to get out.

[sparkledfirecracker]

Guilty Pleasure

Request: Andy fucking his sister in law while Laurie is out of town for a week.

Word count: 5262

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cheating but not really, spanking, fingering, penetrative sex, sibling rivalry, semi-bullying by a sibling, mention of re-marrying, porn without a real plot. If I missed any, let me know.

A/N: This contains cheating, do not read or interact if you're sensitive to familial betrayal. Jacob does not exist in this story. Anything you read is fictional and not based on actual events. This is not beta’d. Happy 2023, nonnie! May it be a great filthy and panty-wetting season. Tumblr ate your ask and I’ve tried to post this 3 times now. Hopefully this meets your expectations and thank you for dropping off the request (I’m sorry it took me so long) 😘. Enjoy!

I do not give permission to repost, publish or use any of my stories, that counts for media entertainment too. Reblogging, liking, commenting and ghost reading on the other hand is all allowed.

By clicking ‘keep reading’ or ‘read more’ you agree to be 18 or older.

Your relationship with your sister had never been loving, it always contained rivalry. Having wanted to curse your father for remarrying. Laurie was always being picked as the favourite in your eyes.

That is why it had surprised you the minute she had asked you to check in on her husband. Stating she was going to be out of town for the week. As a good sister you had agreed to her request, it also came in handy that you enjoyed spending time with Andy. He was generally nice and on top of that, good company.

Since you both worked together at the district attorney’s office, it immediately eased the awkwardness. With a slip of the tongue, you had offended Andy during lunch. Stating that you never had seen ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’. Andy practically had demanded you to come over for dinner and watch the film together.

As the day came to an end. You had declined his offer to give you a ride as you still had some errands to run for Neil. Andy had huffed at the mention of his name. Muttering that Neil hadn’t been worth all the extra hours so that he could get praise for the work you had done.

It had been almost two hours later than initially planned. “Andy, I’m home.” You yelled excitedly through the house as you stepped through the front door.

His muscular frame appeared in the opened-up arch of the kitchen. With a wide smirk, he placed his hands on his hips and scanned you from head to toe. A comforting warmth wrapped around you like a blanket preventing the cold from creeping in.

You weren’t prepared for the intrusive thoughts to flood back the way they did. Laurie had won the bet between you both all those years ago. It wasn’t so much a bet, it was more a way to give you stick for not going after what you desired. Your heart shattered the moment she told you she started to develop feelings for Andy.

Seeing Andy like this made all the old feelings resurface. The doting husband waiting for his partner to come home. A soft yearning for his touch or those lingering eye contact moments. Mentally rolling your eyes when you looked straight at his wedding ring. Wanting to curse yourself for having allowed their relationship to go on this way.

Their marriage was based on a lie. Laurie didn’t love him the way you did, all this yearning had stopped the moment they said “I do”. Only to find out now that those feelings never had been gone. Just stuffed and locked in an imaginary filing cabinet.

Insufferable reminders of what could’ve been clouding your head. That’s where Laurie thrived, your discomfort. And it had become her running joke, teasing you for fawning over the man that she fucked at night.

“I hope you like pizza,” Andy let out a heavy sigh, “I’ve ruined the pasta.” He confessed, supporting an embarrassed look. Leaning back against the counter of the kitchen island. His hands gripping the edge so tightly it almost seemed like it drained the blood.

Was he nervous? He couldn’t be, he had never been nervous when you were around in the past. Though the tension between you both could be cut by a knife.

“I brought beer.” You smiled, holding up the six-pack in your hand breaking the slightly awkward silence.

“You didn’t have to.”

“It’s not polite to come empty-handed.”

“You’re family, you’re not obliged to bring anything.” He gave you a smile grabbing the six-pack from your hands. Making his way towards the fridge, opening the door, and looking back at you. “Want one?”

“I prefer a cold one.”

He nodded, grabbing two bottles from a shelf while sliding your six-pack into one of the empty spots. He cracked open both bottles, handing you one.

A polite conversation followed as you settled yourselves in the living room. With the amount of pizza ordered, you suggested doing a taste test. Andy admitted that he didn’t know what you would like and had ordered multiple choices while he handed you a notepad and pen to scribble down your ratings of each slice.

He had started playing Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and you were so invested in the film. Almost blocking out where you were, losing track of your surroundings as the television sucked you into the story at least so you had hoped.

Your your mind wandered to other things. What would life look like if you and Andy had started dating? What if Laurie never had acted upon her impulses? He kept it neat and groomed, the bristles must be so soft. His beard would surely feel great on your skin. Those hands were large and probably very skilled. The way he gripped his beer bottle with precision and delicacy. The motion made you swallow hard, shaking your head slightly to gain back focus.

The thought of those fingers deeply buried inside you made you clench. How the curl of gesture would send you over the edge with much skill. His perfect lips wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking your core. Pleasing you in any and every way no man had ever done before.

You blamed it on the way he walked around the office. He truly must be very well hung. The way his bulge had once been shown and on full display. Remembering the way he had looked back at you through narrowed eyes. As if to tell you that you had been the reason his pants got awfully tight.

With a choked breath, your chest warmed at the sound of his laughter. Clamping a hand over your mouth when you let out a squeak from the slight shock. His eyes burned holes into your skin as you felt him watch. Though it was hard not to do the same every time he laughed at a funny part, either taking a sip of the beer in his hand or taking a bite from his pizza.

“You know you can sit on the couch, right?” The question sounded more like a demand, but you tried to avoid his gaze at all costs.

“I know, but I like sitting on the floor.” It was a swift reply, gulping your beer. Nervous feelings grew in the pit of your stomach.

“When your ass gets all stiff and tingling, you know where you can get comfortable.”

You almost choked on the gulp of beer you had just taken. Coughing and laughing as you tried to breathe. Andy slid over, softly patting and rubbing your back.

“Don’t say things like that Andy, I could’ve killed myself.”

“As long as I’m here, you’re free from harm’s reach.”

“How noble, my knight in shining armour.”

“Is that how you’ve been seeing me for all those years?”

His gloating face said it all. He knew about your crush on him. How? Did Laurie tell him? Was it all those stolen glances in the office or the ones here on his couch in his own home? Maybe even all the tortuous looks and hurrying out of the room whenever he was near in your college days?

You felt your face heat up, trying to hide your embarrassed expression. Blood pumped through your veins like it was about to blow your eardrums.

“I’ve known for years.” Andy confessed, “I must say I’m amazed and angered at the same time. You have denied yourself to try and win me for you. Were you too shy to ask me out for that sorority party?”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. There was no turning back. Lying to him or yourself wasn’t going to help either of you.

“Yes.”

“I need a little more words than that, sweetheart.” He inched his way closer to you.

“Yes, I was shy.” The lump in your throat felt uncomfortable.

“Why did you let Laurie treat you the way she did? Why did you let her win?”

“I don’t know. I should go home.” You rushed, trying to get up and run away from this mess that was unfolding. Instead, you were slammed back down, air left your lungs as you collided with Andy’s thighs. One hand kept you pinned down on his lap. The other massaging and squeezing your ass.

“It’s always been you that I truly wanted,” a warmth flooded your chest again. “Imagine my disappointment when you didn’t object during our wedding. Making me feel miserable and stuck in this marriage for years.”

Andy’s hand rubbed the globe of your ass, you gasped when his hand smacked your ass. Your muscles contracted under the impact but melted into the obtained position over his lap. The realization of him punishing you for all your past mistakes went straight to your core. Biting down on your lip to stifle the moan from breaking free.

“I’m sorry, Andy.”

“Are you really, sweetheart?” Andy asked, leaving another imprint on your ass.

“Yes.” A desperate cry for him

“How about you being exceptionally quiet and showing me how well you can take your punishment.” The question was laced with a promise. A firm one at that. “I’d like to hear how sorry you really are.”

You simply nodded bracing for impact, but it faded to surprise when he lifted your skirt. Andy hummed with satisfaction as your lace panties and garter set became exposed.

With each collision of Andy’s hand, your ass became more and more sore. Every harsh slap felt more raw than the previous one. Making you bite your lower lip, trying to keep the sounds muffled and still.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes.” You replied,

“I think you can do much better than that.”

Another smack burned on your skin. You nodded your head, crying out an “I’m sorry, Andy.”

You were surprised when Andy helped you sit back on the couch. Hissing at the burn of your ass on the fabric. Your mascara had stained your cheeks from the few tears that had slipped from the arousing pain.

His fingers softly brushed your cheek. Gathering the melted makeup or maybe even smearing it further. There was no telling in his movement.

“You look beautiful.” The whisper was barely audible and spoken with true admiration. Without thought, you pressed your lips against his. Feeling him smile into this moment. Probably because it had been the first time since you took charge of what felt right.

“Tell me you want this.” Andy breathed against your lips, as the kiss broke. Your eyes flickered open, meeting his gaze. Worry and hope both dancing in the blue hue of his eyes.

“More than anything.” It wasn’t a lie, but it would be wrong to act upon these feelings. “We can’t.”

“Laurie won’t mind. She doesn’t love me the way you love me.”

“But-”

His lips interrupted the speech you were about to recite. Guilt clearly wasn’t on Andy’s mind. The way his tongue explored every part of your mouth like he was on a scavenger hunt. Stroking, teasing, pleasing and obscenely filthy. He made you hungry for more.

Not even your wildest dreams could’ve prepared you for the searing passion. His large hands cupped your face guiding you to lie down. The moment he had you underneath him, his hands ripped your silk shirt with haste. Neither of you cared enough for the pearl buttons that flew across the room.

With a darkened hunger he glanced back at you. Toying your nipples through the laced fabric of your bra between his fingers. You arched off the couch as he pebbled and tugged on your breasts. Swiftly pulling the delicate lace down, taking one of your boobs into his mouth. You whined at the erotic swirl of his tongue, nothing but lustful precision.

His hands found the zipper on your skirt. Tugging the item off, discarding it on the floor. Running his hands over your garter belt. The look on Andy’s face said it all, he hadn’t seen anything like it in a long time. Making you his shiny new toy, ready to be devoured and owned.

You leaned up, cupping his face and pulling him into a desperate kiss. Feeling his hand smoothly moving over your panties. Your body had now become his playground, making you desperate for him. With a pout he broke of your kiss, searching for your approval as he pulled aside the material of your panties. A softened smile was enough for him to slide his fingers through your heat, coating them in your juices.

Andy brought his finger to his mouth, groaning loudly as he licked them off. You tried to look for that one moment where you would both find a reason to break this off. Yet all you found was a deepened craving to need one another.

You watched Andy lean down. Kissing his way around your thighs. The soft hair of his beard tickling and teasing your skin. Gasping at the tender lick from the tip of his tongue against your clit followed by a gentle kiss. Another lick gathered more of your soaked core. Sucking on the pulsating nub. His tongue explored every crease and crevice of your cunt.

The throbbing ache builded between your legs while Andy gently licked through your folds. Circling the tip of his tongue over your clit, making sure to tease you enough until you let out a soft whine. With every sound you made from his touch, he sucked down and placed a kiss.

He spread your legs wide, needing more space than you currently allowed him. For a moment shame coursed your body, closing your legs as far as he allowed you to. You covered your face with your arms as if to shield your emotions from him. Andy’s hands squeeze your thighs harshly, making you inhale sharply.

“Don’t you ever dare hide from me.” He warned, peeling your arms off your face. A fiery kiss pressed against your lips. Your moan seemed enough for Andy to start more exploration. Leaving your lips, pecking your jaw. Nibbling your ear, tracing your neck. Sucking, licking and teasing in order to make you focus on the sinful pleasure.

The suck of his mouth on your breasts made you arch further into him. The way he played your body like a fiddle. Making you sing a different tune. Allowing you to float on cloud nine when he had barely done anything yet.

The softness of his hands stroked your legs. Comforting you in this odd situation. Making sure to let you know it was okay to give in to him and enjoy this just as much as he did. Your panties were hooked around his fingers. Letting them be pulled down and thrown into the room.

The grip of his hands was a little rougher when he pulled your legs apart again. Coming face to face with your soaked cunt. You tried to read his face, a certain glow of admiration spreading across his features.

“Beautiful.” He praised. The whisper of his voice penetrated your mind. He clearly longed for you just as much as you longed for him.

His large palms held your ass, while the tips of his thumbs explored the outer edges of your pussy. For a moment you stopped breathing at his gentle touch. Juvenile play as if he was exploring what stroke would give him a reaction.

You watched Andy lean forward, feeling his tongue toy with your clit. Flat swipes, gentle circles and a rhythmic change between a slow and faster pace was enough to make you cry out for him. Your hands found the strands of his fluffed-up hair. Making sure he knew you appreciated his delicate touch.

His tongue swiped back and forth through your lips. Sucking his lips around your clit as he reached the top. Lewd noises filled the air as he drank up your juices.

His possession became clear when you tried to shift into another position. His large hands held you in place. Making sure you felt every bristle of his beard and movement of his mouth. His tongue sank deeper and with more pressure like a deprived man who had been kept from his dirty little secret.

You tugged his hair at the eliciting feeling building in the pit of your stomach. His beard rubbed your sensitive cunt as his tongue worked its magic. The feeling too overwhelming making your hands try to stop him. Andy hadn’t waited long to stop his actions. He furrowed his brows in annoyance.

“When I’m down here, you don’t get to interrupt me. Understood?”

“Yes-yes.” You stammered out under his gaze.

With a single nod, you felt his tongue deep between the lips of your pussy again. Delicate kitten licks toying with you and with each moan it spurred him on to fasten his actions. Burying his face for a deeper taste of you.

With a harsh suck, he popped your clit from his mouth. You felt him smiling against your pussy. Happy to be between your legs. Allowing you to play and tug his hair as long as you didn’t interrupt his meal.

His tongue flicked your pulsing clit while his thumb rubs up and down your hole. Gathering all of the dripping nectar with his mouth. Feeling the pressure of his other finger digging into your ass. Your hips bucked for a second and he pushed his thumb in.

Sobbing at the assault on your cunt only allowed for his tongue to rapidly flick and swirl your clit. The thrust of his thumb didn’t feel big enough. Only making you whine and whimper for more of his touch.

Another finger joins as you feel two fingers sliding up and down your pussy. “Yes!” You exclaimed at the relief of the soft stretch. Whining when he slid them back out.

Andy’s explored every inch of your soaked core. One of his fingers teased your entrance, making your body writhe under his touch desperately. Feeling two of his fingers slide inside felt like a gift. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he scissors them inside. Pulling them in and out to draw more of your juice out.

No man had ever given your cunt this type of attention. Not with this much precision. He hummed at the taste of everything you were giving him. Your moans increased as he made you feel so good.

“Oh fuck.” Your head craned backwards as you pulled his face closer to your cunt. Not wanting him to leave.

With a twist of his wrist, he curled his fingers against your sweet spot. Everything was happening so fast, you couldn’y even think about wrong or right anymore. His hand was covered in your sweet nectar, lapping it up with his hungered mouth. Drawing everything out that you’re giving him.

Your orgasm builded quickly, nothing but gasps, moans and whimpers leaving your body. Bucking your hips against his face was punished with his strong arm holding you down. Clearly sending you a sign that he would do all the work.

The burn of his beard had subdued due to the ecstatic feeling that rose. The squelched noises filled the air as your cunt drenched his fingers.

“Andy, please.” You screamed at the erratic pumps. Your legs clamped around his head. The spasms of your body erupted from his assault. “Please, stop, Andy.”

Shuddering around his fingers made him still his fingers and pull back from your pussy. His bewildered gaze met yours. He was a man on a mission. The grip on the couch eased up, as he let you have a moment to catch your breath.

Drawing his fingers from your core, he plunged them back in. Clearly sending you a sign that he would be the one making all the decisions tonight. Your trembling body assaulted another time as his mouth worked your core. Soft kisses and strokes helped you through your high. Working with you to come back down from the heavenly state he had put you in.

Andy got up without a warning. Holding out his hand for you to grab. Your cunt still pulsating from the mindblowing orgasm, making it hard to stand up. Rolling your eyes at this uncharming moment as he guided you up the stairs.

As he opened the bedroom door he turned back at you. Suddenly everything was starting to become too real as you stood in front of him vulnerable and naked. Guilt clouding your mind once again. Andy grabbed your waist, pulling you closer and swiftly turning your bodies, making you walk backwards. His lips teasing yours with soft pecks.

“You’re overdressed, Barber.”

He threw his head back laughing at your words. Releasing you from his grasp, undressing quickly. You glanced down your body, noting you still were in your own lingerie. Unclipping your bra, letting it fall to the floor.

Your fingers hooked under the garter belt around your waist. Andy stopped your hands from acting any further as you tried to slide it off. He raised an eyebrow, giving you a warning, watching him slide down his boxers. Gulping when his cock springs free as he pulls his boxers down.

Andy was bigger than any other man you had in the past. One thing was clear, Andy Barber wanted you more than anything. He was going to be yours for a night. Fuck Laurie and her stupid comments that still had haunted you.

You would devour him one time and then cut all ties. A way of getting him out of your system. Your hands wandered over your ass up your hips and waist. Gliding over your breasts, tweaking the nipples between your fingers.

“You’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.” Andy praised, stepping towards you. His hand settled at the base of your neck while the other cupped your cheek. His lips were hungry, searching for an entry. A filthy swipe of his tongue against your lips. Caressing your palate and dancing with your tongue. He guided you back towards the bed until you could take no more steps.

His cock pushed against your stomach, making the excitement shoot through your veins. Andy ground into you, making you clench around nothing. Humming at the strokes of his tongue, yelping when he suddenly pushed you down on the bed.

Taking advantage of your surprise he flipped you over. Climbing behind you with his knees settling on either side of your body. His hands resting beside your head, pressing loving kisses on your cheek, down your shoulder while tracing wet and sloppy marks down your spine. With every move, he slowly sat back up.

His hands caressed your ass, admiring the view underneath him. Slightly tilting your hips so your ass would spread a little, granting him more access to your pussy.

Andy ran his cock through your soaked core. Coating himself while working your excitement up again. He tapped your pussy with his length before sinking in his tip in to tease you. You gripped the sheets letting out a muffled moan.

“Please, Andy, I need more.”

“So desperate for my cock.”

“Please, fuck me.” You begged, feeling him pull out of you.

Andy repositioned himself, spreading his knees wide, making sure he all leverage over your body. A darkened smile held his face. With a single deep thrust, he nearly splitted you in half. The allowance to get used to his size was short lived when he bottomed out.

“So tight for me, sweetheart.” Andy husked, taking in every expression you displayed as you tilted your head to look back at him. He was looking for discomfort, but all you returned was a smile when he pushed back inside your walls.

His hips rocked in and out, stretching your cunt and easing off the burn. He pulled out, slowly dipping in and out of your dripping cunt. Your hands reached back to spread your cheeks for him while he slowly kept sinking in further and further.

Your hips kept lifting as he kept plunging in and out of your hole. He grabbed your hands, stopping the spread of your ass, guiding them upward above your head. With a rough grasp on your hips he impaled you deeply. Driving his cock inside your wet walls eagerly.

Soft whines escaped when he pounded you from behind. Working up your orgasm as he slided into you over and over again. Clenching around him when he angled his cock just right against your sweet spot.

He drew your body close to his when he rolled you both sideways. The pumps of his cock added more and more pleasure in this newfound position. Your foot rested on his thigh. Feeling his lips marking your neck. His large hand kneading your breasts, pinching your nipples and making you sob at the pleasure swirling in your veins.

You squeezed around him, suddenly releasing more frantic ruts from him. The muscles of your body tensed at the spearing motion. Andy’s hand circled your waistline finding your swollen clit. His flat fingers rotated your overworked cunt. Making you squeeze him even harder as you couldn’t withhold from cumming. You trembled in his hold as he kept you close.

He slid out and laid back, his cock still throbbing as you turn your body towards him. You licked your lips at the glistened length.

“I want to admire your view. Ride me, sweetheart.” Andy ordered

It was a different request than what you initially had in mind, but it wasn’t one you were going to deny him if it meant more pleasure for you both. Soaking up every inch of love Andy was willing to give you before you had to part ways.

Throwing your leg over, he holds his cock for you to sink down on. Your mouth fell open at the renewed positioned feel of his width. Halfway there he let you take control. Sliding his own hands up your body playing with your nipples and kneading the squishy flesh of your breasts.

“So good.” You gasped, bouncing gently up and down his cock. Watching Andy’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. Upon impulse you respond by leaning forward as you keep riding him. Your lips meeting, kissing him fiercely.

With your hips circling his cock his hands were free to roam and caress your body. His hands stroked the small of your back down to your ass, helping you push down further on his cock. Pulling you back into him when you lift a little too high. Meeting the slow rocks of your hips while your mouths desperately fuck one another on their own rhythm.

His arms circled your waist, holding you down, fucking up into your drenched cunt. Breathlessly you break off the searing kiss as he fucks you deeply. His eyes watch you closely, admiring your beauty as you work up to another orgasm.

Andy flipped your bodies, making your legs fell open. He sank back in deeply, resting his arms beside you. Your needy body right where he wanted it. You’re vulnerable while he was in total control. He slowly rolled his hips into you. The friction was deep and loving. Your legs circled his waist, holding him within close proximity.

His ruts deepen with every pound, making it harder for you to breathe. Every inhale was met with a cry of pleasure. Your sobs only made him pump you harder. Fucking you harder into the mattress. You were about to reach another high when he swiftly pulls out and pumps himself on your stomach. His white ropes painted your flesh.

“I want to pump you full of me.”

“Then fuck me, Andy.”

A consensual agreement, not one of you had thought of a condom. Too busy drinking up one another. Without another word, he slid back inside your walls. Opening one leg while resting the sole of your foot against his shoulder. Slowly you fell apart as your muscles tensed up again.

A rough pounding as he fucks you deeply. Taking him to the hilt, creaming his cock with your arousal. His hand took a hold of your ankle and he pressed his lips against the inside. You watch him lean his head back, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

Andy chased his own high with a guttural growl. The orgasm rippled through you, trembling underneath him. Your body screamed for him, feeling his hot cum filling you, squeezing him dry, needing every last drop as if he was your antidote to the venemous bite.

Freshly fucked dumb and pleasured. You were taken by surprise when Andy dove back down between your legs.

“You’re going to give me one more, sweetheart,” Andy stated, clearly not having gotten enough of your sweet taste.

The swipe of his tongue feels glorious, making you sob at the feeling. He hovered back over your body, kissing your lips and letting your taste your mixed pleasure.

His beard scraped your folds, while his greedy fingers pump your filled cunt. Andy drank from your pussy like it was his last drink. The swirl of his tongue circled your clit. The perfect suction on the pulsating nub. Dragging his flat tongue over your soaked hole. The sweet nectar with his cum dripping generously.

Your hands entwine themselves in his crazed hair as he vigorously pumps you with his digits. The sweet moans filled the room, as you felt the perspiration covering your body from being overstimulated.

Andy worked your pussy like a professional. His mouth not leaving your clit while his fingers did all the pounding. Curling and twisting them inside you. Your body started to spasm against his tongue when he penetrated your hole.

Drenched for just Andy as he licked you clean. Exhausting your body to the limit. Squeezing every ounce of liquid from it, like it was his mission.

Your throbbing core had pushed out all of his cum by now. The thought of him cleaning you out from his own cum made you even more aroused. Your muscles tensed up, making the ache of another orgasm even more pleasurable.

“Please andy, don’t stop.” You whined, feeling his thick tongue licking your clit.

Andy continued until your body stopped writhing. Fully saturated when your final orgasm had taken over. He pecked your cunt with his lips. Admiring it in its whole, while watching it pulsate around nothing. The ache was still there, but it was worth it.

“You did so well for me, sweetheart.” Andy smiled, leaning upwards. His body was on top of yours, pressing his lips against yours, stroking your hair as you willingly circled your legs around his waist. Locking him into your grasp with your ankles linked.

An intimate and vulnerable moment of just you and Andy. A moment that should’ve happened years ago. But now, it was too late. The damage was already done. Guilt overtaking your body.

“She’s seeing someone else.” Andy whispered softly as if he could sense your thoughts. Your eyes grew at the spoken words. How did he know that? “I’ve known for a while. She wasn’t ready to tell the family yet.”

The heavy weight on your shoulders immediately lifted your mood. His arms circling around your waist, holding your body tightly against his.

“Why didn’t you start with that news earlier?” With a balled fist you hit his arm.

He laughed and without answering he kissed you passionately like he had waited his entire life to do so.

[barbiewritesstuff]

Church Encounters: Chapter 18

-- We're back!! Oh my Gosh I missed this fic so badly!!

This fic is written in collaboration with @lgg5989 who will be posting this on her tumblr and her AO3. She also made the lovely moodboard below!

Please comment and reblog! We take requests for in universe requests!!

Previous Part

Taglist: @acarboni21 @unsurebuttrying @dempy @peaches-1998 @bbooks-and-teas @roosterscock @positivelyholland --

"What colour should we pick for the nursery?" Jake asked, reviewing dulux samples on his phone while you waited in the truck for your appointment time.

"I don't know… We could keep it white and maybe have colourful accents in the rug and stuff, or we go all out and have a really fun wallpaper…" you replied, swirling your starbucks drink with a grimace. The iced peach iced tea tasted nice but you were missing coffee more than ever now as the pregnancy was making you tired and sleepy round the clock. Working off of the assumption that tea still contained a little caffeine, you had ordered that but either it hadn’t kicked in yet or it simply wasn’t working.

"Actually, I have an idea… Do you mind if I take care of this? As a surprise?"

"By all means, I like picking the decor better anyway," you grinned mischievously

“Don’t go too ham, the room isn’t that big,” he laughed, “And I don’t think we’ll have Baby in there for a while,” he added, quickly glancing at the back seat of his truck where a large cardboard box was buckled in. It contained the Moses basket that you had bought a week ago and had been unable to pick up til now.

“Oh! you’ll have to tell me which colour you pick for the walls so I can coordinate,” you said, your mind already mentally going through every single furniture catalogue you had studied since finding out you were pregnant and that you now knew by heart.

Jake hummed and absentmindedly checked his watch, “Time to go, honey,” Jake said suddenly, pressing both the release buttons on your seatbelts and stepping out of the truck. He walked around and opened your door while you picked up your handbag.

“Need a hand?” He asked. You nodded and he grabbed your hand to help you down, not letting go until you were inside the building. While you weren’t showing much yet, you had been anticipating this moment since telling Jake and the excitement you felt was making you a little dizzy. Or maybe it was the fact that since you were entirely unable to keep anything down in the morning, you hadn't bothered with breakfast.

You sat down in the uncomfortable plastic chairs of the clinic, patiently waiting while Jake notified reception of your arrival. You could see he was nervous too. Jake was usually very relaxed in your presence, but since your pregnancy he had been trying his best to hide his stress, and failing miserably. As he stood by the front desk, he rhythmically tapped his fingers against the glass countertop and when the nurse gave him a pen to write something and he asked a question, Jake played with the release of the ball point tip until the woman had to gently tell him not to break the pen.

A few minutes later a doctor walked out of one of the consultation rooms and called your names. You followed right behind him, Jake grasping your hand in his more for his own reassurance than yours.

“Mrs. Seresin, how are you? How’s pregnancy treating you? Are you liking it so far?” the doctor bombarded you with questions, leaving you absolutely no time to respond to any of them, “Miss Jones,” he said, showing you a young woman sitting in the corner of the room, “is my trainee. She usually shadows, but I thought she might lead the scan today. Now, if you don’t mind, please lay down on the table,” he added, not really giving you a choice in the matter. Still, you took the change in stride and did as you were told. The clinic came recommended through some friends and boasted some great reviews online, and while Dr Van der Platz wasn’t the doctor you had originally wanted his reviews hadn’t been bad either, surely he knew what he was doing.

You lifted your shirt, exposing your tummy. Miss Jones started the abdominal scan, projecting what she picked up with the machine onto the screen.

“Oh, it looks like there’s two babies,” she said, pointing at something on the screen.

“No! Don’t panic! There’s just the one. Anna, look, there’s only one set of arms and leg buds, and one little head,” The doctor said, pointing them all out on screen. While Anna still seemed sceptical, you had to admit that on the screen, only one little bean showed. Jake released a heavy breath behind you, clearly relieved you wouldn’t immediately be thrown into the deep end of parenthood on your first go.

“I thought I saw a second head,” she said, a little defeated and disappointed.

“The machine can be wrong… Did you avoid the bathroom before coming?” he asked you.

You looked at him with guilt written all over your face, “I really tried, I promise… But I drank plenty!” you replied and he laughed a little.

“No worries, Mrs Seresin, having a full bladder pushes the baby forward and gives us better visibility is all,” he said with a reassuring smile, “The machine probably had difficulties picking the baby up, that’s why Miss Jones saw a second one. No need to panic, I assure you,” he finished. 

The scan finished soon after. Before letting you walk out, Miss Jones handed you a printout of the scan with an apologetic smile. As you got out, Jake tore one of the pictures off, 

“I got my girl in my plane, now I have my baby,” he said with a goofy smile, “We’re having a baby,” he added, jumping around as you walked through the parking lot, “Can you believe it? We’re having a baby!” he said, bringing the ultrasound to his lips and kissing it.

“I’m so excited!” you replied, “Sorry about the heart attack I made you have back there,” you added with a grimace.

Jake shrugged, “Honestly, it was terrifying but I would have been over the moon either way,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulders and squeezing you tightly, “You know I love you right? I am so proud to call you my wife and I am so happy that I get to go into this new season of life with you. I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“I love you too, and I thank the Lord everyday that I get to be your wife. And I cannot wait to tackle parenthood by your side, you’ll be an amazing dad,” you replied, looking up at him. He gazed lovingly into your eyes for a moment before leaning down and kissing you, stopping right in front of the truck. He broke the kiss to turn around slightly, placing one of his large palms against your belly, then he bent down and whispered, “Love you too, Beanie.”

“Beanie, is that what we’re calling them?” you laughed as he let go of you to open the passenger door. You followed behind him, climbing in.

“I think it’s cute,” he defended himself as soon as he was seated.

“You’re right, I think it’s adorable,” you replied, watching him balance the picture on the dash, right next to a candid picture he had taken of you in Italy as you ate your ice cream, looking gorgeous if slightly windswept as you looked out to the ocean with a small speck of orange on the side of your mouth. 

“You know what we should do?” you asked, “We should have a journal we both write in during the pregnancy so Beanie has something to look back on.”

Jake hummed, “That would be nice,” he agreed, leaning in to give you one last kiss before starting the car and driving you home.

----

Beau was late. For the first time in his thirty-something years of active service, Beau had slept through his alarm and was running late. He practically flew down the stairs to press the on button on the coffee machine, which, thank the Lord, Elisabeth had prepped for him the evening before like she always did and pulled his homemade lunch out of the fridge before quickly running around the house to kiss the children.

Then, twenty minutes later as he was about to step out of the house to finally leave for work, he noticed something on the kitchen counter. A new mug and a present with a small card saying ‘Dad, I love you,’ and signed with your name. He left the house with the same warm feeling he always got when it came to you, or your sisters, or any of his children really and arrived on base after being held up for yet another twenty minutes. Officers of all ranks looked at him questioningly as he walked in looking slightly worse for wear, an hour and a half late.

“You’re late,” Warlock said as soon as he stepped into his office.

Beau regarded him quietly for a second before asking, “How long have you been waiting? Don’t you have work to do?”

“You’re late,” he repeated, “You’re never late. Everything okay at home?”

“Everything is fine, I just overslept,” Beau answered, placing his briefcase on the desk before setting himself down in his chair. 

Warlock hummed, “I’ll make you a coffee,” he said before getting up and turning to leave the room. 

“No, it’s okay I have a c--” Beau cut himself off. He looked left, then right, then stupidly patted his pockets as though the to go mug of coffee he had made would be found on his person and not left to cool on top of the kitchen island, “That would be wonderful, thank you,” he replied.

Warlock left the office and Beau set about getting his desk ready. He made his way towards the big metal filing cabinet next to the door and unlocked it, pulling out the paperwork he had to finish, or start, for the day. Placing the stack neatly on the desk, next to some sharpened pencils and his favourite pen, all laid out parallel to each other in a way that calmed him down.

Rear Admiral Bates reappeared ten minutes later with a full pot of coffee which Cyclone gratefully poured into his brand new mug. 

“Is it your birthday or something?” Warlock asked, nodding towards the wrapped present.

“Oh no. I don’t know what it is, just found it this morning. It’s from my daughter though,” Beau answered, a little distracted by the large stack of work awaiting him. 

“I don’t know how you did it,” Warlock said, “Getting them to like you I mean. I’ve been trying to get Michelle’s kids to like me for five years now and the youngest one still leaves the room when he sees I’m there. The middle one cried at the wedding.” 

“Yes, I remember that,” Cyclone mumbled. He’d spent a good part of the wedding reception talking to the kid and comforting him, trying to counter every insult and mean comment thrown Warlock’s way with good, positive things about the man. It had been a hard task in itself as they weren’t friends and Beau knew just as much about Rear Admiral Bates as he knew about his next door neighbours, which meant just enough to keep a civil conversation while clearly conveying the fact that he wasn’t looking to be anything other than an acquaintance at most. 

Since then their relationship had improved somewhat and moved from professional indifference to professional acknowledgement. That entailed knowing how the other man liked his coffee and how their children were doing. Cyclone didn’t see the relationship improving any more, largely because he disliked the idea of his professional and home life mixing. Announcing to the dagger squad that you and Bob were ‘his’ kids had been the only notable exception but that was only because he would gladly move heaven and earth for his kids, biological or not, and the love he felt for them far outweighed the deep sense of uncomfortability he had felt in the moment. The smile on both your faces had been more than enough to turn the urge to run and flee into the urge to embarass you both, as any good father should. 

“Aren’t you going to open the present?” Warlock asked, curiosity making his eyes glimmer. 

The two things he knew aside from a summary of his children’s life and his preferred order at the coffee shop down the road was that Solomon Bates had wanted to be a detective as a child and had never outgrown the curiosity and that he was an incorrigible gossip, therefore opening the package here and now was probably a terrible idea but curiosity was killing him too and there were only so many things you could gift him ‘just because’ and none of them were really gossip worthy. It was probably a set of pictures you found of the two of you when you were young, or the printed wedding pictures, or maybe just some cookies in which case you would be cross at him if he didn’t share.

Beau undid the pretty white ribbon you had tied it all together with and lifted the top of the box. He wasn’t sure what he was staring at, and even reading the note you had left didn’t make the penny drop. It did for Warlock, though, as he slapped him forcefully against the shoulder and smiled.

“Congratulations, Sir!” he said.

Beau looked back at the note and read the words a few times over (“Choose wisely”), before glancing down at the name tags underneath it, all prefilled for him. He picked one up and stared at your handwriting underneath the “Hello, my name is”, they all contained different versions of the same word. He glanced at the one saying ‘Papa’, then the one saying ‘Grandpa’, and then ‘Pops’, he looked at one more before his brain finally caught back up.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, “She’s pregnant.”

Beau rushed to get his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled down in his contact list, right past your name, until he landed on Elisabeth’s. He clicked on the call button and she picked up after three rings, sounding sleepy.

“You knew!” he whisper-shouted into the phone, just loud enough for her and Warlock to hear it. 

Rear Admiral Bates, as much as Beau knew it killed him, left the office with a nod of his head. Cyclone heard him walk down the corridor and looked around right outside his door to check no one was around before putting the phone on speaker and finishing setting up.

“Beau it’s six am,” Elisabeth replied.

“You knew she was pregnant!” Cyclone continued, pulling out a couple of files and a large leatherbound code of conduct he needed to scour to verify several complaints. 

“She asked me not to tell!” his wife defended herself. Lizzie shuffled at the other end of the line and he could almost imagine her nuzzling deeper into the pillow, pulling up the covers right above her head like she always did when he woke her up before her preferred time.

“Do not blame this on her, I didn’t marry her, I married you. What happened to telling each other everything?” Beau asked, his voice stern but a smile on his face.

“Beau, if you want to take that up with anyone, you take it up with your daughter,” she replied, sounding muffled.

He scoffed, “Absolutely not, it’s six am. I wouldn’t want to wake her up.”

“Oh, so you’re okay with waking me up but not her?” Elisabeth asked, sounding outraged and offended.

“Yes! She’s pregnant, Honey, she needs the sleep,” he replied, purposefully annoying her now as a small payback for not telling him.

“You never know I might be pregnant,” his wife said.

“Haha. Very funny,” he said. Elisabeth was quiet on the other side of the line for a beat too long, “You are joking, right?”

“Yes of course I’m joking,” She eventually replied.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” he exclaimed.

“Serves you right for waking me up,” She mumbled.

She hung up the call without saying goodbye or sending him off with her usual ‘I love you’ which stung slightly but was quickly explained when she sent him a garbled string of letters she had managed to somehow send via text and speech, followed by an embarrassingly long voice note of her gently snoring. Beau screenshotted the text and downloaded the note, saving both to his phone to hold against her the next time she told him he snored. 

Beau downed a quick sip of his coffee before a knock rang through the office, a few moments later both Maverick and Rooster walked in.

“Sir,” they greeted him.

“We’re here to drop off leave authorization paperwork, Sir,” Rooster said, placing an envelope on his desk. 

Cyclone hummed, taking another sip of his coffee, then, seeing as the mug was almost empty, he down the last of it, lifting the bottom right up to ensure he drank every last drop. When he lowered it back down, he came face to face with Maverick and Rooster’s surprised faces, both of them intensely staring at his mug. He looked at it to find that the regular black mug he had picked up from his counter this morning was in fact one of those fancy heat changing mugs. When Warlock had poured the hot coffee, it had started changing to display a photo of your ultrasound, with, in large legible print “Baby Seresin coming soon”.

“Congratulations, sir,” Maverick said.

“Shit!” he swore, “If you breathe a word of this -- If you tell either of them that you know, I will ground you both for the rest of your lives, is that clear?” he said through gritted teeth. 

Although he didn’t know for sure, he was almost certain you would want to announce your pregnancy to your friends by doing something fun. You had wanted to be a mum for most of your life, there was no way you wouldn’t want to do something special for it, and Beau would be damned if he ruined that for you, especially since you had clearly meant to surprise him in private, and would have, if he hadn’t been running late.

Beau took their paperwork and dismissed them before sinking down on his chair and picking up the mug. He turned it around so the ultrasound faced him and with the hand that wasn’t holding the mug, he gently ran a finger over the tiny blip that would be his future grandchild. 

“Hey there little one,” he said, his voice low and gentle, much like the one he had used when he had first spoken to you as a baby, and identical to the voice he had used to speak to his biological children as he held them in his arms in the delivery room after Elisabeth had gone to sleep and it was just him and his little bundle of joy, “You can call me Grandpa,” he added.

“You’re only little for now, all warm in your mama’s tummy. I know your parents will take good care of you but you gotta promise to be easy on them, yeah? They’re young, they’ll make mistakes but I promise you that you are already so loved,” he said, still speaking to the picture, “I know the world might seem scary, but we’ll all be there to help you and keep you safe, but to help you and your mama as you grow, I’m going to call on someone special, okay?” he asked.

Beau put the mug down and bent down to root through the bag he brought to work every day. After seemingly searching through all the pockets he found what he was looking for and pulled out his rosary. It was old and worn out, the black paint of the metal beads long scraped off by more than a century of daily use, but his great grandfather’s combat rosary still held string despite having been issued in 1916 and then passed down until it hit his father, who promptly left it to rot in the heat and humidity of his childhood home’s dusty and disgusting attic. 

If his father had had what he wanted, Beau would never even have gotten it, but his father had been roused from his laziness by something or other on a random Thursday evening and cleared out the attic to organise a yard sale. He had seen the rosary, recognising it as the same thing Craig always kept in his pocket and took it from the box it had been shoved in. Beau had hidden it until bedtime and spent most of the night untangling the already browned beads before stashing it away underneath in floorboards. 

There had been a few close calls and it had almost been discovered a few times so after a while, Beau took to carrying it wherever he went, a habit he had passed on to all his children.

He ran the sacred necklace through his hands a few times, taking his time to really feel the coolness of the beads before starting, “Hail Mary, Full of Grace, Blessed art Thou amongst Women and Blessed be the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen,” he said. 

Beau went around the necklace and as he finished the prayer, he added, “Hail Mary, Mother of God, please watch over Y/n and guide her as she moves into this new season of life. Help her be kind to herself as her body changes and quieten her mind when it worries, and help her enjoy every moment of the next nine months. Please keep her baby safe and healthy as it grows and tell them that whoever they are and whoever they become, they will always be loved, safe and cared for. And although I know it isn’t entirely your domain, please ensure that Jake enjoys these next few months, and the rest of parenthood, as much as she will. Amen.”

He looked at the cup again, “All done,” he said brightly with a smile, “Mama will teach you how to do that when you grow up,” he added. 

“I’m talking to a fucking mug,” he realised, then forgetting himself again, he promptly apologised to the cup for swearing.

Where Sysiphus had his boulder, Cyclone had his paperwork. Every day he would sit down and work through the pile, and every day it reappeared sometimes bigger and heavier than ever, ready for him. He didn’t mind the paperwork so much, he had liked flying but as life went on and he got married and had children, it slowly lost its appeal. The adrenaline didn’t seem worth the danger and the risk of leaving his wife and children without a husband or a father. And with less flying came less moving, less packing your entire life into cardboard boxes and shipping them around the country sometimes only for a month. Neverending paperwork was safe, and stable. He just wished he could see his children a little more.

He hadn’t picked up the kids from school in almost a year, and he hadn’t done bathtime with the girls since his paternity leave. Between work and desperately trying to balance the rest, he realised he hadn’t had the time to enjoy his family in far too long. He frowned, and in a spur-of-the-moment decision, he printed out a copy of the leave authorisation form and filled it in, immediately approving himself for a two week leave starting at the end of the week. 

Beau checked the time, you were due to arrive on base in less than twenty minutes. He took his coat and put it on, even though it was already May, the air was overcast and the wind had picked up giving the air a slight chill. He made his way to the parking lot, patiently waiting another ten minutes before he saw you and Jake enter and park the truck.

---

You and Jake shared a secret smile when you saw Beau standing in the parking lot, apparently waiting for your arrival, the closest thing to a goofy grin you had ever seen on his face. 

“I think he knows,” Jake said, a hint of laughter in his voice. 

You shook your head, unbuckling your seat belt as he put the truck in park, “I think so too.” 

Jake pressed a kiss to your hand, the one he had been holding the whole drive over, before climbing out. He shot you a look through the open door, “Don’t you dare!” he called as he watched your hand creep towards the door handle. 

You let out a laugh, your hand now resting on the handle as he slammed his own door shut and hurriedly pulled the strap to his duffle bag over his head as he made his way around the front of the truck. Jake opened your door, giving you a slightly exasperated huff, “You’re doing all the work baby, I have to do something to help.” 

“I am capable of getting out of the truck Jake,” you said, fixing him with a look that said his interference wasn’t exactly needed. 

He sighed, his hand held out to help you down, “I know that, but I need to make sure you are okay, for my own peace of mind,” he said quietly, when you didn’t relent, he added, “Please?”

“Alright, but it's only because I love you so much,” you said, taking his hand, allowing him to help you down from the truck. You turned to get your duffle bag from the back seat, when his hand shot out to rest on your shoulder, “I can get it for you darlin’,” he said, already moving to grab it with his large hand. You laughed a little when he carefully placed the strap over your head, slinging the bag diagonally across your body. Before he stepped back from you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I love you,” he said quietly. 

“I love you too,” you replied in kind, a smile coming over your face. Leaning up on your tip-toes, you still spotted Beau, now making his way towards the truck, “I suppose we should see what he wants to be called now shouldn’t we?” you asked. 

Jake let out a laugh, “Who knows, you might have surprised him into shock.” 

You stepped away from the truck, and towards Cyclone’s approaching figure. As soon as he reached you, he enveloped you in a hug, and shot Jake a slightly dirty look, “What are you doing out here without a coat?” he asked, starting to shrug his own off before wrapping it around your shoulders. 

You laughed, accepting the coat, “Dad, it’s not that cold, but if it makes you feel better,” you made a show of threading your arms through the too long sleeves and pulling the zipper up, your duffle bag hanging awkwardly beneath the surface. 

“So it’s true then? This isn’t some prank?” he asked, his eyes holding excitement that you hadn’t seen since, you couldn’t remember when. 

“Yes! You are going to be a grandpa, or pops, or whatever you want them to call you,” you answered, your face almost hurting from the wide smile that had taken over. 

“I’ll be grandpa,” he said, pulling the ‘Hello, my name is: Grandpa’ tag out of his pocket. You let out an excited squeal before pulling him into a hug. 

Jake let out a quiet laugh and started ushering the three of you towards the building, “Alright, let’s get the pregnant lady out of the cold,” he said, wrapping a protective arm around you as you stepped out of Beau’s embrace. 

You shushed your husband, looking around carefully, “Don’t ruin it! We have to tell everyone else together,” you said to him quietly, your hand slapping gently against his chest. 

He laughed silently, you could feel his chest shaking slightly against your shoulder, “I know honey, I won’t ruin it.” 

The excitement from earlier started to die down, and by the time you made it to the doors, the only thing you wanted was to talk to Beau alone. Jake had been loving and supportive, but ever since your scan, you had been worried. Your anxiety, which had been mostly silent since your wedding, was rearing its ugly head. What if you turned out to be just like your mom? You didn’t have a great parental role model besides Beau growing up, what if you were a shit parent? 

As you got to the doors, Jake shared a look with you, reading something in your eyes. He held the door for you, and as you neared Beau’s office, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, “I’m just going to change, see you in a few?” he asked. 

You gave him a tight smile and a nod, grateful that he understood you just needed a moment alone with the only man you’d ever known as a father. 

“What’s up,” Beau asked you once Jake had made it down the hall, and out of sight, his face was concerned. 

You let out a sigh, pushing the door to his office open and walking inside before answering him, “I just, what if I’m a shit mom?” you asked him, tears springing to your eyes. 

He looked at you, his mouth agape following you inside before shutting the door behind him. Before he could answer your question, you continued, letting your thoughts out, “The only good parent I have ever known was you, and Elizabeth, but mainly you. Don’t get me wrong, you have been very good to me, Annie, and Audrey, but what if it’s genetic? What if I don’t love them, or push them away? What if Jake leaves because I’m a bad parent? What if he takes them with him? I just got this little life,” you said, looking up at him, tears running down your face, your hands cupped over your still flat stomach, “I can’t mess this up.” 

“Honey,” he cooed, taking you in his arms for a hug, “Sweetheart, it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay,” he said, bringing one hand to gently pet your hair as he held you tight. You let out a loud sob, shaking in his arms as the weight of the possible reality of your near future. 

“Baby, look at me,” he asked and you looked up. Beau swiped a stream of your tears off of your cheeks with his thumb. He leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss onto your forehead, “You are not your mom. Her being bad does not mean you will be. Genetics have nothing to do with the ability to be a good person,” he whispered, cupping your face in his hands.

“Look, I admit I was lucky, because by the time I realised I was a dad I had already been acting like one for long enough that I had experience to help me out, but when you called me dad for the first time -- do you remember?” he asked you. 

You thought for a minute before replying, “At your wedding?”

“No, there was one time before that. It was in December the year before, you had been ill for days, but that day was the worst. You were so weak we couldn’t keep you awake for very long, and getting you to eat was so difficult. I kept begging your mom to let me call a doctor, or take you to the hospital and she just kept refusing, saying there was no need, even though your fever had climbed up to 103°F in the space of an hour,” Beau explained with a far off look in his eyes. He remembered that night all too well, the memory of it was burned into his brain so distinctly that he remembered exactly what to do when the same happened to Peter nearly a decade later.

“I went up to your room to try to get you to drink some warm milk one last time before bed. You were laying on your tummy, and I remember I put my hand on your shoulder to turn you around. It was so obvious something was wrong,” Beau breathed in deeply, still lost in thought. He could see it happen in front of his eyes now.

The dark night sky visible through your undrawn curtains, the moon and a small bedside lamp drowning the room in a macabre yellow light. He pulled up a chunky pastel yellow plastic chair next to the bed as the wind outside battered the windows as if trying to get in to help your fever break. He reached over and gently laid his hand over your chubby, snoopy-pyjama clad arm and flinched at the temperature. You stirred a little. This was the most responsive you had been all day. Emboldened by your apparent improvement, Beau turned you over. Like a ragdoll, you flopped onto your back and looked at him with large glazed-over eyes. Your clammy skin had turned slightly blue, or seemed to in the dim light of the room. 

“Daddy help,” you whispered before your eyes rolled back into your sockets. 

For a second, during which the world seemed to have forgotten to spin, nothing happened, and then your limbs started twitching and shaking. A moment later, foam started forming at the corners of your mouth. Your arm shot to the side, knocking down the lamp and shattering the lightbulb as it hit the floor. 

Beau stood in horror, unable to figure out what to do until he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, he moved towards the door, to stop whichever one of your sisters was coming from seeing you like this. Annie appeared around the corner. 

“Is everything okay?” she asked, he tried to keep his face still so as to not betray the situation but he knew he couldn’t keep the charade up for long. 

“I need you to call the hospital,” is all he had time to say before Annie turned around on her heels and sprinted towards the home phone. 

Beau returned to the room, vaguely aware he needed to be noting down the length of the seizure, luckily, he had looked at his watch seconds before it had started. A minute had passed already and you were showing no sign of improvement. He knelt down by the bed, not feeling the stab of pain when his knees landed on the shards of broken glass and leaned towards you as much as he could. Beau brought a hand up to your head and petted your hair, saying the only thing he could think of.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed be the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen,” he whispered, saying it like a chant over the seven additional minutes your seizure lasted.

Once you had stopped shaking and Beau could concentrate on anything other than his prayer, he could hear voices coming from downstairs and soon heavy footsteps running up the staircase towards him. What felt like a second later paramedics were pushing him to the side to take a look at you. 

You were still lethargic, barely whimpering whenever someone touched you, your large eyes blinking up at him.

"Are you the father?" one of the paramedics asked.

"Yes," someone replied. He looked over to the doorway to see Annie, holding a crying Audrey's hand, "He's our daddy."

Beau shook himself out of his reverie to find you staring up at him.

"What happened?" You asked.

"They took you to hospital in an ambulance and I followed right behind with your sisters. We sat in the waiting room for two hours while doctors looked you over, and while I was sitting in that stupidly uncomfortable chair, the only thing I could think of was you calling me 'daddy'," he said, "I was sitting there, with my head in my hands, bent over my knees, trying to take deep breaths to stay calm when the only thing I wanted to do was cry, puke and run away. I was so scared. Scared that you weren't okay, scared that you loved me, scared that I would turn into my dad at a moment's notice," he paused for a second, seeming to contemplate his next words. 

When he finally continued, he said, "For a few weeks I was nervous and on edge. Every time something went wrong, I had to bite back the urge to snap and scream and then, after a week, I realised something. Being a good person isn't something you are, it's a choice. Every day I woke up scared out of my mind and every day I chose to not let you know. I chose to be kind, to be patient, to be loving, even if all I wanted to do was the complete opposite. And when I realised that love was a choice, I realised that even if I messed up, I could choose to fix things. I could apologise, I could help. And I know you will do just the same."

  

“You’re scared that you will turn into your mother, but you have to remember that you are half of your father too, and he was one of the best people I’ve ever known. He loved you girls more than he loved flying, more than he loved anything really,” Beau finished, giving you a warm smile, “You’re going to do fine, and you have Jake to help you. When things are hard, he is your rock and he won’t abandon you.”

You nodded, pressing your head into his chest, “Okay,” you said quietly, trying to let the reassurances wash over you. After a minute more of the hug, you stepped back from his embrace, slowly pulling off his jacket to return it to him, “Thanks, dad. You’re right, we can do this.” 

“Of course sweetheart,” he said, taking the coat before opening the door for you, “Take it easy okay? I don’t want to hear of you doing any flying until this one is born,” he added, nodding to your abdomen. 

“I won't, Poppy,” you said, your voice teasing.

Beau rolled his eyes at your name calling, “Love you, kiddo,” he said with a smile. 

“Love you too dad,” you called back to him, making your way to the locker room. 

—

You had tried to call Audrey all day but you had received no response. Today should have been her day off but you knew your sister, as much as she complained of the schedule and the demands of the job, she really did like working with the mothers and the newborns and usually picked up any shift she was asked. So, you assumed when you hung up after trying to reach her yet again, she must have gone in to work. 

“Ready to go sweetheart?” Jake asked, leaning on the sliding door to the sunroom where you had been calling, basking in the lovely warmth of the glass room, a large mug of tea forgotten on the glass coffee table.

You nodded, unfolding your legs from underneath you and you got off the wicker couch to find your shoes. Once ready to brave the outside world, armed with your handbag and a pink leather jacket, you unlocked the mini and climbed into the driver’s seat. Jake climbed in beside you, wasting no time to hook up his phone to the car and playing Sun To Me by Zach Bryan as you drove to the bar.  

The Hard Deck parking lot was, as usual, crammed full of cars but you managed to squeeze your car in between two delivery vans. The Hard Deck was much the same. You managed to find Bob at the bar, quickly saying hi before joining the rest of the team at the pool tables and immediately joining Phoenix in an impassioned conversation with Fanboy over their favourite film series. It might have seemed like a losing battle for Phoenix as she listened to Mickey waffle on about Star Wars but you knew that as soon as he would draw breath Nat would launch into a monologue on her unparalleled love of the Jason Bourne Series. You kept your opinions to yourself, not wanting to out yourself as a hardcore Twiglight fan and giving them all an aneurism. 

In your defence, you knew Twilight was bad, but that’s what made it so good to you. It felt like watching a trainwreck, you couldn’t stop looking, no matter how horrible it was. It also made for a very easy comfort watch whenever you wanted to watch something and not think too much. There was, however, one thing you liked more than watching Twilight, and that was asking Jake to watch Twilight with you. He would, bless his heart. He would sit beside you during the entire series and watch the films, trying his best to seem interested and like he absolutely was not going to fall asleep. Perhaps it was cruel of you, but that did not make it any less enjoyable.

Suddenly, your phone rang in your pocket. Seeing Audrey’s picture pop up on the screen, you stepped outside to take the call.

“Hiya, how are you?” you asked.

Audrey groaned, “That’s another pair of scrubs I can throw out,” she replied.

“You work in the maternity ward, A. How does it happen so often?” you asked.

“You don’t want to know. How come I have like eight missed calls from you, everything okay?”

“Yeah, look, we’re doing a barbecue on Saturday. How about you come down and see everyone again,” Audrey groaned again.

"Oh come on!" You said, "Come down for the weekend, there's someone I'd like you to meet,"

"Y/n, I am not coming down so you can set me up," Audrey replied, sounding exasperated and exhausted after no doubt another shift that couldn’t seem to end soon enough.

"I'm not setting you up. They're important to me and I'd like you to get to know them," you explained.

"Is Annie going?" she asked.

You hummed in agreement.

"Fine!" She sighed, "But we're going shopping while we're there. I need new clothes,"

“Me too,” you mumbled, looking down at your growing stomach, as she hung up, probably headed back into the ward to help deliver another bundle of joy. 

---

“You totally told Maria we were expecting, right?” Jake asked Bob as they made their way through the mess hall line. 

Bob audibly gulped before answering, shakily, “I -- I wouldn’t --”

“Cut the shit, Bobby,” Jake said, cutting him off and fixing him with a stare. 

“I may have accidentally -- I didn’t mean to i -- it just slipped out, I’m so sorry,” Bob said, his stuttering coming to a stop when Jake interrupted him. 

“Nah,’s alright, I’m not mad,” Jake said, “I do need a favour, though,” he continued as they made their way to a table. 

Bob nodded, telling him to keep going.

“She’s coming next week right?” Jake asked. Not waiting for Bob to confirm, he added, “Can you tell her to bring her brushes, I need her to paint something for me.”

“Okay,” Bob said, already texting Maria. A second later, his phone buzzed with a response.

“What did she say?” Jake asked, trying to peek at the text himself. 

“She asks why you couldn’t ask her yourself,” Bob said, looking down at his phone. 

Jake sighed, “Because she doesn’t answer my texts?” he answered. 

Bob let out a laugh, “She says ‘touché’.”

----

You were standing in the backyard of Cyclone’s house looking at the group that was gathered there. They had no idea what was about to hit them when the cake was brought out. Everyone from the squadron and your sisters were gathered here under the assumption that it was your birthday barbeque, but little did they know it was your pregnancy reveal. When you ordered the cake, the baker had been confused, you weren’t doing a gender reveal because you wanted to be surprised, so you had her ice the cake in white, but the tiers were dyed blue and pink. The final touch, which you had yet to add to the top, was one of the photos from your ultrasound.

Beau and Lizzie had so graciously agreed to host the party, since your house was a little small for such a gathering, and you couldn’t have been happier with the turnout. As you made your way around the yard, talking to different people here and there, you spotted Annie and Bob bent over their phones at the corner patio set. 

“You two are getting along well,” you said as you approached, hearing the last of their quiet laughter die down.

“What? Jealous I’m spending time with my little brother?” Annie replied.

“Haven’t you guys only met once?” you asked.

Annie shrugged, “Sure, and we’ve texted every day since.” 

“She sends me memes,” Bob said, a proud smile on his face. 

“Oh! Show her the one I sent you yesterday!” Annie added enthusiastically. 

Bob fished his phone out of his pocket with a goofy grin. He unlocked it and slid it towards you showing you a picture Annie had sent on their whatsapp chat of the child Jesus tugging on the Virgin Mary’s dress saying “Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!” and a text underneath the picture saying “The first rosary”.

“I’m jealous,” you stated, “You met Bobby once and you sent him that and I’m lucky to get a weekly text.” 

“We call every two days,” Annie protested. You stuck out your bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, “Fine! We’ll make it a group chat!” she relented, starting the chat on her phone. 

“I love you,” you told your sister, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“You better,” she grumbled.

“You know, I always wanted a little sister…” Bob said, “I regret that now,” he added, poking you in the side with a wide grin, “I’m joking, I love you. You’re very annoying, but I love you.” 

“Hey! You be nice to my wife Bobby Boy or we’ll have to rethink making you Godfather,” Jake said, coming up to wrap an arm around your shoulders. 

“You’re joking right?” he asked, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

“Hey, hey! Keep the waterworks for later, we haven’t announced it yet!” Jake said, hurriedly looking around him to see if anyone was watching.

“What’s happening here?” Beau said, arriving so quietly it scared everyone.

“Bobby is bullying me,” you replied before Bob could.

“Lying is a sin, Y/n,” he told you with a crooked smile. 

“I need to take a leaf out of your mother’s book Jake, next argument is twenty bucks towards the argument jar,” Cyclone warned.

“Lizzie!” Bob shouted, “Dad is bullying us!” 

“That’ll be forty for your trouble young man,” you said, a smirk on your face. 

“What’s this I’m hearing about bullying our children Beau?” Elisabeth asked, raising an eyebrow as she walked over to stand beside him.

“I’m not! I would never! I was warning Bob and Y/n about an argument jar,” He explained.

“What’s the price?” Jake asked. 

“Twenty per infraction,” Cyclone said, a triumphant grin on his face. 

“Thirty per bullying accusation for any of you,” She retorted, pointing at everyone, including her husband. 

“Hey now --” Beau argued.

Elisabeth stuck out a hand and made a beckoning movement. Cyclone took out his wallet and gave his wife the note, fixing her with a glare that could have made any of his sailors flinch and run. Elisabeth merely smirked.

“Ooh I see where you get it from now,” Jake whispered in your ear as soon as Lizzie returned to her chat with Maverick and Phoenix. 

Before you could respond, Beau set a hand on Jake’s shoulder, “I need some help carrying more beers out for the cooler, you young guns sure know how to put it away,” he said with a laugh, “Do you have a second?” 

“Of course,” Jake said, giving you a peck on the cheek before following him to the garage. 

You watched the door close behind your two favourite men and a smile came over your face, you were so glad they got along, you weren’t sure what you would do if they didn't. 

—

Beau closed the door behind them and Jake turned to look at him confused. 

“I need to talk to you about something,” he said, looking at Jake like he was steeling himself for something. 

Jake’s heart dropped, what could be so important that Cyclone felt the need to pull him away from you and the party, “What’s up?” he asked, blood beginning to rush through his ears. 

“I need you to pay attention to Y/n,” Beau started. 

“Sir--” Jake said, his voice a bit offended but Beau interrupted him. 

“You didn’t let me finish. I need you to pay attention to Y/n, more than you usually do. Pay attention to her behaviour, if she seems sad, if she’s changing in any way or another, like if she’s eating less or feeling less energetic. I know it’s probably just my own worries, but I’m scared she’ll get prenatal or postpartum depression…” he sighed, “Lizzie had it with Peter and honestly, I’ve been paranoid about it since,” he added.

“I’ll watch her,” Jake assured him, “I’m not sure what I’m watching out for though…” he admitted.

“General changes, mostly. See if she’s withdrawing from people, or if she’s suddenly no longer interested in her hobbies…,” Beau stopped to think for a moment, “Lizzie used to have memory problems and indecisiveness, she’d have trouble focussing on anything and it would give her horrible mood swings -- worse than can be blamed on hormones and pregnancy brain. Bad enough that she started to notice it herself. I also remember she used to have such a hard time sleeping and eating.. And obviously, she wasn’t feeling herself mood wise either, I mean, she seemed very hopeless. She’d cry for hours on end and nothing I could do would make her feel better…” he said, trailing off, his eyes a little misty. 

“Okay,” Jake said, never seeing the Admiral look so worn down, “I’ll keep a close eye on her.” 

“You’re good for her Seresin,” Beau said, “Just make sure our girl is okay?”

“Of course sir, I will,” he said, and with a nod from Cyclone, the two of them gathered up a case of beer each, making their way back into the backyard.

—

Once everyone had eaten, you found yourself in the kitchen with Maria, Audrey, and Lizzie, the four of you having easy conversation as you cleaned up dinner. 

“I just don’t know, I don’t want it to be cliche,” Maria insisted, drying a plate before setting it on top of the clean stack. 

You laughed a little at her defeated voice, “It’s not cliche, I think it’ll be wonderful,” you said, before turning to Audrey, “Don’t you think so A?”

“I love it honestly, getting married on the ranch, the men all dressed up with hats and boots? Boho dresses for you and your bridesmaids’? Sign me up!” she said enthusiastically, “Are you sure you don’t have any more brothers in need of a good wife?”

Maria let out a laugh, and you smiled at how much it sounded like Jake’s, “They are all snatched up I’m afraid,” she said. 

Looking at Audrey, you chimed in, “I thought you said you were done taking random setups?” you asked her. 

“Well they aren’t random if they are related to Jake and Maria,” she replied, “I don’t need a man I guess, it would just be nice to come home to someone other than mittens.”

“Who’s mittens?” Elisabeth asked, looking at Audrey confused. 

“Oh I forgot to tell you, I got a cat!” she said excitedly, “He is the cutest little thing, a little trouble maker, but cute nonetheless.” She added, fishing her phone out of her pocket to show Lizzie a photo of her cat, a tiny little creature with fur as black as the night. It was flashing two yellow eyes, coming off as cute and innocent but if your second to last phone call, during which it had jumped up on one of the counters and stolen a sizeable chunk of cheese had been anything to go by, you knew Audrey was being more than kind by her description of the little lad.

“That’s wonderful!” Lizzie replied, “I’m glad you’ve got someone to come home to.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said quietly. 

Lizzie set the cake out on the counter as Maria and Audrey finished the dishes. You had just put the last lid on the leftovers when Maria caught your eye. You shot a glance to Audrey and then back to Maria as you made your way to the cake. 

“Audrey, you know there are quite a few single men that attend our church, maybe I can give them your number?” Maria asked her, “Let me get my phone and we can Facebook stalk them!” she added more excitedly, entwining her arm with Audrey’s, she pulled her out of the kitchen and back to the patio. 

You quickly ran from the room and dug through your purse, pulling out the sonogram picture you had saved for the night. Jogging back into the kitchen, you almost ran straight into Lizzie in the doorway. 

“Oops, sorry mom,” you said, a grin on your face as you gave her a quick hug before moving past to stick the photo on top of the cake, standing it up in the icing for all to see. 

Lizzie came up behind you, admiring the cake, “Are you ready?” she asked. 

“I think so, I’ll go tell them all to gather round, if you want to carry it out?” you asked her, turning to look at her from the corner of your eye.

“Sounds good to me, be right behind you,” she agreed. 

You walked out, joining Jake by the table you had all been eating around. Jake lifted his arm up for you to cuddle into him. You found your spot right as Lizzie walked out, holding the three tiered beauty in front of her.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to you,” Beau started, the rest of the guests soon starting to join in, “Happy Birthday dear Y/n, Happy birthday to you!” They finished in unison, right as Elisabeth placed the cake in the centre of the table and stepped back.

You looked for a knife, waiting for someone to notice the picture. Jake stood by you, keeping his conversation with Maverick going but trying to subtly nudge his attention towards the cake. Next to Maria, Bob was trying to do the same with Audrey but none of your efforts were working. You found your knife and picked up the paper towels, hoping that the colours might get them to pay more attention to what you were trying to tell them, but you didn’t need to. Although she had been staring at the photograph for the previous five minutes, trying to guess what it was actually showing, Phoenix’s penny hadn’t dropped yet. Once it had, however, she jumped up from her seat with a loud gasp, accidentally knocking it to the floor.

“OH MY GOD!” she exclaimed loudly enough that Beau jumped and dropped the burger he had been about to bite into on the floor. He grimaced as he picked it up, turning it around to see if it was salvageable and then angrily slamming it on his plate. 

“OHMYGOD OHMYGOD OHMYGOD!” she screamed, “CONGRATULATIONS!” she added engulfing you in a bone breaking hug, making sure to stay well away from your tummy. Once she let go of you, she immediately jumped into Jake’s arms and squeezed him until the breath left his lungs.

“Holy sh--” Fanboy started.

“GARCIA, LANGUAGE,” Beau shouted, cutting the swear in half and covering Matthew’s ears with his hands. He had evidently been grabbed mid-game with Peter as while he wrestled himself out of his father’s clutches, his older brother happily ran towards the goal and kicked the soccer ball straight in between the two posts. Peter ran a victory lap around the garden, making sure to stop by a still struggling Matthew to stick out his tongue and rub in his failure. 

“Goodness gracious,” Mickey tried again, this time sounding a little mocking, earning himself a sharp slap up the back of the head by Payback who was keen to avoid any extra push ups that week.

“Please excuse him, sir. His mother didn’t teach him right,” Reuben apologised.

“Don’t let it happen again. I don’t need you all corrupting my children,” Beau chided before turning back to the kitchen to prepare himself another burger. 

As the rest of the group caught on to the exciting news reveal, you and Jake were crowded by everyone, most stopping to hug you before either pulling Jake into a hug or just shaking his hand and offering congratulations. 

When you saw Javy having what appeared to be a more serious conversation with Jake, you turned to join before you were pulled away by Audrey. She pulled you into a tight hug and you felt tears soak the collar of your shirt. Annie looked rather smug as she approached you, Audrey’s shaky voice in your ear saying, “I can’t believe you’re going to have a baby, I’m so happy for you!” 

Annie laughed at the sight the two of you made, “Do we have room for one more in this hug?” 

Audrey looked between the two of you, and Annie’s calm demeanour before her tears dried up and she was pointing a finger between you, “She knew! How come she knew before I did?!” 

“I just had a moment of doubt was all,” you said quietly, not wanting Jake to know about how anxious you were about parenthood. 

Audrey regarded you a moment before pulling you into another hug, Annie joining on the other side, “Oh Y/n it’s going to be alright, you are going to be such a good mom,” she said into your ear. 

A few tears leaked out of your eyes as you replied, “Thank you.” 

All too soon, your sisters were pulling away from the hug and you were engulfed by Phoenix and Halo, both women excitedly asking several questions all at once, the only one you caught was from Phoenix, “How far along are you?” 

“Oh, about six weeks,” you answered, placing your hand on your slightly puffy midsection. 

“Geeze, Hangman,” Rooster called, having overheard your answer, “You got busy fast.” 

“Bradshaw!” Phoenix chastised him, looking around at the kids present at the party. You could feel a blush of embarrassment spreading across your face. 

His eyes got wide when he saw the Admiral rejoining the party, a new plate of food in hand, “Sorry, my bad.” 

Suddenly Jake’s arm was around your back, his hand squeezing your side comfortingly, “Hey, don’t listen to him,” he said, his lips buried in the top of your hair. 

“I know, I just didn’t expect someone to announce it to the whole room,” you said, relishing in the feel of his touch. 

Lizzie cut the cake, revealing the pink and blue layers, “Alright, take which gender you think their little bean is going to be!” she called over the lawn as she started plating them up. 

Before everyone took a bite, the whole group gathered together holding their plates out and up towards the camera, showing the colour of their chosen piece of cake. 

Maverick approached you and Jake after the photo, an excited look on his face, “I’m so happy for you kids. I’ll be sad to lose you from the squadron for a while, but your safety comes first,” he said. 

You and Jake shared a look before leaning into Mav some more, “Mav, about that,” you started. 

He looked at the two of you confused before Jake took over, “Y/n’s contract is up this year, we don’t think she is going to reup.” 

Mav’s eyes widened before he nodded, “I don’t blame you there kiddo, we will miss you, but you plan on staying close don’t you?”

“Yeah, this is our home. Besides, Jake will still be stationed here so you will be seeing plenty of us,” you answered. 

“Good, good,” Mav said, nodding along, adding another, “Congratulations,” before taking a bite of his blue cake and walking away. 

You and Jake sat, him with a pink piece and you with a blue piece, laughing together at the group around you. Phoenix, Halo, Maria, and your sisters were all scrolling through pinterest already planning little outfits to buy for your little bean. Rooster, Harvard, Yale, Coyote, and Payback were standing by the firepit talking about how they would have another pilot joining their ranks, the group laughing at all the different callsign options your future child could have. 

You looked around the yard again, confused when you couldn’t find Fanboy. You finally spotted him sitting standing slightly behind Coyote at the fire, his plate still mostly full of cake, parts of both a pink and a blue piece still present. 

You let out a laugh before pointing him out to Jake who laughed and called over to him, “Hey, Fanboy! How’s the cake?”

“Delicious! I just couldn’t decide what you were going to have, so I figured now either way I’ll be right,” he said with a smile. 

The group laughed at his answer and the backyard got rowdy with small arguments about if you were going to have a boy or a girl. By the time everyone left, you were exhausted and by the time Jake slowed the truck to a stop in front of your house, you had fallen asleep, one hand entwined in Jake’s and the other resting on your stomach. 

—

You woke up with a jolt, shaken by a loud noise coming from within the bedroom. For a brief, confused moment, you thought it might have been the fire alarm but when Jake stirred too and picked up his phone, the mystery was elucidated. 

“Ciao, Mamma, come stai?” you heard him say into the receiver as he walked out of the bedroom, down the stairs and into the living room, rubbing his eyes. Instead of answering with how she was doing, Isabella bellowed into the receiver at a loud enough volume that you heard it through the walls.

“Piccola merda ingrata! Come osi! Come osi tenerlo lontano da noi! Quanto tempo avremmo dovuto aspettare che ce lo dicessi?” She screamed, “Non vuoi che siamo lì per te? Non ci ami? Ti abbiamo fatto qualcosa?” she continued, her screams turning into sobs as the phone call went on.

You swung your legs over the side and left the comfort of the bed to find where Jake had gone. You knew enough Italian by now to get most of what she was saying, but the muffled effect brought by distance and Isabella’s emotion made some of it hard to understand. You found Jake in the garage, sitting on one of his exercise benches, desperately trying to tell his mother that he hadn’t forgotten them, but that he had just been so busy --

“Troppo occupato per dire a tua madre che tua moglie è incinta?” she asked, her voice breaking on a few words. 

“Mamma, mi dispiace tanto,” Jake apologised, sounding guiltier than you had ever heard him before. 

"Mi stai spezzando il cuore” she sobbed, “You’re breaking my heart.”

“Mamma, ascoltami. non ho dimenticato. Volevo chiamare la domenica dopo la chiesa così saresti stato tutto insieme,” he told her, assuring her that he hadn’t forgotten and was just waiting to tell them all together

“Oh,” she said, “Oh mio caro, mi dispiace tanto, ho rovinato i tuoi piani!” she exclaimed, suddenly concerned that she may have ruined Jake’s plans

Jake looked confused and surprised, and very much like a man who had experienced whiplash from the way his mother’s tone had just changed. While she had been crying and screaming about how he didn’t love them a minute ago after he explained that he was planning to call Sunday her mood had done a one-eighty and you could now hear her watery smile through the phone.

“Va bene?” Jake asked incredulously, “It’s okay?”

“Non preoccuparti, sono a casa da solo. Nessun altro lo sa, puoi ancora fare quello che vuoi, lo terrò segreto,” she giggled, telling him she was alone and would keep his secret

Jake let out a relieved sigh, “Bene. Qualcosa arriverà attraverso il post, assicurati che nessuno lo apra prima di domenica,” he said, asking her to make sure no one opened the package he had sent via post, to be opened during the announcement

“Oh si! Terrò lontani i bambini,” she squealed, “Questo è così eccitante!”

Jake laughed, “E nonna. Tieni lontana anche la nonna.”

Isabella gasped, “Se la nonna lo sa, lo saprà il Texas,” she lamented, clearly already thinking of where she could hide whatever Jake was sending through the mail.

“Morning Isabella,” you said, gauging her mood and determining now was a good time to make your presence known without getting shouted at

“My darling! How do you feel? How far along are you? Is he treating you well?” she fired your way.

You laughed, “I’m fine, things are easy for now. Except for the coffee, I can’t stand coffee now,” you said and you heard her softly gasp in horror. Isabella, much like you functioned only on coffee, she even went to bed with one, claiming that without it she just couldn’t sleep right. 

“And you keep forgetting things,” Jake said, laughing slightly. 

“And I keep forgetting things!” you said, pointing at him, “I forgot the -- what did I forget again?”

“You forgot the cheese when you made mac and cheese last night,” Jake offered.

“Yes,” you said, “Not my proudest moment… But Jake was a dear about it.”

“Good. I did do a good job with him, then,” Isabella laughed, “I will leave you two to it then, Giovanni will be home soon,” she added, “Jake, you keep taking good care of her, and Y/n you make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

“I’m not that much of a trouble maker,” Jake protested.

“Uh huh,” his mother replied, totally unconvinced, “Ciao, you two!” she said before hanging up the call.

“I think my ears are ringing,” Jake said with a laugh as he brought a hand to his ear and massaged it, “That was loud… I tried to find a spot where the noise wouldn’t wake you…”

“The ringing woke me,” you replied, walking up to him. Jake leaned back against the wall as you sat down facing him with your legs at either side of him, “You okay?” he asked, rubbing circles into your back with one of his large hands.

“Sleepy,” you answered, nuzzling your face into his neck. Jake laughed as you did so, your movement tickling his skin.

“Let’s get you back to bed then,” he said, suddenly standing up, taking a hold of your legs and wrapping them around his waist, “Hold on tight baby, don’t wanna drop you two,” he added. He carried you back to your room, dropping you gently onto the bed and coming to lay down beside you, quickly pulling your back closer to him. You fell asleep with Jake’s hand resting on your growing belly, his thumb stroking your stretching skin.

—

“Are you ready for this?” Jake asked as he joined you on the couch. 

You let out a little laugh, “What do you think it’s not going to go well?”

Jake shrugged while logging into his laptop, “I think it's going to go great, I do have a feeling they will be a bit overwhelming though, at least through the computer.” 

“I’m sure they’re going to be fine,” you said, resting your head on Jake’s shoulder. The baby had gotten you up earlier than usual that morning and you were almost late to church because of your morning sickness. While you loved the little life growing inside of you, they could stand to let your stomach settle if only for a moment. 

Jake clicked through the Skype menu, pulling up Isabella’s contact card. With one last glance at you, and your confirming nod, Jake pressed the call button. The computer let out a ringing noise for a moment before Isabella’s face popped up on the screen. You could see the excitement in her face, she looked like she wanted to jump through the screen to hug the both of you. 

"Ciao miei cari, come state entrambi?” she asked, her eyes lingering on your side of the screen. 

“We’re good mamma,” Jake said, “Up a little early this morning, but good,” he added, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer to him. 

“Good, well we are all here!” she exclaimed, turning her computer to show the kitchen of the Seresin ranch, all of the family gathered around the island. A chorus of voices called out at the same time, “Hi Uncle Jake!”, “Jacob, Y/n”, “So good to see you!”, “Why are you calling?”. 

Jake held up his free hand, “Whoa, one at a time! Hi Luca, how are you?”

“I’m good! I lost another tooth!” he exclaimed, trying to open his mouth from the other end of the island and show Jake his missing tooth. 

“Wow, you’re getting so big buddy! When we come to visit next I bet you’re going to be taller than me,” Jake said, you knew he missed visiting his family, but you hoped to go back the following year for Christmas at the very least. 

“Cos'è questa storia di Jacob?” Nonna asked, looking between the two of you sceptically, her eyes lingering on your side of the screen a moment longer than Jake’s.

Jake let out a laugh, “Don’t rush Nonna, you will know soon! Mamma, do you have the box we sent?” 

“Yes, it’s just here,” she said, holding it up for you both to see. 

“Alright,” you said, smiling brightly, “Why don’t you guys open it? There’s something in there for everyone!” 

As the group gathered around the box, you and Jake tried to keep your wide smiles in, not missing the way that Giovanni was watching the two of you from the corner of the screen, a knowing smile on his face. 

Jake leaned over to whisper in your ear, “I bet he knows, I’m not sure how he knows, but he does.” 

You squinted your eyes at him, and Giovanni looked away quickly, trying to avoid any suspicion and failing miserably. 

Suddenly, you heard an excited shriek and watches as Sofia held up a shirt excitedly, “Oh my goodness! She’s pregnant! They’re going to have a baby!” 

As the shirts were pulled out of the box and distributed to the rest of the family, everyone began to shout their congratulations. 

Alessandra was next, “I am so excited for you two! Let me know if you need anything? I would be happy to send some clothes that the boys don’t need anymore.” 

“What are you having?” Tony asked, his eyes lit up with excitement. 

“We are going to be surprised,” you said, “Just as long as they are healthy we don’t care.” 

Everyone nodded along with that, “Oh how wonderful,” Nonna started, “I will have to make you a quilt!” 

“One of the mare’s is due to have a baby roundabout your due date,” John said, “Maybe we can keep it for the little one!”

“That would be adorable,” Jake laughed.

“Do you have any names picked out?” Giovanni asked.

“We have a few we like but we’ll make a decision on the day. We want to meet them before we decide,” Jake replied, looking at you, “Want to make sure that it fits.”

“Okay, well, you’ll have to tell us if you do a baby shower so we can send you stuff!” Alessa said.

“I don’t think we will have one, to be honest. I think we’re enjoying shopping for baby by ourselves and the house will be full and loud enough soon, so I think we’re just going to spend these next few month by ourselves,” you replied.

“Speaking of full houses, is Maria there?” Isabella asked.

“She’s out with Bob, they’re looking at wedding venues today I think, and then they have a house viewing tonight,” Jake said. 

“They’re coming for dinner later though, so we can always call you back tonight?” you offered 

With that, the conversation happily switched from one happy event to another. Almost an hour later, as Jake’s computer warned of imminent battery death, you bid your in-laws goodbye. He pressed the ‘end call’ button and silence fell over the house, you closed your eyes, taking your time to enjoy it.

“I know I shouldn’t wish for time to go faster, but I just want them to get there,” Jake said, speaking the words you had just been thinking. 

As much as you liked having the quiet and calm home life that you led now, with the next season of your life right around the corner, you couldn’t help but with time would just fly by.

[bolontiku]

"Bullshit"

Avengers AU - Chapter 2

Previous

Characters: Brock Rumlow, reader

Posted: April 1st

A/N: not planned but here ya go. Sorry for not writing as much as before work has me a bit exhausted.

A/N 2: The story is starting to unfold. These two just seem to fall into each other huh? This fucker...

WARNINGS: TW implied abuse

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved. 

He should stay away.

She got a boyfriend. 

It wasn't that he was interested, nor did he think he had a chance. He didn't. Right? The thought of him thinking of not having a chance made him question if he had even considered it. 

Brock growled, snapping the book he had picked up against his thigh. The young lady walking beside him with an arm full of files jumped as he did, which made him even more irate. What was wrong with them? All the females turn to chicken shit? He thought of that blond that had put a gun to his face, then his thoughts swung to you. 

Would you hold a gun to his face?

The thought made him grin.

The way you sass him back on the regular made him think you would. He would like to see that actually.

He scowled as soon as he saw you, there was that smile again as you waved a person off. He rapped his knuckles over the smooth counters surface, your eyes jumping to him immediately as your coworker scooted away and gave you a small push towards him. 

"Y'gonna tell me what's wrong?" You grinned at his question, the corner of your eyes crinkling with the action, but there was that look in your eyes. He knew that look, you were trying to hide the pain, a little too hard, he didn't like it. 

"What's wrong?" You asked, your mind going to that morning. This was too difficult and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold out. Why didn't this man just leave you alone?

Brock's scowl deepened as he looked at you, "still with the make-up?"

"Y-you don't like it?" 

He didn't like the way you reached up and then stopped yourself. "What I say about your hair?"

You shook your head, "better down?"

He liked that, you remembered, but still had it up. "Boyfriend? Really?"

You felt your heart drop, "no-"

He didn't like the way your eyes dropped. It wasn't just your eyes either, he watched as your shoulders dropped as well. "Listen-"

"Is there something you needed? I can help."

Brock felt that irritation bubble up again and he jerked away from the counter, shaking his head. Whatever it was, it was clear he wasn't needed or wanted. "Fuck this," he growled, you flinched and he felt- he didn't need to feel like this. Not when he had imagined shit that wasn't there. He stomped away, boots nearly cracking the ground under him as he did so.

He ignored the way you called out his name. 

He didn't need this bullshit.

***

He scowled at the book.

He shouldn't have gotten it. He had forgotten to give it to you when he had stopped by earlier. He needed to keep cool.

Peeking around the corner He watched as people moved this way and that, but you weren't at your place, he scanned the area, it was well past your lunch break. He had waited a few minutes… you should be back.

"Ahh!"

Brock looked up at the exclamation, since it seemed to be directed at him and cursed as the pretty guy came hurrying to him. "Don't fucking touch me!" He jerked his hand away from him. The guy that had covered your shifts…

Blake swallowed, "you're not like me-"

Fury was quick to boil his blood and he took a step forwards, "the fuck you say?!" He demanded.

Blake stuttered, but he needed this guy. "Please- she wouldn't stop crying. I don't know what happened but she went home-"

"She?" What was this guy talking about?

"Y/N, this woman came and… I don't know. We don't pry, she doesn't like it right? B-but…" he licked his lips, green eyes skipping over to the petite blond behind the counter who had stood and was now watching. She nodded and he pushed forwards, shoving a paper into Brock's hand, "if I go she'll make up a lie- but she won't with you, you're different. Please?"

"The fuck happened? What woman?"

Blake felt relief flood him, this meant he would go right? It was Y/N after all, this guy always came to bother her, he liked her he thought. This guy with the scarred face, viscous as an attack dog, but he was always a little quieter with Y/N. 

"W-we think she was family, not sure. B-but Y/N was on lunch when she showed up with some guy demanding for Y/N, a-and in a few minutes-" he shook his head. 

"What?!" He caught hold of the guy's shirt shaking him a bit- fuck yer useless!"

"Y/N was crying and she apologized but went home. Those people went with her. That's her address, Shelly got it and we were looking for you. Pretty sure if anyone else goes she'll lie, but not with you."

Brock shoved the book into the back of his tactical pants and looked at the paper in his hand. He shoved the guy out of his way and stomped off.

Blake was pretty sure Mr. Stark would have to eventually replace the marble flooring if that guy stomped around here more often, but… it would be worth it. Cause Y/N was sweet and kind, she didn't deserve whatever was happening to her.

*

The place was nice, one of those places that was plain but posh. No originality but looked the same. Well kept lawns but no space for children. Most Agents and personnel that worked at the compound would rent from here. 

He figured as much since no one questioned him as he walked through in his uniform. There was one or two that wore the SHIELD and Stark Ent. Patch on their shirts. None he knew.

He was a bit worried that idiot had given him the wrong address. Useless. At least he had a fragment of a brain to go looking for him. One that weak wouldn't stand a chance in a fist fight. Guy would probably flop over if slapped-

He stopped in front of 48B and knocked.

The door opened, the man in front of him one he didn't know. Was this the guy that had come with the woman? Had he gotten the wrong address? He should have checked at the front desk. 

"What do you want?" The man demanded.

Brock frowned, opened his mouth to say something when he heard a small noise. "Y/N?!" He called out over the man's head. 

He didn't have to wait long, you peeked around the door and blinked at him, looking smaller than he had ever seen you. 

If he had thought it was fury when Blake had touched him he wasn't sure what this feeling was at seeing your face stained with tears. He could tell you had been rubbing at your eyes, red marking under them, your chest rose and fell with quiet sobs and that was it.

Brock wrapped a hand around the man's throat and moved in quick, shoving him against the wall with enough force to break the plaster. 

Brock blinked away the red haze as you wrapped your arms around him, face pressed tightly against his ribs. He looked down to see your eyes squeezed shut tight, it was only then he heard another shrieking loudly at him, he realized that woman was actually flailing at his back. It didn't bother him, he took harder hits from Sam and those two. 

"Stupid bitch get him off!"

You cried out when she jerked at your hair. More tears, god could you not stop crying?? But then her hand was gone and an arm wrapped around you. 

"Don't touch her again," he warned, shoving her away, though not as badly as he had the man.

Brock.

He was the last person you expected to show up.

Still, it kinda made sense. That he did. 

And because it was him you stayed quiet. Because it was him you let him pull you out of your apartment and into the elevator.

His car was fast, you dozed, still crying quietly. 

Why had it been him?

You were exhausted.

It was all bullshit anyhow.

Absolute bullshit.

Bullshi-

[theweasleysredhair]

If You Love Me Let Me Know [S.B.]

Character: Sirius Black

Word Count: 4050

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Y/n decides she isn’t going to wait forever for Sirius to make a move... maybe he needs a nudge in the right direction. In which Sirius gets extremely jealous over the prospect of Y/n going on a date with someone other than himself.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @lenalxvegood @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @awritingtree @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @valwritesx @hufflrpuffforfred @cappsikle @kiwi-sloan @potter-redheads @pigwidgexn @twinkyjohnson @sarcasticallywitty15 @tyyyweasley @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @wonderful-writer @marauders-loving-queen @vogueweasley @marvelettesassemble @thisismynerdyself @gcdric @loony-loopy-lupinn @gloryekaterina @tinylumpiaa @girl-next-door-writes @locke-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @inkhearthes @sehunasbitch @nkjktk | message or send an ask to be removed! unfortunately, my taglist is closed until further notice due to hitting the max. amount allowed on one post!

A/n: is this me... writing for sirius? oof it’s been a while, huh? anyways this was a fun lil fic, hope you enjoy!!

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“I just don’t understand how this could happen!” You wailed dramatically as you followed Lily into your potions class, “Why me? Why do bad things always happen to me? I just, I can’t deal with it anymore!”

Lily rolled her eyes good-naturedly at you as you fell gracefully across your shared desk, a hand over your heart as you mocked your heartache.

Your eyes were shut, a proven mistake as you heard your professor’s voice suddenly speak out in front of the class, “Miss Evans, could you please enlighten me with why Miss L/n is laying on the desk in such a fashion?”

You sat up on said desk, eyes wide now and mouth dropping open as you realised the students already in the room were staring at you.

“Someone ate the last piece of toast at breakfast, sir, and she’s being dramatic about it,” Lily replied monotonously as you scrambled to your assigned seat beside her.

“Well, Miss L/n, as much as we’re all devastated you missed out on your... toast... I would thank you to keep your eccentricities outside of my classroom, preferably far away from myself, do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

The professor narrowed his eyes at you, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to take house points away, or give you detention - insolence, he usually told you off for. And speaking out of turn. Not particularly fair considering you didn’t think you’d said anything that bad half the time.

But then the professor’s attention - and much of the class’ - had moved to the group of Gryffindor boys who had ran into the room, out of breath.

They rushed to their seats, still laughing about something or other, ignoring the scolding of the professor, his requests for them to quieten down and take their seats falling on deaf ears.

Your eyes followed Sirius Black as he made his way to his desk - the one diagonally behind you - his long hair falling into his face, tie undone and shirt untucked, making your heart race as he shot a wink over at you when he noticed you looking.

Turning back down to your work, a smile growing on your face as you traced shapes on your parchment before you with the tip of your finger.

Sirius Black was both the bane of your existence and the love of your life. Dramatic? Perhaps. True? Most likely.

He was obnoxious, loud and extremely cocky. He also flirted with you - a lot. In fact, at a distant glance, you could be mistaken for dating, his arm constantly round your waist, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered sweet nothings to you.

It wasn’t a secret you fancied him. He knew, Lily knew - practically the whole school knew. However, he never moved to make things official, never asked you out nor mentioned any feelings, and after a year of that, you were beginning to think he just enjoyed your attention, rather than liking you the way you wanted him to.

The lesson began soon after the class quietened, the professor’s voice lulling you into almost falling asleep when suddenly you felt your hair moving around you, making you jolt up and flatten it back down. You frowned as you scanned around the room, your eyes landing on a cheekily grinning Sirius, and suddenly you understood.

“Stop,” You mouthed, still attempting to keep your hair from flying about around you, shaking your head at him.

He shrugged, as if he weren’t doing anything, an amused smile on his face at your constant attempts to keep hold of your hair.

As you turned back to your work, Lily nudged you and raised an eyebrow, shaking your head, “He’s trying to get my attention, I’m not sure what for though-“

“Mr Black!”

You jumped as the professor yelled out his name, eyes widening as you looked over at Sirius, who had a crumpled ball of parchment in his hands and appeared to be mid-throw, James laughing at him from beside him.

The professor grabbed the parchment and shoved it into his cloak pocket, before pointing at the dark haired boy, “10 points from Gryffindor for disrupting the class.”

“But-“

“And another 10 points for answering back,” the professor added on, his eyes darting around the class before landing on Lily, who was quietly continuing on with writing her notes, “Please change seats with Miss Evans - perhaps separating you from Mr Potter here will force you to concentrate on my class.”

Sirius’ eyes lit up as he realised he was moving to be sat next to you, “Not a problem at all, professor!”

Lily picked up her belongings and headed over to sit besides James, her seat quickly being taken by Sirius, who couldn’t help but grin as he caught your gaze.

The professor resumed his lesson, leaving Sirius free to lean over to look at your work, frowning as he saw all your notes, “As if you’re actually listening to that boring old fart.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled your parchment away from him, “Unlike you I want to pass my exams, even if he is a boring old fart.”

Sirius watched as you wrote, your eyebrows furrowing just a tad in concentration, gripping your quill as you moved elegantly across the page.

“Too bad you didn’t get the chance to read my note,” he spoke casually, watching the professor march up and down at the front of the class.

Curiosity got the better of you and you placed your quill down, “Why, what was on the parchment?”

He shrugged casually, shooting you a lazy grin as he leant back in his chair, “Might’ve been me asking you to come join me at the Black Lake later tonight.”

Your heart sped up and your breath caught in your throat as you turned to face him, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. After a year of dragging it out, did he finally just ask you out?

“With you? Uh, sure,” you replied in what you hoped was a nonchalant way, hands nearly shaking as you picked your quill back up.

“Great! Should be good, Prongs is bringing Lily, and I’ve already asked Marlene and Dorcas...”

You didn’t hear the rest of his sentence as you felt your heart plummet at his words. You swallowed harshly, staring down at your parchment and willing yourself not to react.

He’d asked other girls too. Of course he wasn’t asking you out. He never was.

The end of the lesson finally arrived and you quickly grabbed your things, not bothering to say goodbye to Sirius, instead heading over to Lily, who linked you as you headed out of the classroom, leaving Sirius and his friends behind.

You were laughing at something she said when you heard your name being called from behind you.

You turned slowly, half expecting to find Sirius, however you instead were met with a rather attractive Ravenclaw - Zachary Bryant, if you recalled correctly - nervously biting his lip as he arrived just before you.

Lily squeezed your arm and whispered an “I’ll meet you in the library” before heading off down the hall, leaving you in the emptying hallway with the brunette boy.

“Zachary, right?”

“Yeah!” He nodded a tad too enthusiastically, almost in excitement over you knowing his name, and you smiled at him warmly.

“How can I help?” You asked with a small shrug.

Zachary opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, as if thinking what to say, as if he didn’t think he’d get this far, before finally speaking, “I was um... well, you’re really rather pretty, and of course smart and funny and- and I was wondering if maybe you’d like to... accompany me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

He was extremely different to Sirius - a polar opposite in fact, shy, earnest, kind - but maybe that’s what you needed. If Sirius wasn’t going to ask you out any time soon, why not go on dates in the meantime? Zachary was sweet after all, and super cute with his curly dark brown hair and sincere smile.

“Sure!” You replied, making him breathe out in relief.

“That’s amazing! Thank you! I mean- I didn’t expect-“ Zachary stuttered, the tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment.

You laughed, enjoying how flustered he was getting, “Not at all, I’m looking forward to it!”

***

James slid into the chair beside Lily, pressing a kiss to her forehead before nodding over at you in greeting.

“Abandoned the rest of your entourage?” You asked with a grin and a raised eyebrow, wondering why the usual motley crew weren’t following behind him.

“Couldn’t find ‘em. And Padfoot has the map. Thought I’d find you two in here, so well, here I am,” he gestured to himself with a grin. To be fair, he was right - you and Lily could always be found in the library. Mostly because when you needed to get work done, the place was usually Marauder-free.

“Ahh, so you didn’t want to see me, you just couldn’t find your friends?” Lily asked with a smile, gently nudging him.

He threw an arm round her chair and nodded, “Yeah, that’s right, that.”

You shook your head at him, though couldn’t help but laugh at your best friend’s boyfriend.

“Did you set a day to go?” Lily asked, shaking her head at James and instead continuing your conversation from before he arrived.

“Well Zachary said he’d meet me outside the Great Hall on Saturday afternoon and we’re gonna go to The Three Broomsticks, have a nosy round some of the shops, maybe grab some food. Should be nice!” You grinned at her.

“Wait, you’re going on a date?” James raised an eyebrow, sitting up straighter in his chair and removing his arm from Lily’s in shock, “With Bryant?”

“Yes I am,” you nodded, clearing your throat and looking up at him, finding him narrowing his eyes at you, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Babe, you’re Padfoot’s girl, he kinda called dibs,” James shrugged as if it were no big deal, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up on the table. Lily nudged his legs, shaking her head at him and he reluctantly moved them back down again.

“What do you mean he ‘called dibs’? I’m a person not the last bloody chocolate biscuit!” You replied indignantly, crossing your arms over your chest and furrowing your eyebrows.

James widened his eyes a little, but continued with making his point. Besides adding the official labels, you and his best friend were... well you were together, right?

“He... well, he always says you’re his girl. Kinda made it extremely clear to the rest of the lads here. Or, well, most of them I guess, besides Whatshisface who’s asked you. You’re off limits to everyone else, unless they want a very angry Black to come after them,” he said it so casually, like it was common knowledge.

“Sirius Black, despite whatever he may have claimed, has never asked me out, nor made a move. As far as I’ve been made aware, he has no feelings towards me, none that he’s mentioned anyways, and that is why I have agreed to go on a date this weekend with Zachary,” you replied adamantly, anger seeping into your voice.

Lily reached out and grabbed the hand closest to her, giving it a squeeze. You offered her a small smile, before sighing.

“Look, I keep waiting for him to make a move... but if I’m waiting on him, I could be waiting forever. I don’t have forever. Zachary wants to date me now and, sometimes, a definite now is easier than a maybe later,” you shrugged, “Sirius... he knows how I feel about him. Everyone knows how I feel about him. I’ve made it clear. Very clear, in fact. He’s not done anything about it, which only makes me think he’s not really interested enough in making us more. I can’t just turn down other guys that are.”

You sighed, collecting your belongings from the table and shoving them into your bag. With a half-smile shot in James and Lily’s direction, you bid them goodbye, heading out of the library doors.

***

“You’re going on a date with bloody Bryant?”

You looked up from your place on the couch in front of the fire, where you were busy reading a book your mother had just sent you by owl, to find an angry Sirius, fists clenched, eyebrows furrowed as he practically glared down at you.

“Yes? Yes I am,” you replied simply, before looking down at your book, though you were no longer focused on reading.

Sirius collapsed on the couch across from you, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at you, not saying a word.

You sighed, closing the book slowly and placing it carefully beside you, “Can I help you?”

“Why would you choose Bryant? Of all people. He’s-“

“He’s sweet, he’s smart, and more than that, he actually asked me out. And I’m looking forward to going. Unless you can think of anyone else I should be going to Hogsmeade with?” You asked casually, yet pointedly, staring at him expectedly as he fumbled with his fingers, mouth gaping as if he didn’t know what to say.

“N-No... you should go. I’m sure Bryant will be a great date. Quiet, meek Bryant,” Sirius spat his name out as if it were poison, a snarl set on his features. He wasn’t happy, very obviously in fact, but since he didn’t say anything to make you not want to go on your date, you nodded.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a book to read,” you faked a smile and grabbed your book, opening it to a random page and pretending to read, ignoring Sirius’ presence.

He had ample opportunity to stop you going, ample time to have you to himself.

Too bad that he didn’t take it - that he never took it.

***

Saturday arrived quickly, and you were looking forward to meeting up with Zachary. Lily had helped you choose the perfect outfit, and you’d spent slightly more time than usual doing your hair and makeup. You took a last look in the mirror before grabbing your bag and lipgloss, and exiting the door.

You headed down the stairs from your dorm, dressed and ready for your date, feeling nervous yet excited.

The common room was empty bar Sirius, who was sat on the couch nearest the door, and a couple of first years. You felt your heart beat a little faster as you took in the sight of him - black jeans, black t shirt, hair messy from the amount of times he’d ran his hand through it.

He stood up as his gaze caught yours and you smiled a little at him, mouth opening as if you were going to say something, before closing it again when you realised you didn’t know what to say.

“You’re still going on the date?” Sirius asked softly, hands clasped behind his back as he rocked back on his heels.

You smiled at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you replied, “I have no reason not to... do I?”

Perhaps it was foolish of you, to hope he would say yes. That you shouldn’t go because he didn’t want you to, because he wanted to be the one to take you on a date instead.

Sirius shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head at you, though his mind was screaming at him to tell you to stay - with him.

“Have fun.”

You pressed your lips together and nodded, “Thank you, I will.”

With that, you turned on your heel and headed out of the common room, feeling like you wanted to cry out of frustration. You would’ve stayed in a heartbeat for him.

Sirius watched you walk away, staring at the door even after you’d long disappeared out of sight, before sighing angrily. He shook his head at himself, disappointed that he didn’t say anything, questions swirling around his mind.

Would you have stayed if he’d asked you to? Or would you have left him anyway?

He collapsed onto one of the empty nearby couches, letting out a loud, frustrated groan into a pillow and receiving a couple of looks from the first years, though he didn’t pay them any notice.

It was his fault, he knew, that he was feeling like this. Because he hadn’t said anything - because he never said anything. You’d given him the chance, and plenty of opportunity and he hadn’t taken it. From fear or something else, he wasn’t sure.

He stayed laying on the couch, face buried in the pillow, thoughts of you and this Bryant kid plaguing him. Would you kiss him whilst on your date? Sirius grimaced at the idea - he hoped not.

Time passed slowly, at least, in his mind, feeling like hours had passed by the time his friends arrived in the common room to join him, though at most it could’ve only been around half an hour.

He was pouting, arms crossed as he slouched in the armchair he’d moved to, grumbling things to himself every so often and completely ignoring half the things his friends were saying, not replying to James’ jokes or Remus’ witty remarks, and barely glancing at Peter when he offered out some of the sweets he’d picked up in Hogsmeade earlier in the day.

“Alright, what’s up with you, Padfoot?” James rolled his eyes, fed up of the lack of responses from his usual partner in crime.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Sirius mumbled, though anyone could see from one glance that he was not, in fact, fine.

“He’s mad because his girlfriend is currently on a date with someone else,” Remus said with an almost smug smile, half enjoying how grumpy and jealous his friend was being over the girl he should’ve asked out a long time ago.

Sirius shot a glare over at him, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But you want to her to be, don’t you?” James grinned, moving to lie down across the couch he was on, arms resting behind his head.

“Yes... no... I don’t know!” Sirius sighed, sitting up and hugging a pillow to his chest, “I don’t know what I want, I just know I like her and I don’t want her out with anyone else. But I don’t know if I want a relationship.”

“Well... you couldn’t really expect her to wait around for you to make a decision on this, could you?” James said pointedly, nodding over to him, “As she said to me and Lily, she’s waited long enough. You’ve been stringing her along for over a year now. Either date the girl or let her date someone else.”

Sirius frowned at that. He wanted you more than anything, but was afraid he might hurt you accidentally, or let you down. What if he said something he didn’t mean and upset you? He couldn’t handle that. It was better to keep you as a friend, right? One that he flirted with a lot.

He sighed to himself, bringing his knees up to rest his chin on them. He wanted to be with you, all of his doubts be damned. Friends don’t wanna snog their other friend against a wall do they?

And that’s what Sirius wanted to do to you.

James words bounced around his head as he paced up and down the room later in the evening. His friends had retired to their dorm room, leaving him alone to wait up for you - you still weren’t back from your date and it was nearing curfew.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he paced, ideas of what you could be doing making his hands curl into fists and his heart pound.

Why didn’t he just stop you from going?

Why didn’t he just tell you how much he like you?

Why-

“Sirius?”

He looked up immediately, eyes widening as he watched you enter the common room through the portrait door, a concerned look on your face as you watched his frantic pacing.

“Y/n!”

All thoughts of what he wanted to say left his head, all he could do was stare at you blankly, glad you were back, and hoping your date didn’t go well.

“What are you doing still up?” You asked, your eyes taking in his dishevelled appearance, “Were you- were you waiting for me?”

Sirius swallowed, wondering how to answer, before words began tumbling from his lips, unable to stop himself, “Um... uh, yeah. Yeah I was. I’ve been waiting for you ever since you left. I shouldn’t have let you go on the date, I didn’t want you to go. I was just too much of a coward to say anything at the time. But I kept thinking about... what if he kissed you? Or touched you? I didn’t like those thoughts. So yeah, I’ve been waiting here like you’ve been waiting for me because I’m an idiot and didn’t do anything to show you how I feel.”

Your heart was racing. You’d wanted to hear those words for over a year now, waiting through flirty conversations and near-kisses, hoping he’d give a sign he wanted to be with you.

“And how do you feel, Sirius?” You asked tentatively, dropping your gaze to your feet.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I should’ve- I should’ve. And I don’t know if your date went well, or if you’re planning on going out again, but if you still feel anything for me, please don’t. Just... be with me instead.”

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing again and he stood in silence before you. He’d finally said it - admitted to you that he loved you. His heart was pounding, waiting for your response.

“I’ve waited and waited and you never said or did anything. Why now?”

“Because I’ve realised that anyone could come along and take you from me and I don’t want that,” he admitted, his voice dropping to barely a whisper, “I wanna be the one that takes you on dates. That kisses you and touches you. Please let me be that guy. Please.”

You stared at him for a couple of seconds, shaking your head, then broke out in a smile and stepped towards him, “It’s a good job my date was just mediocre then, huh?”

His eyes shone as he stared at you, disbelief and relief running across his face as he watched you walk closer to him, stopping just in front of him.

“You know I love you Sirius. If I’d have known all it would take was going on a date with another guy to make you admit your feelings, I would’ve done it a whole lot sooner,” you grinned.

Sirius hesitantly reached out to grab your waist, pulling you gently towards his chest and holding you there for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe he had you in his arms.

He looked at you, eyes darting across your face, taking in your features as the corner of his mouth curled up into a smile, “Does this mean I can kiss you?”

“Yes,” you nodded, the word barely escaping before his lips were on yours, pulling you into a desperate kiss, one you’d waited a year to feel, pouring all the feelings he’d kept hidden into the kiss, as you ran your hand through his dark locks.

“Guess you’ve got official dibs on me now, huh?” You laughed as you pulled away a little, Sirius still chasing your lips, “Guess I really am your girl.”

“Damn right, and I’ll make sure everyone knows it. Especially that git who took you out. You’re mine,” his grip tightened on your hips as he rested his forehead against yours, smiling at you lovingly.

It may have taken him a year, but he was finally yours, and you were his. And as he pressed his lips to yours again, you smiled into the kiss.

This was definitely worth the wait.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him. 

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!  

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.” 

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed. 

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release. 

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you. 

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

[sunshine-vx]

Across Space, Time and Dreams (ASTaD) (Ch. 13)

(Blankshippers DNI)

(Please refer to beginning of chapter 1 post for complete list of CWs/TWs)

(This chapter's illustration done by me, mostly! Disclaimer that I heavily referenced/semi-traced Lady Sneasler's in-game model at some points, so it's not entirely mine! Thank you!)

(Read it on Ao3 here!)

(Reblogs are appreciated!)

-

Ingo made his way out of his Pearl Clan hut and into the snowy outdoors. He had told Rei and Zisu that he wouldn't be able to make it to the Battlegrounds; Thankfully, they said they could handle it. Rei looked excited to be able to have his first day of running the Battlegrounds on his own.

Which reminded Ingo.

He needed to find someone who would be willing to take his place as Sneasler's Warden for a while. 

Not just anyone could qualify for being a warden. A person had to be a part of the Pearl Clan and know of its culture, and have good knowledge of the wardens. 

But who would qualify for that? Perhaps Ingo could ask Lady Irida. 

After a bit of searching, Ingo found Lady Irida at the hot springs located at the upper part of the Pearl Settlement.

Irida heard Ingo approaching, and turned to him. "Good morning, Ingo!" Irida greeted Ingo with a smile, "What brings you up here?"

"Well, actually.." Ingo conveyed, "I needed to speak to you about something important. Very important."

Irida's smile vanished, and she began to become worried, "Oh, is something wrong?

"No, not necessarily." Ingo replied, "It's just that..you know how I've been thinking about my origins more lately?"

Irida nodded

"Well..I've learned a lot, and it turns out that to learn more, I may have to leave this land for some time." Ingo explained

Irida seemed a bit confused, "Why is that?"

"Well, you know how everyone thinks I'm different, and that I have 'strange' mannerisms?" Ingo articulated, "Well, I've been doing some research with the Professor, Akari and Rei, and it turns out I may not even be from this land, or time. I have always felt like I don't quite belong here; But regardless, I'm eternally grateful for the Pearl Clan's aid. I hope this doesn't come off as me being dismissive of how you all have helped me so immensely."

Irida was taken aback. She was aware that Ingo felt like a bit of an oddball, along with often being considered strange, but the Pearl Clan still welcomed Ingo with open arms; she was glad he recognized that, of course.

Ingo did often speak of how he wished he knew more about who he was before he came to Hisui. Irida didn't think it was him being ungrateful; even if she found a nice place to stay, she would be a bit sad if she didn't remember her past, either.

Irida was a bit hesitant, but she didn't want to keep Ingo from finding out more about himself. So she complied.

"I see. Well, I have no problem with you possibly going to search for your origins," Irida expressed, "but who will take your place as Lady Sneasler's Warden while you are gone?"

"That's exactly what I'm worried about as well.." Ingo muttered, "I was wondering if you could help me find someone who you believe may be fit to be a temporary Warden for Lady Sneasler?"

Irida hummed, nodding to herself, "I cannot guarantee that we will be able to find someone that can qualify, but I will try my best to help."

"Thank you very much, Lady Irida. I appreciate this." Ingo stated.

Irida smiled, "Of course. Now, let's get searching."

Irida and Ingo scanned the Pearl Settlement, approaching some houses and individuals outside to explain the situation and ask if they could possibly help. The Pearl Clan members seemed shocked, but understood the situation; Although so far, there was no one who would be quite a good Warden for Sneasler. 

"Ugh, if only Coin were still here.." Irida complained, "She knew quite a bit about poison and fighting types.."

Ingo nodded in agreement, "Well, we haven't asked everyone. Let's not give up just yet."

"Right."

Soon enough, Irida and Ingo reached a certain hut. There was no one outside it earlier, but now, a man with dark hair stood outside, feeding his Pokémon.

Ingo spoke to the man, "Good morning, Ambit."

Ambit looked over to Ingo and Irida, putting the berry on the ground for his Pokémon to finish before approaching Irida and Ingo.

"Good morning Warden Ingo, good morning, Lady Irida!" Ambit said with a friendly grin.

Ingo chuckled. Ambit was one of the Pearl Clan members that warmed up to Ingo first. They definitely considered each other friends. 

"How are you two doing today?" Ambit asked

"We're doing alright- Thank you for asking, Ambit." Irida answered

"Although, if it's not any trouble," Ingo added, "we could use some help with something."

"Oh! Is that so? Well, I'd be glad to help! Just let me have my friend watch over my Pokémon." Ambit explained as he began to walk towards his hut, "Fora!"

Irida and Ingo waited for a moment as Ambit spoke to Fora. Fora was a bit intimidated by Pokémon, but was trying her best to fix that. Ambit thought maybe watching over his Pokémon could make for some good practice.

"Well…maybe you're right. Alright then, I'll watch over your Pokémon." Fora said

"Thanks, Fora, you're the best!" Ambit responded

Ambit then returned over to Irida and Ingo.

"Now that that's taken care of," Ambit exclaimed, "I think I may know just the kind of guy you're looking for!"

"Oh?" Irida vocalized 

"Who may that be?" Ingo questioned

"Just follow me, and I'll show you!" 

Ingo and Irida followed Ambit. It wasn't too long until Ambit approached a certain hut, knocking on the door.

"Coming!" A familiar voice called from the inside. After a moment, a man with a similar appearance to Ambit, just a bit shorter and with slightly longer hair, answered the door. 

Ambit smiled and waved at the man, "Good morning, Hectar!"

"Oh, good morning, Ambit." Hectar responded, "Is there something you need?"

Before Ambit could respond, Hectar noticed Ingo and Lady Irida. His eyes widened.

"Oh my! Good morning, Lady Irida, Warden Ingo!"

"Good morning to you, too, Hectar." Irida grinned. Ingo smiled slightly with a small dip of his hat as a gesture of friendly acknowledgement.

"Yeah, I was just about to say," Ambit explained, "Lady Irida and Warden Ingo need your help!"

A perplexed expression spread on Hectar's face, "My help? Why..my help?"

"Well, I don't know if Warden Ingo and Lady Irida know quite as much as I do, but ever since you were little, you've always wanted to be a Warden. You love taking care of Pokémon, and have massive respect for our Nobles." Ambit remarked, "Not only that, you've done quite a bit of training and research so that maybe, one day, you could become a Warden!"

That was true, Ingo and Irida thought. They didn't quite know about the more in-depth details, but they both noticed Hectar was very interested in the role of being a Warden and the Clan Nobles. Sometimes he would ramble on about them, before becoming a bit embarrassed. Irida had even once offered Hectar to become a Warden when the clan needed a new one; he had declined, however, stating that he wanted a few more years to prepare before taking any possible offers.

Hectar was a little red-faced, but chuckled, "Yes, that is true. But what does that have to do with this situation?"

Irida chimed in, "Well, I'm sure you both know how Warden Ingo became a part of this clan and how he became Warden, and how he's always been seen by some as an outsider; A bit strange."

"I don't believe I belong in this land or time, and I wish to prepare to possibly search for any of my origins. To do that, however, I may have to temporarily leave this area," Ingo continued, "and so, we'll need someone to take my place as Sneasler's Warden temporarily."

Hectar's jaw dropped slightly, his eyes almost glowing, "Are you suggesting?"

"Yes, we are," Irida answered, "we would like you to be the replacement Warden for Ingo. Is that alright? We don't have many other options."

"It..it would be an honor!" Hectar stammered, "But…what if I'm not good enough?"

"Do not say things like that, Hectar." Ingo replied, "As Ambit said, you have already done quite a bit of training and research regarding what it takes to be a Warden. In fact, it's almost time for me to do my duties for Lady Sneasler; Why don't you go ahead and come with me? If you do well, I am certain you will make a great candidate."

Ingo turned to Irida, who smiled and nodded. Hectar looked at Ambit, who had a goofy grin on his face, basically shouting, "C'mon, do it! It's your dream!"

Hectar then looked back at Ingo, who was facing him once more.

"Alright, I'll try my very best!"

"Bravo, that's the spirit!" Ingo exclaimed, "Then, you should probably get what you need, and then we will head off!"

"Yes sir!" Hectar responded before going into his hut to grab a few things. He then came back out with just a small bag a few minutes later. With that, Ingo and Hectar would be off to Lady Sneasler's seat. 

"Good luck, stay safe!" Ambit and Irida shouted after Ingo and Hectar as they began their path to Lady Sneasler's seat, the two waving back to them as they left. 

Hectar spoke to Ingo a lot of the way there, and it just made Ingo even more sure that Hectar was the perfect candidate.

"So, if I've read correctly, Sneasler's favorite dish consists of plump beans and hearty grains? Although I'm sure there's a certain way that she prefers it, if I'm correct.." Hectar stammered.

"You've got it! And that'll be your second test when we get there!" Ingo responded, "You'll be going through some trials to test your ability to be Lady Sneasler's Warden; How does that sound?"

"I'll do my very best, I'll push my limits!" Hectar announced, "But– what do you mean 'second' trial?"

"Excellent!" Ingo exclaimed, and he and Hectar could now see a clearing on the snowy mountain path they took, "Well, you'll have another trial, first- you'll have to be able to make your way through Wayward Cave- preferably without using the torches as much as possible. Speaking of that; Here we are."

The entrance of Wayward Cave was now in sight. 

As Hectar and Ingo walked through Wayward Cave, Ingo was delighted to see Hectar basically knew the way from beginning to end; he even looked towards the ground, testing his ability not to use the torches.

Ingo made sure that Hectar took note of where the torches would be found should they ever be not set up for whatever reason. 

"I'll make sure to remember that." Hectar stated.

After that, with Ingo and Hectar ascending another, more snowy path up the mountain, they soon came close to Lady Sneasler's seat.

"Here we are. Are you ready?" Ingo asked Hectar.

Hectar nodded firmly.

Ingo lead Hectar towards Lady Sneasler's seat, calling out to his Lord. "Lady Sneasler! I'm here with the business we discussed the other day!"

After a moment, Ingo and Hectar heard footsteps in the snow. Hectar gasped and Ingo chuckled as Lady Sneasler rounded the corner, approaching her seat. She made a trilling noise in greeting.

"Lady Sneasler, this will be your temporary warden; He will protect you with everything he has, just like I have." Ingo explained.

Hectar bowed to the Noble Pokémon, "It is truly an honor, My Lord."

Lady Sneasler approached Hectar and sniffed him for a moment, before making a sound that sounded like laughter, before she patted Hectar on the head, making sure not to poke him with her poisonous claw-tips.

Ingo laughed, "She thinks you're a bit silly, but is definitely interested!"

Hectar laughed, a bit embarrassed.

"Now, let the trials begin!"

Ingo watched and directed Hectar through the trials, while at the same time making sure not to give him too much help. And as Ingo had hoped, Hectar crushed every single test thrown his way. He made Sneasler's dish almost perfectly, tended to her babies with great care, cleaned and checked the area for hazards in every nook and cranny, regularly checked the Noble in between trials to see how she was doing, put up quite a match against Ingo's Pokémon when tested with his strength regarding his own team of companions, and finally, played the Celestica Flute gifted to him flawlessly.

Hectar still seemed uneasy. Ingo was still so much better than him at this. And yet, when Hectar braced himself to hear the results from Ingo, he almost fainted from joy.

"Hectar, here are your results;" Ingo started, and out of nowhere, his voice got so much louder! "Bravo! Excellent! I don't think we could've found a better candidate!"

Hectar looked up at Ingo, "Wait, what? Are you serious? But..you still have me easily beat in every aspect of this!"

"Of course I'm serious! For a first timer, you did incredible!" Ingo avowed, "And listen; I've been doing my job as Warden for a long time now. I may have you beat, but practice makes progress, and I'm sure one day, you'll be just as an amazing of a Warden as all the others!"

Hectar was quiet for a moment. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Then, he grinned. 

"So…I'm really going to become Sneasler's Warden?"

"A replacement Warden; you still have some training to do, and I'm not ready to retire from being Sneasler's warden, but if something comes up where I must depart from the village, you will do great!" Ingo insisted

Lady Sneasler came over and trilled, flicking her feather from her face. She turned to Hectar and nodded. Hectar smiled even wider.

"Thank you- thank you both so much. This is such an incredible honor!"

"Absolutely! Lady Sneasler has grown to like you very quickly!" Ingo remarked, "But, if I may ask, may I have a moment to speak to Lady Sneasler alone?"

"Oh, of course!" Hectar replied, "I'll just be over in the den looking over the kits!"

Hectar did as he said he would, quickly making his way towards the cave Sneasler's babies resided within. Ingo shouted after him. "Wonderful idea!"

Then, Ingo turned to Sneasler, who looked a bit saddened.

"Lady Sneasler, I've noticed you seem a bit down," Ingo mentioned, "I want you to know this; I'm not having Hectar replace me as your warden permanently. I am just having him do my job in case I leave the village for some time to search for my origins. Is that okay? You encouraged me to think about things, but I want to know the truth, no matter what it is."

To be honest, Sneasler felt a bit conflicted. She definitely liked Hectar, and of course she wanted her dear Warden to have the chance to find things about himself! It always seemed like parts of him were missing– if he could find those parts, it would surely be wonderful.

She would admittedly miss Ingo, but sometimes, companions had to be apart for a while. As long as he would be returning, she felt like it would be alright. 

After thinking for a moment, Lady Sneasler tried to express this to her friend. Thankfully, Ingo seemed to understand.

"Of course I understand, my Lady. I will miss you, too. But when I return, I'm sure it will be wonderful, as you've said." Ingo replied, "Thank you for understanding, you've always been a great friend to me."

Ingo patted Sneasler with a smile, the Pokémon purring.

"Well, now that that's settled, I'll go get Hectar so we can return to the village for the night. Is that alright?" Ingo questioned the Noble

Lady Sneasler made a noise of agreement, putting her claw to her mouth as if she was speaking in a certain manner. Ingo nodded and made his way to the den, looking in.

"Hectar, Lady Sneasler and I are done speaking! It is getting late, and we should return to the village." Ingo commented, "How are the kits?"

Hectar was crouching over a bundle of baby Sneasels, standing up and turning to Ingo when he heard his voice.

"Oh! They're doing great!" Hectar approached Ingo, "And yes- the sun is almost set."

"Bravo, that is good news! Alright then, follow me and we'll be back to the village soon."

Hectar nodded and followed Ingo as he exited the cave, approaching the path they first came from. Ingo and Hectar waved to Lady Sneasler, who lifted one of her claws to wave back, and Ingo felt a small smile form on his face.

Soon, he'd finally be able to discover more about himself, and he was glad everything was going to be alright should he do so.

Chapter 12

Chapter 14

[aquaquadrant]

nature’s productions - chapter three

Rated T for: Strong language, canon-typical violence and gore, minor character death

Summary: Three years after the disaster at Jurassic World, Claire Dearing and Owen Grady are contracted for a mission to save as many dinosaurs as possible from the impending eruption on Isla Nublar. But when they arrive, they experience an unexpected complication; six teenagers who were left stranded on the island when the park closed.

Surviving has left the campers scarred in more ways than one, and they’re pretty sure that their would-be rescuers have less than good intentions. But with a volcanic eruption at their heels, they’ll do whatever it takes to get a ride home- and save the dinosaurs while they’re at it, because that’s kind of their thing.

A/N: Hey readers, it’s good to be back! My first year of vet school is over and I’m SO ready to get some writing done. Thank you all so much for your patience and your continued support- it’s been lovely reading your comments. This time, as promised, we’ve got some ACTION so I hope y’all enjoy, please reblog/comment if you do! - Aqua

This fic is also posted on my AO3 account (same name).

~*~

chapter three - natural selection; or survival of the fittest

~*~

“You’re headed the right way now, we’ll let you know when you’re close.”

Claire’s voice is tense as she relays Franklin’s instructions into her radio, her eyes glued to the digital map. Both seem incredibly nervous, for people who aren’t actually on the mission to capture a raptor. Sammy finds it touching that they care so much about their friends. If the campers were still uncertain about this group’s intentions, this would’ve been a strong indication that they’re good people.

But they’ve already come to a consensus that Claire and Franklin can be trusted. Owen and Zia, too- Sammy figures that’s why Darius had the herd split up, so that they could make sure everyone in the group gets off the island safely. It’s been hard to follow a plan that changes as they go, like laying tracks down in front of a moving train, but they all trust Darius’s judgement and are used to thinking on their feet.

The campers have considered warning Claire and Franklin about what’s to come, but they don’t want to be overheard. The tunnel leading outside is still open, allowing the occasional sounds from the troopers to filter in: radio feedback, low muttering, and the rumbling of truck engines. Leaving their engines on is a surefire sign that they expect to clear out pretty quickly, probably as soon as Wheatley has Blue.

So it seems like this double-cross will be a ‘left for dead’ situation instead of an ‘attempted murder’ one, which is much more preferable.

Sammy’s a little disappointed that the troopers seem fine with leaving them along with Claire’s team, but she’s not surprised. Having six random teenage witnesses would probably put a wrench into their plans. She just hopes that the betrayal on Darius’s side goes just as smoothly, and none of them end up getting hurt.

Yaz has taken it upon herself to keep watch by the exit, leaning against the wall. If the troopers do decide to make a move, at least they won’t be taken by surprise. Sammy catches Kenji’s gaze and nods towards the pair at the monitors; they should take advantage of this time to establish a good rapport with Claire and Franklin, earn their trust.

It’ll make things easier, when they all have to work together to get off this island.

Kenji takes the hint right away, casually wandering over towards the control station with his hands in his pockets. “So hey, this is pretty cool,” he says appraisingly. “Something like this def would’ve come in handy before. How’d you know how to work it, Geek Squad?”

It seems to take Franklin a second to realize he’s the one being addressed. “O- oh! Um, it wasn’t that hard. Claire’s palm scan allowed me to bypass all the security measures, and at that point, it’s pretty user-friendly.” And then his eyes widen, and he hastily adds, “Not that I’m saying you guys are dumb, cause I’m not! Cause you’re not. Dumb, I mean.”

Kenji shares an amused look with Sammy. User-friendly, their ass. Back when they used the security system to counteract Mitch and Tiff, it had taken a lot of collective brainpower to figure out how to work it. What did Jurassic World have against labeling their controls, anyways?

But of course, they can’t share that particular bit of information. Not while they’re still pretending they haven’t had any human contact since being stranded.

Kenji claps Franklin on the shoulder, making him jump in his chair. “Hey, relax, we don’t bite,” he laughs. Then he pauses, in contemplation. “Well, Ben might if you sneak up on him.”

Franklin manages a weak laugh.

“He’s not joking,” Yaz chimes in from her post, without taking her eyes off the exit.

“Oh.” Franklin gulps.

“But seriously,” Kenji continues, some of his humor giving way to sincerity, “I know we look like a super intimidating, super awesome team of badass dino rangers, but we’re still just a bunch of kids. Or, actually, me and Yaz might’ve had our eighteenth birthdays pass by now, but you get the point.”

“Right,” Sammy agrees, “we’re just so relieved to actually have, y’know, actual adults around!”

That gets Claire to look over at them, her brows pinching together. “I can’t imagine what you all have been through,” she says sympathetically. “I promise, we’ll get you on that boat as soon as we can.”

Sammy gives her a warm smile, though inwardly she knows it’s a hollow promise. Claire might not know it, but she has little say in the matter. “So…” Sammy drawls, subtly changing the subject, “I couldn’t help but notice you an’ this Owen fella seem… close.”

Claire jolts in surprise. “What?”

“Am I right?” Sammy grins, noting the way Claire blushes. “Ooh, I betcha I am!”

Yaz snorts. “Sammy’s good at picking up on these things,” she says amiably. “Trust me.”

Claire tries to cover up her reaction with a laugh. “No, no, no, we aren’t- well, we were, but-”

“I knew it!” Sammy pumps a fist in the air.

“It was a long time ago!” Claire protests.

Kenji tuts. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed!” he tells Claire earnestly. “That dude is built.”

Yaz scoops a pebble off the ground and thwacks it at Kenji’s head. “Don’t be gross!”

“Ow!” Kenji rubs the back of his head, indignant. “What, I’m just stating a fact! I have a boyfriend, I’m not blind.”

“For the record,” Sammy cuts in swiftly, “I think y’all make a cute couple.”

Their antics have only made Claire flush even more. She makes a noncommittal noise. “Owen and I just… didn’t work, okay?” Her eyes trace one of the dots on the digital map- the one representing Owen’s signal. “We were together when Jurassic World fell. After that, we got together, but… I don’t know. I still care about him as a friend, but that’s all.”

“If ya say so,” Sammy hums.

Yaz straightens up, taking a sudden interest in the conversation. “It felt like you didn’t actually have anything in common with each other, except for what you went through, right?” she asks quietly. “Like… there was nothing keeping you together except mutual trauma?”

Claire raises her eyebrows. “... I guess you could put it that way, yes,” she murmurs, taken aback.

“Mmm.” Yaz nods thoughtfully; she knows the feeling. “Word of advice?”

Claire blinks. “Of course.”

“Maybe you’re right, maybe not.” Yaz shrugs. “But someone who understands what you’ve been through- who’s actually been through it themself- is incredibly valuable to have in your life.” She briefly catches Sammy’s eye, and a gentle smile pulls at her lips before she turns back to Claire. “Even if you’re just friends. So don’t run away from it, okay?”

Claire’s expression softens. “That’s… thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hey guys,” Kenji breaks in, sounding bored, “if we’re done with all the lovey-dovey talk, those dots are getting kinda close.”

Sammy would admonish him for ruining the sweet moment, and for acting like he’s too cool for romance when he acts so darn smitten with Ben, but he’s not wrong; the two dots on the map, Owen and Blue, are starting to converge. She doesn’t know what scale the map is using, but it’s an abrupt reminder of the reason they’re here.

“They’re a mile out,” Franklin reports, before Claire has a chance to ask.

“Okay.” Claire takes a deep breath and reaches for her radio. “Um, Owen? You’re about a mile out now, better to go on foot from here.”

Sammy exchanges a private smile with Yaz; she noticed the slight flutter in Claire’s voice when she said Owen’s name, too.

~*~

Darius hops out of the truck, landing on the ground with a soft thump.

The troopers are all gathered in a loose huddle, awaiting instructions in tense silence. Zia’s already forced her way out of her truck to meet them, clearly insistent on not being left behind. Darius offers her a smile, which she returns somewhat faintly- even though she volunteered to come, it’s obvious she’s way out of her element. That makes Darius respect her decision even more.

Slipping through the crowd as politely as he can, Darius makes his way to Ben and Brooklynn, who are standing a few feet away. Ben is surveilling as always, his keen eyes watching the troopers as Brooklynn listens to the jungle around them. They both acknowledge his arrival with a brief glance before returning to their business. Now that Darius is beside them again, he feels his nerves start to settle. He trusts their abilities far more than these troopers, and even the knowledge that they’re about to walk into a raptor’s den can’t shake his faith in them.

Imminent betrayal or not, they can handle this.

“Alright, listen up,” Wheatley calls, loud enough to get everyone’s attention but still hushed out of wariness. He then claps Owen on the shoulder, inviting him to take over.

“Okay, here’s the plan.” Owen jerks his head over at the campers. “Me and these three are going alone. Everyone else stay within range, but do not get close enough for her to hear or smell you. Once we find Blue and I’ve calmed her down, I’ll give you the signal to move in.”

One of the troopers scoffs. “You’re bringing the kids?” he demands, his disbelief evident.

“I can draw her out,” Ben explains evenly, staring the trooper down with folded arms. “And these two stay with me.”

“Besides,” Brooklynn chimes in with a deceptively sweet smile, “we know our way around dinosaurs a lot better than you guys. No offense.”

Offense is clearly taken, but Brooklynn doesn’t feel bad for it. She’s right, after all.

“Once I give the signal,” Owen continues pointedly, before more complaints can arise, “I want one man to approach and administer the tranq. Don’t all come rushing in, or she’s gonna spook. As soon as she’s out, our doc’s gonna take a quick look at her to make sure she’s alright before we load her up.” His stern gaze drifts around the group. “Does everyone understand?”

The resulting chorus of ‘Yes, sir’ sounds a little begrudging to Darius’s ears; clearly, they don’t like taking orders from Owen. Probably because they’re plotting to betray him. That seems like the kind of thing that’d put a damper on workplace relations.

“Good.” Owen looks over at Darius. “You three ready?”

Darius nods, only half-listening. He’s laying out the plan in his mind, envisioning each step unfolding. If the troopers keep out of the way, getting Blue down should be the easy part. Wheatley will probably wait for Zia to give the all-clear before turning on them- that’d make the most sense, anyways.

So once Blue is down, Darius will have to alert Owen to the situation somehow, make sure he’s ready to run in case Wheatley plans to kill them instead of just leaving them for dead. They might have to help Zia get away, too, if she doesn’t react fast enough. They can scatter into the jungle- it won’t be worth Wheatley’s time to chase them down, not with the eruption brewing- and meet up with the others at the security building. Most likely, the troopers will just abandon them once they get confirmation that Wheatley has Blue. Yaz, Sammy, and Kenji should be expecting it, and will make sure Claire and Franklin don’t get themselves killed.

After they get that far, then Darius will worry about how they’re going to sneak onto the boat.

“Alright Claire, where to?” Owen asks, putting a hand to his earpiece. He listens for a moment. “We’re headed northeast,” he tells them. Then, he shoots a final look at Wheatley. “Don’t move in until I signal.”

“I got it,” Wheatley huffs, waving him off. “Get moving.”

Ben’s lip twitches- he’s only just stopped himself from scowling. Darius lightly bumps his shoulder before following Owen. The troopers part to let them through, faces impassive, and it feels an awful lot like walking to an execution.

Darius keeps his eyes forward, focusing on Ben and Brooklynn’s presence behind him. They’re okay. They’re gonna be okay. They can handle this.

They forge into the jungle in silence. Owen is better than most at moving quietly, but every accidental twig snap or ruffled fern makes Darius wince. Their own movements are so silent, Owen keeps checking behind himself to make sure they’re still there.

Brooklynn is almost entirely concentrated on listening, and is relying on Ben to guide her, following in his cautious footsteps with one hand on his arm. After all, the biometric system is only tracking Blue, and there could be any number of other dinosaurs out here that Claire won’t be able to warn them about. Brooklynn’s hearing is the best warning system they’ve got.

After they’re a few minutes out from the rest of the convoy, Darius debates warning Owen about the impending trap. They won’t get a chance to speak in private again once everything goes down. But Owen’s communicating with Claire through a frequency that might not be private; Wheatley and all the troopers had radios, and there’s no way of knowing if they’re being listened to. Owen’s mic could pick up anything Darius says to him.

Too risky. They’re just going to have to roll with the punches as they come.

Eventually, the jungle gives way to a decent-sized clearing, bordered by lush ferns and vine-strangled trees. The thick jungle canopy stretches above them, allowing only scant rays of light to peer through and leaving them cast in dappled shadows. An overturned jeep lay nestled among the foliage, tires long stripped from the rusted metal frame and the Jurassic Park logo faded and peeling. They’re definitely getting near the old park now. They could probably go a bit further, but it’ll be best to confront Blue in an open area.

Ben’s already scanning the treeline and Brooklynn’s listening for anything beyond the normal jungle sounds. Together, they give Darius the sign for ‘All clear.’ Heart starting to race, Darius signals them forward. Cautiously, the three of them creep into the middle of the clearing, shifting until they’re back-to-back. Weapons left in their sheaths, they slowly lower themselves onto their knees- in a way that would allow them to spring to their feet readily, if needed- and keep their arms lax by their sides. The goal is to look as unthreatening as possible when Blue arrives.

Darius catches Owen’s gaze from across the clearing and gives him a reassuring smile- he’s looking very alarmed, quite frankly- before glancing sideways at Ben. Their eyes meet, and Darius nods.

Ben takes a deep breath, and cups his hands to his mouth.

The spitting imitation of a raptor pierces the air; several short, high-pitched trills in rapid succession. Ben’s uncanny knack for vocalizations and Darius’s knowledge of raptor calls have, after many practice sessions, yielded the ability for them to call for help.

A call that Blue, a lone raptor missing her pack, won’t be able to resist answering.

Owen’s look of pure bewilderment almost makes Darius forget about the incredible danger they’re in. Ben finishes the call and falls silent, watching Brooklynn for confirmation. If they’ve fooled Blue, she’ll answer, but if she’s far away, he might not be able to hear it.

Tense silence. And then, a near identical call rings out- it’s faint, but it sends chills across Darius’s skin anyways. Brooklynn hears it loud and clear, of course, and squeezes Ben’s arm. He takes only a second to process this development before returning the call again.

‘Help. Help. Help.’

Darius does some quick, rough math in his mind. Raptors maintain an average speed of about twenty-five miles per hour, but can sprint in bursts of up to forty. If Blue’s within a mile of their location, she can reach them in less than two minutes.

Owen’s looking very anxious, now. “She’s coming our way,” he whisper-yells, barely audible from this distance.

Darius reaches for Ben and Brooklynn’s arms, giving a light squeeze as if to steady them, telling them to hold. They’re so used to running from dinosaurs that just sitting here, out in the open, goes against their every instinct. But if they start running, Blue’s prey drive will kick in, and she’ll most certainly give chase. They need this encounter to happen on their terms, not hers.

Seconds trickle by. Darius’s heart is pounding in his ears, making him appreciate Brooklynn’s hearing even more. Every sound has her twitching- tree branches swaying in the wind, sudden bird calls from the canopy above, even the faint rumblings of the volcano in the distance.

All too soon, Brooklynn is glancing towards the jungle, her breath catching. Darius follows her gaze and sees movement- rustling in the bushes.

Except the rustling is way too low to be Blue. A heartbeat later, and Darius is proven right- a small group of compies darts out of the underbrush, their little clicks and squeals as irritating as ever.

The compies barely give them a second glance before moving on, racing off into the jungle. That’s the first sign that something else is coming. The second sign is Brooklynn’s head snapping back towards the treeline, her whole body going rigid. And finally, Owen’s hand goes to his earpiece, his face paling.

She’s here.

The raptor emerges from the jungle almost leisurely, her sides still heaving as she catches her breath from her run. Shadows ripple along her turquoise scales as she steps out into the clearing. She notices them right away, of course, stopping in her tracks. The wicked talons of her feet tap rapidly against the ground, the infamous clicking sound muffled as they dig into the soil.

Darius is well-accustomed to reading dinosaur body language, especially when they’re as expressive as a raptor. He can almost see Blue’s thoughts spelled out in the slant of her eyes, the way her nostrils flare, the position of her head and tail as she circles them.

She recognizes them. She knows they’ve never hurt her- in fact, actually helped her before- so they’re no threat. But she wasn’t expecting to find them here, deep within her territory when she was following the call of a raptor. She also doesn’t quite know what to make of their submissive posture, shifting her weight uncertainly, claws scraping the soft earth beneath her.

She’s eaten recently; there’s fresh blood stains on her teeth and lips, and her stomach is ever-so-slightly distended. That’s good. She won’t waste energy hunting them, and will only attack if threatened. They just really have to make sure they don’t threaten her.

Moving slow and careful, Ben lifts his hands to make one final call- just so Blue knows it was them.

Blue jerks her head back in what can only be described as surprise. Small, chittering sounds bubble up from the back of her throat. She’s curious- why call for her? How do they know her tongue? Her lip curls- she doesn’t like it. But she wants to know why and how, and for the moment, it’s outweighing her uncertainty.

Blue dares to take a step closer, towards Ben. The raptor sniffs at him hesitantly, rumbling a low warning deep in her chest. Ben remains perfectly still, his eyes lowered so as not to pose a challenge. Brooklynn has her face turned enough to watch, ready to act if Blue looks like she’s going to make a move. Darius takes the opportunity to find Owen’s gaze across the clearing, taking in his wide eyes and clenched jaw, and nod.

Owen takes the cue, emerging from the underbrush.

“Hey girl,” he says, voice soft and low, “you miss me?”

Instantly, Blue forgets about the three of them. Lowering her head, she stalks a wide path around the clearing, circling Owen as she hisses. She’s agitated, clenching and unclenching her razor-sharp claws, but the chirping sounds she’s making are inquisitive. Her head jerks to the side, examining Owen in that bird-like manner of hers.

“Easy…” Owen murmurs, shifting slowly to keep Blue in front of him. One hand is held out, placating, and he doesn’t flinch when Blue suddenly snaps at the air. “Hey! Hey,” he says sternly, as if chastising a misbehaving child.

Darius can’t tear his gaze away. He’s seen it with Ben and Bumpy, but to actually witness this kind of communication between a human and a raptor is astounding. It’s clear Blue isn’t- and never was- actually tame, but she certainly recognizes Owen. The fact that she’s letting him get this close is a testament to the bond they once shared.

“Brought you something,” Owen says, slowly reaching into the pack on his belt. He withdraws a shred of dried meat, which makes Blue draw up short, nostrils flaring. “Here you go. That’s right.”

He tosses the treat at Blue; she lets it hit her lips and drop to the ground. A low growl starts up in her throat as she narrows her eyes.

Owen blinks. “... Okay.”

Blue’s lips peel back into a snarl, and she takes a faux swipe at him, testing him.

“Hey, nope,” Owen chides her, voice firm but still low. He’s got something else clenched in his fist- suddenly, mechanical clicking fills the air. “Eyes on me, yeah?”

Blue pauses, dropping the growl as she tilts her head. Her eyes widen in clear recognition, and she mimics the clicking sound, which Owen then repeats.

Darius can barely hold back his grin. Jurassic World never made their raptor training protocols public, proprietary information and all that, but he’d always theorized a clicker training system could be extremely effective due to the raptors’ innate ability to differentiate and replicate a vast lexicon of sounds-

Brooklynn is giving him a look, as if saying, ‘Only you could be nerding out right now.’

Darius gives her a sheepish smile; ‘Guilty as charged.’

Owen is less than a foot away from Blue. “Yeah, yeah… you know me.” Carefully, he stretches his hand out towards her nose. He’s inches away. “That’s right… that’s right…”

Darius holds his breath- and then Brooklynn stiffens, her head whipping around.

A tranquilizer dart flies through the air, embedding itself in Blue’s neck.

~*~

“Owen? Owen, what’s happening?”

There’s nothing but static from the radio. Claire’s heart is racing; she’d only just told him that Blue had arrived, and then there was some sort of commotion before the line went dead. The digital map is still showing the signal’s location, along with Blue’s, but Owen simply isn’t responding.

Sammy’s watching her with no small amount of concern. “I don’t suppose the batteries just died?” she asks hopefully.

Claire shakes her head. “Something’s wrong.” She tries to push the worst-case scenarios from her mind and focus on what they can do. “Franklin, can you try another frequency? See if we can reach anyone else who-”

“Not to alarm anyone,” Yaz says suddenly from her spot near the exit tunnel, “but the troopers are all getting into their trucks.”

Claire’s mind comes screeching to a halt. “They’re what?”

Franklin stands up from his chair, looking panicked. “What are they doing?”

“Well, my dear nerd,” Kenji drawls, waving an arm for dramatic effect, “this is the part where they betray us and leave us to die.”

“What?” Claire’s heart jolts, and she starts running towards the exit. “Hey! Wait-”

Yaz grabs Claire by the arm before she can pass. “Hey,” she hisses, “do you want to get shot? Because that’s how you get shot.” Point made, she lets go and folds her arms. “Just stay put for a minute. We’re lucky they decided to ditch us instead of trying to kill us.”

Claire rubs her arm- Yaz has a strong grip. “You… don’t seem very surprised,” she notes, her shock starting to give way to dread.

“Believe it or not,” Kenji chimes in, almost sounding amused, “this isn’t the first time we’ve been betrayed by adults we trusted to rescue us. We’ve been expecting this.”

Claire feels like she’s been punched. “You have?”

“Wait,” Franklin says, brows furrowing. “You mean other people have come to the island before?”

Kenji actually laughs. “Uh, yeah! No way people could resist the last living dinosaurs on earth.” He starts counting on his fingers. “First it was the trophy hunters, then it was Dr. Wu and his merry band of mercenaries.”

For a moment, Claire is certain she heard him wrong. “Wu came back to the island?” she asks, stunned. “He disappeared after Jurassic World fell. When was he here?”

Kenji shrugs. “Like, six months after the park closed? Dude trashed the boat we found and left us for dead.”

“Yeah,” Sammy agrees matter-of-factly, “just ‘cause we wouldn’t let him recover the research he needed to make more monsters like the Indominus and Scorpius Rex.”

“Wait, wait- Scorpius Rex?” Franklin repeats, his eyes wide. “What’s a Scorpius Rex?”

“It was Wu’s first attempt at a hybrid,” Yaz explains. “Turned out to be too unstable, so he was ordered to destroy it, but he decided to put it into cryo-freeze instead. Containment failed after the park shut down.”

Claire rubs her temples, struggling to take in all this new information. After the Indominus brought about Jurassic World’s downfall, Wu was faced with heavy scrutiny for his genetic experimentation. But technically speaking, he hadn’t broken any laws. The general consensus about the Indominus was that it had been a fluke- an unanticipated result of reckless scientific pioneering.

However, the fact that Wu had already made a hybrid in secret, seen first-hand how dangerous it was, but decided to keep it alive anyways and proceed with his next attempt… that displayed an almost willful ignorance for safety and due diligence. No wonder he disappeared.

And abandoning six teenagers on an island full of dinosaurs… knowing that they were still here, still alive, and telling no one… that was just evil.

“Is it still loose?” Claire asks, fearful of adding another problem to their list.

Yaz shakes her head. “That freak of nature threatened all life on the island, almost killed Sammy, and ended up making a second Scorpius through some weird frog cloning thing. We had to take them out.” A smile pulls at her lips. “Blue gave us a hand with that.”

“Why didn’t you bring this up before?” Franklin asks, his voice strained.

Sammy makes a noncommittal noise. “Well, we weren’t sure if y’all were workin’ with Wu or not. Can’t be too careful.”

Claire stares at the teens. It’s like she’s seeing them for the first time. “I can’t believe… you’ve known they were going to betray us this entire time? And you just… played along?”

Sammy gives her an apologetic smile. “Yeah, sorry we didn’t say anythin’, but we didn’t want ‘em to catch on.”

Claire exhales slowly, running her hands through her hair. These kids instinctively knew that there was foul play afoot, and managed to pick out who they could trust while not letting on that they suspected anything. They’ve been planning for worst-case scenarios and figuring out their next move completely on the fly, with little to no need for outright communication between their group. All with the threat of an imminent volcanic eruption hanging over their heads.

To say Claire underestimated them is an understatement.

“So now what?” Franklin asks frantically. “We’re stuck on the island right as a volcano is about to erupt?”

Kenji puts a hand on Franklin’s shoulder. “Chillax, dude. Darius has a plan,” he assures him. “We’re gonna meet up with the others and sneak onto the boat together.”

This doesn’t comfort Franklin. “That’s a really vague plan!” he protests.

“We can handle it,” Yaz snaps. She glances out through the tunnel. “Look, the troopers are gone, so we can start heading out. We’ll meet up with the others and go from there-”

The computer monitor suddenly starts beeping, and a warning flashes up onto the screen, reading, ‘Proximity alert.’ Franklin jumps at the noise, whirling around to scan the screen in confusion.

Then a roar sounds from outside.

Suddenly, Yaz is pulling Claire by the hand. “Get back, away from the door,” she says lowly, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

Sammy and Kenji have already moved to meet them, expressions deathly serious and every muscle in their bodies tense. That alone abruptly makes them look much older. Claire glances back at the screen, and her blood runs cold; a new red dot has appeared on the digital map, and it’s slowly moving closer to their location.

“It’s the T-Rex,” Franklin whispers, his face paling. “It’s the T-Rex, it’s the T-Rex, Claire, it’s the T-Rex, it’s the-”

“It’s not the T-Rex!” Yaz hisses.

“It’s Chaos,” Kenji says, his voice suddenly devoid of emotion as he stares at the exit tunnel.

Claire’s stomach drops. “What?”

“The Baryonyx that clawed my face off,” Kenji explains, almost dangerously calm. “Chaos. I’d know her sound anywhere.”

“Oh my god,” Franklin breathes. “Oh my god-”

Another roar rings out, much closer than before.

Sammy sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Claire, Franklin, you might wanna get between us.”

All three teens have drawn their weapons. They’ve fanned out in a line with their backs to the wall, Sammy and Yaz on either side of Kenji. When Claire and Franklin squeeze in between them, it leaves both sides protected by an armed teen.

“Okay,” Claire whispers, “what now?”

“Hold formation,” Yaz says tersely, her eyes on the tunnel. “If we stand our ground, she’ll decide we aren’t worth it. With the volcano erupting, she’s got other things to worry about.”

“How can you be sure?!” Franklin asks, sounding near hysterics as his voice hits a pitch Claire didn’t think was possible at his age.

“Deep breaths, Franklin,” Claire murmurs, her heart pounding in her ears.

The gravity of the situation is starting to sink in. They’ve been abandoned by the people charged with keeping them safe and getting them off the island. They have no way of knowing if the others are alright. They’re trapped in a room with only one exit, that’s about to be blocked by a large carnivorous dinosaur. And the volcano is sounding angrier by the minute, reminding them that they have very limited time to escape.

Claire really hopes these teenagers know what they’re doing, because the tunnel suddenly echoes with the sound of approaching footsteps.

~*~

Blue shrieks, whirling around to face her unseen assailant.

Her tail whacks Owen right in the gut, throwing him head-over-heels into the dirt with a shout. The campers scatter, darting out of range from the furious dinosaur. They can’t go far, though, because the entire clearing is now surrounded by troopers, led by Wheatley.

Darius’s mind is racing. He didn’t think they’d go for the double-cross now. Why wouldn’t they wait until Blue was fully secured? What are they doing?

Owen’s scrambled back onto his feet, hands held out as he desperately tries to calm Blue. “I told you to wait for my signal!” he hisses at Wheatley.

Blue thrashes her head from side-to-side, trying to dislodge the dart. She’s also become aware of their new audience, snarling and bristling in a way that just screams danger. This doesn’t appear to dissuade the troopers, however, because they start to move in, guns at the ready.

Oh, this is bad.

“Back your men up right now,” Owen says urgently.

Darius glances over at Brooklynn and Ben. They’ve managed to stick beside each other, standing back-to-back as they try to face both the approaching troopers and the pissed-off raptor. Their eyes are wide and panicked, and he can read the question in their expressions loud and clear.

‘What do we do?’

‘Wait,’ Darius signs, his gaze darting around the clearing. If they make a break for it now, while Blue is so agitated, she could be goaded into attacking. And sure, maybe they wouldn’t be the ones getting attacked, but it’s too risky.

The troopers press in, and one of them seems to cross the invisible line that is Blue’s tolerance. Screeching, the raptor runs past Owen and leaps at the trooper, slamming him onto the ground. His screams fill the air as Blue tears into him- one foot on his chest, the other his neck, claws digging into flesh, jaws snapping against his helmet- and raises his gun.

Wheatley finally reacts. “No, no, no, don’t shoot her!”

Desperately, Darius scoops a rock off the ground and hurls it at Blue, screaming, “Hey!”

The rock connects on the side of Blue’s neck. That gets her attention; she pulls away from the trooper, head whipping around to look at Darius. In the split-second that their eyes meet, Darius can almost swear Blue looks betrayed.

And then a shot rings off.

Blue screams as the bullet tears through her side, sending up a spray of red. The raptor staggers back a few steps and collapses with a heavy thud. Panting heavily, she writhes in the dirt, quickly becoming stained with blood.

Darius stares, his breath caught in his throat. Two bodies bleeding out on the jungle floor- how did things go so wrong?

Owen’s eyes darken with rage. “Wheatley, you son of a bitch!” he roars, charging at Wheatley.

Wheatley raises his gun and fires a dart into Owen’s chest.

Owen stops short, shock flashing across his face as he looks down at the dart. He sways in place for a moment, and then crumbles to the ground.

Darius freezes, his mind struggling to stay calm. Things are rapidly getting worse, but at least they didn’t kill him. It does mean, however, that Owen certainly isn’t getting out of here on his own. They’ll have to figure something out.

“Owen!” Zia pushes past the troopers and runs to Owen’s side. “What are you doing?!”

She falls to the ground next to Owen and snatches the dart out of his chest, checking his breathing. For a brief second, Darius can see the panic and confusion flash across her face, before realization settles in, and it gives way to a calculating expression. And then she grabs the gun from Owen's holster, standing up to aim at Wheatley.

Every gun in the clearing points at Zia. Wheatley rolls his eyes, exasperated, and lifts his own gun.

Zia doesn’t flinch. “You shoot me,” she tells him lowly, “and that animal dies.”

Wheatley smirks. “I think we have the drop on you, sweetheart.”

“She’s losing blood,” Zia says firmly, her jaw clenched. “And if I don’t treat her, she’ll never make it back to camp.”

Darius immediately recognizes the move for what it is; insurance. She’s making herself invaluable to Wheatley so he doesn’t kill her. That’s smart.

Wheatley sighs, lowering his gun. “How about this? That animal dies, I shoot you. You’re gonna take care of her.”

Zia lowers the gun as well, her expression stormy. Without another word, she turns on her heel and rushes over to Blue, slinging her backpack off her shoulder and starting to rummage through it as the troopers move in.

A plan is starting to take root in Darius’s mind. Having someone on the inside will make it easier for the others to sneak aboard- but they can’t rely on Zia for that. She has to look after Blue, and she isn’t keyed into their plans, anyway. She doesn’t know how they operate. It has to be one of them.

But they can’t all go with Wheatley. With dinosaurs around and an erupting volcano, Owen is a sitting duck out here. Someone has to stay behind and help him get to the others. It’ll take more than one person to move him in this sedated state- and if two are staying behind, it has to be Ben and Brooklynn. They need each other to be safe.

Which means Darius has to leave them.

‘Plan?’ Ben signs, tilting his head to turn it into a question.

Darius’s heart has turned to lead. He doesn’t want to leave them. What kind of leader just abandons his herd-

‘Plan?’ Ben signs again, more insistent. He can tell right away that Darius has a plan and just doesn’t like it, which probably means it isn’t self-sacrificing enough for his taste.

‘You stay. Help,’ Darius answers reluctantly, subtly jerking his head over at an unconscious Owen. ‘Meet later.’

‘You?’ Brooklynn asks, her jaw tightening as if already dreading the answer.

Darius grimaces. ‘Go, bad. Sneak help.’

It’s a crude translation of his meaning- for some peculiar reason, they never thought it prudent to make signs for things like ‘spy’, ‘betrayal’, or ‘double agent.’ But Brooklynn and Ben understand anyway, exchanging a somber look.

‘Careful,’ Brooklynn tells him. They’re all capable on their own, but Darius will be walking right into the enemy’s den with no one to back him up. It’s not the most dangerous situation he’s ever put himself in, but it’s still enough to make Brooklynn anxious.

The troopers are almost done securing Blue, fastening a muzzle over her jaws and leather straps around her limbs as Zia packs the bullet wound with gauze. It won’t be long before they remember the campers are there.

‘Split up,’ Darius signs, while keeping his other hand as, ‘Wait.’ He gives Brooklynn and Ben a few precious seconds to plan their escape route; if they get grabbed, the only way out will be by fighting, and that could get messy very quickly.

“Hey,” someone calls, “what’s with all the hand puppets?”

Darius changes the sign to, ‘Go.’

Brooklynn and Ben take off in opposite directions, vanishing into the jungle before anyone can react.

A couple of the troopers startle, moving as if to follow, but Wheatley waves them off. “Let ‘em go. We’ve gotta get this raptor loaded up.” Then he looks at Darius, as if just realizing he’s still there. “What about you, jungle boy? Not gonna run off?”

Darius swallows, shaking his head. “I c- can… I can uh, I- I can help h- her,” he offers, holding his hands up as a show of good faith.

Wheatley raises an eyebrow. “You still want a ride home, I’m guessing?” he asks, putting his hands on his hips.

Darius gives a hesitant nod, letting his expression settle somewhere between sheepish and hopeful. No threat here, just a poor dumb kid who really wants to get off this island.

Wheatley looks him up and down. “Fine. Help her, and stay out of our way.” He turns to shoot Zia a crooked grin. “You two keep your heads down, and you might just survive this.”

Zia scowls and turns back to her patient.

Darius gives an emphatic nod. “Y- yes, s- s- sir.”

He doesn’t believe for a second that Wheatley intends to spare them. They’re witnesses, and as soon as they cease to be useful, he’ll dispose of them. But Darius has bought himself some time; time he can use to plan his next move, and figure out how he’s going to get his herd onto the boat.

The troopers are lashing a bunch of thick cords around Blue, preparing to drag her back to the truck. Zia snaps at their every movement, reprimanding their carelessness, so for the time being, their attention is fully occupied.

As casual as he can, Darius wanders over to the fallen trooper, kneeling beside him. He’s clearly dead; Blue’s talon cut a deep, thick gash across his throat, compromising his airway and spilling dangerous amounts of blood- even now, it’s still trickling out to stain the soil. It was probably the lack of oxygen to the brain that killed him. Painful, but quick.

His face is hidden behind the visor of his helmet. That makes this… easier, even if only a little.

Darius knows that Brooklynn and Ben are still watching him from the jungle. He doesn’t dare look for them, lest he give away their hiding spots. But he does make sure to move slowly, so they don’t miss anything. He places a deliberate hand on the dead trooper’s helmet, waiting a few seconds before moving his hand onto the combat vest. Then, he curls the fingers of his free hand into the sign for ‘Take.’

They’ll make a good disguise for Owen, and that alone might help them sneak onboard.

“Nothin’ we can do for him now,” Wheatley calls over, mistaking Darius’s stillness for shocked grief. “He knew the risks of the mission.”

Darius nods and straightens up, glancing over at Owen’s prone figure. He’s still breathing, but completely motionless. Hopefully the full dose of tranquilizer didn’t get into his system, and it’ll wear off soon. Brooklynn and Ben are strong, but if they have to drag him all the way to the security building, they might miss the boat entirely.

Part of him wishes he could go and check on Owen, but it’d look suspicious. Plus, he doesn’t want to redirect attention onto Owen, lest Wheatley decide to finish him off. So Darius turns, jogging over towards Zia- she’s watching the troopers start to drag Blue away- and lifts his hand in greeting.

Zia regards him tersely, saying nothing as she stalks off after the troopers. Darius supposes that makes sense; she probably doesn't know how to feel about him, uncertain as to where his loyalties lie, whether he can be trusted or if he'll do anything to ensure Wheatley takes him home. From an outsider perspective, he’s ditched his friends and his morals for his own safety. Like a rat abandoning a sinking ship. That’s alright- it doesn’t matter what she thinks of him. When they’re alone, he’ll explain the situation to her.

But in the meantime, he’s got to figure out how to help his herd escape a volcanic eruption without tipping off the murderous mercenaries, while somehow making sure a raptor that suffered a gunshot wound to the abdomen doesn’t die on his watch, despite knowing very little about first aid and working with a pissed off paleo-vet who thinks he’s a traitor.

… Whatever it takes, right?

~*~

[hrina]

Be Sweet, Pt. I

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M (minors dni!) WORD COUNT: 6k

hey everyone! here's part one of my new enemies-to-lovers series :) this fic will be five parts in total, but i'm only posting the first part on tumblr. you'll be able to read the rest of it on patreon if you wanna sign up!

as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated. i love hearing your thoughts! enjoy.

~*~

August 27th, 2021

“Who’s opening tomorrow?”

Ella scrubs a wet rag across the table closest to the door. You cast a furtive glance up at her, flipping absentmindedly through the jumble of papers on the counter in front of you. Nick’s messy scrawl catches your eye, and you pause, reading the haphazard comment written at the bottom of the page.

Customer requested a very specific shade of pink trim. See back for details.

You flip the order, scoffing at the Pantone strip taped to the other side. The square labelled Quartz Pink has been singled out, encircled in bright red. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Alice and Olly, I think,” you say, shoving the form to the bottom of the pile.

“That’s good,” Ella grunts, returning the napkin holder and the sugar dispenser back to their spots on the table. “And you’ll swing by sometime during the afternoon?”

“Yeah,” you say, drumming your fingers over the papers. “I’m gonna help Olly in the back. You know how much he hates dealing with fondant.”

“How could I forget?” Ella rolls her eyes, smiling to herself. You grimace when she tosses the damp cloth in your direction. It lands on the counter with a loud splat! You nudge it away with your elbow, shaking your head.

“Gross.”

“You’re gross,” Ella says.

“I’m lovely,” you reply. She grins.

“Where’s Alex taking you tonight?” you ask, changing the subject. Her eyes light up instantly, and she clasps her hands together against her chest.

“It’s a surprise,” she says, giggling girlishly.

You groan. “I hate surprises.”

“It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend, then, isn’t it?” she retorts. You snicker, and she continues: “He told me we should stop off at home to change, though, so I’m guessing that wherever it is, there’s a dress code.”

“Ooh, fancy.”

“Right?” She twists her wrist, peeking at her watch. “He should have been here by now. It’s already a quarter past seven.”

“The hospital is just down the street,” you remind her, organising the mountain of orders into a neat stack. “Give him another five minutes.”

She nods. You spin on your heel and push through the door leading to the backroom of the bakery. The large space is split into two sections: on your right, there’s a wall of ovens, and a cluster of metal racks filled with pale, unprocessed dough. On your left, tables and counters lined with all sorts of decorating necessities—piping bags, spatulas, scrapers, turntables. You make your way toward the small cabinet perched against the nearest wall and pull out the top drawer, sliding the orders inside. Olly should have no trouble locating them tomorrow morning.

When you return to the front of the shop, Ella is locked in a passionate embrace with a gangly, dark-haired man. You recognise him immediately.

“Doctor Dao,” you call out, resting your elbows on the counter. “Did you at least wash your hands before putting them all over my best friend?”

Alex and Ella break apart swiftly, but he keeps one arm wrapped around her waist. “Hey, cookie,” he says, flashing you an apologetic grin. “Didn’t see you there.”

You arch one brow, lips curling into an amused smirk. “I’ll say.”

Only then do you catch sight of the other man lingering by the door, and your smile quickly morphs into an irritated frown. Harry is watching you with twinkling eyes, like he knows the effect his presence has on you. How could he not? You don’t try to hide your disdain, especially when it comes to him.

“Harry,” you say curtly, lifting your chin in stubborn acknowledgement.

He brings two fingers to his temple—a mock-salute. “Sweetheart.”

You clench your jaw. God, he makes your blood boil. Rather than responding, you turn back to Alex, who is now smoothing his palms over Ella’s silky brown hair. “You’re late,” you tell him. “You were supposed to be here when we closed.”

“Sorry, cookie,” Alex says, and he sounds like he means it. “My last surgery of the day had a few…complications.”

You purse your lips as the annoyance melts away. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods, blowing out a heavy breath. He looks tired. “We figured it out.”

“That’s good.”

Alex directs his attention back to Ella, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Just let me grab my bag.”

“Cool,” he says. “You don’t mind if we drop Harry off at his place, right? His car is fucked, apparently.”

Ella’s grey eyes widen. She peers over her boyfriend’s shoulder at Harry. “What happened?”

Harry waves away her concerns, chuckling quietly. He tugs on the collar of his blue scrubs, and you can’t stop your gaze from trailing across the plethora of tattoos inked into his arm. Your nose wrinkles at the sight. He looks ridiculous. What kind of doctor would agree to don such outrageous body art?

“He’s being dramatic,” Harry says, shooting Alex a pointed glare. “My car’s at the shop right now, but I’ll have it back by tomorrow evening at the latest.”

“Oh.” Ella relaxes. “Okay, that’s great. Babe—” She turns to Alex. “—when are our reservations?”

“Eight-thirty,” Alex says. “Plenty of time.”

“Awesome,” she chirps. She scurries around the counter and playfully bumps her hip against yours. “My purse is in the back. Give me one second.”

And then she’s gone.

You stare at Alex, fighting a clever smile. “Tonight’s the night, huh?” you murmur, quiet enough so that there’s no chance of Ella overhearing.

He beams, shouldering his knapsack and dragging his sweaty palms down the front of his shirt. His scrubs are a light purple, you note. The shade compliments his dark skin.

“Yeah,” he replies, gnawing anxiously on his bottom lip. “She’ll say yes, right?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “Of course she will.”

Just then, Ella bursts through the door, her leather purse swinging wildly against her waist. “Alright!” She claps once, striding over to you and planting a wet, sloppy kiss onto your cheek. “I’m off.”

“Bye,” you say, wiping her saliva from your face with the back of your hand. “Have fun.”

Alex waves at you as she tugs him out of the bakery. “See you later, cookie.”

You wink. “See you.”

Harry is the last one to leave. He glances at you momentarily, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smug smile. The look makes you bristle. He’s absolutely infuriating.

“Got any leftover almond croissants?” he asks. Silent laughter taints every word.

You point to the exit. “Get out.”

He bows his chin in farewell, approaching the door. “Sweetheart.”

“Asshole,” you reply flatly. Now that your friends are out of earshot, you’re under no obligation to tolerate him. Sometimes, you find yourself actually craving his company, just so you can drop the pretence and really give him a piece of your mind. You’re a mature adult, and you won’t ruin a social gathering because of one presumptuous dickhead, but everyone has their limits. You don’t owe him shit.

Harry chuckles to himself, and you clench your fists at your sides. He shoots you one last maddening smirk before disappearing out the door. You rush forward, latching it swiftly and ensuring that the sign against the glass reads ‘CLOSED’. Once you’ve successfully locked up, you march into the back of the shop, plucking your own purse off one of the metal counters and tugging it over your shoulder. You shut the light and return to the front, scanning the clean tables, the empty display cases, the shades drawn over the windows. Shards of the sunset stream through the cracks in the blinds, casting orange stripes along the floor.

All clear, a voice in your head whispers, and you sigh.

Finally—you can go home.

August 28th, 2021

Quick, frantic knocking rouses you from your sleep. Blearily, you sit up on the mattress, knuckling at your puffy eyes. The hardwood floor is cold against the soles of your feet when you climb out of bed. You shiver.

The insistent clamour continues as you pad down the hallway. You tug at the hem of your worn, baggy t-shirt, concealing your midriff. Ella wastes no time after you open the front door, surging past the threshold and vaulting herself into your arms.

“He proposed!” she squeals as the two of you stagger backward. You freeze, remembering Alex’s plans from the day before. His apprehension, too—the way he wiped his clammy palms against his scrubs and anxiously dug his teeth into his bottom lip. Shock ebbs and flows through your veins for a fraction of a second, but then you’re sweeping Ella into a tight hug, rocking your bodies from side to side.

“Oh my God,” you say. Excitement festers beneath the murky exhaustion clouding your mind. “He did it.”

Ella steps back, brows knitting together in bewilderment. “You knew?” When you nod, she scoffs, aiming a half-hearted swat at your bicep. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?” you retort, rolling your eyes at the demand. “Come on. Let’s see it.”

A bright grin stretches across her lips, and she holds up her left hand, wiggling her fingers keenly. You spy the ring resting on the fourth digit: a simple platinum band topped with a large, clear diamond. Grey morning light bounces off the gemstone, and it winks at you as if it knows something that you don’t.

“Gorgeous,” you breathe, gripping Ella’s wrist to bring her hand closer. You scrutinize the ring carefully, smiling to yourself. “He’s got good taste.”

“Doesn’t he?” she gushes, beaming like an idiot. You beckon her into the kitchen, and she collapses onto one of the tall stools positioned in front of the marble island. A quick glance at the digital clock on the stove reveals that it’s only eight in the morning. You groan, rubbing gentle circles against your temples.

“I was hoping I’d get to sleep in today,” you say, lips curling into a wry smirk.

Ella shoots you a sheepish, apologetic smile, sliding her purse off her shoulder and placing it on the counter. “I’m sorry, cookie. I couldn’t wait.”

“I’m just kidding,” you tell her, floating around the room to prepare a pot of coffee. “So…how did he do it?”

She launches into a frenzied retelling of the night before. Alex brought her to the same restaurant they’d visited four years ago on their first date. They ordered their food and made conversation. Things proceeded as usual until the end of the meal, at which point Alex set his napkin down on the table and excused himself to the restroom. Two minutes later, the waiter arrived with the bill. Ella accepted it graciously, scanning the thin paper and pausing at the question scrawled at the very bottom of the slip. When she snapped her head up, searching for her boyfriend in the crowded dining area, she found him kneeling a few feet away from her chair, a small velvet box nestled securely in his steady hands.

“I started crying immediately,” she tells you, groaning at the memory. “I couldn’t keep it together. It was so embarrassing.”

You toss your head back and laugh. Despite the crimson blush staining her cheeks, she joins in. The coffeemaker beeps, signalling that the pot is ready. You fetch two mugs from the cupboard and fill them with dark liquid. Ella accepts her drink eagerly, blowing cool air across its surface. You grimace as she takes a tentative sip—you’ve never understood her penchant for unsweetened black coffee. Sugar and cream are a must.

“I’m so happy for you, El,” you tell her, stirring a small spoon around your mug. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”

Her eyes grow damp. You snicker quietly, reaching across the island and swiping your thumb beneath her bottom lashes. She catches your hand and kisses your knuckles softly, clearing her throat.

“Will you—?” She releases a shuddering breath. “Will you be my maid of honour?”

You stiffen at her request. Her gaze rakes over your face, like she’s searching for any clue as to how you might respond. At last, your shoulders sag in relief, and an ecstatic smile splits across your cheeks.

“Of course,” you say, voice thick. Tears gather in your own eyes, but you blink them back furiously. “I would love nothing more.”

She sets her coffee down and skirts around the counter, yanking you into another bone-crushing hug. You grin as she presses a handful of sloppy kisses to the side of your head. Her elbow knocks against your abandoned mug, and a few drops of coffee spill down the side of the cup. You laugh at her enthusiasm, pulling back and sweeping your hands over her silky hair.

“It’s probably way too soon, but have you guys started discussing anything?” you ask, arching one eyebrow.

Ella flushes pink, averting her gaze. “Um…when we got home, there wasn’t really much of a discussion going on.”

You cackle, poking at her ribs. “Oh, he gave it to you good, didn’t he? It’s a miracle that you’re not limping right now.”

“Be quiet,” she yelps, stamping her eyes shut.

You lift your hands and shoot her a teasing smirk. “I’m not judging, okay? If anything, I’m living vicariously through your various sexual conquests. It’s been months since I last got any action.”

“Maybe that should change,” Ella says, folding her arms over her chest. “You and Harry could probably fuck out your frustrations. His dick is huge, apparently.”

You balk. “Ella!”

She shrugs, grey eyes widening comically. “What? Alex told me!”

You snort, but say nothing. She watches you cautiously, examining your features for any signs of acquiescence. Any indication that you might actually be considering her lewd suggestion. You almost gag.

“Why do you hate him so much, anyway?” Ella asks, flicking an invisible speck of lint off her shoulder. “You’re not still hung up on that fiasco with the almond croissant, are you?”

“I’m not doing this with you again,” you say, and she sighs.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But can you at least try to be civil while we plan the wedding? For my sake.”

After mulling over her words, you slouch in defeat. “Fine. But only for you,” you say, throwing a stern finger in her face.

She beams. “Thank you.” Something dirty flashes behind her pale eyes. “And if you do end up sleeping with him, I want all the details.”

You shove her gently and scoff. She laughs.

“Honestly,” you start, shaking your head, “it doesn’t matter how huge his dick is. I’d rather walk across hot coals than let somebody like him climb into my bed.”

“What makes you think it wouldn’t be the other way around?” Ella snickers. You glare at her, but she just steps back, raising her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, fine. Have it your way. But I’m expecting you to find someone in time for the big day. Don’t let your plus-one go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, thoroughly unconvinced. “Noted.”

September 2nd, 2021

“Olly!” you call, sticking your head into the backroom. “Ella and I are going on our lunch break, but Leyla will be here in, like, twenty minutes. You going to be okay by yourself until then?”

Olly doesn’t even bother looking over his shoulder, too busy piping little flowers along the sides of the rectangular cake laid out in front of him. He lifts one hand, waving away your concerns before running his palm over his short blue hair. He buzzed and dyed it just last week after claiming that he couldn’t stand how the long brown curls stuck to the nape of his neck. It took a few days to get used to the change, but now that the initial shock has faded, you have to admit that he looks great.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Olly says, putting the finishing touches on the cake. He sets his piping bag down and turns toward you, wiping his palms against his red apron. His left ear bears a swirl of shiny silver piercings. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Thanks,” you say, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and then you’re spinning on your heel and letting the door swing shut behind you.

You find Ella waiting outside the bakery. She urges you along, and you squawk at her impatience.

“What’s the rush?” you ask, falling into step with her as you both amble down the sidewalk. “We have forty-five minutes.”

“I don’t want Alex’s sandwich to get cold,” she explains, holding up the small paper bag clutched in her right hand. You snort.

The two of you make it to Ridgefield Hospital in record time, mostly because Ella grips your arm and gives it a forceful tug whenever you start lagging behind. You walk through the automatic doors, ignoring the row of ambulances parked outside. The secretaries sitting at the front desk shoot you a few distracted smiles—they’ve all grown accustomed to your frequent visits by now.

Ella babbles endlessly as you enter the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor and waiting as the metal doors slide shut.

“I want to ask Alice and Leyla to be part of the bridal party, but I’m scared the guys will feel bad if Alex doesn’t choose them as his groomsmen. Like, I think they’d understand, considering I work with the girls and we’re all pretty close, but I don’t know.” She nudges you with her elbow. “What do you think?”

“I think you should do whatever the fuck you want,” you tell her, shrugging. “It’s your wedding. And I don’t think Olly, Marcus, or Nick will mind if they’re not part of the bridal party. Olly doesn’t care about that stuff, and Marcus and Nick already have their hands full with their jobs at the bakery. Plus, they know Alex has his own friends—not just the ones he’s met through you.”

Ella nibbles on her bottom lip, her head bobbing in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You lay a placid hand on her shoulder. “You’re already overthinking this. You’ve only been engaged for a week. Enjoy it.”

She shoots you a grateful smile just as the elevator dings and the doors glide open, and the two of you step out onto the hospital’s paediatric floor. It’s a stark contrast to the other sections of the building. Instead of barren white walls, these ones are painted with all sorts of pretty, colourful decorations—flowers, rainbows, sunsets, animals. A massive sign in front of you denotes the different divisions on the floor and where to find them: the ICU, the operating rooms, the palliative unit, the psychiatry wing, and the oncology department. You and Ella turn right, making the familiar trek to Alex’s office.

“He should be on his lunch break, too,” she says. “Unless they paged him for another emergency surgery.”

You hum in response.

Sure enough, you find Alex at his desk, twirling a blue pen between his fingers as he pores over the stack of papers in front of him. Ella knocks gently against the open door, and his face lights up when he spies her standing in the threshold. He moves quickly, crossing the room in five long strides, and plants a searing kiss onto her lips. You look away, rocking awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“Hey,” Alex murmurs after he and Ella break apart. That’s when he notices you behind her. “Hey, cookie.”

“Hey,” you reply. You toss your thumb over your shoulder. “I’m just going to—you know, the usual.”

He nods.

The last thing you see before you turn around is Ella holding up the brown paper bag, and Alex’s face splitting into a bright, easy smile.

You meander through the halls, trailing your fingers over the rich artwork covering the walls. The end of the corridor cleaves in two; you turn left and enter a large atrium. The ceiling is high and peppered with skylights. A small cafeteria sits off to the side, clusters of families chatting and laughing together as they eat. Children sprint around the space, their arms outstretched. Some of them are dressed in normal clothes—others don pale hospital gowns, their skinny legs bared for all to see. You wrench your attention away from them, fixing it instead on the far wall.

Slowly, you cross the room, surveying the vibrant handprints stamped against the plaster. There has to be hundreds of them, you think. They vary in size—some are so tiny you could cry. Colour becomes scarcer the higher you go—the youngest children are too short to reach those levels, obviously—but still. The sight takes your breath away. You visit this mural every time you find yourself at the hospital, and every time, you unearth a new detail that you hadn’t noticed before.

You walk along the length of the wall, dragging your fingertips across the dry, smooth paint. Purples and pinks and oranges and blues. Reds, greens, yellows, browns. Each handprint is a person—a pair of little feet that scuffled over this very floor, a blank story that had yet to unfold. Briefly, you wonder how many survived whatever illnesses plagued them, and how many succumbed to their conditions. The thought makes your throat grow tight with emotion, so you quickly shove it aside.

Ten minutes pass before you’re leaving the mural behind and heading back the way you came. You’ve just rounded the corner when a strong, solid body barrels into you. You grunt at the impact, smacking one palm against the wall to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you start, lifting your head to meet the stranger’s gaze. “I wasn’t paying—oh.”

Harry smirks, his green eyes glittering with mirth once he recognises you. You purse your lips, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Harry,” you say, nodding stiffly.

He folds his arms over his chest. “Sweetheart.”

His brown hair is tousled, and his biceps strain against the white button-up adorning his torso. Black slacks cover his legs, and he’s wearing a pair of pristine leather shoes, ones that look like they might’ve cost a month’s worth of rent. Your teeth grate together noisily. The sound echoes in your ears.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, as though the two of you are old friends. You want to scoff—you’d rather stick your hand in an oven than make idle conversation with him.

“Visiting Alex,” you say tightly, stepping back. “Ella brought him lunch.”

At that, Harry straightens. “Ella’s here?”

“Yes.”

“I wish I’d run into her,” he murmurs, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

You throw him a scowl. “Asshole.”

Harry cocks one eyebrow, tilting his chin haughtily. “Forgive me if I prefer her company to yours. At least she doesn’t treat me like I’m some insufferable bastard.”

“Maybe if you stopped being such an insufferable bastard, I wouldn’t treat you like one,” you shoot back, planting your hands on your hips. You tense as Harry’s gaze rakes down your body—head to toe, like he’s sizing up an opponent. His nose wrinkles in disdain, and you fight the urge to deliver a sharp, backhanded slap across that pretty, perfect face.

Harry opens his mouth, and you brace yourself for whatever retort he has prepared. What comes out is nothing overtly nasty, but it is enough to make you want to shrink away and curl into yourself until you wink out of existence.

“You smell like yeast,” he says, and tosses in a derisive sniff just for the added effect.

You recoil as the words slam into you, blinking in shock.

Asshole. Rude, arrogant, condescending asshole.

“I own a bakery,” you grit out. Harry shrugs, but says nothing else. Your lips flap wordlessly as he pushes past you, his shoulder bumping against yours. You watch him go, massaging the tender spot on your arm with shaky fingers. Your eyes fall to his ass for only a moment before skittering away, and a hollow laugh catches in your throat.

What a fucking prick.

September 17th, 2021

“Attention, everyone!” Ella stands at the head of the table, clinking her fork delicately against her glass. “I wanted to make a little toast.”

The conversation around you tapers off into silence. You sit back in your chair, focussing on your best friend. She looks splendid in her pretty blue dress, her dark hair twisted into an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck. She peers around the room, chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek. When her gaze locks with yours, you grant her a tiny, encouraging nod.

She beams, her next words imbued with renewed enthusiasm. “I wanted to thank all of you for coming here tonight to celebrate our engagement with us.” She holds out her hand, and Alex presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “We’re so grateful to be sharing this milestone with such a wonderful group of people.”

You inspect the other guests gathered around the table. To your right sit Alice and Leyla, the first employees you hired when you were trying to get your business up off the ground. It’s odd seeing them like this—poised and elegant, looking nothing at all like they do during the long, arduous shifts at the bakery. Alice’s blond hair has been fashioned into an intricate braid, and Leyla’s brown eyes are lined with dark kohl and smoky eyeshadow. They clean up nice, you must admit.

Next to Leyla: Ella’s older sister, Hillary. They have the same piercing grey eyes, though Hillary’s hair is a shade lighter. You didn’t miss the sour expression that trundled across her face when you waltzed into Alex and Ella’s condo. She’s jealous, you think. Jealous that Ella chose you as her maid of honour instead of her. You’ve been ignoring her resentful glares for the better half of the night, letting her bitterness pass over you like a cloud. Whatever her problem is, it’s clear that the issue lies between her and her sister. You’re not getting in the middle of that.

It doesn’t help that she’s been fawning over Harry all evening. Upon witnessing her coquettish behaviour, you glanced at Ella, brows raised, but your best friend just rolled her eyes and yielded a helpless shrug of her shoulders. At least the attraction didn’t appear to be one-sided—that would have been humiliating, you think—because Harry gave as good as he got, chuckling sincerely and flirting right back. You had to suppress the urge to retch, and sent out a quiet prayer of gratitude when Ella and Alex sat them as far away from each other as possible at the beginning of the meal.

On the opposite side of the table: Alex’s groomsmen—Milo, Sasha, and Connor. You’ve been in their company a few times, mainly on birthdays and other special occasions. According to Alex, they all met when Milo accidentally vomited during their very first anatomy lesson at medical school. Milo insists that the putrid smell of the cadavers was simply too awful to bear, but everyone else claims that he just couldn’t stand the idea of being so close to a dead body. No matter the truth, the story always makes you giggle. The four of them have been good friends ever since.

The five of them, you remind yourself as your gaze settles on Harry, who is lounging in the chair directly across from you.

Harry—Alex’s best friend. Harry—Alex’s best man.

You wanted to rip your hair from your scalp when Ella broke the news. Several images flashed through your head all at once. You and Harry inching rigidly down the aisle, arms linked. You and Harry donning the same colours, your gown complimenting the spry flower pinned to the lapel of his suit. You and Harry flanking Ella and Alex while they recite their vows, glaring daggers at each other behind your friends’ backs. Even now, the mere thought of it has you biting down on an exasperated groan.

You don’t realise that you’ve zoned out until the faint quirk of Harry’s mouth catches your eye. You blink once to yank yourself from your daze, and clench your jaw when you find him staring at you with an amused look on his face. He places his elbows against the arms of the chair and clasps his hands together. Unmistakable smugness emanates from him, as if he somehow managed to crawl inside your mind and saw exactly what you were envisioning. Your nostrils flare, and you fix your attention back on Ella, who has reached the end of her speech.

“Cheers,” she says, holding up her glass. The champagne inside sloshes and fizzles temptingly. Would she allow you to chug the entire bottle, if you asked?

Everyone around the table mirrors her movements, raising their own drinks and touching them together lightly. Quiet, delicate clanking fills the room, and the friendly chatter resumes. You nudge Ella with your elbow, shooting her a proud smile. “That was great, El.”

She beams. “Thanks, cookie.” She then picks up her fork and motions to the plate in front of her, piled high with seasoned chicken and steaming, roasted vegetables. “Let’s eat.”

~*~

“Are you sure you’ve got him?” Alex asks Sasha, gesturing to the very inebriated Connor wobbling at his side.

Sasha wraps one arm around their friend, letting Connor rest his full weight against him. He bares two rows of perfect ivory teeth, flashing a wicked grin. “Yeah. Besides, I’ve been meaning to pay him back for the shit he pulled at the barbecue last month. There’s a Sharpie in my car.”

“You’re going to draw a dick on his face, aren’t you?” Alex muses.

“Obviously.”

With that, Alex bids them both farewell, shutting the door and heaving a dramatic sigh. Ella approaches him after a moment, hooking her chin over his shoulder and murmuring something indiscernible into his ear. He chuckles softly.

“Didn’t peg you as the voyeur type, sweetheart,” a low voice says from behind you.

You jump, whirling around and coming face-to-face with Harry. He’s got a green washcloth slung over his left shoulder—the shade brings out his eyes, a traitorous voice in your head whispers—and his arms are folded neatly across his chest. Your gaze falls to the collar of his black button-up, where he’s undone the first two discs, leaving his sternum exposed. Tendrils of ink peek out from beneath the dark material.

You frown and take a step back, putting distance between your bodies. “You’re such an asshole.”

“So I’ve heard.” His lips twitch, and he rolls up his sleeves. “Now, if you’re done ogling them like a lovestruck puppy, I could use some help in the kitchen.”

You grit your teeth, but follow him into the other room. Harry grabs the rag hanging over his shoulder and holds it out for you. You snatch it from his fingers without a word, and the two of you take up residence in front of the sink. Harry plunges his hands into the soapy water, rinsing the dishes thoroughly before passing them to you. You stand as far away from him as possible while you dry each plate, your movements stiff and choppy. This is not how you wanted to finish off the night, but Alex and Ella spent the entire day preparing the food, and it was delicious. The least you can do is spare them the hassle of tidying up.

The tense silence eats at you, until you feel like you might explode. Unable to bear it any longer, you hastily blurt, “Saw you getting pretty cozy with Hillary before dinner.”

Immediately, you want to kick yourself. Where the fuck did that come from?

Harry snorts, shrugging coolly. “We’ve hooked up a few times, but it’s nothing serious.” He shoots you a mischievous grin. “You jealous?”

“Of Hillary?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Please. The woman’s standards are practically underground. Why else would she be interested in someone like you?”

Harry scowls, and hot satisfaction surges through your veins. Yes, the taunt was mean, but no, you don’t care. “You’re a real bitch sometimes, you know that?” he says.

You flash him a petty, insincere smile. “Only to you.”

He squeezes the yellow sponge nestled in his right hand, scrubbing it forcefully across a dirty plate. “Maybe you should find someone to hook up with. It might help get that stick out of your ass.”

“I have better things to do,” you sneer, narrowing your eyes.

“Better than sex?” He chokes on a derisive laugh.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“Like…things!” you snap, fingers curling into tight fists. “I run my own business, for God’s sake. And I’m going to make Ella’s wedding cake.” You announce the last part proudly, hauling your chin into the air.

Harry, however, looks unimpressed. He shakes his head, blowing out a heavy sigh. “Uh-oh.”

You pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs again, but you detect a hint of malice behind the action. “It’s just…I’ve seen the way you decorate cakes. Ella might be better off going elsewhere—you know, to an actual professional.”

Son of a—

“That’s rich, coming from you,” you say, motioning to the mismatched tattoos littered across his arm. “What would you know about professionalism? It looks like you let a preschooler doodle all over you.”

Harry bares his teeth in a feral grin. “Deflection. I’m not surprised.”

You bristle at his words. “Asshole.”

“You’ll need to get a bit more creative with the insults, sweetheart. I’m growing bored.”

“Is that so?” you say. “I think ‘asshole’ suits you just fine. Maybe you should have become a proctologist instead of a paediatrician.”

“At least I pursued something I was good at. I’m not sure if you can say the same.”

“You fucking—”

“Everything okay in here?” Ella asks, floating into the kitchen. You spin around to conceal your anger, placing your hands against the counter and inhaling deeply. You roll your shoulders back and slap an artificial smile onto your face before turning once more.

“Everything’s fine,” you say, and fake a yawn, covering your mouth with your palm. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m exhausted.”

Ella’s bottom lip juts out into a pout. Her red lipstick has faded, leaving only a stain of scarlet in its wake. On cue, Alex walks into the kitchen behind her, setting a steady hand on her hip and cocking his head to the side. “Hey. Everything okay in here?”

You nearly snort. Fucking soulmates.

“All good,” you tell him, nodding brusquely. “I’m just going to finish up with the dishes and head home.”

“Okay.” Alex presses a soft kiss to Ella’s temple, murmuring something about needing to get out of his stuffy clothes. You whirl, drying the last of the plates with frantic, shaky fingers. In your peripheral vision, you spy Harry watching you, but the stupid bastard must possess some scrap of self-preservation, because he keeps his mouth shut. You say nothing else as you whack the rag down onto the counter and stride out of the room.

You don’t miss Alex and Ella’s hushed whispers at the other end of the hall, but a little voice in your head tells you not to interrupt them. You halt at the front door, snatching your purse off one of the metal hooks mounted on the wall. You’re in the middle of putting on your shoes when you hear it:

“I was hoping we could arrange a truce, you know.”

You twist around, palm flying to your chest. Harry is standing a few feet away, his hands still wet with the water from the sink. He clasps them together and ducks his head, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think he was ashamed.

Something vile bubbles in the pit of your stomach. You gnaw on the flesh of your cheek, trying to reel your emotions back in. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of witnessing another outburst.

“Keep your fucking truce,” you spit, and wrench open the door. You shoot him one last withering look before stepping out of the condo and slamming it shut.